#band AU where he writes and sings this

[allthatmay]

I HAVE ONLY JUST HEARD ACE'S SONG "SAVE MY HEART" FOR THE FIRST TIME AND I AM NOT OKAY

[gamesetart]

sweet 'n easy

Art thought dating you would be enough. He's content to have your heart, wait until marriage to have your body, too. But it's proving really difficult when you look like that.

tags: art donaldson x fem! reader, open relationship, guided masterbation, reader's kind of messy in this one (corruption), religious themes/corruption of religious themes. nsfw. minors DNI.

a/n: this is part of what im referring to as the open relationship au and im more than expecting to write more about this dynamic! im also very open to suggestions about it

Art Donaldson is a Good Christian Boy. He's a good, smart young man. He wears his thin silver purity ring on his left ring finger. He wears a delicate silver cross on a chain around his neck. He used to sing in the church choir, and now he spends his Sundays volunteering with the children's sector and frequenting church picnics. If it wasn't for tennis, he'd probably be a priest.

You're not right for him, and he knows it. Guys like him aren't made to marry girls like you - girls with low-cut tops that show off the top hem of your lacy electric purple bra. Girls who wear low, low-cut jeans with your matching purple thong hanging out the back. Girls with butterfly-shaped tattoos hovering on your lower back. Girls who spend weekends drinking and clubbing and dancing with absolutely no room for Jesus.

But there's just something about you. Maybe it's your attitude, the way your hand flies up in class whenever you know the answer to a question, the way you speak, with such clarity, such conviction. Maybe it's the way you walk with your friends across campus, beautiful and assertive, a pack of wild hounds. You're terrifying to him. A force of nature, a thunderstorm. Art's managed to get caught up in your jet stream, but it doesn't mean he's any less scared of falling out. You and all your hot, brash, party-girl friends. You and the 'bitch pack', as some of his friends have taken to calling you and yours. The sorority girl, frat party, dim clubs, bitch pack. Girls like you don't give guys like him the time of day: you're too pretty, too powerful, far too high up on an entirely different social ladder.

But you're different. You're sweet. He's watched you stop to pet stray kittens. He's seen you volunteering to donate blood at the campus blood drives. He's seen you stop to help a girl pick up her books even though you were already late to class. He's seen your notes in his biology lecture, your cute, bubbled handwriting and your array of gel pens. He's seen you buy an extra coffee at the campus cafe for a friend. People contain multitudes, or whatever, right?

So maybe it's no surprise when you end up paired up on an assignment and you bring him back to your dorm room. Maybe he shouldn't have been so stunned by the boy band posters and the stacks of fantasy novels and the stuffed bear sitting on your bed. Maybe he shouldn't have been thrown off by your framed pictures - family, friends - and your collection of Beatles CDs. Just a girl. A normal, nice girl. Who lays out all her notes for him, glances up with a sweet smile, and asks,

"Where d'you wanna start?"

He didn't mean for it to go any further than that. For the study visits to start happening at night, after dinner. For you to start blowing off club nights to curl up on your plush blue shag carpet next to art, pointing out lines of text and highlighting things with a bright pink marker. For you to start eating with him at lunch, talking about your lecture, laughing over some stupid thing your professor said or did. For him to start seeing you, really seeing you, and liking that you saw him, too. It happened before he even registered it. Somewhere, somehow, Art Donaldson fell in love.

It's different than how he felt with Tashi. This isn't that painful, all-consuming desire to please, to have her notice him, the obsession with the idea of her and her tennis. This feels sweeter, kinder. This feels like what he used to read about: fireworks in his heartbeat, butterflies in his stomach, the giddy thrill of First Love. A slower, ennobling sort of love.

If he had it his way, he'd date you. Flowers. Expensive dinners by candlelight. Picnics. The works. Court you for the four years you were at Stanford together, then propose once you graduated. Spend a few years engaged so he could do his tennis, make a good amount of his own money. Save until he could plan a dream wedding. Honeymoon somewhere pretty and exotic, like Bali or Punta Cana. Then the country house and the kids, the white picket fence. Except, Art doesn't really ever get things his way, does he?

"I... I don't know," you say slowly, digging your heels into your carpet. You can't meet his sad blue eyes. You can't bear to. Girlfriend. Boyfriend. It feels alien, even in your head.

He stares at you, crestfallen. Your heart plummets and you race for an explanation, for some way to explain this without blaming him. Because it's not Art at fault, it's his Faith.

"It's not that I don't like you!" you scramble. "I do, really, Art, I do. I just... a girl has... needs, you know? There are things I'd want that I can't ask you to give me. Things I can't take from you."

You both know what it is. You'd never ask him to give up on or waver in his faith for you. Never. You like Art how he is. But you know you'd be wanting. You know you can't wait until your wedding night.

"I... I'm just not the dating type, Art," you explain mournfully. "And you don't want to date a girl like me, anyway, trust me. You deserve someone nice."

"But... you are nice," Art says, and he really does look like you've just torn his heart out and stomped on it. It's horrible. It's awful. And you feel like a monster for doing it, but what can you do?

He doesn't have a solution until a full week later. He pretends (to you, and himself) that he came up with it all on his own, when in reality it was Patrick's idea. Patrick's suggestion, murmured over the phone in cloying low tones, luring him in like sailor to siren, bee to honey, moth to flame. Art, for all his cleverness, for all his ability to read Patrick like a book, could not see it. He trusted Patrick. He should have, he's sent Patrick some of your pictures, talked about you endlessly. But Patrick was on tour, far, far away, where he could do no harm. And Patrick was taken, as he was so keen to remind Art all the time.

"She doesn't have to fuck you, man," Patrick muses. "Date her. Be her good boy, be her fuckin' sweetheart. She can get dicked down with someone else."

"You're suggesting my girlfriend cheat on me?" Art laughs, and even saying it, my girlfriend, even in hypothetical, makes his heart do a flip.

He can practically picture Patrick's face, screwed up with a mixture of pity and disdain. Poor Art. "Nah, man. I'm suggesting an open relationship, you know? Let her fuck who she wants, she's gonna come home to you."

The conviction in Patrick's voice makes Art's heart somersault. Because there's something about that idea that makes his pulse quicken. Patrick's right. You'll come home to him, your heart - the thing that really matters - will be his. He doesn't like the possessive thing that curls up in his chest and purrs at the idea. But he doesn't fight it.

"What if you didn't have to wait with me?" Art asks.

He's twirling a highlighter over his fingers. Cross-legged on your plush duvet, working at a piece of spearmint chewing gum. Gum you'd offered him, gum that you now kept a small stash of in your desk drawer for evenings just like this. The project you'd been paired up on was long over, the proud 96% sitting in your Stanford grading inbox. Now you're just regular homework buddies. Art sought you out for homework he missed because he was at practice and lecture notes he didn't get. You don't mind. You enjoy it, actually. You just wish you could give him more. Hate that you couldn't be what he deserved. It almost feels like leading him on, when he sits with you until the wee hours, sharing diagrams and passing your textbook back and forth. When he brings you your morning coffee before class, or you bring sandwiches and Gatorade to his practices.

Except now, apparently, he has a solution.

"What?" you ask, blinking at him. "What d'you mean?"

Art flushes. Soft pink. Mostly around the ears, you've noticed, red against the gentle gold of his curls. Evening rose.

"I mean, what if..." he looks away. "You know. You went out with me. Dated me. But you could... 'hook up' with other people when you needed to."

You stare at him. Dumbfounded. Art Donaldson. Is sitting on your bed, asking you for an open relationship? Are you dreaming? Has the world suddenly gone mad? Did you go to bed last night and wake up in an alternate dimesion?

"You... are you suggesting... what I think you're suggesting?" you ask faintly.

He nods, ears burning a truly impressive shade of crimson. You suppose you should be flattered, really, the lengths he's going to date you. Most guys would have given up by now, egos bruised, feelings hurt, hearts shattered. And with most guys, you would have been firmer, clearer, colder. Meaner. But Art isn't most guys. Art is sweet.

"I-- shit, Art, wouldn't you rather just date some other girl like you?" you say helplessly.

"I don't want another girl, I want you," he replies plainly. Like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like there's no other answer.

And that's all it takes for you to agree. It's impossible to say no to those baby doll eyes. The two of you set ground rules - you don't tell him who or where or how, just that it happened. He doesn't ask you any questions. No one leaves you any marks. Immediate friends, such as Art's tennis circle and his church friends, are off limits. And that's that. He's your boyfriend now.

Art thought it would suffice. He likes being with you. Holding your hand while you walk to class. Seeing you in the stands when he plays a match. Chaste little pecks here and there. But you're like a pit of quicksand, a hurricane. You draw him in quicker than he thought possible, and now he can't breathe, can't think, can't move. The corruption is slow, certain, and inescapable.

He starts to find himself wanting more.

A kiss in his dorm room that deepens instead of stops, one hand cupping your jaw, the other floating to rest on the small of your back, above the waist of your low jeans, on the warm, bare skin there. A glance that feels more than affectionate, his eyes roving over your collarbone, the glint of your skin in the sun, the line of your bra beneath your sheer, tight shirt. He sees you smile at another guy and a hot flash of jealousy surges through him as he wonders if this is one of the guys you're fucking, if that guy, that random piece of shit, gets to touch you, see you, feel you. He tamps it down, and it feels too little, too late.

You'd be a fool not to notice. Stupid, not to feel the press of his hard-on when he hugs you from behind. Not to sense the shift in the way he kisses you, tongue slipping past your lips, hands sliding down further than they usually do. He plays it off, always. An accident. The heat of the moment. But you know. And because you're weak, because you're a terrible person, because ruining Art Donaldson is the most beautiful thing to ever happen to you, you let him.

"Art, do you ever touch yourself?"

He falls off his chair in his hurry to spin around and look at you. From the floor of your dorm, he stares with wide blue eyes and pink cheeks. "Wha--"

You shrug. "You know. Do you ever..." you make a crude gesture with your hand, and he buries his face up to his nose in his collar.

"No," he says, muffled into his tee shirt. "It's sinful."

It takes every fibre of your being not to laugh. He's so precious, so pure, sometimes you wonder why a guy like him could ever be interested in you at all. Your looks are one thing - you know you're hot. But Art likes you. He likes you even when he can't fuck you. He liked you even when you told him you wouldn't date him. He likes you because you're you. Which makes you feel a little shitty about what you do next, but you can't help it.

"So, what, when you're hard, what do you do?" you press casually. "Send up a Hail Mary and wait?"

Art's ears, which peek out over his shirt collar, are so red they could have been on fire. He shakes his head, a little frantically. He flushes easily, you notice, blood flowing quickly whenever he's even mildly embarrassed. It conjures images of his cock, whatever it might look like, red and aching with need. And you feel a lot less bad, the mental image of Art's dick fuelling the way you lean over, sliding off your chair to join him on the floor. You kneel, hands resting on your knees, and you know he's getting an eyeful of your tits. You keep your eyes on his face.

"Show me," you murmur. "I won't touch you. I won't even touch myself. I just wanna see."

He stares at you like you've asked him for his social security number and all his credit card info. Which, honestly, he probably would have given up a little easier. And you're an awful person, because you know the effect you've had on him, especially these days, you know that Art will probably do anything you ask of him, just for the pleasure of pleasing you.

"Please?" you wheedle, cocking your head to one side lightly, staring up at him through your lashes.

And, really, how could he say no to that?

"I-- okay," he says, and he tries to pretend like he's relenting a lot more than he actually is. Pretends like he's doing you a huge favour, as if his cock isn't straining at the mere idea.

Art doesn't jerk off often. He's only ever used his hand once - the single time Patrick showed him. After that, he'd cried in the bathroom and washed his hands so many times he got a contact allergy. But he's figured out an alternative. One that doesn't involve him touching himself at all. So he slides off his sweats, all too aware of your steady eyes on him. You look at him like you've never seen legs before, as if you haven't seen him at a thousand practices. You look at him like you want to eat him.

He tries to tell himself that's not what's making his cock throb in his boxers. He keeps those on, more for his sake than yours.

"You can lie on my bed," you offer innocently.

Art almost moans. Because it's your bed. Because it's yours, and when he lies down it's almost like lying with you. When he buries his face in the pillow, he can smell you, your vanilla and roses body wash, and, beneath it, the gentle smell of you. It's your sheets he starts to cant into, hips rolling in a familiar motion as he starts to work away the desperate pressure in his cock. It's your pillow he bites in a futile attempt to muffle his moans. And when he looks up, eyes half-lidded, he can see you watching him. You're biting your lip, looking flustered, and it's the cutest he's ever seen you, and he moans your name without meaning you.

You keep your promise, hands folded neatly in you lap as you watch Art rut into your bed like a wild animal, like he's in fucking heat, like your sheets are a person and he's fucking it. Like your sheets are you, you realise, as his eyes meet yours and he whines your name. He's pretending he's fucking you. It's hard not to give up and shove one hand into your panties, but for his sake, you try. Art's moans are almost musical, and with a sharp slap of embarrassment, you're reminded of the sounds he makes when he hits the ball at practice. The same whining grunts of exertion, except now they're fuelled by pleasure, spurred on by the desperate grind of his hips into your sheets, not a fucking tennis ball.

"Oh, oh, fuck," Art's voice gets a little higher. "Oh, fuck, it's so good--"

You can feel yourself soaking through your panties, and you shift slightly. His movements grow a little more erratic, hands balling up into white-knuckled fists into the soft fabric of your sheets. You drink it all in while you can - his ears are red, his cheeks are pink. You follow the curve of his ass in his boxers. You stare at the muscles in his thighs. The bones of his hips.

Art gets breathy when he's about to cum. Breathy, very whiny, almost crying if you're being honest. You file that information away for later.

"Please, please, can I?" he gasps, staring up at you with pupils blown wide with lust. "Can I cum, please, fuck, need it, need it-- you-- fuck, please?"

It's surprising he can even string together a full sentence. "Of course, baby," you murmur, already resolved to not changing your sheets until after you've cum in them too.

Another nugget of information: Art favours a deep grind when he cums, like he's looking for a place to put it, to bury it, looking to breed, to mark, to keep. The sight of him pushing his hips as far into your mattress as he can before he cums, a cry of your name and a shuddering breath slipping from his lips, will probably fuel your nighttime ventures for the next few weeks. You'll use it when you find your next hook up, it'll probably send you right over the edge.

You don't know when you started thinking of Art while you fucked other guys. You just know that now, it's tricky to get off without it. It's hard enough biting your tongue so you avoid saying his name. Now, you'll have the image of his face when he cums locked in your brain forever.

"Shit," Art curses, still breathless, sitting up to examine the sticky mess soaking from the front of his gingham boxers, all the way into your sheets. "Sorry."

You just shake your head. "Don't worry about it. That was... really hot. That's actually how you get yourself off?"

He nods, embarrassed. When he shuffles off to shower, borrowing your shower caddy and a towel, you wait until your door click, and then you practically rip open your nightstand. It takes less than ten minutes with a vibrator and the memory of Art's voice moaning your name for you to add your cum to his. You imagine his hips fucking into you, not your sheets. You imagine pulling his stupid fucking purity ring off and wearing it like some fucked-up engagement ring. His hands are so big, you'd probably have to wear it on your thumb. His hands. You imagine them grabbing you, holding you, sliding up your skin. You wonder what it would be like to have him revere you, not his God. Worship you. You want him to, you think. The idea of him shattering every promise he's ever made, just to be inside you? It sends you over the edge with a muffled cry of his name.

It's that feeling, that messy need for him, that drives you to that frat party. You told him, obviously, and while he seemed sort of put-off when you mentioned you were probably going to sleep with someone, he told you it was okay. Told you to be safe.

You wish you could tell him, but you're worried it'll scare him off. Don't worry, Art, every guy I fuck, I pretend he's you. And now I'll have the knowledge of exactly what you look and sound like when you cum to help me out! Not exactly girlfriend material.

Still, you're thinking of Art when your eyes land on a boy playing beer pong. He's tall, all messy black curls and tanned skin. Handsome, too, if you're being honest, in a messy, frat boy-y kind of way. Hook up hot. You're thinking of Art when he waves you over, holding up a beer like it's a peace offering. You're thinking of Art when you give him your name and ask for his.

"Patrick," he tells you easily. "Patrick Zweig."

[junkissed]

goodnight n go

★ | member — fwb!vernon x f reader ★ | genre — smut, angst, non-idol au, happy ending, fwb to lovers ★ | word count — 10.2k

★ | synopsis — you keep coming back for more, but every night ends the same. maybe this time things will be different.

★ | warnings — guitarist!vernon, rock band!hhu, mentions of alcohol, vernon has commitment issues (but he gets over it) ★ | smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, consensual drunk sex, car sex, oral (reader receiving), fingering, piv, making out, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk vernon (he's down baddd), some aftercare ★ | notes — thanks to @onlymingyus for always being the best and to @wonustars for proofreading !! i did not intend for this fic to be this long but i'm actually really proud of how it turned out so i hope you like it!! also i often make playlists for my fics but i never share them, but i've been listening to this one for months while i've been writing this fic so i'll link it so you can listen too. if you enjoy this fic, please reblog and let me know in the tags!! reblogs are super important to tumblr and they help motivate me to keep writing more like this :)

check out the playlist! featuring — goodnight n go - ariana grande ; black eye - vernon ; uh oh - tate mcrae ; sunset - caroline polachek ; romanticise this - james marriott ; entertainer - zayn ; & more

“hey, you wanna get drinks tonight?”

as usual, that’s how it starts.

you probably should have said no. you’d played this game before. you knew exactly what hansol meant when he offered to hang out after band practice, because it was never just “hanging out”.

you don’t even know why you still go to practices anymore. for a long time you’d avoided them; it wasn’t really your style, and you were never interested in being a groupie for their local gigs. your roommate seungcheol always invited you to every practice and every time you declined with the excuse of homework or other plans, but cheol finally convinced you to come just one time.

at first, it had been because he wanted you to hear a new song they were working on and he’d wanted to know how you liked it before they played it at an upcoming show. but then he’d introduced you to the rest of his bandmates, and after that there was no going back.

you couldn’t help the way your eyes always gravitated towards hansol, who insisted that you call him his real name instead of his stage name that everyone else called him. from the very first practice, you were captivated by him: the way his long fingers seem to dance along the neck of his guitar so effortlessly, the way his voice rasps when he sings, the way your breath catches in your throat when he grips the microphone stand and rolls his head back, lips parted in ecstasy.

he’s addictive, and it’s exactly the reason why you find yourself in the backseat of his car over and over again.

every time, it was easy to pretend that things would be different. you’d walk into the bar together and sit at the table in the back, order a few drinks, chat for a while about nothing. did you like the new stuff we played tonight? yeah, i know cheol is really excited to perform it saturday. you been doing any writing lately? mmm, a little. i’ve been feeling inspired. we could go back to my place and i could show you. except he never does.

hansol wasn’t a bad guy. he always paid for your drinks no matter how many times you offered to pick up the tab, he was polite, he listened to what you had to say. he just didn’t want more than that, and that’s where it all fell apart. you’d screw around for a while, then you’d part ways and wouldn’t speak to each other until next week. you never went to see them play shows, he never texted, you never called, never went on a real date besides meeting in the same bar down the street every thursday night after practice.

he seemed fine with that. you weren’t. and yet every time, you ended up back in his arms.

he groans into your mouth, pushing his hips into you and pinning you harder against the faded leather seats of his old honda. his lips are sloppy but eager, messily pressing his mouth into yours as his fingers tangle in the hair at the base of your neck. you can taste the beer and smoke on his breath, but for some reason it doesn’t bother you. maybe you’re used to it, or maybe it’s just because it’s him. you don’t want to know which reason is the truth.

he kisses you until you’re dizzy, and you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or from the thrill of kissing him once again. it’s a high you’re convinced you’ll never get tired of, although you’re not quite sure yet if it’s one that he will.

hansol always lets you set the pace, but tonight he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself. both of your shirts met the floor of his car what seems like hours ago, leaving you in just your bra and pants as he makes out with you as if it’s the first and last time he’ll get that chance. his fingers breeze over your waist the same way they breeze over his guitar strings when he plays: careful yet greedy, each touch intentional yet impulsive as he grips your waist.

he drags his fingers higher and it sends a shiver down your spine, arching your hips up against him and rolling your head back against the seat’s headrest. if there’s only one upside to this relationship, it’s that he’s good at this. really good. if he weren’t, then you wouldn’t have spent so many nights letting him fuck you in the parking lot of your shitty local bar. it does something for your confidence knowing that he must feel the same about you, or else he wouldn’t keep inviting you out. at the very least, this arrangement is mutual, even if you wish it wasn’t.

his hips rock against your crotch again, and even through both of your clothes you can feel how hard he is. your mind is clouded, everything’s a haze, and all you can think about is how badly you want him. the warmth of his skin, the gentle scratch of his nails on the back of your neck, his long eyelashes that flutter against your cheek as he kisses you.

you feel your hands slide haphazardly down his bare chest, fumbling over his hips as you tug on the waistband of his jeans. none of it feels graceful, not like the way he handles his music. it’s sloppy, desperate, clumsy, and it’s everything you need right now.

he manages to lean back from you enough to undo his pants and push them down to his knees, but his mouth is back on yours in an instant. somehow you end up on your back across the seats, gazing up at him with slack lips as his thin silver chain dangles over your face. you might not remember a lot of what happens on these nights when you’re with him, but you’ll always remember this moment. him hovering above you with heavily lidded eyes, biting his lip and cursing as he pushes into you, is etched into your mind in a way you simultaneously love and hate. love because it feels so good, hate because it never lasts.

the last half of those nights never stands out in your memory. you remember feeling good, you remember trembling in his arms and gasping and moaning and crying in pleasure, but the images are too fuzzy to make out. you don’t really need to reflect on them anyway; you know he’ll just bring you out next week and do it all over again.

hansol kisses you once more after you’re both finally spent, but the kisses afterwards are always different. more… hesitant, more uncertain. none of the passion and desperation that you’ve come to crave from him. not what you really want.

“i can drive you home,” he offers once he’s finished cleaning you up. for once you think he might genuinely mean it, but you can never be sure enough to take that chance. you want him to drive you home. god, you want him to so bad. to have him come over with you and stay the night, stay another night and another until your apartment isn’t just yours anymore, that’s what you’ve wanted all this time. and it’s what you’ll never have.

“i’ll call an uber,” you answer.

“i’ll wait with you, then.”

the silence that settles over his car is heavy as you climb back into the front passenger seat. you want to tell him to get in the uber with you, stay more than just a couple hours with you in the furthest back corner of the bar parking lot that’s too far to be illuminated by streetlights. you want to argue that he’s too drunk even to drive himself, that he needs to come home with you and sleep it off together in the comfort of your bed, but you know it’s not true and it won’t work. this is a conversation you’ve had many times before. every night you’ve spent with him blurs into the next, always the same. 

sometimes you want to laugh at how naive you are, for thinking he’d eventually come to his senses and realize there’s more to you than a good lay before a gig. sometimes you want to grab him and shake him by the shoulders and tell him to grow the fuck up, give him an ultimatum and make him tell you what he wants from you or else put an end to it all. sometimes you just want to cry, to mourn your wasted time when you’re fully aware it’s never going to lead to something more, no matter how badly you want it and how hard you try.

no matter how many times you get your hopes up, no matter how many times you pray and beg and plead with god and the universe and every other higher power to get him to realize this can’t keep going on the way it is forever, nothing ever changes. you’re never going to stop running to him when he calls, and he’s never going to stop calling.

finally another car pulls into the lot, and you manage to pull yourself out of his car. you hear your name behind you and you stumble, swaying on your feet as he rolls down his window.

maybe this time will be different.

he says his usual goodbyes and goodnights, flashing you a loose grin and a wave as his engine sputters to life, and he asks if you’re planning on coming to practice next week. 

and you find yourself nodding.

you’re left standing there, your head and your heart pounding, watching his headlights fade as he drives away, until you’ve stood there for so long that your ride starts honking and calling for you to get in the car so you can leave.

maybe next time will be different.

this is going to be the last time, you swear.

you exhale as you stand inside the lobby of the venue, repeating the words to yourself. there’s a chill in the air tonight. the wind blows smoke in your direction from the couple standing by the door, abandoned cigarettes clutched between their fingers as they make out sloppily.

you grimace and turn away, studying the faded graffiti and half-ripped posters and advertisements that litter the walls around you. you mean it this time, seriously. the only reason you came tonight was because it’s the last time. a goodbye, of sorts.

you have to admit, you were a little shocked when hansol texted you after your weekly meet-up after practice. not only did he want to make sure you got home safe after you left, but he’d asked if you’d come to their next performance.

you stare down at your phone in your hand, rereading the texts for what feels like the thousandth time in the past few days just to make sure you haven’t imagined them. but no, there they are, bright pixels staring right back up at you from the screen.

hansol: hey just wanted to make sure you made it back home

hansol: btw we’re playing at the phoenix on saturday and i was wondering if you had plans? i wanna see you

hansol: maybe we could get dinner after or somethin if youre down idk

hansol: hoping youll be there

you’d been tempted to refuse him, out of bitterness or resentment or something else, but you can’t say you weren’t shocked by his offer. he’d suggested every once in a while that you should come see them play sometime, but it was always clear to both of you that it was out of small talk rather than genuine interest in you being there. but this time he’d said he wanted you there.

it was nice to feel wanted, for once. maybe you hadn’t been going crazy. maybe things really were different this time.

you glance at your phone once more to check the time before you slip it into your pocket, taking a deep breath as you walk through the second set of doors into the main room. you can hear the deep sound of wonwoo’s drums warming up, but the stage is obscured behind a ratty set of faded red curtains.

there’s still a few minutes before their set, but the room is already crowded with people so you push your way to the side wall near the back. you don’t really want anyone to see you here, anyway. you don’t want anyone to see that your resolve is paper-thin when it comes to hansol.

you hadn’t told him that you were coming tonight, just sending him a vague response and telling him you’d have to see if your schedule is free. even that felt too generous, after the anguish he’s put you through the past few weeks. he doesn’t need to know that you’re here, just like he doesn’t need to know the real reason you’ve been avoiding ever coming to see him play. and it’s not because you always have other plans.

you’re hoping to just watch the performance quietly from the back, then sneak out without ever having to talk to him, and text him later that you’d enjoyed it. you already knew you were going to enjoy it. you’d heard every original song, cover, and riff they’d ever played together, and at this point you could probably recite their setlist by heart. anyone could see that they were talented together, so it isn’t surprising that the venue is packed tonight. honestly, it’d be for the better if you got lost in the crowd and never saw him face to face.

the house lights suddenly fade into darkness and the crowd starts to quiet, the curtains finally pulling back to reveal the band. seungcheol stands in front of a microphone in the center of the stage, with wonwoo in the back at his drum set and mingyu to his left holding a bass guitar. and then, of course, there’s hansol.

you hate the way your gaze immediately lands on him, standing in the same position he always does, with his guitar slung around his neck by a thick red strap. the crowd starts cheering, and distantly you recognize seungcheol’s voice introducing the group, but you can’t make out any of his words.

your mind flashes back to all the nights you’ve spent sitting on a folding chair in mingyu’s garage, watching them laugh and bicker and fool around. it’s different seeing them actually on a stage for once, the metal of their instruments glinting under the harsh, colorful stage lights.

it’s not a large stage by any means, just a few feet higher than the ground and barely wide enough for all four of them to fit. but their presence is captivating, and it makes the dingy local theater seem more special than it really is. but then again, hansol makes everything seem more special than it really is.

seungcheol finishes speaking and the crowd around you lets out whoops and cheers, but you stay silent. your eyes are still stuck on hansol, watching him scan the crowd as he twists the tuning pegs on his guitar.

even from the back of the room, you can tell he’s nervous. his fingers shake just a little, in a way you know they never do because you’ve watched him tune his guitar a thousand times under the dim interior lights in his car. you watch his eyes dart around the room, squinting to see into the crowd before turning his attention back to the fretboard in his hands.

he’s not the most outgoing guy in the world, but at the same time you know he’s not the kind of person to get stage fright. something is different this time. or, maybe it’s not. you’ve never actually seen him play in front of an audience. you don’t know him as well as you think you do, you have to constantly remind yourself every time your mind starts to wander and you let yourself daydream. after all, he doesn’t know anything about you, and he doesn’t seem to care enough to learn. neither should you.

the band opens with a song you’ve heard a thousand times, then another and another, pausing after every few songs to talk to the crowd. time seems to fly by around you, but everything moves in slow motion when you're looking at hansol. you study the way his hair falls in soft brown waves around his face, his head bobbing to the rhythm as he strums his guitar. it's one thing you've always enjoyed about watching him play; he always gets so lost in the music, and it's fascinating to watch. it's clearly on the list of things he's passionate about, and even if you aren't one of those things, at least you get to see him doing something he loves. 

you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. you can't let yourself think like that. you're here to end things, not to reminisce. you shouldn't care if he likes music or not, that's not your problem anymore. he's not your problem anymore.

you zone out for a while, trying hard not to think about him but he's the only thing you can focus on. your eyes wander every once in a while, when you hear cheol's raspy voice in the mic or a particularly cool guitar riff from mingyu, but they always end up back at hansol.

they finish playing what you know is their last song, but the crowd is still bursting with electricity. it’s not long before everyone starts to chant, begging for one more song.

“encore?” seungcheol laughs into the mic, and flashes one of his signature dazzling smiles that sends the group of girls standing in front of you into hysterics. he glances over at hansol and nods. “mmm, yeah. i think we can do one more.”

you fold your arms over your chest. now is probably your best chance to leave. it’s not a very big venue, but from the amount of people here it’s obvious that there’ll be chaos once things are over as people start to file out. though most of them will probably be trying to fight their way to the front instead, giving wonwoo their phone numbers written on stained cocktail napkins and asking mingyu to sign their tits. but just as you’re about to start pushing your way back towards the exit, cheol’s deep voice makes you pause.

“we’re gonna play something real special tonight,” he says, making eye contact with hansol again. “something brand new, that we’ve never performed before. you guys wanna be the first to hear it?”

the room erupts into cheers again, and cheol grins. “yeah, i figured. so, i’m gonna let vernon explain this one. take it away, man.”

you stand still, arms crossed and curiosity piqued. maybe you can wait until after the last song. if this is going to be your last hurrah, then you might as well see it through til the end. just this once, and never again.

hansol clears his throat and looks out into the darkened theater. “this song is about a girl i’m in love with,” he starts. that gets a light laugh out of the crowd, a couple whistles and cheers, and he chuckles into the microphone before continuing. the words that have been brewing in your head for weeks seem to instantly melt on your tongue as his voice rings in your ears, echoing through your mind. that’s not you. that’s definitely not you.

“i hope she’s here tonight, but i wouldn’t blame her if she wasn’t. because i think i kind of fucked everything up.” he swallows, his eyes darting back and forth as he scans across the crowd, searching for something. searching for you? “so if she’s out there, i’m sorry. and i know this won’t make up for it, but i hope you like it anyway.”

the crowd cheers again, louder than they have all night, but the noise quickly dies down once hansol begins to play. the lights go dim, and the room fills with a soft melody from his guitar. the sound is unfamiliar, a song you haven’t heard before, and you realize he must’ve been working on it outside of the band’s usual practices. 

even if he isn’t talking about you, the song is beautiful. his guitar seems to sing every note that plays, and you can practically see the air around him shimmering with energy. the rest of the room seems to fade away, the audience that separates you suddenly disappearing. it’s like you’re the only two people around, sitting beside him as he plays just for you. 

he’s done that a few times, played you little snippets on his guitar. you can almost picture it now: it’s always right after he parks outside the bar, before you head inside together. he’ll unzip the case and pull his guitar from the backseat, positioning it on his lap. he comes up with a different reason every time; sometimes he’ll ask if the chords he’s been working on sound good together, sometimes he’ll tell you to listen to see if it needs tuning, sometimes he’ll say he just needs to practice this section a couple more times before giving up for the night and getting shitfaced with you off too many shots.

but you always see right through his flimsy excuses; obviously he’s doing it to show off, to impress you or something. but for the life of you, you’ve never been able to figure out why. why should he care about impressing you, if he doesn’t want to go any further with you?

and suddenly, as you stand in the back of the theater, watching his eyes sparkle under the lights and his fingers breeze over his guitar, looking more focused and frustrated and angry and sad and sorry than you’ve ever seen him look, now you finally have your answer.

you don’t want him to be talking about you. he shouldn’t be talking about you. you almost wish he would just be an asshole to you, give you a good reason to yell at him and cuss him out and tell him to fuck off, but he never does. sure, he’s a little dense to the not-so-subtle hints you’ve been trying to drop, but he’s always been good to you, even if it’s breaking your heart in the process. maybe you’ve been the dense one all along.

the show ends in a blur, and the lights come back on as people start to file out. there's cheers and more shouts for another encore, but it's clear the night is over. this is the part you've been dreading; even after days of convincing yourself, you're still not sure what you're going to do.

when the crowd finally clears out enough for you to move towards the stage, you can already see the group that’s formed around the members. cheol is off to one side, giving out autographs to whoever waves their napkins closest to him. mingyu’s helping wonwoo pack up his drum kit, smiling shyly at the girls calling his name and promising he’ll come back out to the lobby to meet them once he’s finished.

and then there’s hansol, looking flustered as people crowd around him, a deep blush in his cheeks as he waves his hands to try and get them to leave. you’re just far enough from his line of sight that you almost hesitate. it’s not too late to turn around. it’s not too late to leave before he can see you, to disappear from his life forever, but your heart won’t let you. 

you walk a little closer to the stage, hanging back behind the crowd of people, but he sees. his face lights up with relief, and even from a few feet away you can still see his eyes soften. he tells the people to move, more firmly with his words this time, and he hops down off the stage as they part to make room for him. when it’s clear his attention is no longer on them, they grumble and walk away, talking to their friends about the show and how hot all the members are and how they’re definitely planning on coming back the next time they perform.

hansol reaches you in a couple of strides, stopping just in front of you. he stays silent for a second, his eyes roaming over you almost gratefully.

“hi,” he says finally, offering you a lopsided smile. he wipes his palms on his jeans nervously. “you came.”

you bite your lip for a second before you nod. “i did.”

“so you’re— did you— were you here for the end of the show?” he asks, trying to hide the stutter in his words. it’s cute how shy he is all of a sudden. it’s not like him to be shy like this. but then again, the only times you’ve seen him are when he’s playing with the guys or fucking your brains out while he's drunk, so it’s not like you’ve really gotten to know him. maybe he’s always been this shy and you were just too caught up in him to notice.

you know what he’s trying to say without outright saying it. obviously you were there the whole time, a fact you aren’t the proudest of, but you aren’t about to let him know that. “i heard your song,” you finally settle on, cutting straight to the point.

his face goes through about a hundred emotions in the span of a second, from surprised to happy then right back to shy again. “yeah?”

even though most of the room has cleared out by now, he starts walking as he talks, pulling you through the side door into the quieter backstage area. you follow him around the corner until you reach a private room, a wrinkled sheet of paper taped to the door with his name written in sharpie. his guitar case that you've seen so many times lies open on the floor, his backpack slumped against one wall.

“i liked it.”

he exhales in relief as he turns back around to face you, and you can almost see his whole body relax. “i'm so fucking sorry,” he says, nearly stumbling over his words with how fast he tries to get them out. “i've been really, really stupid. the way i left you the other night… i shouldn't have let you go like that. i regretted it the second you left.”

you purse your lips as you listen. you can tell he really means it, and it's getting harder and harder to stay mad at him. but you can't let him off that easy, not after how long you've been going through this.

“i just don't understand what it is you want, hansol. you treat me like— i don't know, like nothing.” you pause and chew on the inside of your cheek for a second, letting your words sink in. “and then out of the blue you beg me to come to your show, and you play this really sweet, heartfelt song, so how the hell am i supposed to take that?”

he winces, but the wounded look on his face doesn't feel as satisfying as you'd hoped it would. “i know. i'm just… i'm bad with words. i'm better at music.” he sighs. “but that's not an excuse. i didn't ever wanna make you feel like that, not on purpose. i just got scared. but i shouldn't have.”

you stand silently, waiting. clearly, there's more on his mind. he stuffs his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, shifting from one foot to the other. 

“i love the way you laugh. i love the way you watch me when i'm playing and it makes me feel like the only person in the whole world. i love the way you smile when you're drunk and the way you kiss me. and it was stupid of me to ever think i didn't want that all the time.” he lifts his gaze to meet your eyes, the fear in his expression more obvious than anything you've ever seen before.

you let out a breath, your voice dropping almost to a whisper. “you should've just said that.”

“i should've,” he agrees.

you offer him a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep yourself together. this is not how you thought tonight would go. you didn't even think you'd talk to him, and if you did, you thought it would be a shouting match, screaming and cursing before angrily storming out of the venue, finally feeling vindicated after all this time. yet here you are, standing quietly in front of him and trying not to cry.

he waits for a second, trying to gauge your reaction before he continues. “you're, like, my best friend,” he says, adding a nervous little chuckle to lighten the mood. “i think about you every time i play or whenever i try to write something. it's always about you. you don't know how much i look forward to thursday practices and getting to see you.”

now it's your turn to laugh. “you literally could've just texted me and i probably would've dropped everything to be there, anytime.”

he grins, his smile a little wider this time. “yeah, i know. i tried, the other day when i invited you. that was scary as shit.”

he looks up at you again, his soft brown eyes and long eyelashes shining even under the dim flickering bulb overhead. “i'm really glad you came tonight, though. i wasn't expecting you to, but i really hoped you would.” he offers you another nervous smile. “will you let me try again?”

you don't answer right away, and the look of nervousness starts to seep back into his features. “i promise i—”

but you cut him off, pulling him in by his shoulders and pressing your lips against his. he falters for just a second but his arms immediately wrap around your waist, tilting his head to lean into the kiss, and somehow that one little action feels more natural than anything you've ever done together.

you slide your tongue against his lips, and he lets out a groan into your mouth before he pulls back to breathe. “is that a yes?”

you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes and laugh, but instead you just nod. “yes.”

you definitely didn't come here tonight expecting to get laid. in fact, the last thing you ever thought you'd do is sleep with hansol again. but all of that feels like a distant memory as you head out of the community theater together, his guitar case over his shoulder, walking hand in hand towards his car.

the routine is familiar, but nothing is the same. you're not drunk, you're not in the parking lot of a cheap bar, and you don't feel lonely anymore. 

he unlocks the doors and you start to climb into the backseat, but he lets out a little noise and shakes his head, and you look up at him in confusion. 

“we're going back to my place. or yours, if you want.” he reaches down to offer his hand and help you out of the car. “i said i was gonna do it right this time, didn't i?”

by the time you get back to your apartment, your stomach is in knots in the very best way. your hands shake as you fumble with your keys, and if you weren’t so on edge it would have almost made you laugh, the way hansol looks away and pretends not to notice. you're more alike than you thought, and suddenly you're overcome with a feeling of excitement. now you get to discover all these little things about him: things you didn't allow yourself to see before, things he wants to show you and tell you and share with you. 

you try not to let the awkwardness seep back in, but you pause outside your bedroom door, almost as if you're waiting for hansol to tell you what to do. in just one night he's turned your life on its head, and now you're at a loss.

so he takes it as a sign and kisses you, his hands finding your waist and slowly trailing up your body until he's cupping your chin. it's different from all the other times he's kissed you. it's not just the fiery passion you're used to when you can tell he's worked up, but there's a hint of uncertainty in it, more similar to the kisses he gives you afterwards when you're trying to figure out whether to ask for a ride home or not. and then, the pieces finally settle into place and you realize he wasn't kissing you like that because he didn't want you; he was kissing you like that because he did.

you pull away and he freezes a little, and you can tell from the worried look in his eyes that he thinks he's gone too far. “relax,” you laugh softly, your forearms still resting on his shoulders. 

he complies, but his eyes still dart across your face in nervousness. despite how badly he wants you, how badly he needs to prove himself to you, there's clearly still so much that needs to be discussed before you can move forward, things that've been left unsaid for far too long.

you inhale and look up into his eyes, trying to find what emotion is hidden there. “what do you want, hansol?”  

“want you to be my girlfriend,” he breathes out without hesitating. if it were any other time and place you might've thought he was joking, but you can tell he's dead serious.

“i—” whatever words you had ready instantly die in your throat, not expecting such a genuine answer. “yes. but i meant, like, right now. what do you want, right now.”

his expression shifts in understanding and he grins, though it's still shy. “oh. well…” he pauses again to think. “what do you want me to do?”

you watch his eyes carefully for a moment before you reply. you've wanted him to do a lot of things. you wanted him to be better, you wanted him to be worse. you wanted him to do anything besides being stuck in this weird limbo of friend-zoned friends with benefits. but now that the choice is up to you… you don't want any of that.

“i want you to be honest,” you start softly, almost shy to say it, but you know it needs to be said. “i want you to tell me how you feel. because i can't lie, you really fucked up. i shouldn't have given you so many chances.” he winces at that, but you brush your thumb along his cheek and pull his attention back to you. “but i did. so you need to earn my trust again. and i just want you to not be so afraid anymore.”

he stays silent for a long moment before he nods, as if he's seriously considering your words. “i know,” he says finally. his voice is quieter now, barely above a whisper. “i'm sorry. you're gonna get so fucking sick of hearing me say how sorry i am, but i'm not gonna stop saying it.”

you want to laugh, but his tone is so serious that you know you shouldn't, so you keep a straight face and ask him again. “so… what do you want?”

he lets out a sigh, still holding you face in his hands. “shit, everything. but, first— i really wanna taste you. can… can i?”

you take a step backwards into the bedroom and he follows, tearing off clothes one by one in a hurry until you're both left with just underwear. with the limited space in his car you've never actually been fully naked together before, and the thought of him seeing you is both terrifying and exhilarating. 

he leans you down onto the bed and you pull him down with you. he falls beside you, pausing to kiss you once more before rolling off the bed and onto his knees, holding your legs in front of him as he stares up at you.

it's the kind of image that could drive a woman mad. you didn't think he was capable of being this patient, but it seems he's full of surprises tonight. “yes,” you breathe out and finally give him an answer. your eyes are locked onto his, a silent conversation happening between you in the span of a second.

he clears his throat and slowly pries your legs apart, pulling his gaze away from your face to stare between your thighs instead.

“god, this pussy…” he groans in delight as he settles your legs over his shoulders, his gaze transfixed on the wet spot at the seat of your panties.

he slides his palms up your thighs, and for his sake you pretend not to notice the way his fingers are shaking just a little. you lift your hips to encourage him, and he slips his long fingers beneath the hem of your panties before pulling them down, taking his time to slide them off and toss them on the floor behind him.

his hands immediately come back up to your thighs, using his thumbs to press your legs apart to give him a better view.

“so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles to no one but himself. it's like he's in a trance, admiring the dripping mess between your legs like it's about to be his last meal. if he hadn't been so enthusiastic, you might've been embarrassed at the electric shiver that runs through you from his praise. but when there's a man this hot in front of you, kneeling and staring up at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life, it's hard to feel embarrassed for long.

he leans in and presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your clit, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the feeling. he's never been incredibly rough with you before, but he’s never been this gentle, either. he's touching you so delicately, like a statue at a museum that he's not sure yet if he's allowed to touch or not.

your reaction spurs him on, and he leans in further to flatten his tongue against your entrance and gives a long, slow lick. your hips lift automatically, trying to push him closer and add more pressure.

he curls his tongue through your folds before pulling away, his hands coming up to rest on your hip bones and hold you down. “even better than i imagined,” he groans, looking up at you from his spot on the floor, and the image of him down there makes you so dizzy that you have to lay back down against the bed again.

“more,” you whimper desperately. in the back of your mind there's a distant feeling of shyness at how demanding you're being, but you don't think twice about it. after everything he put you through, he still needs to prove himself to you, that he's not going to break your heart again. but he's doing a damn good job so far. “vernon— ah, fuck!”

“mm, anything.” he presses a kiss against the soft skin on inside of your thigh. “anything you want, baby.”

you don't even have time to process the nickname before he's diving back in, his lips wrapped around your clit as he sucks at you. you let out a strangled noise of surprise, your hand instantly flying down to hold his head.

your fingers tangle in his hair, his tongue so deep in your pussy that you're already gasping and writhing under his touch. you can't tell which one of you has been more stupid for not letting this happen sooner, because it almost seems like he's enjoying this more than you are.

the coil in your stomach already feels like it's about to burst, pent up with white-hot energy that feels hotter than the sun. it hardly takes a few more pointed laps of his tongue before you fall apart into his mouth, whimpering and groaning and begging shamelessly for him. 

“you called me vernon,” he says when you finally manage to push his head away, shivering with overwhelming sensitivity. he lifts one hand to wipe at his chin, way too nonchalant after everything he just did.

you're still fighting through the haze of your orgasm but his words bring you back down to earth, and your face fills with heat. “huh? sorry, i—”

“everybody calls me vernon,” he says as he shakes his head, quickly cutting you off. he stands up and moves onto the bed, flopping down beside you. “i liked that you always called me hansol. made it feel special.”

your eyes follow his movements, still laying on your back as you catch your breath. “but…?”

he grins, and you swear there's a hint of blush in his cheeks. “but that was really sexy when you called me vernon. it sounds way cooler when it's coming from you.”

all you can do is laugh, letting your eyes close as you rest your hands on your stomach. “noted,” you giggle. “so should i do it more, then?”

he hums in thought, rolling over onto his side so that he's closer to you. “you can do whatever you want, baby.”

that nickname again. he's already started leaning in to kiss you again, but you grab his shoulders and pull him down to meet him halfway. there's a bitterness on his tongue that you'd almost forgotten about, but you're quickly reminded once you feel his hand sliding across your stomach and down back between your legs. you let out a surprised but happy moan into his mouth, one of your hands moving to the back of his head to kiss him harder.

your legs part, accepting the warmth of his palm as he gently presses it against your sensitive clit. he holds his hand there for just a moment, pausing his movements as he kisses you, eagerly swallowing the whimpers and sounds you give him in return.

after a minute he shifts his hand, carefully pressing his index and middle finger into you. you're right up at the edge again already, clenching down hard around his fingers as he sets a slow pace, pulling them out halfway before thrusting them in deeper than before. you're seeing stars, releasing a constant stream of muffled moans into his lips as he curls his fingers inside you. he follows the rhythm of your hips as you rut against his palm, letting the movement force his fingers even deeper.

his fingers are dripping with your juices, down his knuckles and pooling in his palm, but it only makes him want to fuck you even more. it's not like this is the first time he's fingered you. the guys at the auto shop down the street know him all too well, from the amount of times he's had to take his car in to get the seats cleaned. he always claims that it's because he's a messy eater, and while that's true in some ways, he knows those guys don't buy it for a fucking second.

his fingers are completely buried inside you but he never stops kissing you, breathing almost as heavily as you are. he stops thrusting his fingers and adjusts his hand once more, pressing his thumb against your clit to rub lazy circles over it. 

“ver—vern— fuck, hansol!” you finally manage to pull away from his lips, nearly gasping for air as another orgasm rips through you. his other hand slides down your body and it feels like the first time you've ever been touched, his palm so warm and tender against your skin that it somehow makes your high even better. you're shaking in his arms, lips parted in a soundless moan as you clench wildly around his fingers, but he just holds you tighter against his body and keeps pressing kisses along your jaw.

his lips are wet with both spit and slick as he watches you, his eyes filled with stars. usually when you're together, in the dark backseat of his car illuminated only by the moonlight and nearby streetlamps, it's hard to make out the details. it's dark, and everything is fuzzy from both the alcohol and the late hour. but now, he's realizing how stupid he was for never letting this happen sooner. he could've ended up going his whole life without ever seeing you like this, laying completely fucked out under the soft light in your bedroom, your pupils wide and eyes watery and so, so beautiful.

he waits until you've calmed down again, leaning away to give you a little space, but your hand shoots out to grab his wrist and keep him close to you and he can't help but smile. when you open your eyes you're expecting to find a cocky smirk, to see how proud of himself he is for having you in the palm of his hand so easily, but it's not there. just that soft smile.

“now. what do you want?” he says. “i should be asking you that way more often.”

“want you inside,” you pant out. “now. please? i— i missed you.” you shouldn't have said the last part out loud, but at this point you don't care anymore. all your cards are out on the table.

his eyes widen a little at your boldness, but he bites his lip and nods. he can't lie and say he wasn't secretly hoping you'd say that, but he'd be just as happy to sit here on the floor and eat you out over and over and over again. he'd do anything you want at this point, and not just because he feels like he owes you. he does, but it's deeper than that. it's a different kind of feeling, one that makes him want to do cheesy shit like lay his jacket over puddles for you and buy an airplane to write your name in the sky.

as he starts to position himself between your legs on the bed, you watch his face. his expression is outwardly neutral, but little by little you've started to recognize the signs of his happiness. it looks good on him.

but your brain isn't content with that, not just yet. you swallow as a thought crosses your mind, and you can't push it down any longer.

“wait,” you say quietly, forcing the word out before you can reconsider. he stops immediately, his eyes searching your face for anything he can find, any sign that you've changed your mind about this.

“yeah?” he replies, his voice just as quiet, as if he's afraid to speak too loudly and break the tension of this moment.

you clear your throat as best you can manage, though it's kind of starting to get sore from how much and how loudly you've been moaning all night. “just curious,” you start, nervousness suddenly starting to creep in. but tonight is for being honest, and you can handle the truth. probably.

“before, while we were together— well, it doesn't really count as being ‘together’ but you know what i mean.” you pause again, chewing your lip. “did you ever… y'know. was there ever anybody else?”

hansol exhales, still hovering over you. “no. unless you count lotion and my hand, ‘cause there was a lot of that.” your eyes soften and you visibly relax at his words, and he mentally kicks himself for ever making you even think that was the case. that there would ever be anyone else for him but you. “i know i was stupid, but i'm not that stupid.”

“okay.” you pause again, trying to figure out how to get back on track. “sorry, i just wanted to know. i don't care.”

he scoffs, but his tone is more melancholy than angry. he shifts on top of you so he can rest on his elbows, getting closer and brushing his hand over your hair. “you should care. if i had, i would've given you full permission to lay into me, cuss me out, whatever. i would've deserved it. you don't deserve that.”

“i wanted to, trust me.” you sigh. “but you're too nice to me. i thought…” you chew on your lip, eyes searching his as you try to figure out what to say. “…i don't know what i was thinking.”

“i don't think i'm anywhere near ‘too nice’,” hansol laughs. the sincerity in his expression almost makes you feel better. “i'm the luckiest dude on the planet that you didn't decide to, like, slash the tires on my car and egg my house or something instead. i really wouldn't have blamed you if you did.”

“maybe i should then, next time,” you say, a smile creeping onto your face.

he shakes his head. “there won't be a next time.”

the room goes quiet and you stare at each other for a second, letting his words sink in. you can tell he's being lighthearted, but he's not even trying to hide the sincerity behind his words.

“you can… continue now,” you say after a tense moment, breaking the silence. the tension in the room is thick but it's not uncomfortable, slowly but surely melting into a lust that's deeper than any of the times you've been drunk and horny in his car.

he nods, and he reaches down to brush your hair back behind your ear before his hands slide down your body. he seems so hesitant to let go of you, but finally he lifts one hand to grip his cock and position himself at your entrance. he braces his other hand against your hip, shivering as he brushes the tip of his cock up through your folds. fuck, he's not gonna last. 

after steeling his nerves as best he can and trying to convince himself not to bust the second he's inside you, he angles himself between your legs and starts to push in.

by some miracle he manages not to cum immediately, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think about literally anything else but how fucking beautiful you are lying beneath him, but what actually happens instead might be worse.

hansol groans once he's fully inside, slowly splitting you open bit by bit until he bottoms out with his hips flush against yours. there are so many words on his tongue begging to spill out, but he can't think straight. holy shit, he can't even think about anything right now. why did he never say anything sooner? why did he waste so much time content with putting in the least amount of effort when he could've been having you like this all along?

“i love you,” he blurts out, and for a split second you think maybe this is all a dream and somehow you passed out at the show and hit your head so hard you started hallucinating this. but then his eyes widen and he winces in that way you've started to recognize, and you almost laugh because now you know it's real.

“shit, i don't know why i said that. i'm sorry. fuck, i'm sorry,” he groans and hangs his head, but despite his embarrassment you can still feel every inch of his dick twitching inside you and it feels way too good to ignore. “you don't have to say it back. i know it's way too soon—”

“did you mean it?”

“what?”

“did you mean it?” you repeat. his attention pulls back to you, a confused yet hopeful look in his eyes that makes your heart warm.

he clears his throat, obviously trying to hide the pink spreading across his cheeks. “yeah. i think i did. and not just because you have the best pussy ever.”

“are you sure? because that's what it sounds like to me,” you tease and try to roll your eyes, but his words make you clench involuntarily around him and he curses under his breath.

“fuck— yes, i’m very sure, i meant it and i'll keep saying it forever if you'll let me.” he lets out a groan, both hands now firmly planted on your waist. “but, god, please let me fuck you now. i'm trying so goddamn hard to hold back and i'll gladly go for another round later but i'm trying to make it up to you right now and it's gonna completely ruin it if i cum in, like, five seconds.”

you can't help your laughter in that moment so all you can do is nod, lifting your hips a little to try and get him going. and he takes the hint, pulling halfway out of you before slamming back in, a loud, deep string of groans leaving his lips.

his pace starts out frantic but he quickly calms himself down, stabilizing himself through his grip on your waist and pulling you to meet his thrusts. he snaps his hips into you at a smooth pace, his cock dragging against your walls with each stroke in a way that has you clawing at his wrists for support as he holds onto you.

hansol may be bad at relationships, but he's never been bad at sex. even on a good day it really doesn't take much to have you seeing stars, but this is different. this is desperate, determined, thankful, and hopeful all wrapped into one movement, sliding in and out of you with a passion you've only ever seen when he's playing guitar. 

“ha— ngh— hansol!” despite your efforts to keep it steady, your voice still comes out broken, his name escaping your lips as easily as breathing. you roll your head back against the pillow, and you're suddenly even more grateful that you're at home in your bed instead of alone in a parking lot. this is so much better, better than you could've dreamed.

“fuck, you always take my cock so good,” hansol groans as he leans forward and buries his face in your chest. “i should’ve been telling you that every single time, how good you are. so fucking good.”

the way he fucks you is strangely tender, in a way you're not sure you've ever felt before. it's rough, but somehow in a gentle way. he's taking you apart piece by piece and putting you back together with his hands, his kisses, his touch. none of the times before have ever come close to this. 

maybe it's the feeling of a mattress beneath your back instead of a hard plastic seat, or maybe it's the promises hanging in the air between you that makes this time feel brand new. maybe you're just too caught up in the moment to think straight, but for the first time it finally feels like a fresh start. this time is different.

“baby, please, one more for me,” he moans into your skin as his hips begin to grow weary, his breath hot against your chest. “‘m not gonna last much longer— fuck, cum for me one more time, baby. god, you're so perfect. please, let me make you cum.”

at this point he's rambling, almost as far gone as you are, but it's like he doesn't even need to ask. as soon as the words leave his mouth you feel the familiar sensation starting to build again, burning hotter and quicker than before. you almost start to panic because you can't even tell if you have another one left in you, but you look up and meet his eyes one last time and suddenly a wave of calm washes over you at the sight of his soft brown eyes filled with way more love than you're expecting to find there.

you don't even have time to tell him when it hits you one more time, you just grab him and hang on tight as your high tears through you. you struggle to lift your legs and wrap them around his back, pulling him in even closer to you as your walls flutter uncontrollably around him. he invades your senses and you can feel him everywhere, and you can only hope he feels the way you do.

but it's obvious that he does, because “ah, shit—” is the last thing you hear before he pulls out, barely managing to get back in time before he spills all over your stomach, your thighs, your pussy, the sheets. it's everywhere, and neither of you care. his hands are still on you gripping your waist tightly like he can't bear to let go, his cock pulsing limply as it rests against your stomach. rope after rope of thick white floods over your skin, and yet it's like he barely even notices because he's so busy repeating your name, praising you again and again in between swears and shaky moans.

you're panting, your hands shaking as you reach for him, but he's already right there. he's breathing heavily himself as he drops down on the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his head in the crook of your neck. 

his weight half leaning against you is grounding, and eventually you feel your heart starting to return to normal as you become aware of the sticky puddle of sweat and cum that you're both laying in. but you just close your eyes and rest, focusing on his body warmth and his palm holding your side and the tickle of air coming from his nose as he breathes against you, and you realize nothing, no feeling in the world, has ever felt better than this.

when he reluctantly pulls himself away from your body to go look for a towel, you already know there's no question about whether or not he's staying over tonight.

once he's done cleaning you off he lifts you up into his arms, laughing and nuzzling his nose into your neck as he sets you down at your desk chair to start stripping the mess of sheets off your bed, and in that moment you can't help but think how lucky you are. he keeps saying that he's the lucky one for letting him have a second chance, but you're lucky in a lot of ways, too. lucky that it turned out he wasn't as much of an idiot as you’d thought. lucky that your heart wouldn't let you give up on him, no matter how hard you tried. lucky that after everything, hope still works sometimes.

after stumbling around your room, tossing blankets and sheets around and looking the happiest you've ever seen him, you're finally settled down together and you're back where you've always belonged, laying in his arms. it's so late that the sun is probably coming up soon and you're exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of a night, but you couldn't care less about what happens next because everything finally feels right.

hansol sighs, his arm curled a little awkwardly around your shoulders as he twirls a lock of your hair between his fingers. “can… we not do this anymore?” he asks finally. 

his voice is quiet; not shy or uncertain, just quiet. it's different than what you're used to with him. usually when you're around him everything is loud, it's fast and messy and jumbled, a whirlwind of a night followed by heartache and a pounding headache in the morning. but now he's just… quiet. all the thoughts that normally rush through your head are gone, leaving nothing but silence.

you swallow, confused. although you've already talked out all your worries, you can't help the uncertain feeling that starts to return. “what do you mean? like, right now?”

he exhales like he's thinking, and his fingers pause in your hair. “like… i don't know. i want things to be good between us. whatever we were doing before— anything but that. no more not talking about stuff. no more tension. y'know? i promise.”

“mmm.” you hum, letting his words sink in for a while. you drum your fingers absently against his chest, almost trying to make sure he's still there. “yeah. i think… i think things are good between us now.” you giggle, leaning your head against his chest. “as long as you don't pull that shit again.”

he laughs, reaching up to grab your hand off his chest and hold it there. “oh, yeah, i know. you're way too good to me for even giving me another chance. i'm so sorry i almost fucked it all up.”

“you don't have to say that anymore.”

“well like i said, babe, i'm going to—”

“you can just keep saying ‘i love you’ instead.” you interrupt, squeezing his hand in yours.

he stops short in the middle of his sentence, caught in surprise, but as soon as your words register a grin slowly begins to make its way across his face. “cool. then… i love you.”

© junkissed 2024. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to be notified when i post new fics? join my taglist!

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, please reblog or leave a comment or an ask! it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! i put a lot of time, love, and effort into writing this, so feedback is really appreciated :) thanks for reading!!

taglist — located in the replies

[hitomisuzuya]

scaramouche x fem!reader. fluff. scara being drunk and in love. drunk voicemails. soft scara. college au

i have aventurine smut planned, but i have wanted to write something like this for a long time. the lyrics are from somewhere only we know by keane.

scaramouche had plans to go out last night. but you didn't feel well, so you told him to go out with xiao without you. to have fun and not drink too much. he protested at first, saying "what kind of a man leaves his woman to go out when she is sick?" complete with trademark huff, and crossed arms.

scaramouche hates being without you. really, really hates it.

the next morning, feeling much better, you rolled over and grabbed your phone to check the time. you discovered you had several voicemails. you'd been so deep asleep that you didn't hear the phone ring.

they were all from scaramouche.

"fuck, you'd better be asleep, kitten," came scaramouche's very slurred voice, "i really hate the song playing. i wish you were here so my ears aren't bleeding alone. i don't know why xiao fucking loves this song. it's stupid pop crap. i miss you. fuck, i am so in love with you. you should feel my heart. it goes skip, skip when i think about you. it's kind of annoying--" end of voicemail.

he must've hit the recording limit.

"hey kitten, listen, it's a song you like. more pop crap, but the piano is kind of clutch, not gonna lie," you heard shuffling for a moment, he must've been taking his phone from his ear and holding it out so you could hear the song. after a few moments of hearing shrilled music, he must've put the phone back to his ear. "fuck what's it called again?" you heard some drunk sounding humming before the voicemail stopped.

smiling, you went onto the third voicemail. you heard somewhere only we know by keane come through the speaker again. only this time, you heard scaramouche's slurred voice singing the song to you. "i felt the earth beneath my feet. sat by the river and it made me complete. you make me feel complete."

scaramouche stumbled and hummed adorably to the part of the song he didn't know. your smile widened. "oh simppllee thing, where have you gone..yeah, kitten where are you? i miss you. i'll be he medicine that makes you feel better. fuck how does this song go?" the voicemail ended.

the fourth one immediately started with scaramouche singing, more slurred than before. you found out later from xiao that he'd fed the jukebox at the bar with 5 bucks to play somewhere only we know over and over so he could call you back to sing the parts of the song he wanted to sing to you.

"i'm getting old and i need something to rely onnnnnn. fuck hold on, i wanted to sing this part to you first..no, did you hear the made me feel complete part? you make me feel complete," you heard drinking noises and a heavy sigh.

"dude, scara, she is probably sleeping. you are going to wake her up," xiao's voice interrupted.

"fuck off, you shithead! i'm serenading my kitten! go put another dollar in the jukebox, i'm not done, she needs to hear this!" the voicemail ended.

the last voicemail started with him humming somewhere only we know. "i need something to rellyy on." at this point, he was just singing random lyrics. "wait, hold on..made me feel complete. something to rely on..xiao! xiao! these fucking lyrics, these fuckers really wrote this whole song for her," there was some shuffling noises. "xiao, we gotta go fucking kill keane!"

he was deadass convinced the band was in love with you and wrote the song for you so they could steal you away from him.

later that day, you played the voicemails for scaramouche. 'oh my god..i got so drunk last night" he said, dismayed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

"what? i thought the voicemails were sweet," you said, grinning at him. you gave him a quick kiss on his lips. "i'm keeping them." you had to say that before he asked you to delete them.

he sighed. "fine. keep them. not another soul hears them," he hissed. he was incapable of saying no to you.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃

Choso

Pairing: Bass Guitarist!Choso x f!Reader

Summary: You usually hang out with Choso after his concerts, only this time he wants to talk about your relationship. Luckily for you, you know how to distract him from important matters.

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Friends with Benefits, Car Sex, Oral Sex (m. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Nipple Play, Squirting, Creampie, Angst if you squint

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

This art was sent in my server and I was forced to write about him in this AU, anyway I hope you lovelies enjoy!! likes and reblog always appreciated❤️

There’s a whole crowd that screams Choso’s name from the top of their lungs as his fingers strum against the strings of his bass. Choso, a very reserved man, someone who is not even the star of the band but the most beloved amongst fans. Is it because they barely know anything about him? Or is it because he looks too hot while he really gets into the song? For you, it’s the latter. 

Choso lets himself loose as his mind, body and soul embrace the song. It becomes an issue for him to stay close to the microphone, until he realizes his vocals come up. He’s sweaty, his eyeshadow smudged and running down his cheeks; it’s a look that drives the fangirls wild, and you can’t exactly blame them for it.

They get louder when they hear Choso’s voice, and you wonder if it drives Suguru insane that even though he’s the lead vocalist, he doesn’t get as much attention as Choso. There’s just something about Choso that has everyone in a trance. He looks so seductive even when he barely tries.

The song ends, and the crowd cheers, wanting more from the band. For a moment the only thing you hear is the crowd chanting Choso’s name. You don’t understand why they go wild over him, but then again, you guess that the lack of knowledge about him makes him intriguing. However, you know all you need to know about him. 

“I really don’t get why they go so crazy over him! I’d argue that Getou is hotter.” You yell to your friend, and she rolls her eyes. She knows you’re just talking to talk because given the option, you always choose Choso.

The noise dies as the sound of the bass begins again. All eyes are on Choso until Suguru begins to sing. Your eyes stay on Choso, and his eyes scan the crowd until they land on you. A smile comes onto his face as you maintain eye contact. His eyes finally look away, looking down at his guitar. You know you’ll be seeing each other later.

Just to tease you, he does something that he rarely does. Something that makes the crowd get louder, his tongue running up the neck of his guitar. You roll your eyes as your cheeks get hot. You fucking hate him. 

You have no issue getting backstage after the show. The security guard looks at your friend funny, but he knows you so he assumes that she’s okay to pass. He doubts that anyone will have a problem since you’re beloved among the band members.

“Hi, Lexi.” You wave at the woman who talks with her boyfriend. Suguru’s arm is thrown over her shoulders while they head to the door that you just walked through. She waves at you, blowing a kiss your way before focusing on her boyfriend again. 

“Where’s Gojo?” Your friend asks, her eyes searching for the white haired man, after all, she joined you just because she knew you could get her the opportunity to talk to Satoru. You were going to come either way since Choso sent you a message, it didn’t hurt for her to tag along. 

You’re about to help her, but your eyes land on Choso. There’s a subtle smile on his face when he notices you. He walks toward you, and you completely ignore your friend as she continues asking about Satoru. She rolls her eyes, knowing damn well that you were acting tough and annoyed as everyone chanted Choso’s name because according to you he isn’t a big deal. It’s clear jealousy.

From what she knows, you and Choso have an unusual friendship– Which is another way of saying that you’re friends with benefits. You both came to an agreement where you could use each other’s bodies with no strings attached, however, tonight it might all come to an end. Whether you like it or not. 

“I’m glad to see you here.” Choso says as you give him a side hug. You don’t like to get too touchy while others are around. He still kisses the top of your head, before he looks at your friend. “Who did you bring with you tonight?”

“Just my friend. She wants to meet Gojo.” You tell him, as his fingers intertwine with yours. Choso calls out for Satoru, hoping that the sooner your friend meets Satoru, the sooner you’ll get out of the place. Although getting out of the place so soon isn’t the best idea since there’s still an army of fans outside that will do just about anything to get a picture with Choso. 

The band’s popularity has increased over the past couple of months, and suddenly Choso always has someone throwing themselves at him. It ticks you off more than you’d like to admit. 

“What?” Satoru asks, clear annoyance in his voice. He notices you and he begins to approach you to give you a hug, but it earns a glare from Choso. All the members know you well and they consider you a good friend, which means they all know your situation with Choso. When Satoru notices the look, he sticks with a simple greeting. “Hey.”

“Hi, Gojo.” You smile at him. You then point to your friend, informing him, “She’s here to meet you.”

“Are you her ride home?” Choso questions, and you shake your head in response. She brought you here knowing that you would go your separate ways after the concert. She saw the message that Choso had left on your phone, and she urged you to come. “Does that mean we can leave?”

“I think so.” You answer. You still check to see if she’s okay being left alone with Satoru before leaving. When she says yes, you lead Choso out of the building. Your eyes stare at the case of his guitar and you ask, “Do you need help? I’m really strong, just so you know.”

He laughs, “No doubt about it, but I can handle it.”

“You’re in a hurry.” Choso comments when you step outside. He takes the lead, dragging you to his car. 

“Weren’t you the one that was asking if we could leave?” You chuckle, and he laughs as well. He opens the trunk to put the case in before walking to the passenger door and opening it for you. He watches you get inside before he shuts the door for you. He nearly runs to the driver’s side, embarrassingly impatient.

“Do you want to join Lexi and Suguru tonight? Or what do you want to do?” Choso isn’t exactly the person to go hang out with his friends after a concert, especially at a bar. But he knows that you like that sort of stuff, so he sticks with you until you’re ready to go back home– Or back to his apartment, whichever place is closest to the place you’re hanging out in.

“Can we just go back to your place?” You respond, your eyes focused on his side profile. You were too jealous earlier to admire just how good he looks tonight.

“Can we talk about–” He begins, but you grab the collar of his shirt and put your lips on his before he can finish his sentence. You know he wants to talk about the message that he sent, something that made you want to stay home tonight. Can we talk about us? Or something along those lines, you just know that you don’t want to change this perfect arrangement.

Your tongue enters his mouth, pressing against his while your hands go to his belt. He doesn’t know why you’re so eager tonight, it doesn’t click in his head. Maybe the little trick from earlier worked to rile you up, and he’s certain that it was that when you unbutton his pants and begin to pull them down. 

“Here? Aren’t you scared–” He begins when you pull away from the kiss but you begin to kiss his neck. Your lips go to that one sweet spot that makes him weak, sucking on it. You aren’t scared that you’ll get caught, that’s good to know. He’s the one that should be worried about getting caught since he’s the one that has to hold a public image. 

The parking lot is private, and it’s pretty much empty. He isn’t too worried about that. 

“Don’t you want to go somewhere more private?” He still asks but he doesn’t bother to stop you as you spit on his cock, your hand wrapping around the base and slowly stroking it. 

“We can talk later. Right now, I need your cock in my mouth.” You kiss his shaft before your tongue drags on his length and begins to circle on his tip. You begin to kiss the tip, causing Choso to bite down his lip. He’s certainly not going to stop now.

Your mouth wraps around his cock, hearing the moan whimper just at the feeling of your pretty mouth wrapped around his dick. Everything you do drives him wild. It’s why he can’t stop you when he wants to talk about more serious issues– Issues that concern your relationship and what you’re doing. 

He doesn’t like it like this though. He loves the sight of your pretty face as your mouth is wrapped around his cock. He still loves the feeling though. He praises you, “You’re doing so good, baby.” 

You take all of him in your mouth, gagging on his length which causes the tears to build up in your eyes. It’s a sight that usually drives the man wild, although he doesn’t like to admit it; unluckily for him, he only sees the back of your head. 

His head is thrown back as his eyes roll to the back of his head. You have complete control over him, and he hates it. But he certainly loves the way he feels at the moment. When the tears fall from your eyes, you lift up your head, detaching yourself from his cock. Your hand takes over, stroking his cock.

“Can we do it here?” You ask him as your thighs rub against one another, the heat between your legs getting too unbearable. Your libido is too high, you can’t wait to go back to his place. You need him now.

Choso’s cheeks are flushed, and the man’s brain goes a thousand miles per minute. What you’re thinking of is riskier, and if anyone walks by, you’ll get caught. But he doesn’t care. He needs you too. 

“Yeah, let’s do it here.” He agrees, and you crawl over to his side. You lift up your skirt, moving your panties to the side. Two of his fingers run through your folds, noting just how wet you are when he’s done nothing to you. The mere thought of him drives you insane.

You align his cock with your entrance before slowly sitting on it. His lips land on yours, feeling your moans vibrate through your tongue as you move on his cock. 

You move back and forth on his cock. You feel euphoric as his cock repeatedly hits your g-spot. 

Choso pulls away, grabbing the back of your neck to pull your face away. He needs to admire your beautiful face, taking in every single detail about it. You look so alluring with your messed up makeup. Your mascara runs down your cheeks, and he gets a sense of satisfaction knowing that he caused it. 

“You feel so good, baby.” He moans, his nose burying in the crook of your neck. He takes in your scent, getting more intoxicated by you. You’re controlling all of his thoughts lately, even though you’re not even trying.

“You’re so big.” You say, your back arching as Choso begins to thrust his hips instead of leaving it to you to handle it all. Your hand goes down to play with your clit, giving you more stimulation so your high approaches sooner. The faster you finish, the faster you can go again. “Oh– Choso!”

“Fuck–” He can’t help but curse. He’s getting so lost inside of you. In more ways than one. 

His hand pulls down your tank top, and the man gets upset at the bra that gets in the way of what he wants. He pulls down the cups of your bra so his tongue circles around your nipples. He greedily kisses and licks before his mouth finally wraps around one of your tits. 

His other hand begins to toy with the nipple that isn’t in his mouth, teasing it and pinching it. All the stimulation makes your brain foggy as your climax begins to get the best of you. You continue to chant his name, getting louder and louder. 

“Oh, fuck!” You yell as you come around his cock. You make a mess all over him, squirting on him. You’d be embarrassed with someone else, but Choso has seen you do so much worse– It helps that you know he absolutely loves it. Choso bites down on your nipple before unlatching.

“You’re such a good girl. Making a mess all over me.” His hands move to your hips, his nails digging into your flesh. 

“You always take me so well.” He’s kissing your neck, his thrusts getting sloppy. His warm cum fills you up not too long after, and you bite down your bottom lip to not moan. You fucking love it when he fills you up, but he rarely does it. He got too caught up in the moment. 

He stays buried inside of you, continuing kissing your neck, going up to your face. He almost whispers, “Can we talk?”

“Your dick is buried inside of me, might as well.” You chuckle, and he awkwardly returns the gesture. His soft eyes look into yours, and the look tells you all you need to know. You were suspecting it since lately Choso has been more… Romantic than what you had agreed upon. Getting flowers weekly isn’t what your friend is supposed to do.

“I want you.” He can’t put it any other way. Choso’s written what feels like hundreds of songs but he can’t find the right words to express himself. You don’t want to have this conversation now, or any time soon for that matter.

You take advantage of his indistinct way of expressing himself. It's not that you don't want him the same way, it's just easier to keep what you have going on. Choso is getting too big so fast, you don't want to start something that'll end up badly. Which is simply ironic.

You reach to the side of the seat, reclining the seat, pushing his back down. Your lips go to his ear, whispering, “You have me.”

It’s not the way he means it, not one bit. But he’ll take it until he can express himself properly.

[httpsryu]

ideal type

pairing: huh yunjin x fem! reader

summary: getting asked a question during an interview leads heartbroken fans looking for the specific lady that's already in huh yunjin's big heart

category: rock band au, college gfs

genre: fluff, angst for the heartbroken fans

warnings: a LOT of jealousy from the fans and small suggestive talk

a/n: i loved writing this! thank you to the person who requested it :)

the music echoes throughout the clubroom where hundreds, maybe thousands are jumping up and down while they sing along to the song being played. the drummer starts to play by beat slowly, indicating that the bass solo is coming up.

lights in the room are ferociously blinking red, along with sirens going off into the background as huh yunjin does what she's best at; going full-jam on the bass. she gets on her knees, swaying her hips to the beat in the background as her hands attractively strum the strings.

fans take pictures and videos while screaming their heads off at how insanely attractive the specific red haired is.

however, from afar, yunjin knows the only girl she's playing for is the fair pretty lady in the back bartending drinks to customers.

you take a quick peek up at the performance in front of you while cleaning a shot glass, turning red at the way yunjin managed to send a wink towards you.

"gross, not in front of my salad." heeseung gags as he throws the towel back on his shoulder to go grab the newly sat customer.

throwing your head back in laughter as you also pay attention to the girl who finished yet another shot of straight rum for the eighth time. "another rum shot with splash of water?"

"yes, thank you."

the music starts to die down, indicating the song is going to halt at the end.

you let out a smile at the way fans are supporting the rock band, everyone is singing along, screaming and most importantly feeling the music.

"thank you all for taking the time of your night to watch us play." chaewon, the leader speaks in the mic, as she sticks her tongue out in a form of affection for the fans. "everyone make sure to get home safely, kay?"

more screams start again at the sight of the red haired bass player. she lets out a chuckle at her fangirls before speaking into the mic. "and for those who managed to score tickets to the after-show interview, can't wait to see you then."

everyone in the band stands up, waving and bowing before shortly disappearing backstage.

"they manage to get the girls off their feet, huh?" heeseung comes near you, washing more glasses. "you gonna clock off soon since your girlfriend is done playing?"

with a proud grin, you nod at your brother as you wipe your hands down on the towel draping from his shoulders. "i promise i'll open tomorrow."

"okay okay, priorities are putting your girlfriend before the family's bar and club."

you shrug, pouting playfully which earns a ruffle from your older brother.

"see you tomorrow, kiddo."

taking off your apron and hanging it in the back, you grab your items to scurry off into the backstage of the club.

looking for the room that the band was assigned to, your phone vibrates, grabbing your attention to it. digging for your phone in your bag, you hum in content once feeling the cellular block of a device.

an arm around your waist startles you, leaving you to jump.

"stop! don't do that! especially in this dark scary part of the club." you turn around, playfully smacking the taller.

yunjin laughs, nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck and inhaling the scent of you. oh, how she missed her girlfriend.

"i missed you." she murmurs in your neck, tickling you and leaving shivers down your spine. "i felt like i haven't seen you in forever!"

you can't help but to hug back your very tall girlfriend, inhaling the earthy-cherry smell of hers. "we saw each other in class."

"still felt like forever."

"EW GET A ROOM LOVEBIRDS!" chaewon's voice rings through the backstage, closing their room's door behind her.

both you and yunjin let out a laugh in each other's embrace.

"did i play amazing, baby?"

letting out a nod with a smile, your girlfriend excitedly squeals before attacking you in another hug once again.

"my eyes were always staring at you." yunjin whispers, encircling her arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss.

a kiss where both parties are longing for each other. moving your lips along her signature cherry red lipgloss that you gifted to her while you two were fresh lovers. her tongue glossing over yours in a fight for dominance and ultimately you give in. letting out a quiet sound of pleasure while you pull her in a bit closer by her neck.

"you're so damn addicting baby." yunjin says in between the kissing.

feeling the air in you run out, you ultimately pull away with your forehead leaning on hers.

"after-show interview is going to be on in 15." she whispers gently, holding your face in her hand to give you one last peck. "i'll see you tomorrow after my engineering lab?"

"does anyone in the crowd want to ask sserafilm a question?" the interviewer asks, scanning out for hands in the audience.

everyone in the crowd raises their hands in hopes of being called on for their fun yet juicy questions.

"hmm..how about the girl in the middle with the star studded bracelet." the interviewer calls out, a smile on her face as she waits for the question.

the female in the audience clears her throat, making sure her voice is loud and clear. "this question is for yunjin."

"okay! go right ahead!" the interviewer nods, letting the girl continue while yunjin anticipates on the question from the fan.

"yunjin, being the well-known womanizer of the group, what do you say your ideal type is?"

"ooo~ that's a nice question." the interviewer laughs.

the red haired giggles, tilting her head to the left slightly in a processing-type-of-way. "i would say my ideal type is someone who has a sort of angelic vibe to them. she's determined for what she wants to do while also supporting me. oh! and she has these cute dimples that matches along with her moles."

before finishing her answer, yunjin looks down at her hand with a small very smitten smile. "lastly, she has a beautiful heart, inside and out."

every girl in the audience blinks, not ONCE, not TWICE, but THREE times in being dumbstruck at how specific their red haired bass player was at describing their ideal type.

"sounds like you have a specific person in mind?" the older woman looks at the bass player, hoping to get an answer from her.

yunjin can only let out another chuckle, holding the mic to her mouth. "just describing my type of lady, that's all."

the way the club was silent, everyone could hear the sounds of so many fangirls' hearts just broke at the bass player's words.

chaewon rolls her eyes, wanting to gag at yunjin's greasiness. how do you actually deal with this every day? chaewon feels sorry for you, honestly.

"sounds a little too specific, huh everyone?" the interviewer turns to the fans, earning nods and 'yeahs'.

the red-haired can only shrug in response, wanting to tease her fans.

"she's definitely dating someone." a fan mumbles to herself, suddenly wanting to play sherlock holmes as she whips out her cell phone to tweet about 'finding huh yunjin's secret gf'.

the interviewer continues to pick on a few fans to ask the rest of the others questions throughout the night. clueless on what is going to happen in a span of the young night, which involves huh yunjin and her ideal type.

stretching your arms out, you take your headphones off to take a quick 15 minutes break from the paper you're working on. reaching for your phone, you immediately smile at the notification on your lock screen.

"ew. i did not want to walk into the living room to see my roommate smiling over a text from my greasy bandmate." chaewon gags, covering her mouth dramatically as she picks up her car keys off of the coffee table.

rolling your eyes, you look up from your phone, noticing her keys in her hands. "going somewhere tonight?"

"i scored a date with some hot girl." the blonde sticks her tongue out, indicating that she knows she's awesome and to compliment her.

"you're so awesome, kim chaewon." sarcastically complimenting her with a blank expression.

chaewon scoffs, placing her hand on her chest. "shut up."

"make sure you're using protection."

"will do~" chaewon leaves the dorm apartment, shutting the door behind her to make sure nothing happens to her sweet roommate.

you let out a laugh at the antics between chaewon and you. leaning back down on the soft comfy couch, a satisfied stretching noise comes out of your mouth at the sudden cushion. oh, how nice it is to be chaewon and not have piles of homework and projects piling.

perks of being an architect major, you suppose.

waking yourself up with a self-inflicted smack to your cheek, you abruptly sit up to grab your headphones. however, a knock on the door startles you.

"chaewon must've forgotten something." you mumble to yourself, seeing your headphones on the place besides you before getting up to open the door for your roommate.

unlocking the door, you turn the door open and what a pleasant surprise.

"HELLOOO MY DARLING!" yunjin excitedly sings with a cheery smile on her lips.

before you're able to react and respond, the taller is attacking you with a hug as she starts peppering cute kisses all around your face.

"what are you doing here? i thought you had a lab?"

the red-haired gives you your space as she walks into the dorm. "it ended up getting postponed to next week so i decided to pay my little celebrity a visit."

what is this crazy lady talking about??

"huh? what do you mean?" shutting the door close before you trail slowly behind your girlfriend.

yunjin lets out a proud smile, showing you her phone's screen.

displayed on the screen was a 'X' tweet in search of huh yunjin's beloved lady. under that tweet were filled with replies, retweets and quotes agreeing on searching for the supposed angelic ideal type.

"what the hell?" you squint to get a better look at the other's phone.

yunjin nods, shutting her phone off and throwing it on the couch. "wanna go out on a date today?"

"i have to work on my paper."

"BOOO, please let's go out." yunjin begs, her eyes looking up at you with the look that you could never say no to. "and you look so pretty today, baby."

shaking your head as you shut your eyes close. "no. no. no. i am not falling for it this time."

a strong force grabs you from where you're standing, pushing you into a specific female's lap.

"fall for what?" yunjin whispers gently, her tone sending chills down your spine as she reaches over to grab the side of your face to kiss your jawline.

"don't act cute with me." you pout, not wanting to fall for her and her little plans. "i have to really write this paper, i'm sorry jen."

the red-haired nods, giving you one last peck on the cheek. "i understand. i'll be a good girlfriend and sit quietly next to you while waiting patiently."

SCREW YUNJIN AND HER CUTE ACT RIGHT NOW!

"fine."

"yay!" :>

long story short, the date ended up blowing the internet like wildfire. with fans of huh yunjin congratulating her while a few were nitpicking and were jealous. many others were jealous of yunjin for having a pretty lady breathing in her direction.

"we are never going out again." yunjin pouts upon entering your apartment.

you don't know what else to say before throwing your head back in laughter at the way your girlfriend is acting.

"why not? you don't want to show me off?"

the red-haired girl can only throw her head back in agony at the thought of everyone wanting to steal you from her. "you're literally the epitome of where one says their ideal type is pure."

"and i think that's half of the men and women who eyed you down in front of me." yunjin can already feel her hair coming off, if there was another reason to dye her hair blonde again, she would in hopes of it coming all off. "i was next to you, holding your hand and they STILL eyed you like you were SINGLE."

taking off your docs, you can only shake your head at how the older is acting. "well, for one, at the end of the day..i'm only yours. second, even if they look, you just need to know that you're the only one i ever only look at."

"i knowww but UGHH-"

grabbing the taller's face into your hand, you tip-toe up to reach her lips to which you peck multiple times.

yunjin still is pouting but nonetheless, she lets out a very smitten smile. cooing at how pretty you are, while she too kisses your moles on your face.

"i guess i am pretty lucky to have this beautiful lady in my arms, huh?"

nodding at her words, you kiss the older's neck. "wanna help me with my paper?"

"if you let me hit it raw."

"what?"

"huh?"

june 15, 2024; publishing date

[pepperonijem]

to.you || Levi Ackerman

Synopsis: When your friend Eren invited you to come see the new band he joined play at a frat party, you didn’t realize you’d also be seeing your cold and dry project partner from your psych class singing love songs… much less singing them about you. Pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!reader Content: College!AU, Guitarist!Levi, alcohol mentions, frat party mentions, no smut, I included scenes where Levi is soft (idc if its ooc, im the one writing it), I didn’t mention what major reader is, and no use of Y/N because I’d rather get eaten by a titan A/N: I was inspired after watching AOT middle school and listening to the song She’s the One by Monsta X and then Soft Spot by Keshi. Obsessed with the idea that Levi only knows how to express himself through songwriting.

the playlist → I have each song listed in the order it appears throughout the series, and I'll update as we go :)

send me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Chapters:

I. i wish that you and i lived in the sims ↳ (Sims; Lauv)

II. the song’s about to start (can you feel it?) ↳ (Buzz; Niki)

III. tell me your favorite love song ↳ (Completely; Jaehyun)

IV. 'til there was you ↳ ('Til There was You; Imaginary Future)

V. you know i got a soft spot for you ↳ (Soft Spot; Keshi)

[bluemari23]

soul glow | choi seungcheol

summary: you attended your first concert, waiting a long time to see your ult group perform. unable to recognize a soul bond taking place, you leave early, leaving seungcheol to scramble to find you.

pairing: choi seungcheol x neurodivergent reader

genre: soulmates, soul bonds, idol au, angst

warnings: a cinderella moment indeed, mentions of overstimulation,

word count: 1.4k

masterlist

an: couldn't help myself. I had a dream of this and needed to write it out.

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

The concert was your first, and you wouldn’t question if it was also to be your last. You were overwhelmed to say the least. You could practically feel your skin crawl as the colored lights flashed throughout the stadium. 

You had come with your best friend, wanting to see your ult group, Seventeen, while they were finally visiting a city even remotely close to you. You had both waited a long time for them to come, often writing your own prayers on social media with the hopes someone in management would see. 

And now, you’re not sure how you feel. 

“If you’re not feeling it, we can always leave early.” You friend yelled out to you over the music. You were in the front row of the bottom section, right behind the floor seats. You were to the side of the stage, but still had an amazing view of the boys as they performed. 

You loved your friend, how understanding they were, but you just shook your head. You didn’t pay all this money for you to leave early, and because you were overstimulated. You hated feeling like a burden and you knew how much your friend was also looking forward to the concert. You both had been waiting to experience the right of passage for every carat at a concert, the ten thousand aju nices that would happen at the end. 

To be fair, you might just be overstimulated by the lights surrounding the boys, particularly on your side of the stage. You couldn’t figure it out, given it was a bright golden glow and none of the colored lights going on in the stadium resembled that glow or even just the lights that lit up the stage. 

You tried to make the best of your opportunity and sung along to your favorite song once it played. Shadow held a special place in your heart and you loved the timber of the groups individual voices as they sang, particularly Mingyu and Scoups as they gave their best selves to the performance. 

Once the instrumental for To You began to play, Scoups tried his best to remember the choreo but he couldn’t help but to continue to move towards the left of the stage, something catching his eye as he turned to look at their fans. 

He couldn’t help but to falter in his steps, thankfully no one caught his mistake as he was quick to sing his lines. The bright glow of gold held his attention, more like the woman who the glow centered around. 

He could name numerous different soul bonds, from the Flower Halo to the more common Soul Mark, but never did he think he would be blessed with a Soul Glow as his bond. And never did he think he would find his soulmate during one of their concerts, where he can’t immediately move to greet his soulmate, bringing them into his embrace and holding them tight. 

He had even more vigor as he continued on with the concert, knowing that his soulmate was watching him and his brothers perform. Something that everyone seemed to notice, especially his band members. 

During one of the outfit changes, Joshua has come up to him and asked him if he was okay, and he couldn’t hold back. 

“My soulbond activated. She’s here, Shua.” He admitted, causing Joshua’s eyes to widen in shock, and for the excited shouts of his other members who had not so subtly been eavesdropping on their elder members. 

They all quickly dressed in their next set of clothes, and right before they had to go back on stage, Seungcheol has pointed you out to his fellow members and manager, who had been tasked to get a message across to his soulmate before the end of the concert, wanting to meet his soul glow. 

Despite trying their best, his members kept moving to the left of the stage, trying to get a good look at who would be their new best friend by the end of the night. Yeah, they would give you and their leader your space, but they were determined to be your friends, seeing as you would be stuck with their leader forever. 

This was something the crowd noticed as well, those on the floor moving to the left trying to get the boy’s attention and whatever way they could. It only happened for a couple of songs, but then the boys moved back to giving equal time to all sides of the stage. 

It was weird, and something you and your friend both acknowledged. 

“I wonder what happened?” You friend questioned aloud, causing you to hum your agreement. 

“Maybe something caught their eye?” Was your own reply, thinking that to be the most likely answer. 

Either way, the concert continued but not without difficulties. Mainly for you. 

You had tried your hardest, but despite that, you couldn’t help but to feel as though you had overdone your tolerance, the biting pain of your nails digging into your palm a sad reminder.

Loud noises had always been a problem for you; the pain in your head and the itching under your skin that had your scratching marks into your arm was always a reminder. You don’t know why, but too much stimulation always caused somewhat of a shutdown for you, where you couldn’t speak and your mind didn’t seem to want to focus on anything in particular. 

By the time the third Aju Nice had rolled around, you were past your limit and you friend could tell. 

“Hey, you know what, it’s okay. I can see why so many people get tired after the first round. My feet are aching and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.” Your dear friend helped you out of the aisle and towards the stairs that would lead out to the lobby of the stadium. 

You tried to protest, but even those were weak as you followed behind your best friend. You were incredibly thankful for them and knew you would need to make up for leaving the concert early, even if they are adamant about leaving.

Vernon was the first to notice you leaving, following behind the woman who had been sitting to your right. He tried his best to signal to Seungcheol, but only managed to at the end of the third Aju Nice encore. 

“She’s leaving, Cheol.” Vernon tried to be discrete, which thankfully he managed. His words caught the attention of the others, who had all huddled together near one corner of the stage, watching a couple of their fans in costume dance. They all watched the two women make their way to the stairs and out of the main stadium area.

Cheol panicked, sitting down at the edge of the stage and gesturing for his manager, making him aware of the dilemma. He could only watch as his manager had grabbed some of their security with him and started backstage, trying to catch up to you. 

His heart was racing as he tried his best to focus and make sure the concert ended like every other one, doing his best for his fans. It was like he could feel you getting further away from him, could feel the distance festering in his soul. 

As he sang the last encore, he had come up with a number of ideas, ways to track you down if you did manage to get away from him tonight. 

Once the last note played and they started to leave the stage, Seungcheol walked until he was out of sight of his fans, the proceeded to run to his dressing room, where hopefully you would be waiting with his manager. 

Disappointment and defeat coated his veins as he opened the door, the emptiness in his soul prominent as the room was empty from what he could only imagine would be your inevitable warmth. 

“I’m sorry, Seungcheol, they were driving out of the parking lot by the time we managed to get into the lot. One of the security team did manage to get their license plate number so we have that written down.” His faithful manager spoke sincerely, not wanting to upset Seungcheol more than he probably already was. 

Everyone was throwing out suggestions, some of the members even going to action as they tried to see if they could access ticket information from the stadium itself. Seungcheol remained quiet though, determination flowing through him as he followed along with Mingyu, calling their company and the stadium head to see what they could do. 

One way or another, he would find his soul glow. 

[undressrehearsal]

right back where we started

summary: ellie is on tour as the opener for a popular band. she begrudgingly passes through the hometown that she had sworn she would never see again and runs into the one good thing she left behind.

tags: some sad stuff, ellie has daddy issues, mentions of alcohol, modern au, not rockstar ellie but that same kinda genre???, no smut in this one sorry this is all setting the scene, this is another shorter one 3.6k words

a/n: listen. I'm gonna level with yall. life's been fucking insane. it's been what 3 months since I posted something?? and it's because 1. my fiancée and I are buying a house 2. and planning a wedding 3. I work 45 hour weeks (at a job I hate so much omg) 4. I'm writing a book and 5. I'm preparing for a p major surgery (I go on tuesday)

so yeah, life's been insane. but I missed writing fics. I'm writing my book so I never stopped writing but writing a lil fun fic just hits different yk?

anyway enjoy and look forward to a few (I'm thinking 3?) parts of this

love yall. reply and lmk if you wanna be added to my tag list. also I'm posting this on my phone so the formatting might be fucked lmk

part 1

Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she had been in this city.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could remember exactly the last time she had been in this city. She had watched it disappear in her mirror when she had driven her bike west three years ago in search of the horizon. She had hoped she would find something more once she got there - more than the dingy dorm room she had loosely called home and the classes that had made her eyes glaze over; something more than playing at the bar’s open mic nights, her guitar hard to hear over the noisy din of drunk students and drunker professors; something more than a future that had been planned for her by the time she was in high school.

Her dad had kicked her out after she dropped out, of course, but that was fine. She had planned to leave that night anyway; she had kept a packed bag hidden underneath her bed for months. She hadn’t seen him in three years, either, and she planned to keep it that way.

But when she woke up and saw the city outside the bus window, silhouetted against the rising sun, something in her chest rose to her throat and refused to be swallowed back down.

She hadn’t missed it - but as she looked down at her shaking hands, Ellie figured her body must not have gotten that memo.

The band she was traveling with were still sleeping; she could hear the singer snoring in her bunk, could see the bassist's leg sticking out into the aisle. She had never been a morning bird - back at her shitbox apartment, you'd rarely catch her up before noon - but something about being stuck on a bus for days made her restless. It was her first time touring - after three years of playing at open mics and taking small jobs singing at the senior center - and she wasn't used to feeling her own bed constantly shifting beneath her.

Which is how she always ended up pacing the length of the bus, tapping her fingers against her thighs as the confined world around her slept, waiting desperately for the driver to pull off to whatever venue they had booked. She wasn't sure what the band did before their shows in the evenings, but she didn't stick around long enough to ask. Maybe it was rude, but she couldn't force herself to hang out with the band who only chose her because their usual opener had “flaked” on them - which was how they described it when the opener couldn't travel with them for several months after their mother had just died.

So, yeah, Ellie couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about it when she rushed off the bus as soon as it parked, not even sticking around to let the band know where she was going. They wouldn't care either way. Hell, they were probably so hungover they wouldn't wake up until their show started in several hours.

The driver - his name was Zachary (never Zach) and he was the only one who paid her any mind - helped Ellie hoist her bike down from the rack on the back of the bus. The band had teased her about bringing it, bitching about how it showed she didn't want to hang out with them. She had been tempted to tell them they were right, but she couldn't really risk losing the first real gig she’d gotten. She lifted the seat and dug her helmet out, waving to Zachary as he disappeared back into the bus to get his own well-deserved rest.

The purr of the bike was a familiar comfort beneath her. Lowering the visor of her helmet to block out the sun, she squinted at the streets sprawled before her. She realized, with dizzying familiarity, that she was in the next neighborhood over from her old apartment. Hell, she had watched a few shows at the venue she was playing at - something in her stomach clenched.

Fuck, she needed coffee.

With the wind cold against her bare arms, Ellie let the world fly by, the city waking up around her. Her phone remained snuggly in her bag; she didn't need directions here, the familiar streets leading her down well-worn paths, winding all the way back to a life that was no longer hers.

It was muscle memory that led her back to the coffee shop she had frequented as a student. She looked up at it, a glow around its worn brick from the rising sun, and something tightened in her chest. They had replaced the patio chairs - the old ones had been practically falling apart three years ago - but otherwise it hadn't changed.

Ellie cursed under her breath, swallowing around the foreign lump in her throat, and climbed off her bike. When she took the steps two at a time, it felt like somebody else had taken the wheel. It was a familiar stranger that opened the door.

The smell hit her first. They say that scent has the strongest tie to memory, and the smell of burnt coffee beans hit her like a punch. There had always been a sweetness underneath it, something she had never been able to place but thought might be honey? When she stepped up to the counter, she could even smell the milk they were steaming.

The barista - a young girl with faded pink hair tied up into space buns - looked up from her phone and said, in a voice teetering on the edge between cheerful and bored, “How’s it going?”

Ellie took her in briefly, noting the brown corduroy overalls and the star-shaped nose ring, and was comforted knowing that this place was just as queer as she had left it. She would bet money on the fact that if she peeked over the counter, this girl would be wearing beat up Docs. She was young enough to be a student - probably an English major, if she had to guess.

She always ordered the same thing - iced mocha with oat milk. She had never understood why her dad drank his coffee black.

The barista - her tag said Dianna She/Her/Hers - eyed her as she rang Ellie up, brows quirked. When she smiled, dimples caved her cheeks. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a student?”

Ellie fought the urge to groan - this girl was just trying to be friendly (and was probably trying to decide if Ellie’s flannel meant she was gay or was just a bad fashion choice), but the last thing she wanted to do after failing to sleep on a bus and waking up at the ass-crack of dawn was to make small talk.

Still, she smiled and said, “I used to be.”

She paid and stuffed the remainder of her cash into the tip jar. When Dianna thanked her, her cheeks were as pink as her hair. Ellie could feel her eyes lingering on her as she walked away, nodding awkwardly in thanks.

This place really hadn’t changed in three years. The coffee shop had a reputation of students writing all along the walls - over a decade ago, they had simply stopped trying to paint over it, so the walls were littered in signatures and drawings and claims of call this number for a good time. Scattered poetry was written along the edges of the windows, an incredibly detailed Sharpie drawing of a cat peeking over the top of the doorway. When she searched for it, she found that her own scrawled handwriting was still there, small letters where nobody would think to look, right underneath the thermostat: Find me where the sun sets east. Don’t forget me.

She swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her and stepped away. Her eyes stung from sleep deprivation and nothing more.

Ellie scanned the room and found that, to her annoyance, nearly every table was taken. Students huddled around notebooks and laptops, engrossed in their work or else on Netflix to avoid studying. Professors blinked wearily, clutching their own cups of coffee as though they were lifelines holding them to this realm. Ellie could see the spot she had frequented herself - a booth tucked by the window, where she could write her songs in a dingy notebook without anyone looking over her shoulder.

Now, there was a guy with his cheek pressed to the cold surface, snoring lightly.

Ellie jumped when Dianna called her name, holding out a cup so filled with coffee that it trickled over the side and down the glass. Ellie took it gingerly, holding it in careful fingers to not spill any more on the countertop.

Dianna held onto the cup for several seconds longer than necessary, her fingers - cold from the glass - lingering on Ellie's. When a crooked smile pulled at her lips, her brown eyes sparkled. There was a teasing tilt to her voice when she said, “I hope to see you around, Ellie.”

Ellie gave her what she hoped was a friendly smile - judging by the way Dianna’s cheeks bloomed pink, she must have succeeded - before turning away. She almost felt guilty for the relief she felt when she found there was no phone number left on her glass this time. She was never sure whether it was nicer to ghost somebody or to send a gentle rejection through text, and she did not have the energy for that decision.

She turned, searching for an empty seat to slouch in and try not to fall asleep into her coffee, when her eyes found you.

You hadn’t changed a bit.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true either. You had changed - anybody would in three years. You had changed your hair, and now you dressed differently than she remembered - you used to bitch so much about how you couldn’t dress how you wanted, and now, looking at you three years later, she was happy to see that you were finally dressing like all those pictures you had saved in your little Pinterest folder of “outfit inspo.”

Ellie could see the mark of three whole years, but truthfully, you hadn’t changed. You were slouched over a laptop, leaning way too close to the screen, and you still had that pinch between your brows when you concentrated, the one that she used to run her thumb over; she could still feel how soft your skin was beneath her fingers.

She should have ignored you - she should have gone to slump in a corner of the coffee shop like she had planned, trying not to fall asleep into her cup and pretending to not notice you even as her eyes kept cutting across the cafe to find you again. She should have pushed the memories away just like she had pushed away all of the other memories associated with this city - hell, she should have never come back to this city in the first place. There were too many memories here that she had spent three years, a thousand miles, and an ocean of whiskey running away from.

And yet Ellie found her feet carrying her over to your table of their own volition. She walked the tightrope between who she is and who she once was, chasing a memory of the only good thing she left behind.

You didn’t look up at her as she approached. You kept your head bowed over your laptop, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth. There was no reason for you to look up - Ellie could have been any nameless stranger coming to bother you when you were clearly just trying to work.

But Ellie had never been good at leaving well enough alone. Which is why she hesitated for only a moment before reaching out and tapping lightly on your shoulder. She had to bite back a laugh when you jumped, pulling your headphones from your ears and swiveling around to look up at her.

She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t do an embarrassing acrobatic jump when you met her eyes. And she had always been a terrible liar.

“Hey,” Ellie said, trying her damnedest to keep her voice steady; she only somewhat succeeded. She cleared her throat, lowering her voice when she said, “Remember me?”

Satisfaction bloomed warm in her stomach when your eyes widened, taking in the sight of her. Truthfully, she must’ve looked like shit; she had had to take a disturbingly brief shower at the last rest stop - the water apparently didn’t get any warmer than antarctic - and she hadn’t looked in a mirror for a few days. She had forgotten to pack her brush, so her hair must have been standing up at odd angles. And God knew what the lack of sleep was doing to the ever-growing shadows under her eyes.

But none of this stopped you from running your eyes down her body, cheeks pink when you finally looked up to meet her eyes again. And Ellie couldn’t stop the slow smile that spread across her face, her own cheeks growing warm. It wasn’t intentional when her voice dropped another octave, nearly a murmur when she said, mostly to herself, “Yeah, you remember me.”

“Holy shit, Ellie?” You jumped to your feet, a smile pulling at your lips as you gripped her arm. The familiar shine in your eyes did something funny to her stomach that she was way too stubborn to name. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was just, uh- just passing through town,” she found herself saying, rubbing at the back of her neck. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but explaining to you the actual reason she finally came back to this hell-hole town suddenly seemed daunting. “Wanted to check out some old haunts, I guess.”

And then you just… looked at her, for several long moments - long enough to make Ellie squirm. Your eyes bore into hers, searching for something that she had buried three years ago.

You jumped, and whatever spell that was floating between you broke when your phone buzzed from where it still sat on the table. You scooped it up and flashed an apologetic smile to the glaring student a few seats away. Swiping at the screen, you cursed under your breath:

“Fuck, I have to get to class.” You looked back up at her again, a question behind your eyes, and Ellie had never wished so hard that she could read minds. You hesitated for only a moment before saying, words rushed, “Do you want to walk with me?” Before Ellie could respond, you continued, picking up your cup and fiddling with the straw, “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you and I want to catch up. But you’re probably busy, so you don’t have to-”

“I’d love to,” she cut you off, trying to smother the smile that pulled at her pink cheeks. She failed drastically when you smiled back at her.

After asking for a to-go cup from Dianna - thankfully no number written on the plastic cup either, despite the way the barista eyed Ellie as she left - she followed you out the door and back into the blinding morning sun. The mid-October air bit at her cheeks, creeping under her flannel; the cold coffee in her hand made her fingers sting, but you were already walking away, so she grit her teeth and followed.

And it was like you both just fell back into place, aligning with each other as though that empty space had never existed. You were working towards your graduate degree, Ellie discovered, and were working as a TA to get through; the class you were heading to was the dreaded public speaking class that you taught around your own curriculum. You laughed as you talked about some ridiculous speech a student had recently presented, and Ellie had forgotten just how much she liked the sound until it was burying behind her ribs again.

Ellie didn't tell you exactly why she had come back. When she’d left, you had known she was chasing a dream - it was the main reason she had presented when she broke up with you. The idea of long distance was too hard - too complicated - and Ellie didn’t want anything tying her to this town.

Even so, her body still wanted to fall into old habits. She told you about her roommate and how, when Ellie had been up too late writing a new song or her roommate had had a late shift at the hospital, they would play truth or dare until they were too drunk to stay awake, and her fingers brushed against yours, muscle memory making her reach for you. Ellie told you how she had visited her sister, Sarah, while passing through Houston, and she wanted so badly to lace your fingers together. She wanted to wrap her arm around your waist - hell, she even wanted to grab your ass right where everyone could see, just like she used to. She tucked her free hand in her pocket.

“You still haven’t told me why you came back,” you said, coming to a stop in front of the Communications building - it was just as tall and ominous as Ellie remembered. Her stomach lurched at the site, remembering all the speeches she had to make in her own classes. She supposed Public Speaking wasn’t a useless class now, considering she didn't stutter when she had to speak in front of an audience now.

Ellie shrugged, dropping her cup into a trashcan without looking at you. “Like I said, I’m just passing through-”

“Bullshit,” you said, but there was no malice behind it. You tilted your head to meet her eyes and smiled at her, even as your eyes held something unreadable. “The Ellie I knew couldn’t wait to get out of this shithole - her words, not mine. She wouldn’t simply pass through - she would go out of her way to stay in the next town over. So,” you crossed your arms, “what changed?”

Before, if you had ever crossed your arms at her, Ellie would reach out and gently pull your arms away from your chest, pulling you into an embrace. She wanted nothing more than to pull you into her, instinct unaware of the three years and a thousand miles that had separated you. Instead, she leaned against the wall of the building, the brick biting into her back. “Nothing’s changed. Trust me, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here.”

For only a second, your face twisted into something unreadable that pulled at Ellie's stomach. But you quickly schooled your expression, tilting your head, your smile soft. “Listen, I have to go - if I'm too late, these fuckers are just gonna try to skip. But we should meet up later - I want to catch up.” When Ellie opened her mouth to say you had been catching up, you continued, “Really catch up. I want you to tell me everything - it's been years, so we have a lot to cover.” You looked at your phone and cursed. “Look, my last class ends at 3:25. Meet me on the green after?” For good measure, you stuck out your bottom lip and added, “Please?”

Ellie had never been good at resisting that look - she had given into you so many times from that look alone. She had to bite back the sudden, stupid smile pulling at her cheeks, so she pressed her lips together and looked away. After three years, you still made her cheeks flush without trying.

“Okay,” was all she could say.

Without warning, you rushed forward, wrapping your arms around her neck briefly. Her hands hovered at your sides, unsure of where to go. Feeling your body pressed against her again - feeling the warm brush of your breath against her neck - short-circuited her brain, leaving her gasping on dry land.

Before she could figure out where to put her fucking hands, you murmured in her ear, “I really did miss you, Els,” and pulled away, just as quickly as you had come. Ellie's mouth hadn't even caught up to her brain by the time you were gone, the door closing softly behind you.

Later, after she had had a proper breakfast from McDonald's, she was still thinking about you. Seeing you again had opened up a bottle that she had sealed away, and the cork wouldn't fit back into it. Her fingers itched with the memory of your skin beneath them. When you had hugged her, she had smelled the shampoo that you apparently still used, and she remembered how it had felt to have your head on her chest, breathing you in as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. And your lips next to her ear - that opened a whole subcategory of memories that she tried desperately to push away.

She was only here for the night. She lost count of how many times she had to remind herself.

Ellie was stopped at a red light, leaning her bike from one foot to the other, when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She glanced at the blinking crosswalk sign - twenty seconds, so she still had plenty of time before the light turned green - before fishing her phone out. She had to squint against the sun, straining to make out the screen. She nearly dropped the phone when she saw the familiar name popping up on her screen, fumbling to open the text.

There was a screenshot of an Instagram post from the venue she was going to play at. The band's name was in bold letters, stars pasted around a grainy picture of the group. And in small letters underneath - like an afterthought - was her name: Ellie Miller.

And underneath, in all caps:

YOU'RE PLAYING AT THE HAWTHORNE?????

Her face flushed all over again. After all these years, you had still kept her number.

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight

[joelhoney]

do u take requests? if u do, could i have an outbreak au where reader rides joel in his truck? thank u! i LOVED #1 girl btw

open road

wanted to practice my writing skills again so here! :)

warnings: 18+ !!!! smut, pwp, implied age gap, feminine reader, daddy kink sry, pet names galore

“One of the guys called you scary.”

The sky is dull, something bland and colorless in-between blue and grey—something that’s become a norm. A clear, cloudless sky comes once every few months if a trickle of luck happens to dwell upon the area, but even for a pair that travels as much as you and Joel do, the memories of that kind of weather have become few and far between. Joel is grown, though, and he’s wise, and he knows there isn’t any good that comes out of complaining over something as trivial as this.

Anyway, he’s got a whole little ball of sunshine beside him, feet propped up on the dashboard clumsily.

“Hm. What’d you say?” He grunts back, trying to hide how the comment has begun to make him think. He’s not new to the entire scary bit, but every time the comment arises he finds himself wanting to know your thoughts, if you agree, if you know he doesn’t mind the reputation as long as you find him the opposite.

“I said no, you’re just old.”

You’re in your socks because you hate the weight of the boots you wear, and you’re wearing one of his old shirts, from years and years ago, thin with wear and the collar cut off so it hangs across your collarbones. It’s your favorite, this ratted brown color with a band on it that performed when you weren’t even born yet, you think. Joel likes this one, too, he won’t tell you just how much; he just hopes you don’t pick up on the fact that he fucks you all the more harder whenever you wear this around him.

“I’m not old, sugar.” 

“You are old. Older than me and the guy who said you were scary.” A lithe hand comes twisting at the grey hairs on his temple. He tuts and you pull back, giggling out an apology. “When’re we getting there?”

“Slow down. The open road is a blessin’, don’t you think, sweetheart?” To Joel, everything is a blessing in the height of such an uncertain time—a blessin’, in his vernacular, his drawled-out twang. It’s his turn, now, to reach across the console and wrap a hand around your thigh. It tickles, and you tense through the material of your jeans. Sometimes you wonder if you can wear your dresses on tasks like these, ones not so high in urgency, but with a destination nevertheless. You want a clicker gnawin’ off your leg, be my guest, he said once, and that was that.

“I guess,” you muster half-heartedly, fingers skating along the expanse of Joel’s hand. Two of your fingers align with one of his own. Outside the scenery is mostly grey, barely green, lifeless, but interesting anyway, the ruins and the rot, blatant reminders of what you’re all living in the thick of.

You swallow and wrap a hand around his wrist. “Do we need to be there now?”

He huffs out this laugh between exasperation, and quickly he presses two fingers to the crotch of your bottoms. “So soon?” He’d just eaten you out before you left less than two hours ago, the hem of your shirt stuffed into your mouth so nobody would hear. You buck up into his hand, which has now left, and whine lowly in your throat.

“That wasn’t fair,” you bemoan, chasing his hand. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. 

“I’m jus’ try’na enjoy the road, dove. Back then, this’d be drownin’ in traffic. People beatin’ the five-thirty rush. Now it’s jus’ you and me.” He hums some song, this soully little thing, one he likes to sing on the road when it’s just you in the car. If anyone else tags along, he’s silent. 

“Jo-el,” you whine. “No fair. You got me all wet.”

He sucks air in through his teeth, pats you lightly on the smooth surface of your cheek without even having to spare you a glance. “Be patient with me, sweetheart. We need to get there in time.” There’s an edge to his voice, hardened a bit; he’s not reminding this time, he’s warning. You pout and peek out the half-cracked window. Open road and the dim horizon, no sign of the building you’re supposed to stop at.

“Fine.” Your voice comes out like a sneer.

He clicks his tongue. “I said patient.”

“I am being—” you huff, crossing your arms and lowering your feet noisily. “It’s not fair that you touched me and then won’t even let me—let yourself—whatever.” You shuffle, bumbling irritatedly by yourself for a minute. 

If you ask Joel, some of his best moments come from getting you to behave.

Because you are virtually impossible to wrangle into some semblance of obedience. It used to be next to impossible to even get you to shut up, but over time it got easier—thumb on the pad of your tongue, knee shoved in-between your legs, hand wrung into your hair. Just like that, and you’re his pliant little baby again. If you ask Joel now, he’d sigh contentedly, say how proud he’s become that you’re no longer the bratty minx you once were.

But that would be a lie, he figures, once he hears the exaggeratedly breathy moans from his right.

He doesn’t need to look to know what you’ve wrapped yourself up into, your hand shoved into your unzipped jeans, rubbing slow circles along your pussy. It probably doesn’t even feel as good as it sounds, even if you make noises with everything he does to you. Feels so good, Daddy, you whisper into the air, and he trails a hand down to squeeze himself through his jeans.

“How good, baby?” He grunts, eyes flitting over to you. You, in that goddamn t-shirt and everything, looking delicious enough to eat. He’d told you once never to wear shit like skirts and dresses, but God the amount of times he hoped you’d wear them anyway, so he could bounce you up and down on his dick and have you barely undressed. He swears he has dreams of his favorite pink number, the one that barely even touches the middle of your thighs, tied at the back with a pretty ribbon. He loves tugging on that ribbon, watching the material loosen around you so he can grope you up and make you both feel nasty, listen to your jagged moans of daddy, don’t rip the dress while he’s toying with your clit.

“Not enough,” you say breathily. “S’your fault.”

“Mine?” He echoes with a grunt. “You’re the one whorin’ herself out t’me for a lick of my attention, baby girl.”

“Please, I’m—just a minute,” you heave out, voice wet and desperate. He wonders what’s gotten you this antsy, this restless, this needy for a taste of him. The thought gets him harder than ever, and before he even thinks to palm himself, your tiny hand is already there, and he’s shuddering from it. You know him so well, know exactly what to hold, exactly what to touch to get him to give in.

“Jeans,” he orders, eyes zeroing in on a blank patch of grass to swerve into.

Your jeans are loose already, and you barely have to shimmy before they hit the floor of the truck, tiptoeing your sock-clad feet out while he parks and wrenches his seat to a semi-lying position, dragging you over to him to sit on his lap, your thighs quivering on either side of his jeans.

You adjust yourself so the thick of his cock is pressed directly to your panties, and grind forward. He stops you, his hand coming down to slap against your half-bare ass. “I just wan’ed to get to the damn meeting on time, get the shit we needed, and go the fuck back to the zone.” Another spank. “Do you have to be such a goddamn brat, sweetheart?”

“I just—I needed you,” you half-lie, the lace of your pretty underwear delicious friction with what little movement you’re allowed. “Even wore the pair you like, Daddy.”

“Yeaaah, you did.” He sucks air in through his teeth, watching your cunt swallow the thin material of his favorite pair of yours. Pink and lacy, looted from a mall two cities away. “You know Daddy can never resist her, can you?” He thumbs roughly at your pussy, coercing the panties through your folds. “You know he’s dyin’ to fuck ‘er real bad, too.”

“Need it, I need it,” you babble, your movement causing the shirt to droop off. He gropes at your barely-covered chest, a low growl thrumming out of him. 

“What’s got my bunny all revved up, huh? Your energy beats the truck’s damn engine.” He lifts you up so he can let you drop onto his cock, bullying his tip into you until tears sprout at your eyes from the size of him. He’s always going to be huge, and it’s always going to be a whole thing, having to bottom out inside.

It helps that you’re wet, sopping and dripping onto his cock, his balls, his spread thighs, your own inner thighs—your slick is everywhere and it’s obscene. Every movement either of you make causes a squelching sound to resound across the stale space of the truck. “Fuuuck,” he grunts, watching your cunt swallow him whole. “I love this pussy, you know that, honey? Could lick her up for days, mark it as mine. Bully her when you’ve been bad.”

“I haven’t been bad,” you protest highly, eyebrows knitted and pink lips bitten. “You really are scary.”

“But you like it, don’t you?” He places two decisive hands on your hips and thrusts upward, so hard your head almost hits the roof of the truck. “Like it when Daddy’s a l’il bit scary, sugar? Like it when he spanks you, plays around with you a tiny bit? Hmm?”

Ah, ah, ah, uh, mmmf are all the sounds your mouth can produce, drunk on his huge cock, fat and splitting you in half. Ye yea yeah yeah please yes Daddy love it, you moan, each whimper punctuated by the tip of his dick kissing your cervix. You do love it when he’s bossy, a bit scary. He knows so. He knows how wet you get when he’s got your chin in his hand, cheeks smushed together. How much you drip onto the sheets when you’re bent over, spread open, and he’s deciding which hole to fuck.

“Makin’ a beautiful mess on my dick, baby, come on, give it t’me. Give Daddy your cum, I’ll give you mine back, won’ I, princess?” His gruff voice is demanding and rambling and all at once, you’re beginning to convulse around him.

“Close,” you whimper, “gonna cum, Daddy—”

“Yeah, come on, that’s a good bunny,” he grunts as you begin to gush slick around him. “Daddy’s gonna give you the milk you’ve been wantin’.”

[eand47]

Chapter II | Compass

Summary: You moved to one of the biggest cities in the world - Grand Line to pursue filmmaking career. Soon enough your path will cross with the vocalist of upcoming band called “The Neighbourhood”. At first you decided to be just friends - because it would be easier, but sadly as everything in life sometimes by taking the easy path we regret a lot of things.

Main characters: Portgas D Ace x Reader (female)

Supporting characters: Nami, Usopp, Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Deuce, Shanks, Buggy, Sabo, Eustass Kid, Koala (more to be add)

Description: Modern AU | Musician Ace

WARNINGS: sexual harassment, mention of alcohol and drinking, explicit language, self doubt

Word Count: 10.1K

<- previous chapter

NOTE: I really hope you guys like this chapter as I was surprised by myself and the fact that I was able to write 16 pages of material for it. I promise you soon there will be a lot of Ace x Reader moments, as of right now I want to establish a steady tempo of how things will go between them for the future, and also introduce you a little bit of the Reader’s already established relationships with certain characters. I recommend you listening to the song “Compass” by The Neighbourhood (the real ones hehe) when you get to the moment where they will sing it. Please feel free to leave a feed back as it’s important to me. I re-read it like six times now, and I hope that I have fixed all the spelling and grammatical mistakes, but again English is not my first language so I’m sorry if some things are unclear, let me know so I can fix it. Also if you haven’t seen “Fantastic Mr. Fox” I recommend the movie as bot only you will understand the references better, but because it’s an amazing movie. Enjoy <3333

PS: this is what the gesture from the movie looks like for those of you who haven’t seen it, as I’m afraid that I might not describe it good enough.

I’ve reached the street where “The Red Pirates” was located. I was taken aback for a moment when I saw how big of a queue was in front of the entrance. The bar was not very big, but it was quite spacious, and the vibe overall was a mix of underground place with a hint of an old rock and roll bar. One thing Shanks knew how to do best was making the most out of things. His cheerful and charismatic persona knew how to lure people around him, so it was no surprise to anyone when he made this place quite popular in this aera of the Grand Line city. At the end of every month, he invites well-known local bands to perform and usually it gets sold out, but I have never seen such a queue in front of it like the one tonight.

As I got closer, I noticed most of the people in the queue were around my age. The place was more known among people around their middle age, but I guessed from what Nami and Usopp told me I shouldn’t be surprised that there were so many young people here tonight. By the entrance were standing Beckman and Lucky Roux – a big smile appeared on my face when I saw them.

“Beckman, Lucky!” I shouted as I ran and hug them.

“Here is the real star of the night” Lucky lifted me off the ground as he squeezed me in a tight hug.

“Shanks is putting you to work tonight, huh?” Beckman patted me on the shoulder as he laughed at the face I made when he mentioned it.

“Please don’t mention it!” I whined. “On top of it my friends are going to be here, as apparently one of their friends is a brother of two of the guys in the band, so they all be having fun while I just watch behind the bar.”

“Oh, cheer up, beautiful.” Lucky chuckled at me. “At least we are here – if someone gives you trouble at the bar just let us know.” He cracked his knuckles with a grin on his face.

“(Y/N)” I heard someone shouting out my name behind me. Beckman, Lucky and I turned our heads to see who it was.

“Nami, Usopp” I called them as I gestured them to come. “I thought you are already in.”

“Well, someone here took too much time to get ready.” Usopp nodded his head at Nami, and she rolled her eyes at him. She was dressed stylish as per usual – with a dotted colourful bodysuit imitating bathing suit, a long denim skirt with some sparkling belts on top. Her long ginger hair let down nicely. Usopp was wearing a knitted light grey coloured sleeveless top – showing off his biceps, with some dark greyish baggy jeans. Two silver necklaces – one thicker than the other on his neck, his head was cover in one of his many durags that he owned – his look slaying as well.

“Anyway.” She looked at me. “Can you get us in, as we don’t want to wait on the queue, plus Luffy and the rest are waiting for us.” She grabbed my hand, squeezing it in hers.

“Yeah, of course.” I turned back to Beckman and Lucky. “Please, please, please these are my friends I told you about, please, please, let them skip the queue.” I childishly begged them, as Beckman shook his head at me with a smile and Lucky chuckled.

“We don’t need this whole performance to just let them in, you know?” Beckman said as he removed the rope that was stopping people to go in, letting Nami, Usopp. Some people in the queue complained how this wasn’t fare, but no one really paid attention to them.

“I know, but I have to be dramatic.” I stuck my tongue at them, we were about to go in when both Beckman and Lucky stopped Usopp and held him on the spot. Nami and I looked at each other confused of why they would stop him.

“You fella look oddly familiar.” Lucky said, as he eyed Usopp from the head to toes. “Any chance being related to Yassop?”

“Y-yes...” Usopp stuttered as he heard his dad’s name being mentioned. Even as absent father he has always found a way to cause his son problems.

“How so?” Beckman asked, intimidating Usopp even more.

“H-he is my f-father.” Usopp was ready to take whatever punches Beckman and Lucky were going to throw at him, as it won’t be the first time this would happen.

“Ha, I’ve heard his son is like a copy of him, but damn Yassop was working overtime when he was making you.” Lucky snorted out loudly as they let go of Usopp and patted him on the back. “Say ‘hello’ to your dad from us.”

“S-sure I will.” Usopp muttered as he glanced at them when they let him pass, the look of irritation visible on his face.

“Are you, okay Usopp?” I knew his relationship with his dad was very complicated and he hated to be reminded how much he looked like him. I knew that Beckman and Lucky didn’t mean to offend him, but they hit a nerve. I glanced back at them as they were back to stopping and letting people in.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Maybe I will be better if I don’t look so much like my dad.” He shook his head trying to forget what just happened. “Let’s go find Luffy, plus I really need a drink right now.” He said as he started to walk ahead of us. Nami and I just looked at each other without saying anything, knowing that he would need a minute to cool down.

“You haven’t forgotten about the free drinks, right?” Nami nudged me.

“Even if I did, I was sure you were going to remind me.” I nudged her back. “Anyway, I need to go and change – see you in a bit. Just find me somewhere by the bar and only order to me so you don’t have to pay.” We hugged each other and then I headed to the back of the bar where the staff entrance was. I was struggling to reach it, as there were so many people inside. I couldn’t remember to have seen this place so full before and knowing how many more people were waiting outside was stressing me out already. I reached the staff door, and as I was about to open it, when someone literally kicked it in my face and if I didn’t react fast, I was probably going to end up with a broken nose. I looked at the person in disbelief.

“You can say sorry at least, asshole.” I got even more pissed when I saw who it was.

“Watch where you stand spoiled brat.” He replied with the same annoyance.

Perfect, not only it was going to be a long and a busy night, but on top of it I must work with the biggest jerk I have ever met - Eustass Kid. Till this day I couldn’t get why Shanks kept him around, when they didn’t even get along; yet every time I’ve asked Shanks why, his reply was the same ‘He is the best bartender I have.’

I was going down the stairs towards where the ‘changing’ room was – if I could even call it that. It was the space downstairs where they store everything – from the drinks to the staff lockers. I started to take off my hoodie as I was still pissed from my encounter with Kid. I didn’t even pay attention that there were three guys sitting on the sofas, where the lockers were, until one of them didn’t clear his throat. I slowly turned around, the shocked look on my face from the embarrassment clearly visible on my face. They were trying their best not to look at me while I was standing in front of them with my bra on.

“I guess no one told you that we will be down here.” The blond guy that cleared his throat said awkwardly as he was trying to avoid looking at me. The other two – a black short-haired guy who was wearing a simple black tank top and a silver neckless, with tattoos covering his entire body and dark jeans; and the other one on his left side – with the light blue coloured hair, who was wearing glasses with a thick black frames dressed, in a dark blue t-shirt with some dark blue oversized jeans, were both looking away.

“Yeah, this little detail was clearly missed.” I covered my front with my hoodie. “D-do you mind turning around so I can quickly put m-my work shirt on?” I was trying not to die from embarrassment, avoiding looking at them.

“Of course, don’t worry we won’t be looking.” The blonde quickly said, as they all just turned their heads to the side not looking my way. I quickly changed and excused myself as I ran upstairs embarrassed of what has just happened.

*******

They all looked at each other and laughed.

“Poor girl I actually feel bad for her.” Deuce said.

“Yeah, I bet she wasn’t expecting to see anyone here.” Law agreed with him. They all laughed again as Ace came back from upstairs, caring with himself some bottles of cold water.

“Did I miss something?” He looked at the guys confused.

“Yeah, they got us a stripper, but she ran off after she saw Law’s ugly face.” Sabo burst out laughing as Law pushed him from the edge of the sofa.

“The only ugly face here is yours, you morron.” Law and Sabo started to wrestle and mess around, and Ace looked even more confused, as he threw a bottle of water to Deuce to caught.

“Are they for real? They really got us a stripper?” Ace sat next to Deuce as he opened his bottle to drink some water, watching his brother messing with Law. Deuce only shook his head and chuckled.

“One of the girls working here came, and she didn’t notice us as she was clearly pissed about something, she started to change in front of us without realising and when she realised it became quite award for everyone.” Deuce quickly explained to him.

“Was she hot?” Ace playfully raised his eyebrow.

“Your type for sure.” Sabo said as he sat back on the sofa looking at his brother with a smirk. “If you haven’t smashed recently ...” Sabo didn’t get to finish his sentence as Law slapped him with behind the neck. “Ouch what was this for?” he winced looking at Law.

“Have some manners man.” Law scolded him.

“Come on, it was just a joke.” Sabo tried to defend himself. Ace and Deuce were just observing them not saying anything, as this was Law and Sabo’s usual dynamic.

“Don’t worry bro, if I want to smash, I don’t need a wingman” Ace chuckled at Sabo.

“You sure? You are quite grumpy lately; I can always ask Koala to hock you up with one of her girlfriends.” Sabo continued to tease Ace, as Ace just rolled his eyes at him.

“Again, I don’t need you or your girlfriend as a wingman.”

“Law what about you? You are even grumpier than Ace.” Sabo turned to Law with a teasing grin, as Law glared at him without saying anything.

“What’s with you and playing a wingman tonight?” Deuce asked Sabo, as Sabo was clearly in the mood to annoy his bandmates.

“I just care about your well beings’ guys. You know if I can help for your happiness I would gladly do it.” He tried to play innocent, but the guys knew him too way, he just wanted to mess with them.

“Where is Koala, by the way? Is she not coming tonight?” Ace asked his brother, his girlfriend Koala never missed their performances and usually hung up with them before they start playing.

“Ohh she is coming a little bit later tonight as one of her girlfriends has a birthday today, and they are out celebrating.” Sabo and Koala have been together for five years now. They had met in high school, and from the start Koala had massive crush on Sabo, which later grew to having stronger feelings for him. Koala tried to keep all these feelings bottled up, until the night when Ace had thrown a ‘goodbye’ party for his brother, who was going away to college. She drank so much alcohol that night to gain courage to confess to him, only to end up in the bathroom floor, hugging the toilet while Sabo was there by her side running gentle circles on her back, as all the alcohol was coming back. While he was in there with her, making sure that she will be alright, she looked at him in the eyes and ‘I love you’ slipped from her lips before her mind could even procced it. Sabo didn’t have much time to react as she threw up again. The next morning Koala just woke up in Sabo’s room, not really remembering anything, but from that night on their relationship started as Sabo decided to not go to college in another city but stay in Grand Line so he can be close to Koala. And till this day Sabo haven’t regrated the decision he took – not only he was with the girl that he has been in love with since they met, but he also got the chance to do music, something he has always loved, with his brother and friends by his side.

“Oh, that is why you are playing a wingman.” Deuce chuckled at Sabo. “I’m also single, why don’t you play my wingman?” Deuce clenched his fist up to his heart pretending to be hurt by Sabo’s decision to ask only Ace and Law. Ace snorted at Deuce and his little “act”.

“Sorry man, but you don’t match the birthday girl’s type.” Sabo put his arms in the air as he was helpless to help his friend.

“What’s her type then?” Ace mocked his brother and his pathetic attempts to play Cupidon.

“Guys, don’t mock the messenger.” Sabo tried to defend himself. “Koala told me loud and clearly – ask Ace, if Ace plays hard, ask Law.” He mimicked his girlfriend voice and gestures. “I guess her friend type is grumpy dark-haired dudes.” He mocked his brother and Law.

“Well Ace, you were the first choice not me - so good luck with the ‘birthday’ girl.” Law winked at Ace, his eyes full of mockery.

“Shut up man, last thing I want to do is going on a double date with Sabo.” Hearing this Sabo threw his empty bottle as Ace’s head, but he dodged before it hit him.

“Again, I’m up for it – if you show me at least how she looks like.” Deuce made Sabo pull out his phone to show him the girl.

“Deuce you can’t be that desperate.” Turning his head in disbelieve Law exclaimed at him.

“I’m not, but also it’s been a while, so I don’t mind being the third option of the night.” Sabo handed his phone to Deuce as he had opened the girl’s Instagram. Both Ace and Law looked over Deuce’s shoulders, taking look at the girl.

“Not bad, but I’ve had seen better.” Ace commented, not really impressed by the looks of the girl.

“Nah man she is cute.” Deuce protested and Law agreed with him.

“But same as Ace I don’t want to be stuck on a double date with you.” Law nagged at Sabo. Ace shook his head, as these two started to mess with each other again. He sat back on the sofa and pulled his phone out from the back pocket of his pants. Scrolling through social media, he checked the band’s Instagram profile, something he hasn’t done in a while, as he wasn’t a big social media user, noticing that they got some new followers, but one piqued his interest.

“@idkthisfoxy “ He murmured to himself. The profile was private and there was no bio, but he clicked on the profile picture making it bigger. On the picture was this girl with a sock covering her face and only her eyes were visible, the same way the animated fox Ash from Fantastic Mr. Fox was portraited at the end of the movie. He snorted out with a smirk. “Could you be...?” He thought to himself.

“What’s with this smug smirk on your face?” Sabo interrupted his thoughts, looking at his brother with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing” Ace brushed him off, getting up from the sofa, and putting his phone back in his back pocket. “Okay guys, I think it’s time to go upstairs and get ready to play.” He clapped his hands, making the guys stand up, agreeing with him.

“Let’s go break some hearts gentlemen.” Sabo loudly exclaimed, clapping his hands in the air, as the guys were going upstairs.

*******

I left the ‘changing’ room that was used for everything – from changing your clothes to storage all the alcohol and beverages Shanks has to offer, with a quick run up the stairs. Last thing I expected was someone to be there, let alone three men standing on the sofa there, which was something new Shanks have had add as last time I worked here, there was no sofa downstair. And speaking of the devil he was right in front of me.

“Shanks!” I shouted out, catching his attention as he was busy flirting with some woman. He turned at me with a big smile.

“There is my beloved niece.” He pulled me in a suffocating hug. I tried to fight him, but he only tightened his embrace. “Why is my Foxy mad? Did someone step on your tail?” He started to poke me on my sides only fuelling my annoyance with him.

“I’m telling you – run while you can. This man is insufferable.” I told the woman who he was hitting on, as she was looking at us while we were messing with each other.

“Oh Foxy, I can’t wait for the day you gonna bring a man over, the number of comebacks I have collected for you is unlimited at this point.” He ruffled my hair, as he turned to his fling for the night, telling her to give him a second, as he nodded at me to follow him.

“Are they unlimited, or you just can’t count after ten?” I tease him with mockery in my voice as he only shot me a glance.

“Someone doesn’t want to get paid double tonight, I see.” He nagged me with a smug smile.

“Dare.” I challenged him, and he laugh at me.

“Okay now seriously.” He stopped in front of the computer making me clock in. “You and Kid will be working together at the bar. No need to check ID’s as tonight everyone must be 20+ to enter, so if they are inside that means they are legal to drink. If it gets to much I might jump in and help, but I have three runners tonight so it should be all good. And most importantly if someone is bothering you let me know immediately, okay?” I mentally prepared for the long shift, off all the people I could of work with tonight, I would have to work with Kid. Shanks patted me on the shoulder and went back to his fling of the night. I huffed and turned around to look at the bar. The queue was already quite big, and Kid needed help at this point.

I got behind the bar, and Kid glared at me with annoyance. He was wearing one of the work t-shirts with the “Red Pirates” logo on it, his muscular body defined by it. His whole left hand was covered in a tattoo sleave – a realistic robotic hand, something coming out straight from the Cyberpunk universe. The tattoo itself was amazing, the person having the tattoo – was not so much.

“Move Kid, I will work on the bar station closer to the stage.” He rolled his eyes at me but still moved so I can go to the right side of the bar. “You can come and order here as well.” I shouted and people started to come my way. Nami soon came to me with a big grin.

“Hey there, I heard there is this cute bartender working here, so I made sure to come and check if the rumours are true.” She teased me.

“Stop it, I might get all flushed.” I waved mt hands in front of my face as we both laughed. “What do you want to drink?”

“A strong vodka and orange juice – less juice more vodka.” I started to make her drink, as I filled the glass with a lot of ice, as I knew that she loved her drinks very cold.

“Where are the rest of the group?” I asked her as I didn’t expect to see her alone.

“They are standing by one of the round bar tables close to the stage.”

“Less vodka – more juice, as requested.” I joked with her, handing her the drink.

“Ha-ha.” She mocked me as she took a sip of her drink. “Oh yeah that is strong.” Her eyes widen as she tased the drink. “Damn you really made sure there is no alcohol in it.” She sarcastically said, taking another sip. “By the way my friend Luffy knows your uncle Shanks.” Nami took a sit on the last tall chair left at the bar.

“What are you for real? How?” I was taking other customers orders as we were talking.

“I don’t know, you have to ask him.” She shrugged, taking another sip. “Oh God, please put some more juice in this thing, it is too much even for me.” I burst out laughing as she handed me back her glass to pour more juice in it.

“Nami, who is this beautiful lady, and why I haven’t been introduced to her?” A tall blonde guy wrapped his arms arounds Nami’s shoulders. She rolled her eyes and huffed.

“(Y/N) – Sanji, Sanji – (Y/N). Don’t mind his flirting – everything that has two legs and boobs is beautiful in his eyes.” She pushed his hands off from her.

“Nami that hurt, I only flirt with beautiful women, no matter the size of their breast.” He advocated for himself. “Nice to meet you (Y/N), I have been hearing a lot about you from Nami and Usopp.” He flashed me with a seductive smile. “Only good things of course.”

“Nice to hear this.” I smiled at him. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I would love to but sadly, I’m the one driving everyone home tonight, so I will have to deny your offer.” He chuckled sadly. I took a quick look at him and his outfit suited his smooth persona; he was wearing off-white shirt, two buttons unbuttoned around his chest, with a dark grey chinos style pants and belt. His wavy blonde hair was let down nicely as half of it was covering his right side of the face. I was told by Nami, that Sanji was handsome and super stylish, and now I understand what she meant by it.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Sanji.” I did feel bad for him, knowing how Nami and Usopp behaved when they are drunk, I couldn’t imagine what dealing with their whole friend group would feel like.

“I’m sorry that you must be behind the bar.” He was smooth, but this was not working on me.

“Hey, enough with the chitchats, those asses playing tonight are starting soon, so focus!” Kid came next to me and hissed in my ear angrily as I was talking to Nami and Sanji.

“You are right, sorry.” I apologised to him, knowing that I really got distracted by Nami and Sanji. “Sorry guys but I have to focus on work now, but if I manage, I will sneak to your table.” They both understood and wish me good luck, as they went back to their table.

“Of course, on the busiest night I have to put up with you.” Kid continued to whine. I just rolled my eyes at his whining. His bright spiky red hair matching his personality perfectly. “Hand me two more bottles of rom.” He spat at me.

“Kid are you ever in a good mood?” I asked him, handing the bottles.

“Yeah, when I get my dick sucked.” He smirked at me.

“Oh, you are disgusting.” I was left in shock from his answer.

“You asked, you got you answer.” He had pleasant look on his face knowing well that his comment irritated me. “Don’t worry, brat. You will never get this lucky.” His cocky smirk not leaving his face.

Before I moved to Grand Line, the last two summer since I was working for Shanks, while staying with him in his apartment, as my dad usually toured during the summertime. The first summer I worked here, Kid had already been working for a while. He hasn’t changed much since then. That first summer for a little bit – I did in fact, had a little crush on him. It was something in his edgy persona and style that made my nineteen old self attracted to him. But with time this attitude became more unattractive than attractive, and my little crush turned into pure disgust.

Of course, he had his good moments as well. One night two months ago, just before I stared university, it was just him and I working on a Tuesday night. It was a very slow night, so Shanks left early and left us to close the place. As we were going for last orders, Kid was behind the bar cleaning it, while I was picking glasses from empty tables, as we still had some customers left. On one of the tables where three guys, around the age of forty-something, were sitting I tried to reach for the empty glasses, smiling politely at them. I felt a hand on the back of my thigh going up to my butt and squeezing it hard. I jumped back in shock and dropped all the glasses I had in my hand. The broken glasses shattered on the floor. The men burst out laughing at my frozen expression, but their laugher was quickly cut, as the guy who touched me got his head smashed on the table hard. The bang of the impacted of his head hitting the table echoed through the whole place. Kid had seen everything that had happened, and he was seeing red. He dared the guy and his friends to think about doing it again. They all locked at him with fear in their eyes. The man’s face, who harassed me, was all covered in blood, one of his teeth has fallen and probably his nose was broken. I was just standing there still frozen from shock. Kid kicked them out, the rest of the customers, as well. He came close to me, trying to shake me out of the shock. I still remember the way he gently placed his hand on my face, cupping my cheek, his fingers feeling rough on my skin. He tried to keep his tone calm as he called my name. It took me some seconds to come back to reality. Kid was standing very close to me, in a way that we have never been this close physically. He looked into my eyes, and I could see how mad he was but at the same time there was this hint of worry in them. We stayed like this for a moment until he took a step back and removed his hand from my face. He cleared his throat and told me that he has already called Shanks, and he will be here soon. I just nodded at him as I was still speechless. He told me to go and change my clothes.

When I came back Shanks was already here, and he was like a fuming bull, swearing that he would find these men and make them pay. When Shanks saw me, he came to me and hug me tight, I started to cry in his embrace, as he gently patted my head. He then proceeded to tell Kid to walk me to Shanks’ place, as he was not letting me stay alone tonight, and that he would be dealing with the police and the bar on his own. I was about to say that this was not needed but none of them let me have the word. Kid and I were walking toward Shanks’ apartment, but didn’t speak at all. I broke the silence, thanking him for what he did, and that he shouldn’t have done it as might of now he could be in trouble. He shushed me quick, saying that he didn’t want to hear any thanks or apologies from me, and that he did whatever everyone else in his place would do. We reached Shanks’ place shortly after. I pulled my keys out to open the door, but Kid stopped me as he came close to me again, as when we were in the bar. I gave him a questioning look. He was looking at me like he wanted to say something, his scared eye twitching a little. We stayed like this for a moment then he shook his head, more to himself than me, and told me to take care of myself, as he quickly left. The next time we worked together he was back to his arrogant self, so I guess it was something from the adrenaline rush that he got that night that made him act, so strange. But we never really spoke about what happened; neither had Shanks told me what happened after with the police and ect., both of them act like this never happened and every time I’ve tried to speak about it with Shanks, he cut me off almost immediately.

“What you got all dreamy about sucking me off?” Kid smirked with me as I got zoomed out.

“Yeah, you wish.” I snorted. He glanced at me but didn’t say anything.

******

The place was full. I looked at my phone and it was a little after 10PM so the band should come out and start playing any moment now. The image of the three guys seeing me earlier in my bra came up in my mind and a chill of embarrassment ran down on my spine. Someone got on podium, but it wasn’t who the crowd was waiting for.

“Hello there beautiful people.” Shanks announced on the microphone. “When my precious, like a son, friend came to me two weeks ago and told me, that I should give this month gig to his brothers’ band I was very critical at first. Then he played me some of their songs and I was impressed. I was even more impressed that the thickets sold out in one day. One day – can you imagine.” The crowd cheered loudly – some screamed the band’s name, some whistled, and others applauded. “So a big shout out to my friend Luffy.” A loud screaming and cheering that I could recognise from miles away echoed around, but from where I stand, I couldn’t see my friends. “I’m not going to keep you guys waiting anymore – big and loud applause for ‘The Neighbourhood’.”

I stopped what I was doing to watch them coming up the stage. The first one to step on stage was the guy with the light blue hair and the thick black framed glasses, he went and took his position next to the bass guitar and picked it up. I hear some girls yelling his name ‘Deuce’ loudly. Next was the blacked haired, covered in tattoos guy, he took the guitar that was on the right side of the stage. A girl standing next to the bar screamed to her friend something along the lines ‘get me pregnant Law’ and I looked at her shocked. Then the blond guy came up on stage and started to raise his hands up in the air making everyone going louder and louder. Before he sat behind the drums, he sent a kiss to someone in the crowd and a big grin appeared on his face. My heart was beating fast in my chest as I was expecting the last guy to come up on the podium. There was this small voice in my head telling me that it will be him – the guy from the coffee shop today. But then this wasn’t some Disney movie, so probably them having the same name was just a pure coincidence. The three guys started to play some chords, and their vocalist join. I recognised him immediately. There he was – no beanie on, his raven black hair messy and freely falling around his face. I didn’t notice back in the coffee shop, but he was quite tall. It was something in his aura that made him stand out from the others. Now dressed in a loose fit black pants and leather belt, with his silk black shirt tucked in them, sleeves up till his elbows, buttons unbutton revealing his muscular chest – he was breathtaking to look at. The red beam neckless around his neck adding a nice touch to his outfit. The other three guys stared humming the back vocals.

Ooh, I know once you come to California

You won't ever look back

Ooh, just a little bit can make you wonder

You got it in

Ace took his guitar on with a smug look on his face. I was watching him carefully from the bar, far away yet not that far, as I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Then he stared to sing.

Hands up, it's a stick up

Nobody's leaving this room for a minute

He sounded even better live, than in their records. I was mesmerised by his voice. It was so melodic, yet a little rough only adding to his appearance. I was just enjoying their performance as they were super good – all four of them.

“I swear to God you are gonna make a puddle her.” I heard yelling in my ear as I turned around and saw Kid standing behind me. “Stop staring – start working, damn it.” I quickly came back from the trance that Ace put me in and got back to work. They were on their fourth song when I saw Usopp on the queue for the drinks.

“Usopp!” I shout out his name, hoping that he would hear me, over all the noise. He did look in my direction without realising at first. He looked again and saw me clearly this time and he made his way to the side where I was working.

“They are good, right?” Was the first thing he asked me when we got close enough so I could hear him. I eagerly nodded my head.

“Are you kidding me. They are amazing.” They were already on their fourth song and so far, everything was great from what they’ve played.

“You shall meet them; they are all great guys. If you have time when they are done performing come by our table and we can introduce you to them.”

“Yeah about that... I kinda already met them...” Three out of four already has seen me embarrassing myself, and I thank to whatever power was out there – God, universe – whatever, that Ace wasn’t in the ‘basement’ when I waked on the guys half-naked.

“What do you mean?” Usopp got confused look on his face by what I’ve just told him.

“Story for another time.” I brushed it off quickly. “What do you want to drink?”

“Rum and coke, please. Make it four.” I started to make the drinks as I was taking quick glances at the stage. They knew how to entertain the crowd. Their stage confidence was noticeable. “Will you be able to carry all four at once?” I asked Usopp handing him the drinks. He confidently nodded.

“The moment you are out of the bar, come to us.” He shouted behind his back as he was leaving with the drinks, too focused not to drop them or someone to push him.

******

The band just finished with the fourth song and the blonde guy took over the microphone:

“A very big thank you to everyone coming here tonight.” He was a little out of breath, as I can only imagine what was it like playing the drums for half an hour without stopping for even a second. My eyes moved to Ace who was taking a sip of his water. He turned his head at my direction and our eyes met. Ace raised his eyebrows in disbelief and squeezed his eyes to make sure that he saw right – that he really saw the girl from the coffee shop. I panicked and squatted down to the ground hiding behind the bar. “Big shout out to Shanks for letting us play here tonight – please a round of applauses him.” He raised his hands to applaud Shanks, and the crowd followed. “Big shout out to all off you who came to support us here tonight, I see some faces in the crowd who were there for us from day one till today.” Another round of applauses followed. “And- and the biggest applause and thank you goes to my amazing girl – Koala.” He paused taking a breath in and out. “Koala, baby I love you. This new song that I wrote is for you, and you only. Sadly, I wasn’t blessed with the voice that my brother has, but I will be in the back pouring my heart out on the drums, enjoy everyone.” Everyone started to cheer and applause.

I got back on my feet again as I heart the last thing the blonde guy said. Ace just patted him on the shoulder and laughed as he took over the microphone again. He looked around as he was still laughing.

“I’ve had always imagined that the first time I would have to sing a song dedicated to a girl, will be for a girl I’m in love with, you know?” He joked with the audience. “Twenty-five years later I still haven’t met the one, but my brother did. I’m telling you the first time I sang his songs to his girl – it was awkward.” Everyone laughed, so did I but something more interesting caught my attention from what he said. “I told to myself you know, with time it will get easier, less awkward.” He made a dramatic pause. “I swear to God this never get easier. Bro just learn how to sing.” He turned to his brother in dramatic disbelief, as Sabo only shout at him to start singing. “And you see what I get as a ‘thank you’.” The crowd laughed again. “Anyway – the song is called ‘Compass’, hope you guys like it as much as our other songs. It’s coming out next week so stay tuned.” He announced before they start playing, looking again at the bar but I quickly turned my head around.

“Go pick around some glasses. You are not helping behind the bar anyway.” Kid told me, pissed at my behaviour tonight.

“Now?” I asked surprised. He just glared at me with a killer look, I huffed and got out of the bar.

They started to play, and Ace voiced filled all my sentence. I stopped to listen to the song as I was closer to the podium now.

‘If I don't have you with me, I'm alone

You know I never know which way to go

I think I need you with me for all-time

When I need new direction for my mind’

The song sounded so sweet. I didn’t realise that Ace was looking at my direction as I was focused on listening to the lyric. Then the way he sang the last line of the first verse:

‘I know that you're not something to lose, now’

swept me off on my feet, as I closed my eyes loving the way how smooth his voice was. Then the chorus stared, and they were so catchy.

‘I've got something to confess

I keep you in my pocket to use

You're my only compass

I might get lost without you’

As he sang the second verse, hearing minutes ago his brother proudly announcing how much he loves his girlfriend, the lyrics were having such a deep love held behind them.

‘Could you tell me where to go?

You're always there to help me when I'm down

I'm lucky you've been keeping me around

You're the star I look for every night

When it's dark, you'll stick right by my side’

It was hard to explain, but it was like something magical was happening around me and inside of me right now. I felt like I’m lost in the moment. Ace started to sing the bridge of the song, and I opened my eyes. The most cliche thing in every possible way - for every movie, book, play or song happened - our gazes met. The time felt like it stopped for a second.

‘Like a magnet

Hard to imagine ever changing

Anything changing my way

Baby, like a magnet

Can't help that I'm attracted to you, I am

Could you keep on guiding me? Please’

He smiled at me as he didn’t move his gaze from mine. When he sang: ‘Can't help that I'm attracted to you, I am’ - he hold his hands up to his head and shock them, a big smile sprad across his face, as I did the same thing back at him. I was in disbelief that he recognised me, yet alone did the whole ‘Fantastic Mr. Fox’ thingy. The last part of the bridge felt very personal: ‘Could you keep on guiding me? Please’ I couldn’t hide away the grin on my face, as I just gestured with my hands a ‘maybe’, as he was looking at me with a playful questioning expression. Ace chuckled and winked at me. When he moved his gaze away from me, I quickly moved around trying to disappear in the crowd as my face as flaming hot.

When the song finished the guys were met with loud and well-deserved applauses.

“You really are kind of a quote-unquote Fantastic Fox.” Ace chuckled on the microphone. I knew this was meant for me, even though he couldn’t see me, he made sure I can hear him. Trying to distract myself right now was quite a challenge. All I could think about was this moment of interaction, we had in front of so many people, yet no one knew what was going on.

******* Three more songs and they were done with their performance for tonight.

“Thank you, thank you all for coming here tonight.” Ace thanked the crowd, loud applauses echoed through the whole bar. “Six months ago, when the guys and I decided to finally start putting out the music, that we have been doing for the past two years now, we never expected that people will find such an interest in us. For everyone streaming our music and coming to all the live gigs we have done so far – thank you from the bottom of my heart.” He bowed with his head before he took off his guitar and left the podium. The rest of the guys bowed and thanked everyone leaving a bit after him.

Ace was already surrounded by group of girls as he stepped down from the podium. As every man on this Earth of course he loved the attention he was getting, especially from young and attractive women, but there was this particular girl in his mind tonight that he wanted to get the chance to speak again with. He was thinking of their short interaction today even after she left the coffee shop. It was something about her that piqued his interest, and this hasn’t had happen in a quite long time. Ace didn’t really remember the last time he seriously got interested in a girl for more than a one-night stand or a short situationship. And he was curious if this time would be the same, if she would be one of the many that would come and leave - leaving nothing behind themselves. This was something he would catch himself being jealous of his brother Sabo sometimes. The universe literally served him his girl on a golden plate. He didn’t have to search and get disappointed all the time, he was simply in the right place at the right time, and so did she. Part of him was really wondering when it’s going to be his turn; his turn to be loved, to be adored and cared by someone – and the one who would wake these feelings up in him for her, as well.

His experience with girls was quite big, even though it wasn’t always like this. Girls started to pay attention to him around the age of seventeen, when he decided that he must start going to the gym and change not only his appearance, but behaviour as well. The person who he was now, and who he was almost eight years ago, were totally different people. Ace used to be the grumpiest, meanest and enrage kid you could have known; even now-a-days he would catch himself acting like this little kid again and he hated this. Ace has always been afraid that no one would ever love the real him – every time he tried to show his true self after a while they either run away or he realised it was not worthed to keep trying. Lost in his thoughts for a moment he didn’t realise he had zoomed out until some waved their hand in his face.

“Sorry I got distracted for a second, what were you saying?” He smiled at one of the girls in front of him.

“I said would you mind giving me your autograph?” She teases him with a playful look in her eyes.

“Sure, you have a pen or something.” He gave her the same look, knowing that she was flirting with him.

“There you go.” She borrowed a pen from one of the girls standing next to her. “My name is Samantha, in case you were wondering.” She turned her back towards Ace, moving her hair on the side so he could sign the top of her shoulder.

“What should I write?” Ace took a look at her, from head to toe – ‘nice body, nice ass’ he thought to himself, stepping a little closer to her.

“How about your number?” She smirked at him, as he chuckled at her flirty tone. He checked her out one more time as he licked his lips with a sly smirk.

“There you go, angle.” He wrote his number on her shoulder. He gave the pen back to her with a wink as he continued his way towards the back exit.

Ace wanted to be at peace for just a second. A few more girls stopped him on his way to the back exit, but they were less flirtatious than the girl he gave his number to. Finally, he made his way outside and the moment the chilly wind hit his face he breathed out. He pulled out a package of cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it, taking a long puff from it. Closing his eyes as he leaned on the wall, exhaling the smoke. Having attention was nice, especially from women, but that wasn’t so important for Ace. The goal wasn’t women – the goal was to make great music that people can love and enjoy. After every show Ace catches himself in the ‘imposter’ syndrome – that he was not good enough, that the performance sucked, that he was bringing the band down, that he was not a good singer or a guitar player. All these thoughts were hitting him like a truck every time he got off stage, and no matter what people were telling him, he couldn’t shake this feeling. The feeling of never being good enough. He was lighting up a second cigarette, and he noticed it was the last one.

“Fuck, fuck , FUCK.” He cursed himself, taking a puff after puff from his cigarette. As he was taking his last smoke from the cigarette, throwing it on the ground, he thought of you. Ace wasn’t the type to believe in fate or anything from this sort of bullshits, but he chuckled to himself. What were the chances that in one day you two happened to be in the same place at the same time – two completely strangers. And you were pretty – no, you were gorgeous. There was something in you that was waking up a little spark of fire in him, and you haven’t even had a proper conversation, yet. When he saw you from the stage it was like the time had stopped and he couldn’t move his eyes from you. You were just standing there, enjoying the moment, living in the song – and then you opened your eyes, oh those beautiful eyes which he didn’t have the chance yet to know the colour of, but he was looking forward to finding out soon. He took a few more minutes outside gathering his thoughts, before he put his poker face back, walking inside confidently like nothing was going on inside of his mind.

******

I wasn’t looking forward to going behind the bar right now, even when I knew I had to, but instead found Nami and the rest of the group.

“There she is!” Usopp saw me first and yelled, waving his hand gesturing me to come faster.

Nami had her head rested on Sanji’s shoulder as she was completely wasted, but Sanji was more than happy to take care of her. On his other side was standing a black-haired guy, a little shorter than Sanji, maybe the same height as Usopp. He was wearing a red oversized t-shirt and baggy light blue jeans. His face was scared under his left eye but still he looked quite boyish with his big grin on his face – I guess this was the infamous Luffy. Next to him was standing Zoro, he nodded at me as he saw me. Zoro was waring bandana on his head, his fit not very different from Luffy’s, the only difference was that his t-shirt was white. Nami tilted her head in my direction and quickly jumped from Sanji’s side, but he quickly grabbed her the shoulders, as she almost tripped and fell.

“Damn Nami, how much you drank, tonight?” I have seen her wasted but never this much.

“Way too much.” Sanji answered me instead of her as she was leaning on him again.

“Luffy, this is (Y/N) – the classmate we have been telling you about.” Usopp interrupted, introducing us as we exchange a handshake.

“Nice to meet you finally (Y/N). I have been hearing a lot about you.” Even thought we were the same age there was something so boyish in Luffy’s voice.

“So did I.” I smiled at him. “By the way, your brothers’ band is great.”

“Oh, I know! I’m so happy that Shanks let them play here tonight.” His smile grew wilder.

“How did you meet my uncle by the way? Nami told me that you two know each other.” I was really curious to know how these two knew each other, especially after Shanks refer to him as a ‘son’.

“Long story short – I was quite a troubled kid until I met Shanks. Then I became even more troubled and reckless.” We all laughed at his joke. “But yeah we met –“he got interrupted by someone shouting his name. We all turned around and the blonde guy from the band was joining to the table, with a girl under his arm, which I guess is his beloved girlfriend. She was wearing a very nice light purple ruffled dress; her shoulder length light brown hair was nicely styled in a blowout effect. Her face was lightened by her big smile and her big dark blue eyes were glowing with love as she was looking at her boyfriend.

“Sabo, Koala – come. This is (Y/N), Nami’s and I best classmate and friend from uni.” Usopp introduced me to them as I awkwardly nodded the moment Sabo’s eyes widen in shock.

“No way, look baby this is the stripper I was telling you about.” He told Koala, as she slapped him on the chest as she turned to me. I was shocked from the comment he just made, so did everyone.

“Stripper? You are a stripper?” Luffy looked at me confused, Zoro slapped him behind the neck, shushing him.

“Don’t listen to him, his humour, is little broken. Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” She smiled at me.

“No don’t listen to me guys. Sorry didn’t mean to offend you, I’m Sabo, nice to meet you officially.” He reached out his hand across the table, and we handshake. The other two guys – the light blue haired and the tattooed one joined as well. As they saw me, they had the same reaction as Sabo, but didn’t make any comments instead they just introduced themself.

“Where is Ace?” Luffy asked Sabo.

“Ah, probably out smoking, I don’t know.” Sabo shrugged. “You know how he is after we finish every set.” Luffy nodded at what Sabo said and continue to talk to Law. Deuce was talking to some girl, who was wearing a ‘birthday girl’ crown, Nami was barely standing, while Sanji was making sure that she was getting enough water.

“I am going back to work; it was nice to see you all.” I tapped Usopp on the shoulder, interrupting his conversation with Zoro.

“No wait a minute, so you can also meet Ace.” Usopp stopped me from going as he hold my wrist. My heart skipped a beat when he mentioned his name.

“Some other time Usopp I promise, I really need to go back, otherwise Kid will kill me at this point tonight.” I pouted at him, and he nodded, understanding my situation and let me go. The universe had other plans whatsoever – turning around I bumped into someone’s muscular chest. He gently held me for a second by the shoulders.

“Easy there, no rush.” I looked up and my eyes met his. Ace was looking at me with a little smirk placed on his face. “Hey (Y/N).” He took a step back giving us some space. He remembered my name.

“Hey.” I smiled at him, tying to hide the fact I was a little nervous.

“You two know each other?” Usopp pointed a finger at us.

“No.” We both said at the same time. “We just met this morning by chance.” I explained to Usopp. “Oh, nice. What a coincidence.” He chuckled as he turned back to Zoro. Little did he know how right he was.

“So, you work here?” Ace broke the silence between us.

“Yes and no.” I laughed awkwardly. “Shanks is my uncle, so sometimes when he really needs help like tonight I just jump in behind the bar.” I explained, looking down at my hands as I was playing with my fingers, a habit I have when I’m nervous.

“Hey.” Ace bent his posture a little trying to catch my gaze, I looked back at him immediately. “I don’t bite – relax.” There was a little hint of teasing in his voice.

“I’m relaxed.” I brushed it off, trying to play it cool. “It’s just strange – from lending me your charger to hearing you perform tonight here was quite a surprise.”

“Yeah, I agree. You- you, um, did you enjoy it?” He ran his hand through his hair, awkwardly scratching his neck.

“I loved it.” I eagerly told him, a little too eagerly for which I cringed at myself. “I didn’t know about you guys until today. Actually, Nami and Usopp invited me to see you performing here, but again funny coincidence.” I started to babble. “Then they played me this song of yours “Cry Baby” and yeah – I can say I’m defiantly a fan now. Especially after I heard you tonight. But I had no idea it was you, until I saw you coming on the podium, so I was quite surprised.” As I continued to babble, he had crossed his arms in front of his chest making, looking at me with half lidded eyes, a little smile playing on his lips. “I think I talk too much.” I awkwardly chuckled. A wild smile spread across Ace’s face, he shook his head, as he laughed.

“What?” I playfully tilted my head at him, wondering what made him react like this.

“I think you need to listen to ‘Cry Baby’ one more time.” He teased me, without giving me any more information.

“Okay, I will.” I teased him back. We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other.

“Wait how do you know Nami and Usopp?” He was the one to break the silence again.

“We are classmates.” He raised his eyebrows in awe.

“Oh, a filmmaker. What are you the most lead to – directing, scriptwriting or...?” He asked me clearly interested in my answer. I was about to answer him when someone grabbed me by the shoulders and squeezed me hard.

“Ouch.” I turned around and I saw Shanks’ smug smile. He reached his fist at Ace, and they bumped it.

“Ace could I politely ask you to not distract my beautiful niece as she is supposed to work not flirt.” Ace nodded at Shanks’ comment, with a little smirk.

“We are not, I – I’m not flirting.” My whole face got flushed. I took a quick look at Ace, but his face was unreadable.

“Flirting or not – go behind the bar or I will make you stay and clean as well.” I knew he was serious, despite the smile on his face. I just nodded at him and left without even looking at Ace as I was quite embarrassed.

******

After some time, people started to leave, and the work started to decrease. I saw Ace and the rest of the guys starting to put their instruments away, getting ready to leave. We locked eyes a few times, but nothing more.

“Stop staring and forget even thinking about Ace.” Shanks interrupted my thoughts, his tone serious.

“Excuse me?” I looked at him confused, why would he even tell me this.

“You heard me.” He leaned his forearms on the bar, having a very serious face, something that I rarely ever see. “You only gonna end up hurt Foxy, so be thankful that I cock-blocked you.” He tapped the bar and went away, not letting me say anything further. I continued to clean the bar, Shanks words still in my mind, wondering what exactly he meant by that and a little surprised of how he worded it. “Hey, we are leaving.” I looked up and saw Usopp and the rest of the group behind him. “Thank you for the drinks by the way.” I waved my hand, brushing it off as there was nothing to thank me for.

“It was nice to finally meet you (Y/N).” Sanji told me with a wink, him carrying sleeping Nami in his arms.

“Yeah (Y/N), we have to properly go out these days.” Luffy cheerfully exclaimed, as he came closer to the bar to high-five me.

“We sure need to Luffy.” I smiled at him, Zoro just waved me ‘goodbye’, he wasn’t usually the most talkative but tonight he was extra quiet. They all stopped to say goodbye to Shanks as well, who was standing by the exit. I was still little affected by Shanks’ words and didn’t want to look at him right now.

“You know I discovered that coffee shop recently.” I turned around to face Ace, as I heard his voice.

“It is a hidden gem, right?” I gushed. He smiled at me and nodded.

“So I guess I will be seeing you there?” he raised an eyebrow at me, a little hint of tease in it.

“Definitely Ace.” I smiled at him. He kept his eyes on mine for a moment.

“(your eyes colour).” He murmured, I tilted my head at him wondering what he just murmured to himself. He saw my reaction and just flashed me a smile. “Till next time then.” He winked at me and then he left.

next chapter ->

[agaypanic]

Can you do a Rodrick fic where his band and the readers band are kinda like rivals but they end up falling for each other yknow? Sorry I’m so bad at detail lmao 💀

Battle of the Bands (Rodrick Heffley X Pop Singer!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: While wandering around during lunch, Rodrick sees a giant poster for Battle of the Bands, which immediately piques his interest. But while signing up, he meets the leader of a pop band.

A/N: lowkey famous au, reader is in a pop band based off of Citizen Queen (by based off of, i mean the band name is citizen queen and they sing a citizen queen song, but i just made up the other band members lol) (side note: just found out (writing this 6/6) that citizen queen is a three piece now AND grouptherapy is a duo?? Why was i not informed on this omg). Kinda inspired by some of the pop!reader x rocker!rodrick asks ive answered, also kinda inspired by metal lords 

***

Rodrick had a routine of wandering around the school during lunch. He didn’t really like the cafeteria. It was loud, not in a cool rock way, and was filled with his annoying peers. So he grabbed whatever sandwich his mom packed for him that morning and ate it as he walked around campus. Sure, he could just eat in his van. But knowing him, he would probably miss class if he went anywhere outside the building. He didn’t mind that much, but his parents were way more on his ass about grades and attendance than usual.

While walking down one of the hallways, a giant poster caught Rodrick’s attention. “Battle of the Bands.” He read, eyes soon widening as he registered what it meant. This wasn’t just some poster advertising the event; it was also a sign-up sheet. Shoving his half-eaten sandwich into his mouth, Rodrick ran to the poster while trying to pull a pen out of his backpack.

The sign-up sheet was blank, so the poster must have just been put up. This felt like fate to Rodrick, seeing this before anyone else. He wrote his band’s name quickly, taking up two entry lines in his excitement. 

He stared at the poster a bit longer before someone appeared behind him. “Excuse me?” Rodrick whipped his head around to see a pretty girl with a lopsided smile.

“Hi.” Rodrick didn’t know why you had approached him, but he wasn’t about to stop you.

“Hey.” You pointed to the poster behind him. “Are you done with this?”

“Huh?” He suddenly remembered that he was in your way. “Oh! Yeah, sorry.”

Rodrick stepped to the side, watching you laugh lightly and take out a pen. “It’s okay.” He watched as you wrote a name below his, only taking up one line instead of two like him. You read his band’s name. “Loded… Dipper?”

“It’s pronounced ‘diaper.’” He corrected proudly, missing your muffled laughter. “We’re a rock band. I’m the drummer and the founder, Rodrick.”

He thrust out his hand for you to shake. “Cool.” You said. “I’m Y/n, singer and founder of Citizen Queen.” You pointed to the name you had written down. “We’re a pop band.”

Rodrick didn’t have the same decency as you to hide his laugh. “Pop? That’s like, so overdone.” You raised your brows at him in surprise.

“Well, you know what they say. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” You retorted, giving the sign-up sheet and then giving him a once-over. “Why’s your band called ‘Löded Diper’? Is it because you guys are full of crap?”

Rodrick gasped dramatically, dropping your hand. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Toosh.”

“It’s touche.”

“Touche.”

“I guess we’ll see you at auditions.” You say, giving Rodrick a sickly sweet smile. “Let’s hope you don’t stink as much as your name would suggest.”

Rodrick opened his mouth to say something but couldn’t think of anything. He groaned in frustration and pointed his finger at you. “I’ll think of a comeback to that.” You laughed, starting to walk away.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking of one!”

***

Rodrick saw you at auditions before you saw him. You were with your friends, joking around and doing warmups. 

“Hey, who’s the hottie you’re staring at, Rodrick?” Chris hit his friend’s shoulder, following his eye line to see you do some half-hearted dance practice with the rest of your band.

“Don’t…” Rodrick trailed off, knowing he would call you the exact same thing. But he needed to focus. He looked at Chris with a stern look. “Don’t call her hot. She’s the enemy, Chris, she’s competition.”

“Chill, man.” Drew laughed.

Rodrick whipped around to look at his band. “No. We gotta focus if we’re gonna win this thing. You can start thinking about hot chicks when we need groupies on our big sold-out world tour.” His bandmates thought about it for a moment, before nodding in understanding. “Good, now start setting up. We go on first.”

The rock band moved their equipment to the auditorium stage to set up. Seeing that the first band was about to audition, everyone settled into seats.

Löded Diper’s performance was… interesting, to say the least. The music wasn’t exactly your taste, mainly the lyrics. And they were very… energetic. That was the nicest way you could describe the somewhat cringey spectacle. As soon as the boys were finished, the two people conducting the auditions scribbled down some notes and yelled out for the next performers: you and your band.

While Löded Diper packed up their equipment, you decided to go up to talk to Rodrick. You figured that you might as well try to be civil with him. You had to admit that when he wasn’t talking, Rodrick Heffley was kinda cute.

“Nice job.” Rodrick looked up from one of his drum pieces, trying to decide whether or not you were being sarcastic. Maybe you were a little bit, but you wanted to keep that to yourself. 

“Thanks.” He said a bit skeptically. Then suddenly, the skepticism turned into cockiness. “Don’t hurt yourself trying to top it, baby.”

You rolled your eyes a bit playfully. “My name’s not ‘baby,’ don’t call me that.” Then you laughed a little. “And good comeback… I guess.”

“It only hurt a little to come up with.” 

“Two minutes until the next band comes up!” One of the adults called out, and Rodrick jumped to pack up the rest of his drum set.

You didn’t think he’d trust you to help him put his stuff away, and frankly, you didn’t exactly want to in the first place. “So… maybe we’ll see each other at Battle of the Bands?”

“Depends on how good you do.” He teased. Annie, one of your friends, called you over to where the rest of your band was grouped. You gave Rodrick one last look before starting to walk away. “Baby.”

You whipped around and saw Rodrick smirking at you. Shaking your head, you kept walking.

***

You shouldn’t have been surprised to hear that almost every group that auditioned got into Battle of the Bands. The auditions were probably just a formality, at the most, making sure no one was gonna perform anything too explicit. 

The high school auditorium was completely packed, making you a little nervous. This wasn’t your band’s first performance, but it was your biggest so far. You tried to stay positive, though. You and your friends have run through this song probably a hundred times with barely any problems. Now, all you had to do was do it one more time in front of your entire town.

“Citizen Queen,” the stage manager read the band name from his clipboard. “You’re up next, get ready.”

You were about to move closer to your friends, who were huddling together when you felt a tap on your shoulder. “Hey.” You turned around to see Rodrick. 

“Hi.” You responded, squinting at him because of the slight darkness backstage. “Nice eyeliner.”

“Thanks, I used my mom’s.” You giggled at the response, and Rodrick cracked a smile at the sound. “Good luck out there.”

“Thanks. Good luck to you guys, too.” You put your hand out. “May the best band win.”

Rodrick shook your hand, repeating your words. Before you could let go, he squeezed your hand and looked at you hopefully. “Maybe… whoever wins should get treated to dinner by the other?”

You smiled, slowly starting to nod. “That sounds nice.” You decided not to mention that other bands were competing, so the chances of Löded Diper or Citizen Queen winning were slim. You leaned close to Rodrick. “Better get your wallet ready.”

“We’ll see about that, baby.” Rodrick teased before finally letting go of your hand.

With one last look, you skipped over to your friends, who were giving each other pep talks. You all talked for a quick minute before the announcer called your name. The five of you ran out on stage and got in your positions, waiting for the music to start.

Rodrick watched the entire performance, eyes intently focused on you. You moved fluidly with the rest of your friends, not singing until the pre-chorus. Rodrick was immediately taken away by your voice. “Keep my head up, head up, and heels high. I might be in love, but I don’t rely on someone to make me feel alive.” While walking around the stage, you suddenly made eye contact with Rodrick. “You keep calling me baby. But that’s not what my name is.” You winked at him before you and the rest of your friends started singing the chorus.

It felt like an eternity to Rodrick before the song ended, and that was meant in the best way possible. He honestly didn’t want it to end, because your voice was so lovely and you were so energetic. 

When you ran off stage, you and your friends tightly hugged each other, filled with adrenaline. “That was so awesome!” Nora squealed.

“They’re cheering so loud.” Stella laughed. “We’re totally gonna win this thing!”

Everyone started to pull away from each other. “No one speak too soon.” You said, slightly out of breath. “You might jinx us.”

“Come on,” Annie said, starting to walk away. “Let’s get some water.”

Everyone eagerly followed, but you started to stagger. You called out to your friends, saying you’d be there in a minute, before walking over to Rodrick, who seemed to already be waiting for you.

“That was awesome.” He said as soon as you were in earshot. “You were awesome.”

“Thanks.” You grinned. “Glad it didn’t sound too overdone.”

Rodrick laughed sheepishly, remembering his comment about your band’s genre from a few weeks ago. “No, it was, uh… It sounded just right.” Rodrick looked around, ensuring he still had time to talk to you before he and his band had to go on. “So, even though my band is pretty awesome, I have a feeling that you guys will win. But even if you don’t… can I still take you out to dinner?”

It amused you a bit, seeing this rocker boy look so shy. You took a step towards Rodrick and went up on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’d like that.”

“Löded Diper, you’re on in five minutes!” The stage manager called out.

Rodrick took a deep breath, reeling from your affection and the fact that he and his band had to perform soon. “Awesome.” You both chuckled at the slight waver in his voice. “So, I guess I’ll see you later. Queen.”

You laughed at the new nickname. “I guess you will.”

***

Rodrick Heffley Taglist: @tweedledipshit @screechingsandwichtriumph

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Metal Band AU

Because its been rotting my brain :^)

Soap, drums/vocals shares lead vocals equally, how this man can drum and sing at the same time is beyond anyone else. Never wears a shirt.  He and Gaz banter back and forth on stage a bit. Managed to break his sticks every other show. Dumps bottles of water on himself mid-show to cool off (you can literally see the steam coming off of him). Surprisingly does most of the lyrical writing for the group.  He always does the little thank you speech and introduces everyone at the end. Jumps onto Ghost's back every time they leave stage. The larger man carries him dutifully. 

Gaz, rhythm guitar/ lead vocals. Can't stop moving around stage. Bouncing between the others. Is grinning the entire time. Fucks with Price and Ghost during their solos, flirtatiously leans on them, rubs their chest, hugs a leg dreamily.  Chatty, loves to start a pit. Mostly just throws in genuine “Thank yous’” between every song. Playfully shoos away Ghost away from his center stage like a little brat after Ghost’s solo. Plays the piano for the trademark ballad. Flirts with the crowd while on stage. 

Price, Bass/backing vocals. Sickening in how well he plays, not super energetic on stage, most of its pacing and occasionally propping a leg up on a speaker. Rarely talks, but does play a bit with the crowd. Pointing, giving cheeky winks or blowing kisses. Wanders over to Gaz mostly, giving him a playful kick or nudge. Smiling warmly. Will climb down himself to pass off his pick to a lovely fan. He is dressed wildly different than that overall vibe of the band. Usually a flannel and beanie. 

Ghost, lead guitar. Absolutely shreds. Where’s the same exact outfit every time. Keeps the balaclava and hood up the entire show. All the fans have the hots for him bc of it.  No one knows how the hood stays with all the headbanging. (it’s velcro)  Semi-frightening on stage. Never speaks. Unphased by Gaz wallowing on him. He and Price move around each other with grace. Fans have noticed that he's the most playful with Soap. They do a bit where they trade places during certain songs. Ghost pretends to be exasperated with the shorter scott trying to steal his guitar. (They actually do pretty well on the others instrument). Occasionally he’ll chunk his extra picks at Price from across stage to fuck with him.

[junkissed]

goodnight n go (teaser)

member — fwb!vernon x reader genre — smut, angst, non-idol au teaser word count — 1.7k full fic word count — 10.2k synopsis — you keep coming back for more, but every night ends the same. maybe this time things will be different. warnings — mentions of alcohol, drunk sex, car sex, guitarist!vernon, rock band!hhu, no physical descriptions of reader, vernon is afraid of commitment. this is a teaser and the final fic will have a happy ending !! notes — before you ask, yes this is based on the ariana song lol but also inspired by black eye because it's been stuck in my head the past few days. as always, thanks to @onlymingyus for reading over this for me <3 i'm still on hiatus and requests are closed but i randomly had inspiration to write something for vernon so i hope you enjoy! i am planning on writing more for this story, but i'm back at uni and my time is already quite limited, so i'll try to write more when i can! reblogs, comments, and asks are super appreciated, it means a lot and helps me keep writing so please lmk if you liked it :)

“hey, you wanna get drinks tonight?”

as usual, that’s how it starts.

you probably should have said no. you’d played this game before. you knew exactly what hansol meant when he offered to hang out after band practice, because it was never just “hanging out”.

you don’t even know why you still go to practices anymore. for a long time you’d avoided them; it wasn’t really your style, and you were never interested in being a groupie for their local gigs. your roommate seungcheol always invited you to every practice, and every time you declined with the excuse of homework or other plans, but cheol finally convinced you to come just one time.

at first, it had been because he wanted you to hear a new song they were working on and he’d wanted to know how you liked it before they played it at an upcoming show. but then he’d introduced you to the rest of his bandmates, and after that there was no going back.

you couldn’t help the way your eyes always gravitated towards hansol, who insisted that you call him his real name instead of his stage name that everyone else called him. from the very first practice, you were captivated by him: the way his long fingers seem to dance along the neck of his guitar so effortlessly, the way his voice rasps when he sings, the way your breath catches in your throat when he grips the microphone stand and rolls his head back, lips parted in ecstasy.

he’s addictive, and it’s exactly the reason why you find yourself in the backseat of his car over and over again.

every time, it was easy to pretend that things would be different. you’d walk into the bar together and sit at the table in the back, order a few drinks, chat for a while about nothing. did you like the new stuff we played tonight? yeah, i know cheol is really excited to perform it saturday. you been doing any writing lately? mmm, a little. i’ve been feeling inspired. we could go back to my place and i could show you. except he never does.

hansol wasn’t a bad guy. he always paid for your drinks no matter how many times you offered to pick up the tab, he was polite, he listened to what you had to say. he just didn’t want more than that, and that’s where it all fell apart. you’d screw around for a while, then you’d part ways and wouldn’t speak to each other until next week. you never went to see them play shows, he never texted, you never called, never went on a real date besides meeting in the same bar down the street every thursday night after practice.

he seemed fine with that. you weren’t. and yet every time, you ended up back in his arms.

he groans into your mouth, pushing his hips into you and pinning you harder against the faded leather seats of his old honda. his lips are sloppy but eager, messily pressing his mouth into yours as his fingers tangle in the hair at the base of your neck. you can taste the beer and smoke on his breath, but for some reason it doesn’t bother you. maybe you’re used to it, or maybe it’s just because it’s him. you don’t want to know which reason is the truth.

he kisses you until you’re dizzy, and you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or from the thrill of kissing him once again. it’s a high you’re convinced you’ll never get tired of, although you’re not quite sure yet if it’s one that he will.

hansol always lets you set the pace, but tonight he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself. both of your shirts met the floor of his car what seems like hours ago, leaving you in just your pants as he makes out with you as if it’s the first and last time he’ll get that chance. his fingers breeze over your waist the same way they breeze over his guitar strings when he plays: careful yet greedy, each touch intentional yet impulsive as he grips your waist.

he drags his fingers higher and it sends a shiver down your spine, arching your hips up against him and rolling your head back against the seat’s headrest. if there’s only one upside to this relationship, it’s that he’s good at this. really good. if he weren’t, then you wouldn’t have spent so many nights letting him fuck you in the parking lot of your shitty local bar. it does something for your confidence knowing that he must feel the same about you, or else he wouldn’t keep inviting you out. at the very least, this arrangement is mutual, even if you wish it wasn’t.

his hips rock against your crotch again, and even through both of your clothes you can feel how hard he is. your mind is clouded, everything’s a haze, and all you can think about is how badly you want him. the warmth of his skin, the gentle scratch of his nails on the back of your neck, his long eyelashes that flutter against your cheek as he kisses you.

you feel your hands slide haphazardly down his bare chest, fumbling over his hips as you tug on the waistband of his jeans. none of it feels graceful, not like the way he handles his music. it’s sloppy, desperate, clumsy, and it’s everything you need right now.

he manages to lean back from you enough to undo his pants and push them down to his knees, but his mouth is back on yours in an instant. somehow you end up on your back across the seats, gazing up at him with slack lips as his thin silver chain dangles over your face. you might not remember a lot of what happens on these nights when you’re with him, but you’ll always remember this moment. him hovering above you with heavily lidded eyes, biting his lip and cursing as he pushes into you, is etched into your mind in a way you simultaneously love and hate. love because it feels so good, hate because it never lasts.

the rest of those nights never stands out in your memory. you remember feeling good, you remember trembling in his arms and gasping and moaning and crying in pleasure, but the images are too fuzzy to make out. you don’t really need to reflect on them anyway; you know he’ll just bring you out next week and do it all over again.

hansol kisses you once more after you’re both finally spent, but the kisses afterwards are always different. more… hesitant, more uncertain. none of the passion and desperation that you’ve come to crave from him. not what you really want.

“i can drive you home,” he offers once he’s finished cleaning you up. for once you think he might genuinely mean it, but you can never be sure enough to take that chance. you want him to drive you home. god, you want him to so bad. to have him come over with you and stay the night, stay another night and another until your apartment isn’t just yours anymore, that’s what you’ve wanted all this time. and it’s what you’ll never have.

“i’ll call an uber,” you answer.

“i’ll wait with you, then.”

the silence that settles over his car is heavy as you climb back into the front passenger seat. you want to tell him to get in the uber with you, stay more than just a couple hours with you in the furthest back corner of the bar parking lot that’s too far to be illuminated by streetlights. you want to argue that he’s too drunk even to drive himself, that he needs to come home with you and sleep it off together in the comfort of your bed, but you know it’s not true and it won’t work. this is a conversation you’ve had many times before. every night you’ve spent with him blurs into the next, always the same. 

sometimes you want to laugh at how naive you are, for thinking he’d eventually come to his senses and realize there’s more to you than a good lay before a gig. sometimes you want to grab him and shake him by the shoulders and tell him to grow the fuck up, give him an ultimatum and make him tell you what he wants from you or else put an end to it all. sometimes you just want to cry, to mourn your wasted time when you’re fully aware it’s never going to lead to something more, no matter how badly you want it and how hard you try.

no matter how many times you get your hopes up, no matter how many times you pray and beg and plead with god and the universe and every other higher power to get him to realize this can’t keep going on the way it is forever, nothing ever changes. you’re never going to stop running to him when he calls, and he’s never going to stop calling.

finally another car pulls into the lot, and you manage to pull yourself out of his car. you hear your name behind you and you stumble, swaying on your feet as he rolls down his window.

maybe this time will be different.

he says his usual goodbyes and goodnights, flashing you a loose grin and a wave as his engine sputters to life, and he asks if you’re planning on coming to practice next week. 

and you find yourself nodding.

you’re left standing there, your head and your heart pounding, watching his headlights fade as he drives away, until you’ve stood there for so long that your ride starts honking and calling for you to get in the car so you can leave.

maybe next time will be different.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

if you want to be notified when i post a new fic, you can join my taglist here!

taglist — located in the replies

[wheneverfeasible]

🧠 🪱 WIGGLY WEDNESDAY 🪱 🧠

Thanks for the tag @stervrucht ! Ended up writing this on my lunch and hiding in the back at work lmaoooo

Because today I’m thinking about…children’s entertainer Eddie Munson and single parent Steve Harrington…

-

This is definitely a modern au. Eddie did the whole band thing in high school, and they still get together and play in bars and occasionally at events and things, but now Eddie’s music is…different.

Like…think Johnny Karate different.

Except he’s still Eddie. He still dresses in darker clothing, still keeps the metal influence in his music, it’s just all kid appropriate nowadays. He sings songs that are inspired by DnD and fantasy novels he loved growing up, like The Hobbit and The Last Unicorn. He even has a couple children’s books out based on his songs and stories. (His buddy Jeff illustrates them.)

Now, Eddie’s biggest fan happens to be Dustin Henderson, the young friend of single parent Steve Harrington. Dustin is actually a fan of Corroded Coffin as well, which is how he learned of Eddie’s children entertainment persona, The Freak (so named to show kids it’s good to be different), who sometimes dresses up like a court jester, especially when working a kid’s birthday party, crowning the kid as king or queen or anything else their little heart desires.

Steve has two little kids, twins, a boy and a girl. Their fifth birthday is coming up and Dustin convinces Steve to hire Eddie. After much heeing and hawing, Steve finally agrees, if only because Dustin gets the kids to whine about it too, and Steve honestly can’t say no to any of kids, even the ones that are only fiveish years younger than him.

Eddie comes, dressed in his understated jester costume, and the kids absolutely adore him. He all but beams when the boy staunchly proclaims he wants to be a princess, not a prince, and the little girl decides she wants to be a goblin. But a good one. Eddie grins and tells her to watch out for enchanted crystals.

The kids then decide that if the boy is a princess, then that makes their dad the king, and Eddie grins even wider and flourishes an adult size crown for just this sort of occasion. After a lot of complaining about his hair, Steve finally agrees to wear the crown, feeling oddly flushed when Eddie gets close enough to set it on top his head.

“Don’t worry, darling, I won’t mess your hair up too badly. Not until you ask me too,” he whispers just for Steve to hear and winks, even as he quickly jumps away because rule number one is never flirt with a parent when he’s on a job. Something about the single dad is just a little too much for Eddie’s self-restraint, however. Both are blushing.

The rest of the party goes on well, he even gets most of the adults to join in on the ridiculous and repetitive titles, and maybe he showboats a little with his guitar riffs, but Steve’s eyes have barely left him the entire time, and only then when he needed to keep his eyes on the kids.

Eddie is paid and leaves, like he’s supposed to, though not without giving out his business card to some of the other attending parents who want to hire him as well for their own kids’ birthday parties. All in all, a successful night. He gives one last glance at Steve and then he’s gone.

…

Time passes, yeah? Steve can’t stop thinking about Eddie. Eddie can’t stop thinking about Steve. They both think that’s the end of it.

And then Dustin, matchmaker extraordinaire who clocked that shit immediately because Steve hasn’t looked at anyone since the kids, convinces Steve to go to a bar with him where a live band is playing.

The band?

Why, what else but Corroded Coffin.

And the lead guitarist? Well he just happens to look beautifully familiar.

-

rip fartbuckle

-

Hostage tag: @derythcorvinus

No pressure tags: @scoops-aboy86 @endlessmusings1801 @steddieassheg0es @steddiecameraroll @fkinkindagauche (if you’ve already been tagged and posted before, let me know so I can read your stuff!)

[okwonyo]

💌 ──DATING A BAND MEMBER.

엔하이픈 제이 ୨୧ female reader 0.5k non-idol au fluff established relationship + cw. not proof-read skinship kissing ｜ more a/n. blank

would be the very attractive and cool looking guitarist in the band; you know that member that look unreachable and out of this world, but in reality is a very simple guy (maybe a tad of a loser even).

would totally write some songs for the band too, which means you being the inspiration behind popular songs of it or just totally being the one and only album is dedicated to. sometimes he'd wake up at night, one where he'd be laying next to you, awoken by a sudden eagerness— he'd write about you during the whole night nonstop. that's also how he confessed to you.

he'd have that overwhelming need of writing and doing music— which are the things he'd love the most, after you— every time you are talking to him, when your eyes meet and he feels like falling even more in love with you, when the way you articulate words is hypnotizing him. he'd find if it beautiful, reuniting the three things that makes him who he is together, and gifting it to the world.

that song about having gratitude towards our beloved one for being a source of happiness in the our life, the one that says that our love is a flower in our loved one's hands? that is the one he made for your birthday.

he wouldn't be afraid to say it either, at each tour, before singing a song, a ‘this is for you, my love’ would leave his lips and resonate into the entire place before the band start to play.

and, is there a concert that you participate to where he wouldn't bring you on stage to give him a kiss? of course not, he swears it's like a good luck charm. he also swears that it's just for a quick peck; but he nevers wants to let you go and ends up with your lipstick all over his lips.

which means that, wether you like or not, the fanbase of the band would know about you.

you'd are a part of him, you are his music— and we can say that you are also like a member of the group; therefore, he just can't imagine not talking about you at any occasion he gets.

which means there would be a picture or a video of you being carried by him airing every morning, because for some reasons he loves to carry you.

“look over there,” he tells you, pointing at at something up in the sky. you does as he says, while his hands come on your hips— you are soon interrupted in your research, by jay warping his arms around your waist to pick you up. you half yelp and half laugh as he rocks you side to side aggressively.

he is just extremely whipped for you, and dedicated his whole career to you— who are his inspiration, his comfort and his only love.

taglist ( open ) @manooffline @ibsysbsfsunsbs @nwjws @lilriswife4life @alaezasmystery235 @teddywonss @tyussday @cholexc @flickqr @yuviqik @wvnrqs @strawberrywonz z @y-ves @isawritesss @filmofhybe @ikeucakes @gweoriz @yunabi436 @ashtxrie @soul-is-a-strange-kid @jaelaxies @jwonsluvr @lynniebearrr-blog @bobabunhee @sunghoonsarmpit @ynsvnte @wonifullove @luvieden @shalkeren @thesunoosshining @smouches networks @k-films @kflixnet @/k-labels