#but it rlly creeps back when I forget it for a bit

[gxyhxrror]

.

[s6lars]

happy bday bb!!!! i missed you so much i’m so happy i found your account! do you think you could just do a headcanon of how pedri is as a bf! it’s up to you if you want to include smut

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 📂 pedri as a boyfriend …

contains smut, minors dni.

— the meeting.

he was back home in the canaries and met you a house party one of his mates had hosted

it honestly was just an instant connection

he had gone around talking to different ppl throughout the night but the second he started talking to you …

you were the last person he spoke to. bcs he would not speak w anyone else

but after that it was mostly silence, and he was sad bcs he rlly wanted to get closer

when he was back in barcelona, he found out you lived there too

and after some time and a million encouragements from fer

he had the courage to formally ask you out and you two hit it off not long after that

basically, a he fell first & he fell harder moment 🫶🏼

— dating life.

this man is so gentle with you. just so soft spoken, so attentive, so caring

and let’s not forget how clingy he is

you could be doing anything — chores, just scrolling through your phone and he’ll sneak up behind you and bury his face in the crook of your neck

and he wouldn’t say a single word. just dead silent

but that means all he wants is cuddles and you’re more than happy to oblige !

lets you go in his closet and steals whatever you want. genuinely half your closet is just his hoodies and t-shirts now

speaking of his closet, when you first got your hands on it, you were appalled to say the least. but you’ve since gotten it under control and no more ripped skinny jeans it is

in my eyes, pedri’s love language is quality times.

so when he has the time, it’s date night almost every single week ! renting out literally the whole restaurant so it’s more intimate and romantic

when he’s a bit busier, he does it in other ways

he’ll hire a private chef fer to his house, decorate the dining room with flowers

speaking of …

gifts. always. constantly. and spontaneously!

he’ll ask you what you want for your birthday, or christmas, etc — and you always say you don’t want anything. but then a few days later, you’ll get texts like: “gold or silver?” “what size shoe are you?” “do you like clutches or purses more?”

he’s a simple guy, he’s not flashy, and unless it’s for a new phone or a new car he hates splurging. but when it’s with you, then it’s a whole other story.

loveeees showing you off to his family and friends

he’ll run late to lunch with his friends and say something like, “sorry, my girl was too clingy this morning.”

and they’ll all be fake disgusted but he loves it

oh and about pet names

mi mujer — my woman, when addressing you, it’s his go-to.

and bebé for when he’s speaking to you directly

— the launch.

pedri is famous, which means one way or another, the public will have to know about you guys.

pedri is generally a private guy so i think he’ll let it out slowly

which means … soft launch !

it starts with a goal dedication, he makes your initial with his hands and blows a kiss to the camera

and ppl are instantly like whoa. who was that for

and then it picks up

he posts holiday pics and there’s little bits and pieces of you in them

your hair creeping in a mirror selfie, your manicured hands on a steering wheel, your reflection off of a mirror in a restaurant

and now it gets real serious

fans catch him with a girl as his wallpaper but your face is covered by his hand holding the phone

the bomb drops when he posts a pic on his story. it’s a mirror selfie, you’re both dressed up, and you’re the one taking it. he’s standing behind you, one hand across your abdomen.

both your faces are cropped out. still, ppl are like yeah, he has a girl it’s confirmed

finally, he post a whole dump for you, probably for something special like your birthday and he lets the world know he’s yours !

— the spice.

remember when i said pedri was very gentle earlier?

well he can definitely pull a 180 in bed

i see him as more of a switch, and it depends on his mood

at the start of the relationship, when you were navigating what you both enjoyed in bed, you had to guide him a lot

and that’s when you found out he loves being praised, and asking you to praise him

“does that feel good?” “fuck, right there, yeah?” “like this?”

and when he’s not in control he doesn’t shy away from letting you know how good you’re making him feel, always in your ear

ok but let’s get into how he is when he’s in control

generally at first your sex was pretty vanilla, but you were so tired from work one day and just needed to let it all out

and pedri delivered — he had you bent over the couch, and when you thought you were done, he carried you to his room and made you watch in the mirror as you took him

it was unexpected. but not unwelcome

has a thing for when you tug his hair or leaves scratches on his back. it hurts, but it eggs him on further

and if he's really feeling confident, like if he just won a final or scored an important goal, his stamina is quadrupled. you're not stopping until your legs physically give out

always, always makes sure you get aftercare, even if he can barely stay awake himself

even if it's as simple as just getting you something to drink or standing next to you while you're in the bathroom afterwards, he just wants to let you know that he cares about you

gets super cocky the morning after. especially if he sees you limp a bit

you'll tell him off because you'll have to be at work or smth and he'd sit there with a grin and say, "you were the one who kept begging, harder, please—" (you'd throw a pillow in his face before he could continue)

but it's fine, the morning sex makes up for it ♡

[neos127]

sim jaeyun x gn!reader | wanderlust

genre. fluff + established relationship wc. 1.1k cw. slightly suggestive notes. title rlly has nothing to do with the fic but the song is what i was listening to on repeat writing this so !

the cold blast of the air conditioner made goosebumps arise on your skin— or maybe it was due to the touch of jake who kept his warm hand on the inside of your thigh. you couldn’t really tell which of those two factors was making you shiver, but the inside of the car suddenly felt chillier despite the heat outside.

jake had parked at a nearly empty fast food parking lot, settled under a light that seemed to flicker every couple of minutes. the stereo played some song you had recommended to jake earlier that day, explaining how it had captured the ‘vibe’ of your late night drives very well. jake decided to test out that theory, having nothing to do that night so he decided to pick you up around eleven.

after finishing you greasy fries and burger the two of you sat in the car in silence, watching cars zoom by on a highway in the distance, basking in each others presence. you had been lost in thought until your boyfriend decided to light every single nerve in your body on fire by resting the palm of his hand on your upper thigh.

“the song is perfect for that late night vibe. you were right.” jake finally spoke, turning to look at you with a glint in his eye. you snapped out of your daze, almost forgetting the words that had just come from his mouth. the man in front of you was so mesmerizing, sometimes he made it difficult to focus.

“yeah…yeah. of course i’m right.” you mumbled, reaching a hand up to push back a strand of hair that fell against jake’s eyes. his hair had grown so long, and you were fond of the way it framed his perfect face and highlighted his features.

“are you okay, pretty? he asked before taking your hand in his free one, placing a lingering kiss on your palm. you sucked in a breath, all of the hairs on your body standing up once again.

“it’s hard to be mentally sane when you’re looking at me like that.” you sighed, the honesty of your statement made jake chuckle to himself.

he then decided to tease you a bit, leaning against the center console of the car, his face inching closer to yours. you backed up slightly, your head lightly hitting the window and you realized that it was impossible to avoid him in the small space. not that you actually wanted to, but boy did jake make you nervous.

“can i tell you a secret?” jake asked, a small smirk creeping up on his face. you shivered (not from the air conditioning) and nodded. jake leaned over the console even more, practically on top of you as his lips ghosted over yours. you sucked in a breath, closing your eyes as you waited for his next words.

“you make me feel even more insane. you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, i can’t believe your mine.” he mumbled, his thick accent making your stomach flip.

“i love you.” you replied, barely getting the sentence out before jake pulled you into a rough kiss. he poured out all of his feelings into it, moving his mouth against yours as if he had been starved of your affection for months. he definitely hadn’t, considering the fact that jake always had to have his hands on you somehow. but whenever he kissed you, he became more desperate and that ignited a fire in your stomach.

you let out a low whine against jake’s mouth which only spurred him on. his grip on the back of your head became tighter, not enough to hurt you but enough to make you see how needy he was.

“i need you so bad.” jake groaned against your lips, barely pulling away before he leaned back in for another long kiss. you began to smile, breaking away from your boyfriend shyly.

“someone’s eager.” you teased, tracing his jawline before doing the same to his plump lips. he let out a sound similar to a whimper, his eyes widening once the clarity sunk in. you began to laugh at him, finding it kind of adorable how desperate your boyfriend was for you. only you could make him feel like that— it was nice to have that affect on him like he had on you.

“um, ignore that. i was possessed or something…” jake spoke up, all traces of his ‘alter ego’ gone as a blush spread across his face. you cooed at his sudden shyness, finding it amusing how jake could be an insane tease only to turn around and become a giggly blushing mess.

“don’t get all shy now. you said you needed me? i’m right here for you.” you shrugged, trying to seem seductive but internally cringing at your words. you and jake often made fun of each other for trying to be ‘hot’, but jake seemed too turned on to really care about that at the moment.

“i love you so much.” he groaned before kissing you once more, pulling you into his lap so he could be closer to you. jake slipped his hands under (his) your hoodie, his warm hands on your cold body made you sigh into his mouth and pull him impossibly closer. the song that had been playing on a loop in the background had drowned out in your ears, the only sound coming to your ears was your rapid heartbeat.

even though you were wrapped up in the feeling of jake’s touch and how his soft lips felt on yours, the sharp beep of a car in the distance made you jump slightly and remember where the two of you were parked. you had definitely seen emptier parking lots in your life, and the one behind a popular fast food restaurant still had a few cars lingering.

“you seriously wanna fuck me in this very well lit parking lot?” you asked teasingly once jake began to leave a trail of kisses against your neck, not wanting to stop his assault on your skin. he pulled away and pouted slightly before looking out the rear view mirror and taking note of the fact that there was an active line at the drive through only a few meters behind the car.

“you’re a mood killer.” he grumbled.

“no— i’m realistic.”

“still a mood killer.”

“jake.”

“y/n.”

the man below you pouted like a child, and you couldn’t help but pinch his cheek and ruffle his hair a bit. he really could get anything he wanted from you— but you’d rather not have your intimate time with your boyfriend discovered in public.

“another time?” you suggested, wiggling your eyebrows as you looked at jake. he smirked slightly as he watched you roll back into your seat, eagerly nodding his head in agreement.

“definitely.”

[skz-streamer]

Changbin As Reminders

Simptober Reminders M-list

Pairing: Changbin (skz) x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff ;))))

Warnings: mention of food

Notes: wahhh, Chanbin if def the type to somehow memorize your schedule better then you, who needs the reminders app when you have him! <33333 tbh i dint rlly like this too much but its okayyyyyy

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

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

"Make sure to turn in that report!"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You were comfortably nestled on the couch, engrossed in the TV show that had captured your full attention. The plot twists and dramatic dialogue had you completely absorbed, and you hardly noticed anything else around you. In your own little world of suspense and entertainment, you lost track of time.

Then, out of the blue, your phone buzzed, causing you to jump slightly in surprise. You glanced at the screen and realized it was a message from Changbin. This was unusual; he was usually in his own world when he was out with the boys, not bothering with his phone.

Curious, you clicked on the message, and your heart sank as you read the words: "Make sure to turn in that report!"

Oh no, you thought, your eyes widening in realization. You had completely forgotten about that report! Panic started to creep in as you wondered how you could have overlooked such an important task.

With a sense of urgency, you quickly typed out a response, trying to sound as composed as possible despite your racing heart. "Yeup! Working on it right now, thanks, Binnie!!"

In reality, you weren't working on it at all. In fact, you had forgotten that the report even existed. But you couldn't bear the thought of disappointing Changbin, who had always been so supportive and understanding.

You hurriedly pulled out your laptop and started to work on the report, your fingers typing furiously as you tried to make up for lost time. The minutes ticked away, and as the deadline loomed closer, you could feel the pressure mounting.

But somehow, with a surge of determination and a little bit of luck, you managed to complete the report just ten minutes before it was due. You let out a sigh of relief, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over you.

As you submitted the report, you couldn't help but smile. Sometimes, Changbin's unexpected messages were like a timely wake-up call, reminding you of your responsibilities. You were grateful for his support, even when he didn't realize he was providing it

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The morning sun painted a soft glow across your bedroom as you lay wrapped in the comfort of your cozy blanket, still lost in the embrace of sleep. The world outside was already buzzing with activity, but in your haven of dreams, you were blissfully unaware.

As you enjoyed the last moments of rest, your phone chimed, breaking the tranquil morning silence. It was a message from Changbin, your thoughtful and caring boyfriend who was already heading to work. The message read, "Don't forget to turn in that report!" A warm feeling of gratitude washed over you as you read his message. He knew your schedule so well that he even remembered the little details of your work assignments.

You couldn't help but marvel at how he seemed to have an innate knowledge of your day-to-day life. You swore that you had only mentioned the report assignment once, and even then, it was only in passing. His attention to your needs and his ability to remember the things that mattered to you never ceased to amaze you.

With a soft smile, you reached for your phone and texted back, "Thank you, Bin," adding a heart emoji to convey the depth of your appreciation. His simple yet considerate gesture had already made your day brighter.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Changbin was on tour, and you missed him terribly. The distance between you two seemed insurmountable at times, but he always had a way of making you feel closer, even when he was miles away. He made it a habit to send you little love messages, reminders that he was thinking of you and that he was there, even in the midst of his busy schedule.

What amazed you the most was how he managed to time his messages perfectly. Despite being in different time zones, he always seemed to text you good night exactly at your bedtime, and his replies were lightning-fast, as if he had an uncanny sense of when you needed him the most.

One day, as you were engrossed in work, your phone chimed with a message from Changbin. "Don't forget to turn in that report!" it read. Your eyes widened in amazement. How did he know about the assignment that was due in just an hour? It was almost as if he had some kind of sixth sense.

Playfully, you texted him back, "Excuse me, sir, how did you know I have an assignment due?" The mystery of how he always seemed to know what was happening in your life fascinated you.

His reply came quickly, "Oh! I just know, don't worry about it, bun!"

You couldn't help but smile at his response. Changbin had a way of making you feel loved and cared for, no matter the distance. His ability to be there for you, even from afar, was something you cherished deeply.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Tags: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @cherry-edibles @ren0325 @felixvsp @hwangrimi @sanriiolino  @painstakingly-juno @herarcadewasteland @dabiscrustyfeet @kai-jilee @sungiesoonie  @slvtty4channiee @revelaffee @buckys-pillow, @staygirl86 @chlodavids @jinnie-ret @bbygrlhannie @rebecca-johnson-28  @turtledove824  @interstellarairwaves @yearofthetiger25 @minhos4thkitty @fiqire @backintomykpopphaseagain @liknws @tinyelfperson @aaasia111 @yangbbokari

[jakowskis]

ok i just finished batman the caped crusader and i thought i'd dump my thoughts here cuz why not

big fan of the 1940s noir vibes, batman ofc originated in the 40s and i love that its been able to evolve w modern times but the 40s will always be its home yanno, so it's always good when it goes back to it. was one of the appeals of btas too. it esp pairs well w all the mob stuff going on within gotham theres just smth so classic abt batman beating up gangsters w tommy guns. batman n noir pair soo infinitely well. its a key component to the universe rlly

loveddd barbara and renee. i love barbara's diversity as a character, she works well n thrives in so many roles. she was essentially the main character of this tbh n she kicked ass. loved her

was cool to see characters u dont see often - i whooped when onomatopoeia showed up. too bad they underutilized him. what we did see was cool tho

toby stephens was srsly channeling tim curry oml

CARRIE!!! STEPHANIE!! there might of been more but i only clocked it when i immediately recognized carrie fsdhk (update i just checked the other two were dick n jason refs??? ok!!!!)

dude some shit was creepyyy like. idk if this was for kids per se but if i watched as a kid several things in this woulda creeped me tf out. ig it's sort of on par w btas / 90s cartoons in general which were a bit more... Intense but ya i was like woah at parts

i forgot how much fun it is to hav a villain of the week / semi unrelated story every ep like. idk if its just the shows ive been watching or a streaming thing but i feel like that genre of show n esp cartoon is a lot less common than it used to be, at least in media that's not exclusively for kids. altho again i rlly dunno what the age range for this was. maybe an intense pg idk

the elephant in the room... harley... sigh. it was rlly cool to see a harley who exists independently of joker, who created herself, but it was... an odd take for her that i wanted to like, but couldn't. it was mostly a matter of her temperament when she was doing her crimes, like i just.. couldn't reconcile it. out-of-costume harley was good, i loved her, and her x renee 👀but once that jester's costume was on it felt all wrong. i liked her motives, but the execution... you can do the off-on switch with certain characters - harley isn't one of them. a calm calculated cold harley who doesnt have any fun in her villainy just doesn't work. so that was a bummer

the bruce in this felt like a midpoint between the batman 2022's weird little freak + then, like, ur standard bruce. gd and he was fucking RUDE. it kind of drove me nuts a little tbh like his callousness with alfred (not calling him by his name???) was an odd choice imo

soo many recognizable voices in this. im a voice acting nerd so i was having fun consulting the wikipedia and going 'OHHH'

i hav more thoughts but im sleepy so im jus gonna wrap up by saying ive been following this since day one like i read a news article abt it wayyy back in 2021 when it was in development n i followed news on it for ages n its so cool to see the final product, like i havent had tht w many things i usually forget abt stuff fshkdj. also i cant believe max passed on it like this had all the ingredients of a winner n it turned out even better than you'd expect. baffling

all n all p damn good except for some odd character choices but i very much liked it

[alyssaandherthoughts]

you keep coming back to me.

       There’s this subtle sparkle in the whites of her eyes, somewhat peaking through when she looks up at him. It’s daring, almost. As if she’s not supposed to look at him. It’s funny how his stomach always notices it before he does, the little trembles his hand will create before turning away. She pretends not to notice. The takeout boxes are sprawled out onto the floor as her elbow leans on the coffee table, wine stained mug in hand. The other one nervously picks at the loose thread from her sock, and her eyes wander to her chipped nails. He loves the red.

      How is she always so cool about this?, He thinks to himself, lips a bit bruised, hair slightly tousled. She looks so fucking collected as if what had happened only moments ago hadn’t — even with the lipstick thumbprints he left on her chin. Is it hot in here or is it just him? He twirls the cork in his hand, avoiding eye contact.

      What happens now? You see, this is what the movies never show. The aftermath. The next move. What the fuck happens next? How do they calm the stars exploding in their chests? 

      She straightens her spine out, an awkward cough to clear her throat, and his eyes dart to meet hers. Pretty, he thinks. The slight smudging of her mascara that now rests on her lower lash line gives him a sense of pride in knowing he was the one who did that. He’s never seen her this shy. 

      Embarrassingly enough, this isn’t the first time she’s found herself in this position with him. There was that one time where her nails were painted this dusk purple, and that first time where they drank wine out of proper glasses rather than mugs. Everytime, he compliments her on her groundbreaking ability to cope with a breakup. It’s impressive, he likes to say. 

      And when her living room stills, hours after the sun falls asleep, and the moonlight seeps through the sheer curtains, he never fails to notice the way it highlights her collarbones. Stumbling, he always forgets to not fall in love with the way she runs her thumb across her jawline out of comfort, how her eyes will flicker to his lips for an eighth of a second. She shakes her head immediately after, routinely, desperately trying to escape the thought that creeps in on cue. Every goddamn time. 

      Then they find themselves here once more. And as many times as he tries to deceive himself into thinking he can be the one to finally mend whatever’s left of her in that chest, he’s reminded that he can’t. She’s reminded that he can’t. So for the meantime, they’ll just have to wait. They’ll have to wait for her to stop chasing brokenness in hopes that it’ll cure hers. They’ll have to wait for her to clear her sink of the dirty wine glasses. They’ll have to wait for the day she buys waterproof mascara. They’ll have to wait for this time to be the last time.

      And he’ll wait.

-----

© 2021 Alyssa Fouts 

idk if there’s any real weight to this one, but i just liked it. felt pretty to me if that makes sense. i wrote it today to freewrite, get some practice in before my creative writing class rlly takes off. hope you enjoy it:-)

1/27/23 I CANT BELIEVE I NEVER POSTED THIS IM POSTING IT NOW IDC

[hwajin]

𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

description: manhandling with a not skinny partner!! since i get a weird kinda insecure whenever i read manhandling in fics so here you go kfkejfne

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: skz x fem!reader

warnings/ content: another plus size / chubby / big reader appreciation post because why not! rlly body-description focused so beware of that! the smut contains lots of manhandling obv, kinda rough sex, oral (f receiving), face sitting, hints of possesiveness

ᴄʜᴀɴ

my man is Strong and HE WILL SHOW IT any chance he gets. sex might, more often than not, get a bit more rougher with him anyways, and he will absolutely add a bit of manhandling into the mix. not too much from the get go, because he simply doesn't know how much you're into it, but judging by your very much pleased and satisfied reactions — he starts to use it to his advantage, no matter how embarrassed you tend to get over it. because yes, you know that you're heavy and not fit to be simply thrown over a shoulder, but chan everything but cares about that. his arms flex whenever he pulls you closer to his body by your legs, a soft grunt leaving him when your full thighs clash against his deliciously, his eyes hungry when he's pushing your soft and sweaty body just this much more into the mattress while taking you from behind, his veins protruding when his hands sneak beneath your thighs, getting a good grip of your ass to pick you up from your place and make you sit on his table. you'd protest especially against that — but chan doesn't want to hear any of it, he will continue to pick you up and seat you down on his table, like a meal served, simply to show you that he can.

ᴍɪɴʜᴏ

legitimately and honestly doesn't get the big deal when he first turned you over from you on top of him to you beneath him in bed, your eyes wide as a deer caught red handed, your mouth agape and a blush creeping up your cheeks. and minho just looks so genuinely. confused. his explanation is sheer that yes, you're obviously not light, but if you happened to forget that he works out daily and your weight does literally nothing to him?? he's almost offended when you explain that you never really thought he'd be able to switch positions smoothly like this, when you say that you never even expected him to attempt doing anything related, simply because you're heavy. after that incident, though, mans will use all and every chance to prove you wrong, mostly to tease you, of course. will grip your legs and pull you towards him, your thighs jiggling against him which he nothing but drools over, will take your upper body from behind, when your head is shoved deep into his pillow and your ass is raised high towards his hips, and pull it up towards him so you're on your knees and chest to back with him, giving him easy access to your body. and yes, his thighs and adomen are flexing while pulling you up, his face is concentrated and slightly distorted to bring up the amount of strenght needed — but isn't exactly that the best part of it all?

ᴄʜᴀɴɢʙɪɴ

OK NOW MANHANDLING IS SIMPLY HIS FAVOURITE THING TO EVER DO TO YOU BECAUSE HELLO. HAVE YOU SEEN HIM AND HIS ARMS???? HAVE YOU SEEN HIM AT THE GYM like YES he just finds it so hot to flex his arms to turn you around on the mattress, knowing that you don't expect him to be able to. with him, you're laying on your back one second, the next your face is burried in the pillow while changbin's pounding into you from behind. and the fact that he needs strenght for it makes him go literally feral. he loves the little preparation he undergoes, as though lifting weights at the gym, when he wants to pick you up (the reason will forever be unknown to you, he has an obsession with having you on his arms), and he adores the surprised look on your face whenever he does. like for him it's not about being rough with you or territorial, it's not because he loses himself and literally gets lost in you and your body, making him want you in every type of way — all that, no matter how real it is, doesn't make his love for treating you as though you belong to him, his need for it stems simply from showing you that he can do all that, while others simply can't. he can tell you to jump and wrap your legs around his torso, he can pick you up bride style, he can seat you on top of a table to kiss you feverishly, only to go down on you mere seconds later, making you see stars. and others can't.

ʜʏᴜɴᴊɪɴ

with hyunjin — he loves to feel you on him, simply put. he probably can't pinpoint it himself exactly, but he absolutely obsesses over the feeling of having you on top of him, in one way or another. especially when he knows that you turn shy and insecure about it more often than not — he needs to physically remind you how pretty and hot and beautiful you are in his eyes and turns having you on top of him into some sort of reassurance for you. now, since you're not the biggest fan of simply coming up and sitting in his lap (as much as you do love it when you end up straddling him, you'd never initiate it, though), he has to find tricks and methods to lure you in nevertheless, to have your legs wrap around him instictively, to get your body be all over him in seconds. when making out, face to face on the mattress while laying lazily on your sides, he's noticed just how easy it is to take you by your leg and pull it over his hips, before proceeding to flip over slowly with you, rolling, rather, practically half on top of him anyways. and while yes, that part specifically requires more strenght than simply dragging your leg over him, he especially enjoys that part, feeling you almost pin him down and ending up on his lap while he's laying down and looking up at you just turns him on beyond anything. like in general he definitely has some strenght in his arms while not being particularly strong strong, and will definitely grow past his dislike to work out and hit the gym simply to treat you this much more rougher if you happen to like it.

ᴊɪsᴜɴɢ

ok now. i feel like. he'd enjoy being the one manhandled more than the other way around LMAO. like honestly having you have his way with him is so hot to him he just??? loves it so much??? partly because he sometimes is too scared to be all that with you, like he finds it THE worst image to wanting to explore treating you a bit rougher and just simply not really being able to, because he is very much obsessed with you and your body but he knows that you aren't, that you tend to think negatively and him for whatever reason not bringing up the strenght makes him so so nervous. so he only ever initiates it in the smallest portions at first, like pulling you towards him by your hips, putting your legs over his shoulders — he doesn't go as far as simply flipping you over or picking you up. though, with time, he feels like trying — you're seated on top of him, kissing him down, teasing on your way and he just can't take it anymore, needs you more in any type of way so he - quite awkwardly, you can't lie - gets you to roll over with him, onto your back and him on top of you. he surely feels that he could have made a better job, that it was definitely not as smooth as he imagined and your light slap against his arm and your blushing face told enough of your embarrassment but — he nevertheless loved the feeling of taking just a tiny bit more control over you than usual, even with something banal like rolling you onto your back, he finds it sexy through and through and doesn't scare away as much from it next time.

ғᴇʟɪx

though my man's not the strongest out there physically, he will make sure to still show you that he very much can take a bit of control at times, if he wants to. he just.. does it differently, slightly, which doesn't make it worse in any way or less sexy, you had to admit. while he wouldn't really be able to nor would he really want to throw you around or simply grab and get you into positions he'd want, he'd think of other ways to make you feel almost owned, in a way, desired, definitely. one thing he does that makes your head short circuit is the way he grabs your leg from beneath whenever you lay on your back and find him on top of you, and how he proceeds to pull it just this much up to hit a deeper angle within you. it's not much, necessarily, but it's so much more than enough to make you whimper out his name desperately. when he's losing himself a bit more he's setting your thigh on his shoulder altogether, loving how it feels on top of him, loving how your face changes into one of pleasure momentarily. another thing you'd notice he loves is the way he'd hold you down, by your wrists up and above your head, or intertwining hands and holding them right next to your head, without a chance for you to escape his grip, not that you'd ever want to. it surely isn't the epitome of what you'd call manhandling, necessarily, but none of those acts of his make it any less pleasurable for you, by any means.

sᴇᴜɴɢᴍɪɴ

sir is so rational with it and knows he simply isn't strong enough to have you any way he wants — though he never sees that as anything bad or negative, he simply would go as far as he could, physically. like similar to lix, it would be more pulling you by your legs, getting them over his shoulders, stuff like that. he does learn how to do one thing, though, because he finds it insanely hot. the first time ever you sat on his face (much to your embarrassment and slight unseasiness, but after finding out how much seungmin liked it for whatever reason you grew close to it yourself) he couldn't get enough of it, he loved having you all over him, loved how he struggled to breath just slightly, obsessed over the fact you sometimes forgot yourself and wasn't all careful to hover and not actually sit over his face, adored how his hands could grab and grope all over your body. and whenever you were on your back, your legs opened for him prettily with his head in between, having you on top of him was everything he could think about. so he would take it upon himself to learn and flip you over mid eating out to have you on top of him. like he'd be so unsure how to at first because he knows strenght that he doesn't have is required, but he manages over time?? much to your surprise because damn??? like with him as well, he loves the way he can't help but struggle a bit, he loves how you do have to help him to roll over, how he has to grunt out when having your thighs against his sides — like all that makes him go just a bit more crazy, feral for you.

ᴊᴇᴏɴɢɪɴ

honestly doesn't initiate ANYTHING at all whatsover because he simply wouldn't with a skinny partner as well, if that makes sense. like the idea of being all "showing his strenght and dominance during sex" isn't at all like him?? not that he's all soft and butterflies all the time necessarily, but he just never really thinks of going too far with it. you wouldn't be surprised too if he doesn't even know something like manhandling exists in relation to sex and that you might find it hot, so if you happen to want it you'd have to straight up ask for it jfjejdje. and if you do — boy would do his best to give you as much as you want. it would start with small things like pinning your wrists down here and there, using his big ass hands to his advantage. only with time he understands just how much more you want, and he is genuienly confused on how to achieve it. not because of you, not because of your body or weight — he doesn't even go as far as to think that that could be a problem — it's rather because he can't imagine himself flipping you over into positions he likes and enjoys. he's a simple man, if he wants another angle he simply asks you, isn't that how it worked? just really doesn't get the big deal over it BUT will from time to time, to tease you, drag you closer towards his body when taking you from behind, and that alone is enough to make you see stars.

tagging: @etherealeeknow @linoskitty @unexceptional-h @rseanne @diue @es-kay-zee @urcracksisx @jeyelleohe @yunkiwii @meloohmel @nyrasneedy @seochhj @spidercomics @chans-starlight @angelwonie @lix-ables @yvniek4ng

[blxetsi]

HIIIII!! can i get a pieck finger dating headcanons if that’s alright with you of course? your stuff makes me soft, stay safe!

yuh ‼️ tysm for your request

pieck finger dating headcanons (modern au)

pieck finger x gn!reader

warnings: literal fluff, no angst or anything i love pieck

- bc pieck is assumed to be like 23-26 this wont be a uni au or anything

- idk i rlly think you guys wouldve met in a mundane way

- like you bump into her on the sidewalk and try to the really awkward "oh im so sorry i didnt see you there- no really it was my fault- are you sure youre okay ?- okay great- no im not hurt- yeah- okay have a good day and again im so sorry !!" thing with her

- and then maybe you guys see each other again at a coffee place, youre there with your friends and shes there with hers, and you dont wanna talk to her obv bc that would be awkward

- then ur friend makes u go and order another coffee for them, and while youre waiting for your order pieck comes and stands beside you

- and shes very observant yknow ?? if she sees a face its very hard for her to forget it

- so she immediately recognizes you and blurts out "its you !"

- and you have to be like "oh yeah ! it is me ! its you too"

- she finds it quite cute and giggles about it

- a very laidback person but also a very blunt person

- she doesnt find any harm in asking "can i get your instagram @" look she doesnt wanna be a creep and ask for ur number right at the start

- and it gives her a chance to find out what kind of person you are

- it would absolutely suck for her if such a cute face was posting fishing pictures and alt right propaganda yknow ??

- so you two do and then both of your orders come so you two give awkward goodbyes before going back to your groups

- her instagram is very pretty, nice themes

- she posted a couple of hours ago, with her and her friends in a park, taking a couple of posed photos while some looking like they were natural

- shes adorable and you cant help but feel your cheeks go warm as you basically stalk her page

- she dms you and says "are you too busy looking at my feed that you havent followed me yet ?" and you see this mf staring at you across the room like 👁️👁️

- okay nosy lets calm down now 🙄🤚

- you try to defend urself but ur typing so quick you keep making errors in your writing, she ends up saying something else

"you know, i was doing the exact same thing. youre beautiful you know"

- thank you pieck 🥰

- over the next couple of weeks thats how you two communicate. she'll send you instagram memes and edits of her favourite shows, movies, games etc. and you find yourself having a lot in common w her

- you check her story so frequently it becomes one of the first accounts on the top of your homepage

- and FINALLY, when she feels she can see you as a friend and not just some pretty stranger she met on the street she asks you out

- it was a simple thing, just to the movies, and she even let you pick which one !! (imagine its pre covid idfk)

- you two go and its an awkward hug before you both head inside

- you pay for your tickets and she gets an extra large popcorn and a drink

- you assume shes just v hungry but before you can order yourself something shes like "what are you doing i got this for us !!"

- rlly cute bitch omfg

- during the movies, after she eats literally most of the fucking popcorn, she pulls your hand out of your lap and holds it with her buttery one 🥰🤚

- this bitch had crumbs and didnt even think to wipe them off

- you still held her hand tho anyways

- after that night you parted ways in front of the theater after making sure you two would be getting home safe

- and that became routine for a couple of weeks, not going to the movies obviously bc thats expensive but watching movies together !! youd go over to her apartment or she would come over to yours

- one thing about pieck is that shes very touchy

- one way or another she will end up cuddled with you on the couch

- it doesnt matter if its you being forcefully pulled on top of her body or her draping herself over you like shes a blanket, you two WILL be cuddling and you WILL enjoy it

- but finally, as if the gods gave you mercy, she finally kissed you

- it felt so nice, her lips were soft and sticky from her lip gloss and she tasted like the swedish berries you had gotten for her to munch on

- and the rest of the movie you two just sat there, kissing each other and giggling like teens

- she ended up staying the night, and complimented your bedsheets

- your relationship moved pretty fast after that

- she had already told all of her friends about you, they werent very surprised

- when you got officially introduced her friends zeke and porco tried to do that whole "if you hurt her.." speech before she slapped them and had marcel pull you away to safety

- other than that the night was very fun, you got to talking about your career, why you moved to the city, and other mundane topics

- pieck is actually a graphic designer, and everytime she comes to sleep over she just HAS to bring her laptop with her

- its basically just her laying in between your legs while she types away, youll pet her hair and lay soft kisses on her neck, and occasionally ask what shes doing

- she likes to tell you, has no problem in answering the questions you have, even if you think theyre stupid ones, shes very soft with you

- also a bit of a trickster

- for your first april fools together she slept over, you didnt have anything planned for her bc youre a good person and wont hurt the ones you love

- she stuffed your breakfast muffin with mustard 😁👍

- you gave her the cold shoulder for the rest of the day until she apologized by getting you a new muffin

- now she always dropped the l bomb to you, but she never needed you to say it

- thats why, when you were helping her cook dinner at her place you softly said "see ? and thats why i love you" she kind of,,, stopped what she was doing

- you realized why she wasnt washing the knife she used to cut your vegetables and tried to backtrack, but it was too late, she was already tackling you into a hug and taking you down onto the floor

- she just gave you kisses while repeating "i love you i love you i love you" over and over again

- bc of her you burnt ur fucking chicken smh

- you spent that night eating junk food and watching movies

- piecks a very observant person, so she always knows when youre sad too

- when you give that little huff when you come home to your (new !) shared apartment she knows something is up

- she'll slowly trail behind you as you walk to your bedroom, stripping to your underwear and changing into your pajamas

- you crawl into bed just wanting a nap to forget about the day, and she'll crawl in with you and hold you

- you never like to cry but youre so frustrated and upset at your coworkers, at that rude customer, at those deadlines, that you just breakdown

- and she lets you, she lets you almost suffocate yourself in her chest with how much your pushing your head into it, she strokes your hair while you choke on your own cries and hands you tissues when you need to blow your nose

- "what do you need my love ?" "i just need you" "okay baby"

- communication is a big thing in the relationship, and because shes been so open and honest from the beginning, talking about how you feel has never been easier

- in fact, you like talking about how you feel about your relationship, or how you didnt like what pieck said to your friends the other day, this and that, you feel comfortable and safe with pieck no matter what, which makes talking about even the most hardest things seem so simple and natural

- all in all, even when she wakes you up with spontaneous ice cream dates or asks that you put raisins in the popcorn during movie night, even with the fights and the crying and the exhaustion the next day, life would be much duller without her, and you only have to thank your clumsy self

uhh i feel like this is very short but yeah ❤️ requests are open so go crazy mfs ‼️

[risjime]

IM HERE TO REQUEST RIS HEHEHEHE, again congrats on 300!!

I'm gonna go with colour me pretty hehe, the colour would be #cd8cc5 (why do I remember my code from tumblr) and the article of clothing would be a skirt! with hajime fluff <333 we both simp for hajime so hard ugh 😔🤚🏽

well congrats again!!! and thanks for doing this 😫😫

NERVOUS

with: iwaizumi; no pronouns used but reader does mention wearing skirts & dresses

content: fluff!!, kinda a non-linear timeline?? [used diff colour text to represent this], college au

wc: 0.7k

a/n: ahhh thank you again mai!! we rlly do both simp for him a ton 😌 i hope you enjoy this babes 🤍

participate in my 300 event here!

your legs drape over hajime’s as you lay lazily on his couch, scrolling through your phone after a long day. he’s doing the same, snacking on an apple, as two of you sit in a comfortable silence. a sudden thought comes to your attention, prompting you to call out to your boyfriend, "babe!"

he looks towards you mid-bite with raised brows, you let out a little laugh at the adorable sight before continuing, "what’s your favourite colour on me? i need to get a dress for this weekend."

setting his apple down, he turns back to his phone, "mm one sec… the hell is this colour called?"

"just describe it to me," you giggle at his frustration.

"i would if- ahh here," he turns his screen to you, showing a bright pinkish-purple on the display.

"oh i have a-"

"a skirt that colour," he finishes for you. "yeah, i remember. i love that skirt on you."

hajime could never forget the first time he saw you. it was the first week of his second year at seijoh, oikawa was going on about something related to one of last year’s volleyball matches, and hajime’s mind was already starting to zone out. he sees the bright flash of purple in the distance, as you open up your locker, his eyes beginning to follow your movements. he isn’t entirely sure why you’ve caught his attention, but you have. he’s about to look away when you turn around, then he catches sight of your face, and you draw him in even further. 

"iwa-chan, are you even listening?" oikawa huffes.

"nah he’s got heart eyes going," makki comments, watching the interaction.

"hmm," tooru puts his hands on his hips in contemplation, "looks like love at first sight."

the next time he sees you wearing the skirt is his first year at college. he didn’t expect he’d ever see you again after graduation, but here you were, in one of his general classes, wearing that same damn skirt that caught his attention all those years ago. he didn’t talk to you all that much in high school, he was always too nervous when he’d try, but his crush on you never faded. 

he watches as you look around at the lecture room’s entrance for a place to sit, his breathing slows when you make eye contact with him, a small smile gracing your face.

you take the seat next to him, as he greets you with a smile, "iwaizumi, i didn’t know you were going here too!"

he clears his throat, "yeah me neither- i mean- i didn’t know you were going here."

ugh, why was he always so awkward around you?

before he can say anything else, the lecture starts. you try to make light conversation between any pauses, but hajime doesn’t give you much in response, his eyes seemingly trained to the front of the room at all times. when the lecture ends, you hesitantly tell him, "i’m sorry if i was distracting during class today, i can sit somewhere else tomorrow if you’d rather."

he looks at you with wide eyes, a slight blush forming on his cheeks as he hurriedly responds, "no! no thats not it at all."

a short silences passes between you as hajime thinks about how to continue, "i just… get a little nervous around you is all."

you raise a brow in surprise, "nervous? why?"

you weren’t gonna make this easy for him, were you?

"i’ve uh," he rubs his hands together, pushing his nerves away as he continues, "i’ve had a little bit of… a crush on you… since second year."

your smile grows at the realization, the pieces finally coming together to make sense of your relationship with him.

"you were so cute back then," you giggle at the memory, moving to lean your head on his shoulder.

"shut up, i was worried you’d think i was a creep or something."

you look over to see a familiar pink hue as he averts his eyes from you, "always a nervous boy, aren’t you hajime?"

he wraps his arms around you, peppering light kisses on your cheek with a soft smile, "only when it comes you."

© risjime | do not repost! reblogs are appreciated ♡

[scorsoneamelia]

oh my god ok so i decided to write a little smth about my girl amelia because i love writing and i used to do it all the time but i stopped and i rlly rlly wanna get back into it

so i wrote smth that takes place at the end of s17 after the amelink proposal 

TW: mention of drugs/addiction/death

                Sometimes --- more often that usual, it feels like the world is ending, like life will never slow down, no matter how many times she wishes and she prays that she'll be able to wake up and it will feel like a breath of fresh air; to be able to wake up and have the rays of the morning sunshine creeping it's way through the dark curtains, hitting her boyfriend's face at an angle that made him look absolutely breathtaking, an angel sent from God himself, so beautiful that it'd take her breath away, and maybe even her heart would skip a beat-- literally. And then his eyes would flutter open so delicately and the rays would make his blue eyes sparkle, looking even more blue than she ever remembered.

             But instead, she woke up with the alternative.Alone--oh, ever so lonely. He had sprung up the big question, getting down on one knee and pouring his absolute heart out, even giving her four rings because the boy was worried and conflicted on exactly what he wanted the ring to look like. It wasn't like she didn't want to, or that she didn't love him because oh my god, she loved him. Loved him so much that sometimes it made her chest feel tight and it made her want to understand what she did to deserve someone like him, someone as amazing as him.

             You challenge me... you-you.. thrill me. You.. impress the hell out of me.

              On top of the world-wide pandemic, Scout-- Meredith's kids, her mind is going a million miles a minute and for once she wants to take a step back-- out of her own mind, her own life and just breathe.

           And there's definitely nobody on Earth like you.

            She can't get the image out of her head, the heartbreak that spread across his face, the absolute sadness and pain that washed away the big big smile he had previously been giving her. She didn't mean to just blank and stare at him with no words, no expression-- she just froze.

            So now, she woke up alone, her boyfriend not beside her. She felt like she couldn't catch her breath and maybe it was because life sucked or maybe it was because of the nightmare that kept flashing through her head, in bits of pieces like a flash on a camera. Appearing back into her mind for a second before she completely forgets what the dream was even about. It was about her father-- it's always about her father. But this time, it was about her father-- Ryan, Derek and even Christopher. Four of the most important people to her; gone. The curtains were closed, the rays couldn't peak their way inside, or maybe it was because it was ten o'clock at night-- the room so so dark, almost as dark as her mind as been lately.

        Meetings had been harder to attend, the pandemic had only been allowing them to do meetings over a computer screen, in the same atmosphere that is making her feel like she's going crazy. Scout takes all of her free time away-- actually all of her time. She loves him, more than she loves herself but for months now she hasn't been able to breathe, especially with her nieces and nephew also needing all of hers and Link's full attention. She's doing this because they're her family and Meredith is on a vent, the world trying to take even more away from her.

        A day or two at work is what she needed this week to feel like she was alive again, cutting into someone's brain to give her some kind of feeling, even if it was just adrenaline. Sometimes, Amelia wishes that the adrenaline was enough. Was enough feeling for her to keep going-- god, she wants to give up so badly.  

        So, that night instead of waking to her boyfriend's beautiful blue eyes, she woke up to an empty room and an empty house because her sister was nice enough to take the kids for a day, the day after her wedding because hell-- she was that nice. She broke down, tears staining her cheeks and she was worried she wasn't going to stop.

         You're loud and fearless and it scares the crap out of me. How am I supposed to call you up and tell you that I've been shot? I can't tell you about my pain-- I don't want you to know that pain exists.

          Derek--- she missed her big brother more than she has ever missed anyone. Her father being an exception but Derek, her favourite person in the entire world was taken from her too soon and once again it felt like her world was crashing down around her. His voice was repeating in her head like a broken record and it was loud--- so loud, was she crazy? 

         You're my favourite sister.

         She couldn't breathe, it was like she was reliving the news all over again. Her chest felt like it was caving in and Derek's voice was still ringing in her head, like he was haunting her. 

          "We did that." Amelia nodded, standing next to her older brother after a successful brain surgery that saved the mother of her friend's son. 

           "We did that." He agreed. "We gotta publish." She joked, Derek looking over at her and replying with, "Oh hell yeah we do... You ever think about doing drugs again-"

           "Remember this?" Amelia interrupted.

           "I was gonna say call me and I'll fly down to Los Angeles to knock some sense into you." He joked, causing them both to laugh. "But okay... remember this. But that doesn't work,"

         "Yeah, you can totally kick my ass." She joked, extending her arm to shove him in the arm gently, both of them laughing while he pulled her into a tight hug. "Done. I love you." Derek said softly while he tightly held onto his little sister, and she was hugging him back as if she never wanted to let him go.

        Her favourite person in the entire world was gone and she didn't know what to do anymore, grief comes in waves and it never goes away. It's true what they say about grief-- it gets better with time...  because it does and she knows that better than anyone else. But what they don't say is that when it does come back, it's like a wave hitting you when you least expect it and then you're drowning, trying to catch your last breath before you're suffocating.

       "You didn't kill Ryan," the girl with the dyed red hair had stated, someone that had became her friend after her first night at the treatment centre.

       "Excuse me?" Amelia asked, mostly taken by surprise because it was in front of a group of people, a literal group of people.

        "You didn't kill him. You might've wrote the prescriptions but he took the drugs himself." Everyone was listening now, her secrets now out in the open. Secrets she never shared with the group.

          "Shut up, Hayley." Amelia snapped. 

           "And that guilt-- that's gonna kill you. That's what killed my best friend, it was guilt. Cause her mom was so freaked that she had a breakdown and her dad left-" It was like it was just the two of them, direct eye contact with each other. It was like everyone else that was in the room disappeared. 

          "Hayley... you don't know what the hell you're talking about, you're a child and you need to shut up." She cut the girl off, getting frustrated that she was even sharing her own personal secrets with everyone else. She could feel the pain rising in her chest, a tight feeling stuck at the bottom of her throat. She didn't believe that.. she did kill him. 

         "You didn't.. kill him!" Hayley tried again, the girl clearly wanting to get her point across. "Okay? He took the drugs himself, you didn't make him take them. He took them himself! You gotta get that, before I left here.. you have to get that. Because if you don't-- you're not gonna make it," Amelia's vision was blurry now, the tears drowning her sad blue eyes. "And I need you to make it. I know you loved him, and I know he loved you. But he took... the drugs... himself."

         Amelia finally broke down, sobs taking over her body. They were loud cries, cries of pain, cries for help. There was pain all over her body, rushing throughout her body like waves crashing against the shore. Burying her head into her hands, pulling her legs onto the chair and pulling them against her chest, trying to make herself feel small because that's how she felt--- small.

         It was cold in the room, and she was numb. Memories were flooding in, Derek, Ryan, Christopher-- her father. The room was cold, almost as cold as the hotel room was when Ryan died. He died-- right beside her. Her boyfriend died right before they were going to get sober, be happy together.. he died. He didn't make it. And no matter how many times she thinks back to that day in rehab when Hayley reminded her that it was not her fault, it was her fault and not a day goes by where she doesn't blame herself. 

         She wasn't crying anymore, she was just sitting in her bed with her legs pressed against her chest, no emotion and no thoughts other than the faces of everyone she has ever lost. The short moments she spent with Christopher, her dad getting shot and Derek holding her so tight that she couldn't move, Owen telling her the news about Derek dying. Link hadn't checked in, he hadn't called, he hadn't texted and she didn't blame him. He was hurt, like he deserved to be and she couldn't be mad at him for not showing up at the house to see her. But she did need him, she needed someone, but her one sister was in a hospital bed with machines breathing for her, and her other sister was with her husband and the kids--- her kid. 

          After she ended up forcing herself out of bed, her mind still loud and her entire body numb, a lump constantly sitting at the bottom of her throat--- she was walking through the front doors of a quiet, dark and small bar. Not many people were there, just a few people eating some food with their friends, some had a beer in front of them. Amelia doesn't know how she got here but she was sitting down at the bar, blue eyes heavy and sad, old makeup from earlier in the day staining her cheeks. 

         "You look like you need a drink," The bartender spoke as he made his way over to her. He was tall, sandy blonde hair with green eyes, he definitely didn't hurt the eyes to look at. "What can I get ya?"

         Her sad eyes slowly glanced up at him and she didn't answer. She didn't know what she was doing-- a drink? She hasn't a drink in a few years, the last time being when Meredith was in the hospital for being attacked. It's been a while and she thought she was doing good-- better. She thought about Link, and Scout, who needed him. Scout needed her, more than he needed anyone. It was almost enough for her to stand up and leave the bar until her mouth opened and she was ordering a drink. "Vodka tonic."

         "Coming right up." The boy winked, moving to the opposite side of the bar to mix her drink. Amelia thought she'd feel some kind of regret, but instead she continued to sit there; numb.

           The glass was placed in front of her and her hands were reaching for it, as she lifted it to her lips and took a sip, the feeling of the Vodka burning her throat. Memories continuing to flood her mind, only causing her to drink back the drink faster, which only caused the bartender to place another drink in front of her. 

-----

             Five drinks; she already drank five drinks and at this point she could feel the alcohol in her bloodstream, already making her feel much more calm and more relaxed. The feeling of being drunk again was a good feeling; scary good. Scary to the point where she was worried about slipping again, which is what she already did. She's at a bar, five drinks in, almost onto her sixth with a young male; attractive male sitting beside her making small talk. She already slipped.

            She had eight missed calls from Maggie, none from her boyfriend. Her state of mind was making her more and more angry, angry that he hasn't checked in. Sober Amelia would be telling herself, it's not his fault, you said nothing to his proposal. Give him space. But drunk Amelia, is angry, pissed, hurt--- angry that he stopped checking in. He told her he'd check in, he promised her he'd check in but instead he went to his best friend, Jo's house and she hasn't heard from him. 

          "Where are you headed to after this?" The green eyed boy was moving closer, his eyes trailing down her body as she sat there, body feeling like she was floating. 

           "Nowhere with you," she answered. "I have a boyfriend." Would Link be still considered her boyfriend even though she never responded to his proposal? 

           "That's unfortunate," he sighed, pulling his drink up to his lips. "Where's your so-called boyfriend?"

           Jo's, is what she wanted to reply but it's not like the boy would know what she was talking about, nor did he even care, he was just wanting her to come home with him. "Just at home." 

           Her phone was buzzing on the table again, and she was already six drinks in. The memories that had previously filled her head were now gone and all she felt was dizzy. Dizzy, numb--- great. She felt great, amazing. Maggie was calling again and she was about to decline the call before she remembered why she might be calling. Scout.

          "Maggie, hey," Amelia answered, trying her best to sound sober. "So sorry, I was asleep." She was hoping that Maggie would believe her, despite her words slurring together.

          "Amelia, where are you actually? I just came by the house to drop the kids off and you're not home and I don't know where Link is, are you with him?" Fuck fuck fuck. She's so stupid, stupid for showing up to a bar knowing damn well that she'd have to take care of 4 kids by the end of the night. She had a debate with herself, debating on whether or not she should tell Maggie the truth or lie.

            "I was asleep, I had to run to the hospital for a consult," she lied. "I'm on way back." Amelia thought the lie was good, even though she was slurring. But Maggie didn't sound too convinced but she agreed that she'd see Amelia at the house before they both hung up the phone. 

            One more drink she told herself before she was dialling a cab so that she could get home safely because even though she slipped she can't be responsible for someone else dying.

-----

           It was late. Almost one in the morning when Amelia walked through the front door, stumbling is the right word to describe it. She assumed Maggie and the kids would be asleep but she was greeted with Maggie, her arms crossed in front of her chest as she stood up from the couch. 

           "It has been a long day," Amelia started, so obvious she was drunk. "My bedroom is calling my name."

           "Amelia," Maggie said, with so much sadness in her voice. Maggie was far from stupid, she was brilliant, a genius, she could see right through Amelia.

           "No questions, just bed." Amelia headed towards the stairs, swinging her bag over her shoulder before Maggie walked up to her, stepping in front of her to stop her from going up the staircase. Maggie made a face, a you smell like vodka face and then she was putting her hands on Amelia's shoulders and pulling her into a hug, a tight hug, so tight that the hug itself almost made Amelia break down into a puddle of tears. A hug is exactly what she needed, especially right now. "I'm sorry..." Were the only words Maggie could form and she just held her. One hand was pressed against the back of Amelia's head while the other was wrapped around her, it never seemed like she was going to let go. 

          Amelia was dizzy, and she was sad and she could barely stand so she used Maggie to hold herself up. "No," Amelia cried out, a single tear dripping off of her soft eyelashes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I did it again. I'm a mess, I did it again." 

          "No, no, no," Maggie said, pulling away from Amelia before brushing a single strand of hair out of her face and pushing it behind her ear. "You're not a mess."

           Amelia just stared at Maggie, her eyes heavy, her blue eyes drowning in a puddle of tears and Maggie could see the pain in her eyes and it made Maggie sad, she cared about Amelia so much. Before the two could exchange any other words, Scout was crying from his crib upstairs.

         "I'll get it," Amelia slurred, dropping her bag to the floor and stumbling backwards as she grabbed onto the railing of the staircase.

          "No," Maggie said sternly. "I'll do it, just go lay down, I'll join you after." Maggie helped Amelia up the stairs because honestly--- she thought she was going to fall down, the girl could barely walk. 

          Amelia was already laying in her bed, the room spinning around her and before she had even a minute to rest, she was running to the bathroom to empty out her stomach into the toilet. Six drinks didn't seem like very many but maybe it is for someone who hadn't had anything to eat because she forgot to and she hasn't had a sip of alcohol in a long time. She was doing so well, dammit.

          She wasn't alone for long because while Amelia was gripping onto the toilet bowl, knuckles turning white her hair was being pulled up and out of the way. Maggie was rubbing her back in a comforting way, trying anything that she could to help the girl.

         After puking, she stayed sat on the floor, sitting with her back against the wall and the room was still spinning. Maggie slid down the wall to sit beside her, pulling Amelia into her side. 

         "You're going to be okay," Maggie said, pulling Amelia closer to her and since the room was spinning so fast, she had to rest her head on Maggie's shoulder because she needed to sleep. "We'll start fresh tomorrow."

         She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths and even though the alcohol made her feel good, she also felt regret and shame. So much shame. She hated herself, she hated that she did this to herself again. 

          She did this to Scout.

          And to Link. And to everyone she cares about.

          Everyone she's ever lost would be so disappointed in her, she knew they would be because that's what she was. Disappointed in herself.

          But maybe she was right, one day at a time and even though she got to this point again, she'll try again tomorrow and hope and pray that she doesn't start spiralling.

          The last image in her head before she started to doze off was Derek and her dad, the most important people in her life. 

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Broken arm

A/N: This was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy! please let me know what you think! Also this is like my worst fear, like that sounds dumb but breaking something sounds absolutely disgusting to me. In movies if they do like sound effects of bones breaking and I know it’s coming, I mute the sound. 

summary:  i was wondering if you could write a reddie x daughter where the losers club all go out and the daughter gets hurt (maybe breaks an arm) so they all freak out and take her to the hospital, and it’s just rlly cute at the end. i just feel like i could image richie and eddie just freaking out abt what to do and not actually doing anything so the rest of the losers have to step in

warnings: mentions of a broken arm and surgories (not graphic), mentions of throwing up (but also not graphic) and some curse words and your mom joke

At least once a month, all the losers have a reunion that usually either takes place in Ben and Bev’s lake house, or in their boat. The reason it does, is because Ben and Bev combined have enough money to restore any damages that may or may not occur during these times, more often than not Richie fault.

This time however, by some unlucky draw of the hat, everyone agrees to meet up in Richie and Eddie’s home, because their daughter Alexa isn’t feeling too great, and Richie not Eddie felt comfortable relocating with her for a few days.

She had nothing major, just a stomach bug that causes her to throw up from time to time, but Both Eddie and Richie were more than ready to postponed the losers’ meeting. Alexa insisted that all the plans continued on as normal despite her feeling unwell, since she loved spending time with her uncles and aunt any time she could, and when she showed signs of her health improving, nobody cancelled anything.

With the first knock on the door, Alexa jumps up, rushing to welcome whoever has made it to their house first, ignoring how her stomach was protesting the flash movement, and she’s greeted by the sight of her best-loved aunt, which happened to be Aunty Bev. Six months into the pregnancy made Bev look bloated and tired, but her eyes lit up as soon as Alexa opened the door, bending down as best as she could to hug her back twice as hard. She’s alone, Ben had had a meeting over in Portland, and agreed to meet Bev here.

‘How’s my favorite girl doing?’ Bev asks with a huge smile on her face, her hand resting on the top of her belly softly rubbing up and down.

‘I’m okay’, Alexa insists, even though her face still looks a little pale. Eddie, who had joined the two of them at the front door, rolled his eyes begrudgingly. Insisting that she’s fine even though she isn’t must be a trait she picked up from Richie.

Staying silent however, he brings Bev into an embrace, an; ‘hey Bev’ falling from his lips in the process.

‘Richie’s out back, come in, I’ll go get him.’ Before Eddie has the chance, the next guests arrive, in the form of Patty and Stan. Stan was holding a stuffed animal, a bunny in his hands, smirking as if he already knew that he was going to be the ‘chosen’ one today.

Eddie laughs out loud, watching as his daughter’s eyes grow bigger and wide, and she excitedly begins the bounce up and down, seemingly forgetting about the sickness for a little while. In his mind, Eddie is already praising Stan, for the few moments of rest this allows his daughter to have. Sleep is nothing something that has come in large doses to her in the last two days, every single waking minute of the day being consumed with sitting next to a toilet bowl, and brushing her teeth afterwards.

Eddie also praises Stan for basically knocking down the competition before the rest of them even have a chance.

At two years old, Alexa figured out how to play her family like the harp she later maintained she wanted to practice, giving up after only two lessons. She used to go around the room and beg her uncles and aunt to play a game with her, any kind, and when they relented, the first person who did would be her go to person for the rest of the evening.

Endearing everyone’s heart, but also resulting in a rivalry, where many presents were tossed around, and Alexa was in danger of becoming a bit spoiled. Now at twelve, she’s stopped crowning anyone as her winner, yet the losers still  arranges bets on her, as if their daughter is something to bet on.

It’s all in good fun of course, and Richie himself joins in on the gamble from time to time, but for whatever reason he never guesses correctly, but Eddie has a burning suspicion it has something to do with manipulating Stan to lose. Not that his schemes work, Stan is much too smart for that.

In rapid succession, Ben follows Stan and Patty, and after him Mike emerges, and finally Bill and Audra appear from the end of the streets. A loud and ugly snort forces its way out of Eddie, when he sees the exact some bear clutched to Bill’s chests, the annoying, cocky smirk on his face he mirrored from Stan, the same one that vanishes as soon as he steps through the door, and lays his eyes upon Alexa, clasping Stan’s gift.

Richie, who had since joined the rest of the group, could not contain his laughter, finding in Bill the perfect victim to tease throughout the entire night.

Rice and chicken were on the menu tonight, a light meal that was decided in light of Alexa, but nobody complained. Despite popular belief, Richie was a very good cook, and when he prepared any meal, it was guaranteed that it would taste delicious.

Alexa ate a bit, more than she had eaten in the last few days, and Eddie sighed a breath of relief.  Years of conditioning that any sickness was going to get him killed did not disappear off the bat, so he was immensely glad his daughter was starting to feel better, even if he knew her ailment was not that serious to begin with.

After dinner, the group resides to the living room, watching a movie that Alexa had her mind set on viewing, and secretive adult talk concealed in a child appropriate package so she wouldn’t notice, making a way across each other. A normal reunion like any other.

At nine pm, unsurprisingly, Alexa got up from her seat. ‘I’m going to bed dad,’ she explains, her hand stroking Bev’s baby bump one last time, and then waving at everyone. The spot next to Beverly, the one that Alexa had claimed, so she could discuss her new best friend as she lovingly called the new baby that was yet to be burn, remains achingly open. A weird feeling creeps up the back of Eddie’s neck, ridiculously.

The losers club just doesn’t seem complete without her, even if she has only been there for twelve years. Her bedtime was around eight, but when they go on a trip, she is allowed to stay up as long she want, the fact that she turns in for the night so early, is a testimony to how bad she suffers.  

Richie started to make his way up from the sofa too, ready to tuck her in, as he did every night, but she shook her head. ‘I can go to bed alone, Pops, don’t worry.’

She gave him a kiss on his cheek, and then scampered off to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Bill chocked on his drink in laughter when he saw the fallen look on Richie’s face, disappointment coating his expressions in a grey attire.

When he dejectedly resumed his place next to Eddie, the latter patted him on the arm in sympathy. ‘It’s just because there are others here Rich. You know how ashamed she gets of you.’ The smirk cannot be contained when the words leave his mouth, even though he means nothing but lies with them.

‘And they say my jokes suck? Spaghetti, come up with new and innovated humor, like mine. Thank god she’s got some of my qualities-‘

‘she’s adopted.’

‘- don’t interrupt me Eds that’s just bad manners. I’m so sorry your mom was to busy teaching me the way around her body to teach you how to be polite but-‘

‘Beep beep asshole.’ A murmur of agreement rose up from the group, Richie flipping them the bird.

‘Whatever, you losers have no taste at all.’

Deciding to check up on her after about fifteen minutes, Eddie settles back in his seat, joining in on the conversation to his right, where Ben and Stan discuss the different plants they have in their garden, listing a bunch of flowers Eddie will never know the meaning off.  

The movie clutters on in the background, almost like a lullaby, and Eddie yawns significantly. Richie’s hand presses in the small of his back, a grounding warm signal that he was safe, even though he doesn’t mean too, he zones out, not asleep, but also not as awake as he should be.

That happens to be a mistake when he hears something slam on the floor above them, the sound of the toilet being flushed a second after. He makes eye contact with Richie, both of them realizing that that is probably the result of Alexa throwing up again.

‘Dad, Pops’, and then a loud bang, proceeded by a few thuds that can be relocated to their stairs, and a pained yell.

Richie and Eddie scramble up faster than they have ever done before, even more hurried than when Pennywise was chasing them in Neibolt. Stan, Bill and Bev scurry alongside them, to the place of the accident, every single one of them in a panicked haze.

It only takes a second to get there, in their haste, and no other sounds emerge anymore, until They run into the hallway.

Alexa is spread out across the bottom of the stairs, her arm bend in a weird position, her legs propped up as she looks around the space dazedly, as if she’s not sure what just happened.

Her faces goes through a couple of emotions, intensifying when she takes a look at her arm, but not yet crying.

Eddie is the first to reach her, and when she sees him, her lips open slightly and a wail falls out. It proves to him that she is in real, and agonizing pain. Back when she learned how to ride her bike for the first time, she had fallen many times, as kids do, but if she cried, Eddie refused to indulge her. He wouldn’t let leave or abandon her, but he would tell her that everything was fine, and that it only stung a little, and there was no need to cry.

He mostly did this to stop himself from becoming like his mother, and to allow Alexa to discover her own boundaries and which one hurt enough to actually ask help for. He never shamed her for crying either, he just tried to teach her the difference between actual pain, and being shocked from a fall.  Ever since, is she saw Eddie walk towards her, her tears stopped if it barely stung, or begin to cry if help was needed.

Now she sobs, heavy and with snot, hiccuping to catch her breaths. It only takes a look to tell Eddie everything he needs to know, she is suffering from an open fracture. The bone is not stuck outside the skin, but the bump is visible from the outside, in the same way that his bone was when he broke his arm.

All previous training flies out the window when it’s his daughter that is the one who is harmed, nothing of the medical terms he surrounded himself with in his childhood sticking, like liquid dropping from his head.

He stands there, blankly as he gazes upon his daughters still laying form, until he gets pushed back by Bill. Richie too stands frozen, trembling from head to toe, but Bev and Stan launch into action, dropping down next to Alexa, each on opposites sides.

‘What do we do, what do we do?’ Richie inquires frantically, pushing against Bills hands, to get to her, trusting Eddie for guidement. Eddie subconsciously reaches for his inhaler, and curses once he remembers that he threw his placebo away.

‘Fuck, fuck, Eddie should we snap the bone back in? It worked last time right?’ Richie reflects Eddie’s frantic, ignoring Bill’s pleas to calm down, the cries of Alexa deafening their ears, and making their heartstrings cave in.

‘What? What the fuck asshole no. That was a terrible thing to do, and you were lucky that my arm got back to normal, are you fucking kidding me you absolute moron?’

He doesn’t mean to snap at his husband the way he does, but the mantra of; this is your fault, she’s going to die, get her to a hospital now, more careful, you should force her to be more safe, in a voice that sounds an awful lot likes his mother hisses in his mind. The panic is very nearly all consuming.

‘What the fuck was I supposed to do then huh Eds? I was fucking twelve.’ Their panic-stricken words grow louder and louder, until even Alexa’s cries of agony sound quieter than theirs, they’re so consumed with worry, being oblivious to notice what Beverly and Stan are so desperately trying to convey.

‘I don’t know, not that. And you’re 43 years old, by now you should now better dickwad.’

‘Stop it’, Bill yells in the same determined leader voice that lured them into the house on Neibolt street, effectively silencing them and focusing their attention on him.

‘Your daughter needs you right now, so shut up, and do what we ask you too okay. Richie get her cloths, Eddie retrieve anything she has that helps calm her down. Alright? Okay go.’

Richie hurries to get the car as fast he can, but Eddie hesitates when he gapes at Alexa. He doesn’t want to leave her without her parents. ‘Hey’, Bill places on of his hands on Eddie shoulder, ‘we’ll take care of her for a minute okay?’

Her cries have turned into loud whimpers, her face hidden behind Stan’s body, which stops her from seeing Eddie anyway. Bev is calmly shushing her, on the phone with what must be the hospital, carefully checking her arm. Stan is trying to distract her, his cardigan being discarded towards Bev, who uses is to carefully cover the injured arm.

It looks painful, and Eddie can’t stand to think of her in pain, so he too complies with Bill’s demands, searching for the plush toy she got as a gift, and her soft blanket that she sleeps with during the winter.

When he comes back, he hears the blaring sirens of the ambulance stop outside their door, and his stomach falls when he realizes that a few hours ago, Alexa was standing in that exact spot, excited for the night.

Audra and Patty lead the paramedics into the home, apparently they had been waiting outside to help, Patty grabbing Eddie’s arm to steady herself, and maybe even Eddie, who is swaying dangerously from side to side.

He’s been through all of this before, in a way, but that seemed somehow less scary than it is now. Back then, Eddie had been glad none of his friends got hurt, so it didn’t matter that he did. Now, it’s different, but if he could somehow switch places with Alexa, he would do so in a heartbeat.

They insert an IV line and administer pain relief, Eddie assumes, since his ears seem like they’ve been stuffed full of cotton. He vaguely registers Richie’s hand in his own, all his attention pointed to watching Alexa’s face for any discomfort.

She’s placed upon a trauma board, Stan and Ben aiding to help her jolts as minimal as possible, before they carry her to the ambulance as fast as humanly possible. Eddie hopes to god, something he hasn’t believed in since he started dating Richie, that the medicine she has received knock her out, just so she’s painless the rest of the ride.

‘Dad, pops’, she wails, extending her uninjured arm to reach for the both of them. Next to him, Richie cries too.

Eddie speed walks to be by her side, grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to it. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re going to be fine.’ He can’t help the way his voice cracks as he tries to keep his own tears at bay.

Richie also hast himself to get to her, brushing away her tears as best he can, but new ones continue to leave wet rivers on her cheeks.

After consideration, Eddie says to Richie; ‘You need to go with her,’ his words lacking any really conviction.

Richie gazes up to him in surprise. ‘Eddie?’

‘I can’t be in there, in a hospital or ambulance, but I would feel so much better if you were with her.’ The trauma lingers around Eddie like a bad stench, and he hates himself for the fact that he can’t be with his daughter. He knows Richie will keep her safe though, so if he were to go with her, maybe the grip guilt has on him will loosen.

Richie says nothing and stares for just a split second, before one of the EMT’s says they need to hurry. Then he nods, climbing on board with Alexa, but pressing his lips against Eddie’s quickly before his does.

He’s trying to convey Eddie into believing everything will be okay, but Richie isn’t sure if he believes it himself.

They have to leave then, and Eddie stares as the ambulance disappears into the distance. When he can’t see it no longer, he allows himself five seconds, and he uses those five seconds to cry upon Mike’s sturdy statues the waterfalls flowing from his eyes like they’re a rives. He can sense the others coming closer, each laying a hand on a part of his body, their silent way of telling him they’re here for them.

He feels bad for making Richie having to be the one to hold it all together, since he can’t break down in front of Alexa, but Eddie honestly didn’t have any resolution left to sit in an ambulance.

When his five seconds are up, he begs someone to drive him to the hospital, ignoring his next door neighbor who comes to check up on the commotion that was happening.

He ends up driving with Stan and Patty, in the middle backseat, where he can feel their worried gazes on him. In his mind, he is trying to recall any information about what he had to go through with his arm, but all he really remembers is that he had to have surgery.

As predicted, that is the first thing Richie tells Eddie when he finally gets to the emergency room, Richie waiting near the entrance, his hands trembling when he reaches forward to pull Eddie against him in a tight hug.

‘She needs to have surgery Eds, you have to come quick. They’re about to put her under.’ Richie informs him when he pulls back, this time reaching for his hands and pulling him in the direction of the room Alexa is in. Eddie wants to say something to his friends, but he’s already whisked away, and he just figures he’ll tell them later.

Upon entering the room, Eddie can smell the disinfected in the room, the whole room is drenched in it, but he refuses to let it deter him, so he pulls through, pulling a chair to the side of the hospital bed, resting his hand on Alexa’s shoulder. Richie goes for her hand on her good arm, his thumb sweeping the back of her hand back and forth.

‘hey, honey, how are you?’

Alexa lets her head fall sideways, her eyes dropped with exhaustion, she hasn’t received any anesthetic, so Eddie assumes that it’s the adrenaline that has worked off.

‘I’m scared dad,’ she tells him truthfully, squeezing Richie’s hand tight while not looking him in the eyes.

‘It’s okay to be scared baby,’ Eddie soothes her, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. ‘I had to same thing happen to me when I was little.’

Her lips tug upwards in a faint smile. ‘I know, pops told me.’

‘It wasn’t that scary anymore. Not when getting into the hospital. I just fell right asleep, and when I woke up, the pain was dulled.’

‘I’m not in so much pain right now though, can I not avoid the surgery?’ Eddie’s heart breaks once again, and he wishes so bad he could heed his daughter from this, but it has to happen, there’s no other option.

‘That’s cause you’re on a lot op pain medication kiddo, but as soon as they’re worn off, you’ll feel it again.’  Richie heavily admits, the lines on his face have turned more prominent, the night taking ten years of their lives away from them.

‘Like I said, you’ll just go to sleep, and when you wake up, we’ll be here.’ Eddie tries to convince her one last time, and with a heaved sigh, she relents.

Just in time, for the nurse sticks her head through the door, her smile apologetic.

‘Alexa Tozier-Kaspbrak? I’m sorry, but we really have to get her upstairs now.

‘You’ll be fine bucko, We won’t be fare okay?’

‘And remember we love you okay?’

‘I know dad, Pops, I love you too.’

When they wheel Alexa away in her hospital bag, the other losers wave at her from behind the glass door, sticking their thumbs up in good luck, while Alexa waves at them as best she can.

‘She’ll be okay’, Richie insists as he pulls Eddie close to him by the waist, pressing his nose in his hair to comfort himself.

‘I really hope so Rich, I’m scared.’

‘Don’t be Eds, she’s your kid, she’s so strong, this is just a minor setback. I love okay, we’ll get through this together.’

‘I love you too.’

Later, when Alexa is back in her room, falling asleep on her own this time, and Eddie watches Richie’s lanky from twist in half to rest his head on the bed, the rest of his body in an uncomfortable hospital chair just to be close to their daughter, he thanks whoever is listening that he got this family; He would never trade them for anything in the world.

He’s mumbling to the both of them, a stupid story about Richie and his childhood, because Alexa had once told him she slept best with some background noise. Twirling the same piece of hair over and over again, he presses another kiss to her head, thankful that’s okay. 

He nearly thinks of his mother, and how much he would have loved to see her face if she ever saw him like this. Gay, married, with a child and in a hospital. But then he banishes her to the back of his mind. She is not worth any ounce of his thoughts. 

 Alexa shifts in her sleep, relaxing into the movements, and Eddie can’t do anything but mumble out in pure adoration; ‘I promise, I’ll never be like my mom, I love you and your pops too much for that.’ 

[fmdjaewonarchive]

► agree.

date(s): july 2020 - february 2021 mentions of: champion members, unity members (samsoo, yul & sunghee mentioned by name but like... blink and you’ll miss it)  word count: +/- 2.3k words (870w lyrics/660 words composition/740 words production) warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks and car accidents details: full lyrics and full composition verification for agree, 3/3 verifications for jaewon’s upcoming album escapism. jaewon doesn’t only know how to write sad boi music, he also writes angry boi music, the only two emotions he’s ever experienced rlly. (a/n: i lost my braincells within the first 100 words and still haven’t retrieved them, read at your own discretion)

the song is born out of frustration, anger blocking up his throat to the point it feels hard to breathe.

it’s the kick-off point of champion’s world tour, a concept that has jaewon disgruntled enough as it is, snatching him away from unity and dropping him in the states like he is supposed to care about this group, like he doesn’t have better things to worry about.

but alas that’s beside his point, as much as he detests the idea behind champion, it’s not his main source of frustration.

traveling out to the states, that part is hell. now jaewon has never been a huge fan of traveling, suffering from a crippling fear of flying ever since predebut that somehow has not gotten any less severe with the sheer amount of flying all over the place unity has been doing. jaewon also absolutely hates airports, they’re too crowded, too hectic and far too stressful to not immediately put him in a godawful mood.

the cameras shoved right into his face both prior to departure and directly after arrival definitely didn't help.

comparatively, champion’s trip to the states this time hadn’t been that bad. jaewon just happens to be in an extra foul mood today but rationally, he has to admit that he’s seen far worse throughout the years.

but maybe that’s exactly the problem, how common these things have become, that getting pushed and pulled at while trying to get on flight was considered to be mild.

jaewon’s frustration isn’t solely aimed at an isolated instance, it’s at the ridiculous standard that’s been set for idols, the things they have to accept like they are normal.

normally he would call soo to complain about whatever was bothering him but with the time difference, jaewon knew his boyfriend was ought to be asleep at this hour and he definitely wasn’t waking him up for something this minor.

he even humors the thought of perhaps finding sunghee or yul to complain to but with most of champion out for the night doing whatever (admittedly, jaewon didn’t listen when they were making plans, he wasn’t gonna tag along anyway) that isn’t really in the cards either. perhaps that’s for the best, jaewon isn’t the biggest fan of actually talking to the younger unity members about what was on his mind.

either way, jaewon is stuck in a hotelroom by himself, no one around to really vent his frustration too so instead, he might just as well write it all down.

and that’s exactly what he does, settling down at the desk in his hotelroom, scribbling on a notepad randomly found laying around.

on the plane the person in the seat next to me that’s not my fan apparently buying info off the airplane company

it’s not entirely relevant to what happened at the airport earlier but jaewon feels angry all over just thinking about it. unity has had it’s fair share of experiences with saesangs, seemingly only increasing the more popular they keep getting. sure, that makes sense but it doesn’t mean it’s okay, contrary to what dimensions seem to believe with how easily the company brushes it off under the pretense of it just being another part of the job.

at the airplane lounge there’s a war between the 200 mm guns privacy, panic disorder, they barter with one another...

in the first place, jaewon’s main concern is unity, it always is. he’s willing to put up with a lot if it means the younger members are left off the hook. but he has to admit, since the panic attacks have started to become more prevalent, it’s a lot harder to take that stance. it’s hard to take care of others when he fails to take care of himself.

jaewon tries not to think about what that means for his position as a leader.

from early morning put on a mask and fight on in short, call it being a puppet...

jaewon knows he’s not an ideal idol, he’s never been and he never will be. maybe in retrospect, he would have done things differently but there is no use in considering those what-ifs now. there is, however, no denying that all of it is just a bigger struggle with him, it will never go as easily as with people who were made to stand in front of the camera’s. why shouldn’t he get to be open and honest about that? he’s not the perfect idol they want him to be, he will never fit that mold.

i know, that’s right that’s right that’s right that’s right that’s right that’s right i know that’s right that’s right that’s right

written out, the chorus feels a bit silly, but jaewon feels justified in his creative choices. not that the song is ever going to be used for anything, it’s just an attest to his frustration. jaewon knows he’s ought to sit down and silently accept whatever is expected of him.

it’s been years since he’s been his own person. these days, he’s dimensions’ property first and that of the general public second, there is no use in fighting that, no space for his voice.

so sure, whatever, he agrees, what else can he do?

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

jaewon forgets about the lyrics he’s written down after that.

in the moment there had been no intention to turn them into a full-fledged song, a haphazard combination of lyrics that in their raw form, probably held very little meaning, too much filler between the few parts that he did properly think through.

so jaewon forgets all about it before he even sets foot back in korea again. unity is busy enough, the release of neo zone lurking around the corner and with multiple schedules of his own, jaewon can’t even think about the song if he wants to.

it only comes drifting back into his consciousness at least a month of two having passed since champion’s american tour dates.

the day in itself isn’t anything special, if there is anything remarkable about it it’s the fact jaewon isn’t working for once. he’s just hanging around his and samsoo’s apartment, scrolling through whatever app on his phone keeps his attention for long enough.

until an article pops up.

it’s a news post about a rookie group he’s never heard of from a company he doesn’t know the name of, it has nothing to do with him, but he finds himself reading through it anyway. apparently, they got into an accident on their way home from schedules as they were being followed by saesangs. no one got injured and truly, it’s not the first time jaewon has read news like this but it does fill him with the same sense of anger as what he had experienced that first day in the states with champion.

because this type of news shouldn’t be common, for how long are people gonna pretend it is?

maybe he should finish that damn song.

wait does he even still have the lyrics?

jaewon vaguely remembers at the very least putting the sheet of paper in his backpack after the concert as he had been packing up to move to the next city of their tour but after that, he can’t say he recalls having seen it lay around.

he’s really ought to get more orderly with his drafts.

luckily for him, jaewon does find the sheet of paper, not in his bag but shoved in between the pages of a notebook and with the draft of his lyrics obtained he makes a beeline for his home studio. normally he’d do this stuff at the company headquarters but truly, that sounds like far too much work in the moment.

obviously, the song is meant to have an angry undertone to it, supposed to convey the same anger and frustration that swallowed jaewon whole as he had written the lyrics.

the deep, resonating boom of low brass sounds for the opening of the song are a no brainer, the sound gives a bombastic, ominous vibe, immediately setting the song off on the right note. it’s supposed to sound grande and honestly a little bit intimidating, a dark feeling creeping around the corners.

of course, the sound is far too theatrical to be underlaying to the entire song so jaewon alternates it with a deep, booming bassline, the brass only reappearing right before the chorus other than in the opening section as if to give off a warning. to fill up the verses and the parts in between, jaewon adds rumbling, deep drums in the background, making them feel less empty.

what really makes the song however is the rapidly-cycling electronic stuttering a rhythmic pattern across almost all parts of the song. it feels a little distracting at first before jaewon decides that really, that’s exactly what he’s going for. the melody feels just a little too fast, uncomfortably so and in a song reflecting so much stress and strain, that only feels fair, reflectives of the way his chest tightens up when he can’t breathe, when his hands tremble and his heart beats so fast it might as well make him sick.

jaewon thinks it conveys his frustrations pretty damn well.

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

it doesn’t seem in the books for the song to ever be released until the process of selecting songs for escapism comes along. while jaewon regains some of his creative freedom, most of it had been under dimensions terms, leaving it up to them to shape the album in a way they prefer over his creative vision.

until somewhere near the end of completing the track list, the head producer asks jaewon if he has any songs laying around that could fit in with the rest of the album.

‘agree’ is the first thing to come to mind.

the head producer seems to like the songs, enough to approve it at least and jaewon can’t help but feel a flare of pride. the producer seems intent on leaving the creative process in his hands, letting him handle the production.

it makes ‘agree’ the first song ever that’s entirely his own that he gets to release, it feels like a milestone to jaewon.

he does get a little list of suggestions, mainly pertaining to the lyrics. the producer leaves a few remarks here and there about where lines could be stronger, what he would do differently but all of it are very loose recommendations, jaewon isn’t actually under an obligation to do anything with them.

in the end, he does anyway, shuffles some lyrics around, dares to be a bit more assertive in his wording, right onto the border of what he would consider too gloat-y for himself. but the producer is right, it gets to pack a punch, it gets to be a little bit self-important. somehow having the external confirmation makes it easier to write those lyrics without feeling like a fraud. it’s still his, his writing, his song.

with the last tweaks done they’re quick to get to recording. they’re still on a time crunch as jaewon’s manager reminds him (jaewon likes the man well enough but dear lord would he never let him forget). it's one of the last songs on the album to be recorded after all and at this point, they are cutting it close.

with everything else he needs done, all jaewon has left to do is fine tune the song, the last tweaks and sounds to be added like missing puzzle pieces now he has the bigger picture pretty much laid out in front of him, polishing and detailing it to elevate the song worth of something to be released on an album.

the instrumental is already pretty hectic, fully intentional of course, but with a proper, clear recording it’s easier to spot the empty gaps, spaces to add the last finishing touches. he adds more brass, less grande and dramatic than the ones in the pre-chorus, curling around the edges of the chorus to round them up neatly and as if to scale down again for the verses, still fast paced but somewhat a breath of fresh air between one chorus and the other.

he delays the part at the opening before the brass and bass kick in, a silence before the storm feels even if the hyperactive stuttering beat is already there, he considers taking that out at first too but the point kind of is that it is more or less omnipresent, it’s always there even when there is nothing else much, like the anxiety that feels permanently stuck to his head.

there is also the addition of an extra melodic line, lingering behind that main, slightly headache inducing electronic synth. it doesn’t really stand out, especially not compared to it’s main competitor but it does remain prevalent in the few parts the main instrumental motif is nowhere to be found, giving it small moments to shine. it serves a clear function, or to jaewon listening ear at least (maybe he’s overanalyzing at this point). the little bounces of the electronic beat all over the place keep up the pace of the song, making sure its explosive nature prevails over the dark dreary undertones of the bassline and brass sections, giving it an overall dynamic feel.

it takes some fiddling, jaewon pulls something close to an all-nighter to finish up the song with the sheer amount of detail he ends up focussing on but by the time he sends it in, he has a good feeling about it at least.

when he presents the final product to the head producer, there are no more suggestions. it’s good, and it’s all his own work.

[everythingoesnk]

I love you, John

summary; in the fandom we say brian’s the 5th beatle. well now he’s the 6th bc in this you’re a member of the band. basically you’re in love with john but he’s dating yoko and............. it’s all a disaster

word count; 2 966

warnings; angst at its finest. i’m sorry if u find it trashy but i tried and that’s what counts

********

There was no way you could face this feeling. It damaged your mental health to the point of insufferable anxiety.

Nobody knew about those episodes.

Was it something that you enjoyed, seeing front row how your friendship shattered to useless fragments? Did you look like you didn’t care about how he distanced himself more each time without looking back? Like nothing or no one else mattered? Of course not.

He was alien to the fact he wasn’t the only one suffering.

At least this was the reason you found that made the most sense to his coldness and passively behaviour towards everyone. Or the justification you wanted to believe, refusing to accept that reality was that he didn’t mind everything falling apart.

The tortuous thought that John wanted to see it all reduced to ashes crossed your mind every once in a while.

Paul sighed loudly when he didn’t get any answer from you after calling multiple times. He randomly pounded several piano keys at once, creating a frightening awful sound, then dragged himself to his feet and anxiously left the room.

None of that made you tore your eyes away from John, though.

He was talking to Yoko, who was sitting on the floor beside him, nodding her head as she followed with her gaze what he was pointing at in the music sheet. Occasionally she’d interrupt him to opine. When that happened he would shut up and listen.

John was very polite when asking for thoughts, always open to new ideas and constantly seeking people's opinions on his work.

Ringo’s eyes were glued on you, George noticed, and he knew the drummer was thinking the same exact thing he was. Ringo nodded in his direction and left to find something to eat: you’d been rehearsing for three hours and he hadn't had breakfast in the morning.

"We're all getting used to it"

Outwardly speaking, George's nonchalant-wannabe words had no apparent reaction in you. On the inside, they crushed your soul deeper into misery.

You hummed an ‘approving’ sound to dodge the pressure of having to form a proper sentence.

Concentration back again on tuning the knobs of the guitar, George put his aside on the floor and watched you closely. Then sighed and pressed his lips together.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?”

"The ticking"

Pokerfaced, you stopped your actions to sneak a look at him.

"What ticking?” you asked grimly.

"Yours," he replied, pointing a finger at you. “You’re about to explode”

“We have a comedian in the building, how appropriate” you proclaimed nodding your head at him mockingly.

He grinned and dropped his gaze to the floor before speaking to you again.

“Come with me,” he said, getting up, “I’m craving a smoke”

“I’ll join in a moment. I want to finish writing down a couple of things first”

"Oh yeah?" George wasn’t convinced at all.

He removed a strand of hair from his face. In vain ‘cause it returned shortly to the same place where he’d shoved it away from.

“Yes"

George stared at you, hands on the hips.

Sunk in your seat, you glanced at him too without blinking.

"I’m inspired," you added, one last attempt to make him believe you.

You could try. You could try giving that song you’d been working on a new chance.

"Okay," he nodded, lowering the guard, and kissed your forehead, "you know where to find me"

"Sure, Geo"

You smiled and rapidly shot him a big grin, thumbs held up as well, when he turned around to take a good last look at you before closing the door behind his back.

As soon as he was nowhere around, your smile was found gone.

It was only you, John and Yoko now.

//

It must have been the tenth time that, desperately, you ran your hands through your hair.

Perhaps the problem was you. And you were just exaggerating everything.

But did she have to stick her nose in something that had nothing to do with her?

You didn’t mind her discussing the songs. But never in a million years could you believe she had the ovaries to criticize them. To criticize your work. Paul’s work, George’s and Richie’s work.

Never John’s, though. It must be said to add a little more context to you losing it.

You weren't nosy, but she didn't try to be inconspicuous either.

That bitch’d been talking shit about what she referred to as ‘Ringo’s lame thing’, claiming that Octopus’s Garden was kind of embarrassing and that it didn’t deserve to be on a Beatles record. She didn’t even bother asking about the meaning behind it, the ignorant cretin.

You bit your tongue until you just couldn't anymore.

"God," you exhaled.

Yoko heard your sigh but said nothing about it, bowing her head. She wished John’d do the same, but deep down she knew he’d have something to say.

And of course, he did.

"What's up?" he asked lifting an eyebrow, eyes jumping from you to Yoko and back.

"One gets tired of listening to bullshit" you warranted in a singsong voice, not looking up from the paper and without interrupting your writing.

It took a few seconds for you to get a response.

"Nothing she said was bullshit," John defended, hinting that her opinion was as valid as anyones.

You understood his words differently.

"Rich’s mad excited about it and it’s a great song,” you hurried to argue, this time meeting his stare, “the number of hours and dedication he's putting into it is inhuman. You should know that”

A little –huge— bit of your protective side towards Ringo was showing, but you didn’t care. Octopus’s Garden was beautiful and you’d die defending so if necessary.

"I didn't mean—"

“Are you sure?” you interrupted, turning your body in his direction, leaning in before spitting the poison out, “because lately she seems to speak for you. Whatever Yoko says, there you are giving your approval”

John stood still for at least a minute, momentarily speechless.

Yoko approached him to tell him to forget it and leave before things got uglier.

When you called the conversation off after he hadn’t spoken a word, trying to handle what you just so hostilely reprimanded, you went back to your thing, conscious that you were too unstable and broken to even pick the pencil up again.

Sure you didn’t want him to know you weren’t as strong as you wanted to appear to be, but you had to close your eyes for a moment and exhale after he moved to stand next to you.

He didn’t know the power he had on you. It’d take a snap of his fingers to ruin you for eternity.

“You’ve to fix your shit and get over it,” John grunted, fed up with the constant attacks that Yoko directly and indirectly received. It all got too much to handle.

You laughed in his face.

“Fix my shit? How, John, when the shit’s in the same room?”

John paused again, shocked.

His eyes languidly turned cold and hard.

Could you maybe have gone a step too far? There was no denying. Were you regretful? Not at all. Did your heart, constricted in your breast painfully hindering your catch of air, speed up its pace at the look John was giving you, scared about what he was going to say next? Absolutely.

"What the fuck’s wrong with you? I've had enough of the continuous offences to my wife! Now this?!” he snapped, yelling.

You avoided by all means raising your voice since it’s pretty much known that doing so does not make you any more right. The tone was something you could take control over, unfortunately, it was way more difficult to hide how it trembled.

“If I started to say what I was fed up with we’d never finish the album. And we have to, right, John? The sooner the better,” you challenged in a cold-blooded boost of courage, knowing you were entering a difficult and muddy territory.

The bomb timer George talked about earlier was at its limit.

That John asked Yoko afterwards to leave you two alone was just the appetizer of what was coming.

“(Y/N), you have attitude problems. The way you treat Yoko is horrible and unfair. She just wants to help” he tried to let you know where he was coming from, going back to a more suitable tone to appeal you.

“When we ask her for help, her presence will be welcomed”

“Enough now. Enough, (Y/N)” he shook his head and glanced at you fiercely. You swallowed. "Shit, what the hell’s going on with you and your twisted mind? You’re unbearable"

“Am I unbearable?” you gasped, blood heating your face, and immediately stood up. “You’re insufferable!! Twenty-four hours together like… like… like two fucking creeps!” you screamed, quickly forgetting about the ‘not raising your voice’ thing, gesturing an awful lot to express your irritation.

His expression of disbelief morphed onto one of monumental anger.

"And don't come at me with that ‘attitude problems’ crap. I’m not the only one who wants her out” you lectured in a bitter fit of temper, voice unwillingly shaky.

“If you have a problem with Yoko being around, the door is right there” he answered, pronounced tightness clear in his words.

Your heart sank to the very bottom of the Earth’s core, and the floor beneath your feet started trembling, just like you hallucinated once after dropping acid with Paul: the whole body in an uninterrupted burning perception that you could just blow up and die.

John was unpredictable, but you never expected him to show you the way out. He flushed your feelings down the toilet just like that.

“Damn right the door’s right there. I’m getting the fuck out” you stressed, turning around to leave so he wouldn’t see the sea of tears that started to overflow down your face.

From the very beginning of your friendship, you knew you had a massive soft spot reserved for him in your heart, but as years passed you were assured you were deeply and profoundly in love with every part of him. You adored and cared about John more than you did to yourself, which sounds and is scary, but you couldn’t do anything to stop it. It was the way that it was.

At this point you didn’t even care anymore that he didn’t return the same feelings, you just wanted him in your life one way or the other. His happiness was everything that mattered to you. It’d always remain that way no matter what happened.

John rubbed his eyes and sighed loudly.

“Don’t leave,” he said hopelessly, looking defeated, arms hanging on his sides, “I don’t want you to be mad at me”

“I’M NOT MAD AT YOU, IDIOT!” you exploded, whirling around to face him. “And I hate that! I hate it!”

Tears and tears kept streaming down your face. You knew you were being embarrassingly cringey and you’d punch yourself later for that.

There was no coming back now: the timer detonated and the pieces of your broken heart were all over the place, imaginarily staining the carpet as small volcanoes attached to them kept erupting and painting all red.

An anguish heaving pain in the pit of your stomach and throat was bit by bit killing you.

Nine years. Nine years in love with this man and he didn’t have the slimmest clue about how you felt.

He was about to find out.

John was surprised to meet your bloodshot eyes and quivering lips. He panicked when he saw that tears were also coming out of your nose down to your lips.

“I hate that you could hurt me over and over and that I’d always find ways to forgive you” you cried, and you wished you had a tissue to blow out your nose in it.

John was at a loss of words.

“Because I love you” you wailed, and rolled your eyes afterwards at that because it was so inconvenient and wrong to say it out loud.

In his consciousness, a voice snapped at him to take action and comfort you, but his feet seemed to be rooted to where he was standing. You were so vulnerable and fragile, full body shaking and shoulders tight, air constantly bursting in and out of your mouth, impossible to control your sobs. All because of him.

“I don’t… I don’t…” John struggled, heartbeat racing a million miles per second.

“I know you don’t!” you sputtered, an excruciating feeling that he’d never want to be with you choking you extremely. "Up until now I thought I could live with it, but you keep bringing her here! Why do you have to bring her?” you sobbed, covering your face.

John couldn’t quite tell whether it was your statement and confession what made his heart heavier with misery or the nicotine in the amount of tobacco smoke still hovering in the room, demanding it to work harder.

By the time he felt sorrowness suffocating him, he couldn’t deny it was the first option.

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry…”

As he watched you gulp for air, he couldn’t feel more incompetent and clueless.

You compressed your lips so he wouldn’t get to hear you sobbing; turning your back at him to hide your blotchy face, you heard footsteps approaching you.

John went to put a hand on your shoulder and hold you, but you winced and complained, stepping away from him, as if the contact burned your skin.

Staring at him in the eye, you shook your head.

“Do not touch me”

“(Y/N), we have to sit down and talk this through. I cannot—“

“I don’t want to keep talking about it. I said my part and I know what’s crossing your mind. ‘Poor (Y/N), I feel so bad for her, I hope she gets over it soon’. Nine years, John”

He swallowed.

“I’m sure there’s a way—“

“There isn’t! I love you and you don’t love me! What is there to discuss?”

Glancing across at him, you could perfectly see how he cared and how frightened and terrified he was about the situation. You were one of the most important people in his life, and to think that he thought he knew you, but missed what you were genuinely feeling towards him for almost a decade… He felt horrible.

Yoko was the love of his life, but he also loved you with all his heart.

He was sorry that it wasn’t enough.

“John”

George stepped into the room and walked further in to pull you towards him. He'd been watching for just a few seconds, because as soon as he saw what was going on, he intended to leave, at the end of the day it was none of his business, but he knew you needed him and therefore took the decision to end the scene.

Rubbing your back, he whispered in your hair if you wanted to leave. You just nodded.

“Wait, George. I need to talk to her”

“You heard her. She doesn’t want to”

John got mad at him.

“All I’m asking is a few minutes. Don’t expect me to drop it when she’s like that”

Maybe by ‘that’ he meant that you looked like a train just ran you over. Casually, that’s how you felt. If not worse.

You rested your head on George’s shoulder and murmured something about needing to go now because you couldn’t be in John’s presence no more.

“(Y/N), please” you heard John beg.

George and you walked to the door and he told you to wait outside, touching your cheek with a small smile on his lips, encouraging you to take it as an opportunity to calm down.

You obliged, but heard everything they were saying anyway.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” John cursed. “Why won’t you let me speak to her? This is serious, please”

John tried to get to the door but George barred the way.

“Are you gonna tell her you love her?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

John stared at his bandmate blankly, the expression of confusion on his face speaking for itself.

“Are you gonna tell her you’re leaving Yoko to spend your life with her?” George continued, making a point that he knew John would understand.

You bit your lip at that and wept silently.

John’s eyes were slowly piling up hot tears.

“That’s what I thought” George spoke in an undertone.

After that, George left him and found you sitting on the ground in the corridor. He took a seat next to you.

Spontaneous sobs and shiverings that you couldn’t hold back happened every now and then. You were grateful that George wouldn’t address them.

“I’m pathetic”

“No you’re not”

“Yes I am” you shook your head and sniffed, feeling lamentable. “I didn’t know I’d end up confessing one day. I assumed I’d carry it to the crave”

Two staff members from the cleaning crew walked by, and you stopped talking. When they were gone, George turned to look at you.

“I believe things happen for a reason and that fate is written. You and John not being a thing may be for the best. It’s gonna be hard, but you have to move on”

“Move on…”

He nodded.

You moved to face him and stared strongly into his eyes. That was it.

“Move on” you repeated out loud as a mantra, staring off into nowhere.

George furrowed an eyebrow.

“Yes…?”

You inhaled and exhaled at the same time that you closed and opened your eyes. Moving on would be the first step to a better stage within yourself.

“I’m leaving”

Puzzlement clouded George’s features.

“Leave… where?”

“The band, Geo. I’m quitting the band”

[hannie-dul-set]

things you can't hide. [boo seungkwan]

@bloatedboo asked: this was rlly hard to choose but seungkwan, sports!au (volleyball), fake dating, and #5~ take ur time love !

SUMARRY | seungkwan decides that you’re his best bet to get his annoying friends to finally fuck off PAIRING | boo seungkwan x reader GENRE/PROMPTS | fluff, college! au, sports! au (volleyball) + fake dating! au + "you have the emotional capacity of a brick" WARNINGS | swearing WORD COUNT | 2.1k

a/n: ksjqqkk i highly apologize for the lack of volleyball in this hhuhuhu i have zero (0) knowledge about sports but i hope you still like it!! editing allexandra: this is very old and very terrible please read at your own discretion JSHFJSDH

“stop worrying too much, it’s gonna be fine! everything’s gonna go exactly as planned,” seungkwan reassured while the both of you made your way towards the court.

“you’re the one who’s worrying, kwan,” you rolled your eyes, “i can’t believe i even agreed to this.”

around a week ago, the male hadgracefully interrupted your peaceful shift at the school’s cafe. apparently, his friends in the volleyball team (mainly kim mingyu) have been egging him about ‘finally removing the shackles of being single.’

“it’s not like i can’t get a girlfriend,” he scoffed, glaring at the iced americano before him. “it’s more like i just can’t be bothered. but lately, they’ve been the ones bothering me.”

you questioned the male as to why exactly he’s telling you these things. it’s not like the both of you were close, anyways. a few “hello’s” were shared in the hallway but besides that, nothing much.

“you see, dear y/n,” seungkwan slowly placed down his drink while letting out a sigh, his face practically screaming 'a weekend in hell would seem more tolerable’. “i don’t think i can fucking handle any more of their bullshit and pestering and you seem to be the perfect solution that i have.”

he went on about his 'ingenious’ plan of finally getting his friends off his tail— which basically just consisted of you pretending to be his fake girlfriend.

upon hearing this, you sternly declined. “im sorry, seungkwan. im afraid i wouldn’t be to help you in fooling your friends.”

“wait—!”

before you even managed to stand up, seungkwan slammed both of his hands on the woods table— deliberately catching the attention of not only you, but also the handful of students that were occupying the café, as well.

he stifled out a cough and went back to his seat, “let me finish.”

you sighed, “this better not be a waste of time,” seungkwan gave you a look of offense to which you rolled your eyes, “hurry up.”

the male pressed both of his palms together, letting out a deep exhale through his nose. he mumbled a low 'i hope i don’t fucking regret this’ before looking you sternly. (he hoped you hadn’t heard him, but guess what: you did.)

“be my fake girlfriend. in exchange, i’ll treat you to brunch every single day during our fake relationship. deal?”

is this guy really that desperate? you though to yourself. you spend a few moments of pondering silence until seungkwan interrupted.

“oh come on! you get to have free foodand commit a good deed— how hard is it to decide?”

a long sign escaped from your lips. it’s either the rational part of your brain decided to temporarily shut down, or he just seemed really pitiful. whatever it is, you agreed to help him. if that was the correct choice, you don’t know.

“oh my god, thank you so much, y/n! i swear, you just saved ten years of my lifespan.” you rolled your eyes, standing up with the male following behind you.

before you returned back to the staff room, you decided to ask seungkwan a question.

“one last thing, seungkwan,” he raised a brow, waiting for you to continue, “out of all the people, why’d you ask me to help you?”

he stayed silent for a while, formulating a proper response.

“y/n,” your eyes met his. you could feel your cheeks starting to heat up as he looked at you with such intensity. your breath hitching in your throat, anticipating on what he has to say.

“from the handful of conversations we’ve had before, i could conclude that you literally have the emotional capacity of a brick. therefore if we don’t seem convincing, we can blame in on your incapability to express human emotions! aren’t i a genius?”

you nearly slapped the man, but nevertheless you relented.

so that’s where the both of you are now— walking hand in hand to the volleyball court where his friends await your arrival.

“oh shush, we’re already almost there. no room for backing out, now,” you shot a glare at him, earning a smug smile from the male. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous; acting isn’t exactly your strong suit.

you felt seungkwan squeeze your hand, “you don’t have to be afraid to tell me if you’re nervous. your face might not say it, but your incessant shaking does.”

“sorry,” you breathed, “i’ll be fine.”

“'fine’ my ass,” seungkwan scoffed, “it’s completely normal to show at least the tiniest bit of emotion sometimes, you know.”

“excuse you, i am more that capable of showing emotions— you just don’t deserve it.” you snide, the male chortling in response.

“seems like i do; i’ve never seen you this annoyed before,” he snickers. you could only groan as the both of you enter the court’s premises.

from afar, you could see five figures sitting around the benches. you can only recognize one of them; a kid name lee chan— whom you share sociology with. you assumed these guys are his friends.

seungkwan dragged you to a corner before you head to the group. he grabbed both of your shoulders, letting out a long breath, “alright, don’t forget— we met at a bookstore in town and found out that we both share the same school. we decided to hang out quite often and eventually grew feelings for each other—”

“then you asked me out four months ago at the same bookstore where we first met. i know, seungkwan. don’t worry, i’ve memorized all of it,” he let out a sigh of relief.

“good, good. if anything wrong happens—” a flash of fear shrouds seungkwan’s face, “let’s just hope not, yeah? i’d rather not think about the immense torment i’d end up having to go through if this fails,” he shuddered.

the both of you finally decided to make your way towards his friends. you could see the male’s nervous expression at the corner of your eyes. seeing that didn’t exactly make you feel any better.

“seungkwan!” you see the tallest of the bunch waving at the man beside you.

an exasperated sigh escaped seungkwan’s lips as you quickened your pace towards the group. you could sense the curious looks that each of the boys are giving you as you neared and it didn’t exactly make you feel comfortable. you bit the inside of your cheek when you finally reached them.

“y/n? i wasn’t aware you and seungkwan were close,” chan chin pointed at the male beside you, earning an offended look from him. “i also wasn’t aware that you were interested in volleyball. much less any sport, to be honest,” he shrugged.

you opened your mouth to give a response, but seungkwan beat you to it, “she’s just here to watch practice.” you could feel the nervousness in his voice and silently praying that the boys don’t notice it, as well.

“doesn’t answer anything, though—”

“were dating,” you deadpan.

it was silent. too silent for your liking. a surge of anxiousness started to creep into your brain and you started to have a meltdown. wait fuck was i not supposed to say that? you looked at the male beside you for assurance, but he didn’t seem to be faring any better.

yep, we’re fucked. definitely, absolutely, utterly—

“holy shit, kwannie, congratulations!”

wait what.

“man, i really thought you were gonna stay single for the rest of your life, kwan,” one of the boys (to which you later learned was seungcheol) proclaimed, trapping seungkwan in his arms. you could practically see his soul slowly descending back into his body.

you let out a sigh of relief. thank lord jesus, i didn’t fuck up.

after learning their names, the boys suddenly attacked the both of you with a torrent of questions— mostly consisting about your apparent relationship. (the one named jeonghan asked if you two have fucked yet, which earned him a bruise on his arm.)

thanks to seungkwan’s constant surprise quizzes, you managed to answer all of them. they all seemed to be convinced that you and seungkwan are indeed dating— except for one, that is.

“didn’t you say you were too busy for a relationship literally just a month ago?” jihoon, who had been quiet since you’ve arrived, asked.

“i— i wasn’t ready to tell you guys yet,” seungkwan responded, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. the shorter male only narrowed his eyes at him.

“don’t worry about it, seungkwan. i understand,” jeonghan leans back on the bench, “i wouldn’t want to tell this guy i have a girlfriend either, who knows what he’ll do,” he accusingly points at mingyu, who was innocently using his phone.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he furrowed his brows and pocketed the device. the two started to bicker and eventually, the rest of the boys joined in.

“you literally hooked up with minhee last time— who, in fact, has a boyfriend.”

"that was one time! and i didn’t even know that, she never told me!”

amidst the chaos, you felt someone tug on the sleeve of your shirt. you turn your head and see seungkwan giving you a small smile, “thanks a lot for agreeing to this. sorry that you have to witness their bullshit and i’ll apologize in advance since i’m pretty sure that there’ll be more to come.”

“it’s fine,” you muse, “they’re quite the entertainment, actually.”

“oh? is that a smile i see?” seungkwan teases. your cheeks flush a light pink, turning away from the male.

he gives you a playful smack, “hey, that’s not fair! let me see—”

before seungkwan could tease you any further, seungcheol decided to interrupt, “alright, kids, stop messing around. let’s head to practice— we’ve wasted enough time, already.”

a series of groans and whines erupted, but nevertheless, they all followed. the boys began to make their way to the center of the court while you stayed behind at the benches. you sat down and closed your eyes, letting out a long sigh. these guys were nice and all but they we’re pretty draining; you weren’t sure if you could keep up with them the next time seungkwan decides to bring you along.

in the middle of your peace and quiet, you could hear a pair of footsteps making their way towards you. you opened your eyes and saw seungkwan in front of you.

you raised a brow, “aren’t you supposed to start practice?”

“seungcheol can’t find his water bottle,” he takes a seat beside you, “i wonder why.”

you elbowed the male, eliciting a yelp from him, “ow! what was that for? if you’re thinking that i hid it then you’re wrong— it was jeonghan!”

the male gave you a pout and you stuck your tongue out in response.

“wow, you’re getting better at the whole emotions thing,” again, you elbowed him, “stop that! this is domestic abuse, i could sue you, you know!”

you could see seungcheol gesturing seungkwan to come back. it seems like he finally found his water bottle. seungkwan groaned as he begrudgingly stood up. before he left, he decided to tell you one more thing.

“hey, y/n. i know this whole relationship thing is fake but i really hope we like, enjoy each other’s company, y'know? i don’t want you to do this if you don’t want to.” he said.

“i wouldn’t have agreed in the first place if i wasn’t okay with it,” you explain, “i mean yeah, i was hesitant at first and mainly did it for the free food. but as we went along i um—”

seungkwan looked at you expectantly, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. you bit your lip and averted your eyes from him.

“i—i kind of like being with you,” a coat of red covers your cheeks as you uttered out each word. seungkwan couldn’t help but break out into a huge grin upon hearing you.

“no need to be shy, yn. the feeling’s mutual,” the male pats your head, causing you to glare at him, “yikes, we could work on your expressions though. you don’t glare at the guy you like being with.”

you tried to kick his foot but he managed to dodge. he let out a laugh at your failed attempt. lucky for him, seungcheol yelled at him to get back before you could try to abuse him any further.

“boo seungkwan! get your ass over here before i do it myself. you could hang out with your girlfriend later.”

“yes dad, i’m coming!”

you could hear a chorus of laughter coming from the rest of the boys. he gave you one last look before finally taking his leave.

“don't forget we have brunch tomorrow.” he said.

you look at him, lips forming into a smile.

“i won't.”

[poisxnyouth]

hs!dave chap 3 sneak peek bc writing takes a long time

A/N: enjoy i'm sorry it's not out in its entirety when i said it would be but 😣😣 we're perfectionists. let me (and aly) know what you think of the chapter so far & what u think is gonna happen! rlly tho, enjoy. ily. -hailey

w/c: 2,676

Everything had been resolved. You had given Nat an excuse as to why you and Dave had been cuddling on her couch - something about still being shaken up from the situation at the party and needing comfort. A video of the argument went around for a bit, rumors spreading about whatever was going on between you and David, but everyone forgot about it as soon as some guy from your history class got caught jerking off in the locker room showers. Everything had been swept under the rug, and no one suspected a thing.

++

“Ilya’s not coming, but I brought Empire Strikes Back,” Dima announces, not bothering to say hello as he comes through Nat’s front door and kicks his shoes off. He notices you and David sitting on the couch whispering to each other, furrowing his eyebrows at the sight.

“No, Dima! We are not watching Star Wars again!” Natalie shouts from the kitchen, opening a bag of popcorn and putting it in the microwave. Her denial distracts Dima as you and Dave don’t respond to his arrival, whispers continuing.

“Fine! You pick, Nat,” Dima easily gives in, approaching her and dropping his voice. “Is it just me or are they acting really weird? Like, fucking weird.”

Nat nods quickly, leaning back against the counter as she waits on the popcorn. “I was gonna ask you that too. Maybe they’re just getting close again? You know they’re like that. They get really far apart and then close again and it just happens over and over.”

“I mean, yeah, you're right. Maybe? It just seems different this time, I guess,” Dima shrugs his shoulders, eyes flickering between Natalie and you and David.

“I know, I agree. Have they done anything weird around you?”

“I mean,” Dima shrugs again, “You weren’t there, but a few weeks ago, at homecoming, they were all touchy in the corner against the wall.”

“Touchy?” Nat questions as the microwave goes off, quickly opening it and removing the bag.

“Yeah, like, Y/N’s arms were around his neck and she kept pulling him closer and he let her. I honestly thought they were making out at first. They’ve just never been like that before. I thought it was just because she was drunk?”

“Nonono, you’re right. That next morning, after the party and after everything with Jordan happened, I came downstairs and they were cuddling on the couch. Like, passed out and all wrapped up in each other. It was weird as hell,” Natalie tears the bag of popcorn open and carefully dumps it into a bowl, “They said it was because she was super upset afterwards. I don’t doubt that part, it’s just unlike David to do that. Like, pretty sure he wouldn’t do that for me if I asked him to, you know?”

“Do you think something is going on between them?” Dima asks, still attempting to keep his voice low.

“Ugh,” she scrunches her face up, “I hope not. That’d be so gross. And weird. I don’t think there’s anything, though.”

Natalie shoves the bowl into Dima’s hands as she begins to make her way to one of her cabinets in the living room, eyes scanning through DVD’s as she picks a random rom-com.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Natalie,” Dima complains, “You traded Star Wars for Clueless?”

“Yes? David? Y/N? Do you care?”

You and David quickly mumble a no, not really and return to your whispers.

“Okay, then we’re starting,” Natalie ignores Dima’s sigh of disbelief as she pops the DVD into the player.

“Wait, Nat. We’re gonna go for a smoke first,” David interrupts her, pushing himself off of the couch and grabbing his cigarettes from the side table. You follow him and mirror his actions, moving towards the front door.

“Fine, but don’t take a long time. I don’t know why you guys started that shit in the first place.” You both ignore her comment and go out front, quickly removing a cigarette from your respective packages.

David’s stare lingers for a few seconds as you prop your cigarette between your lips and light it, looking away as you catch him.

“What was that look for?”

“It’s nothing,” he promises, lighting his own and puffing it. You don’t push it, falling into a comfortable silence for a minute before David leans down to attach your lips.

Cigarette still between your fingers, both hands come to his cheeks as you reciprocate his kisses.

++

“Why aren’t they saying anything?” Dima complains in a whisper, ear pressed against Natalie’s front door.

“You’re wasting your time, Dima,” Natalie says, “They’re probably just close again. You’re being fucking creepy, stop it!”

“I just wanna know-”

“Know what? If they’re hiding something from us, there’s probably a good reason behind it. Just wait it out. If there’s something going on, as weird as that’d be, they’ll tell us eventually.”

“Fine, but I’m still keeping an eye out for weird shit,” Dima replies, moving from his knees back to his feet, “I hate this - it feels like they’re lying to us.”

“Why? You don’t even know if anything’s actually happening.” He simply shrugs as you and David open the door and emerge, reeking of tobacco and tar as you place yourselves next to each other on Natalie’s loveseat. Natalie silently hits play on the DVD player as you and Dave pile up in blankets, leaning into opposite cushions to seem as far apart as possible.

You feel David’s hand creep over, fingers lacing with yours under the copious amount of layers. Neither of you say anything as the movie begins, elbows propped up on the arms of the couch, intertwined hands between you.

“Doesn’t she get with her step brother or something? That’s so fucking gross,” David gripes for everyone to hear, squeezing at your hand.

“Ex-step brother, Dave,” you gently remind in a whisper, scooting closer to him.

David's voice drops so only you can hear, “That's not much better, baby. Still gross.” The blush that comes to your cheeks is almost immediately clocked by Dima and Natalie, both of them sharing a quick look before returning their attention to the TV.

Dave continues making snarky comments for the majority of the movie before asking Natalie to pause it.

“Why?”

“I just - we need another smoke, okay?” The roll of Natalie’s eyes is obvious as you both stand, grabbing your cigarettes and, this time, moving towards her back door.

You both place yourselves on her lawn furniture, silently pulling the objects out of their packages and propping them between your lips.

You begin to flick your lighter before David makes a noise, shaking his head and taking it from you. His lit cigarette is dangling from the corner of his mouth as he flicks your lighter, lighting the stick for you. He drops your lighter back into your hand and takes his cigarette back between his two fingers.

“Pretty girls don’t light their own cigarettes,” he says quickly, meeting your eyes before bringing his back up to his lips.

“You’ve never done that before,” you question him, blush rising in your cheeks.

“I wasn’t fucking you before,” Dave explains nonchalantly between puffs, shaking his head slightly.

“So shouldn’t it be hot girls? Not pretty girls? You don’t usually call girls you’re just fucking pretty.”

David shrugs slightly, “Why does it matter if you’re both? Which one would you rather be?”

You go silent for a few seconds, mulling over your response, “...Pretty.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause you’re the only guy who’s ever called me that. Besides, like, my dad.”

He gapes slightly, shaking his head, “Jesus. What kind of guys have you been dating?”

“Shitty ones, I guess.”

“No shit. You’ve always been beautiful, you should be told that.” David meets your eyes again, free hand moving to the top of your thigh.

“You’ve always thought that?” You ask, cheeks becoming redder and redder the more he continues. Your hand comes to rest over his, quickly moving to lace your fingers together.

“Yeah, I just - I never said it ‘cause I thought it was weird. I wish I had, though.” David leans back in his seat, bringing your intertwined hands up and kissing the back of it before gently dropping them back into his lap.

“I wish you’d taken my virginity,” you say, squeezing his hand and maintaining eye contact.

Your confession makes his eyes widen, “Why? I took your first kiss freshman year, isn’t that enough?”

You shrug, “Exactly! It was perfect. You’ve always treated me so much better than anybody else. Like...always. Why did we never do this before? It would’ve saved me so much hurt.”

David finishes his cigarette, stamping the butt into Natalie’s parents’ ashtray and sinking slightly into his seat.

“I don’t know if I would’ve done it before, baby,” he admits.

“Why not?”

“I didn’t know then what I know now.”

“So you only did it because you felt bad for me?” You hastily pull your hand out of his, putting out your cigarette.

“What? No, of course not-”

“If this is just a pity fuck, then forget it.” You rise to your feet and move towards the door, David grabbing your wrist and forcing you to turn back to him.

“It’s not a pity fuck,” you look at him uncertainly, “Just hear me out, baby, okay? Sit down.”

He takes one of your cigarettes from the pack and hands it to you, taking the liberty to light it once you’re sat beside him again.

“Before...you never told me anything. I didn’t know anything other than what people told me or rumors I heard, and you played it off so well. I didn’t think you were a slut or anything, but I didn’t know how these guys were treating you. I thought you were into it. It’s not about pity. You should be treated the way you deserve, and if I can do that for you, then great.” You sigh, your cigarette shaking as your hand trembles. David puts his hand on top of yours, making you look up at him.

“I just want you to see what you’re worth. When I look at you, I don’t just see something I wanna fuck. You’re my best friend, baby. I’m more interested in that.”

You don’t say anything, bringing the menthol back up to your lips and looking away from him.

“You know this is so much more than a pity fuck,” he adds, “You know I care about you, so why won’t you let me in?”

You glance at him briefly before looking back at your hands, watching the end of your cigarette burn.

“I'm fucking scared, David,” you admit in a whisper, eyes welling up with tears.

“Hey, are you guys gonna be any longer?” Natalie steps out, slightly annoyed. Her face drops when you turn and her eyes land on you.

“Are you okay?”

“Just keep going without us, Nat, we’ll be back in a few,” David speaks up, careful not to answer for you.

“Y/N…” She ignores his plead, looking at you for confirmation.

“I’m fine, Natalie,” you feign, wiping away your tears with your free hand. “You and Dima keep going. Please.”

Natalie doesn’t answer, warily nodding her head and retreating inside.

David waits until the door clicks shut to resume your conversation, taking your hand in his once more, “Why are you scared? It’s just me, baby.”

“I’ve never had this before, Dave! Even if this is just platonic, I’ve never had a guy treat me this way before. I don’t know how to handle it.” You nervously bring the cigarette to your lips, inhaling deeply before releasing the smoke.

“Just let me do this for you. Please, babe. You don’t have to ‘handle’ it at all,” his free hand flies up, quickly creating air quotes before coming back down, “I just want you to see yourself the way I see you. Or even the way Nat sees you. Like what I said before, if this,” he motions between you, “what’s going on between us, helps with that? Even just a little bit? It’s worth it to me.”

“I just don’t want to fuck this up for myself-”

“You won’t! Don’t worry about that shit - I’m not leaving you, okay? I love you so much. If you want me to stop, I will; if you want to stop all of this between us, we can; whatever you want. Do not think I’m sitting here with you out of pity. Ever.” David’s fingers reach for your cigarette, plucking it from your hold and taking a drag.

He exhales, still holding the object between his thumb and forefinger, making a face at the taste. “God, I forgot how terrible menthol is. Take this shit back.”

You stifle a giggle, taking it from him and wiping your tears. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your cheek as your fingers brush, moving over slightly to attach your mouths.

He kisses you slowly, still tasting the menthol on your lips and gently pulling away. Faces still close and hands still intertwined, David breaks, “I love you, baby. As friends.”

You can barely murmur an agreement before he's beginning again, “I love you, but I need to get this fucking taste out of my mouth before I kiss you again. How do you smoke these?” He’s playfully griping in hopes of making you feel better, reaching for his cigarettes - a pack of Reds. Dave’s hand briefly leaves yours to pull a stick from the package and place it between his lips, left hand cupping around the lighter as his right hand flicks it. He holds the flame for a few seconds, watching it burn before stopping it, tossing the box and lighter onto the side table.

His hand immediately returns to yours as he takes a deep drag, exhaling slowly. “You’d tell me if I’m doing something wrong, right?”

“Yeah. Of course.” David nods solemnly at your response, goofy facade fading as he slinks backwards into his seat, pulling you with him. At second thought, he unlinks your hands, arm draping around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, free hand moving to rest on his chest, watching it fall gently with each exhale. You feel his heart beating gently under your fingertips as you move up slightly, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek and mumbling a Thank you, David, I love you. You feel him nod slightly as he continues working on finishing his cigarette, murmuring a quiet You’re welcome. I love you, too.

“And you know I’d do anything for you?” Dave questions a minute later, normal speaking voice this time, clearing his throat slightly and rolling his cigarette between his fingers. You nod against him, fingertips digging into his chest slightly as you press your body closer into him.

His hand falls to your waist, rubbing lightly and affectionately, “Good. Let’s go in.” He leans forward a bit, putting out his cigarette and beginning to rise to his feet.

You tug on him slightly once you stand, “Kiss me before we go?” David nods without a second thought, head dipping as both hands tangle in your hair, mouths attaching. You melt into the taste of his cigarettes as he breathes harshly, deepening the kiss for a few seconds before pulling away entirely.

He follows you inside of the house, immediately apologizing on your behalf to Natalie and Dima.

“It’s okay!” Natalie swears, “Are you guys still staying the night?”

Despite not glancing at each other, you and Dave share the same uneasy expression before Nat begs once more, “Come on! It’s never just us four anymore, and it’s one of the last nights of the break before school starts. It’ll be fun!”

David is the first to accept, quickly saying, “Yeah, you’re right. We’ve gotta go get more smokes, though.”

Natalie quickly deflates before he adds, “We’ll be back in, like, an hour. Hour and a half at the most. I swear.”

[angrylizardjacket]

and then there was light [2] {Roger Taylor}

Anon asked: lmao sorry if ur not takin prompts but if u r what about one where the boys™️ have just preformed and reader (who is a long time friend of the boys and esp rog) and is secretly dating roger but after the show reader is so proud of roger that she just forgets about the secrecy and snogs him in front of the guys and Mary and they’re all rlly surprised and shook but Fred’s like ‘lmao my kids are in love’

A/N: 4859 words. So a few of these ideas are courtesy of the lovely and kind @roger-bang-the-drum, so thank you for your help. xx This goes a lot of places, and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as the first one. Feedback is always appreciated!!

Warnings: Smoking, M rated but no smut.

[part 1]

There are moments, sometimes few and far between, when everything feels right in the world, and right now? The moment Roger steps out of the shower, towel hanging loose on his hips, and asks you what you want to drink as he opens the hotel’s mini-fridge, you’re letting yourself bask in it.

The sun is peaking through the curtains, which isn’t doing your headache any favours, but he hands you a bottle of water that’s probably expensive, and pulls out a Gatorade for himself. Flopping onto the bed beside you, still wearing just a towel, the drummer is quiet for a long time, basking in the easy silence of the late morning, and the sliver of sunlight that’s bouncing off his chest. You let your gaze linger, let it drift to admire him, pale and almost effortlessly attractive against the quilt.

“Like what you see, love?” And when you meet his gaze, he’s watching you, grinning smug and knowing. Embarrassed to be caught checking him out, you feel a flush creeping up your cheeks, turning away quickly. His laugh is warm in the morning air, nothing cruel or malicious about it, and when he gently moves to hold your cheek, shifting you to look back at him, his grin has shifted to something has your heart hammering against your ribs. “Come here.” Voice low and intimate, he pulls you into a kiss. 

It starts gentle, but becomes more insistent, your fingers ghosting over the bare skin of his chest as he pulled you closer, his hand on your hip tugging you closer, moving you until you’re straddling him. He’s got one hand in your hair and one on your ass, until it’s trailing up your back, beneath your shirt, nails scraping gently along your bare skin as your lips move down, trailing kisses from his jaw down his throat. 

With the room only growing warmer, you can feel your hangover headache pick up again, and move to kiss just below his ear.

“Put on some pants.” You murmur, and he lets out a breathy laugh, as you move back to laying beside him, watching as he retracts his hands to lay them on his chest, looking up at the ceiling for a long moment. 

“Tease.” His gaze slides to you, but there’s no malice in it, maybe a little disbelief, but you just raise your eyebrows at him and take a long sip of water, pretending like your pulse wasn’t racing, like hadn’t wanted to keep going just as much as he had.

“No strenuous movements!” Shrugging helplessly as you parroted his own words back at him, he shakes his head, but rifles through his things for a set of clothes. “For now.” You amended, and the devilish grin you sported was one he mirrored, and he stepped across the room to kiss you once more before making his way to the bathroom.

The moment, that golden, everything-was-right-with-the-world moment, it filled you with contentment from the tips of your toes as you finished off the bottle of water, and got out of bed, breezing around the room as you folded up your clothes from the night before.

And in an instant, the moment shattered.

“Room service!” What sounded suspiciously like a man imitating a woman’s voice came ringing through the door, which only had you frowning.

“We didn’t order anything.” You reply, confused, opening the door without thinking, not hearing Roger in the bathroom saying your name as a warning. It was for good reason, as it turned out, as you find yourself faced with Freddie, Brian, and John, all looking bewilderingly back at you.

“Spotlight? What are you doing here? Where’s Rog?” Brian asks, and it’s John who responds, expression shifting from confusion to exasperation.

“Brian.” He says, so pointed it almost hurt, and Brian’s face lit up with realisation.

“Oh!” And after a beat, the guitarist frowned at the implication. “Oh.” And finally, he sighed deeply, resigned. “Oh.” And he pulled out his wallet, handing ten dollars to John, who suddenly looked like the cat who got the cream. You furrowed your brows at the exchange, squinting, feeling a little betrayed at it’s implications.

“Well are you going to invite us in?” Freddie asked, and it’s then that you notice him beaming. 

“No way, what do you all want?” Roger glowered at them the moment he stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed, buckling his belt. He hovered behind you, careful not to touch you.

“No, no, no.” You insisted, crossing your arms and glaring at the three of them. “What was that all about?” Your words were followed by a moment of silence, and the other three boys looking at you like they couldn’t quite believe what you’re asking. After a beat you hear yourself saying, “Do you really think so little of me?” And despite Roger’s actual scoff behind you, your gaze demanded an answer from the others. John at least had the decency to look a little ashamed as he passed Brian’s ten dollars back.

“We’re here to say that we’re leaving in a few hours, and came to see if you wanted breakfast.” And though his knowing smile had died down, part of you could tell he didn’t believe you for a second. He leaned in, almost conspiratorially, though his voice was loud enough that the others heard. “You know, wearing his clothes does hold some implications, darling.”

“I had a shower because I felt like I’d body surfed through a dumpster last night. But being incoherent is such a turn on, right?” The last bit dripped with sarcasm, and Freddie held up his hands defensively, taking an actual step back.

“No need to get bitchy, we’re just here for breakfast. You’re welcome to join.” And at his offer, you let your anger dissipate, uncrossing your arms. “We’re sorry if we offended you.” He added, and you smiled gently.

“Let me just put on some proper pants.” And with that, you close the door, leaning against it with your eyes closed, breathing in through your nose to steady yourself until you hear the other three leave. When you open your eyes, Roger is looking expectantly at you, and he does not look happy.

“What was that about?” He asked, and your expression fell as you stepped past him to grab your jeans. 

“I don’t want to seem like just some groupie, not to them, not to anyone on this tour.” You mused, not looking at him as you stripped off the shorts he’d given you, pulling on your own pants. He didn’t respond, but you knew he was waiting for you to elaborate. “This is my job, Roger, and I’m happy to try things out with you, God knows I’m looking forward to sleeping on a bed again, but if things go south, I don’t wanna look unprofessional, like I was abusing my position to get close to you.”

“And what do you think they’ll say about me?” He asked, crossing his arms. “Rock-star lures in crew member with promises of fame and fortune?” He scoffed, and you looked up at him, expression softening.

“They’re not going to say that, you’re a man, Rog, and you’ve already got a reputation. You can go on living your rock-star life after me.” You mused quietly, and Roger takes a deep breath, making himself relax before nodding.

“Fine, I get it. We keep implications to a minimum for a while.” He agreed. Once your pants were finally buckled, you stood, giving him a thankful smile, moving to kiss him gently. “You know they don’t see you as just a groupie.” He said, half-smiling as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Good; I mean I am,” you admitted with an amused smile, “but I don’t want them knowing that.” And he kisses you, warm, hands on your hips holding you steady, grounding you in the moment.

“We should get to breakfast.” He sounds like he really doesn’t want to leave, but you know the boys are already suspicious, and so the two of you head down to the dining area.

The moment you step back onto the equipment bus, there’s a sinking sensation in your chest, the discomfort practically crawling up your spine as you breathe in the stale air, and see the rest of the crew already sitting themselves in the most comfortable positions they could find.

“You’re not usually so late.” One of the sound guys frowns at you, and you clench your jaw, ignoring him and making your way to the back of the bus. You take your place, trying not to let the heat or the bumpy ride make you motion sick, resigned to the long trip to the next city.

Things have changed between you and Roger, obviously, the dynamic had shifted, and for the first two stops, neither of you were sure how to maneuver your usual breaks, especially since the other boys had been insistent on joining you. It exasperated you, clearly they didn’t believe that nothing had happened between you and Roger, but you kept professional, and kept conversation light.

The thing is, nothing really had happened between the two of you, not yet; after gigs, he would go to the afterparty, and you would be too exhausted from bump out to do more than make your way to his hotel room and crash on his bed. It’s nice to wake up next to him, his arm around you where he’s also crashed, almost fully dressed, but there was never enough time to enjoy it by the time you had to leave to get to the equipment bus before anyone got suspicious.

Except that they were, because you were usually the first one there - obviously, you’d been living there - but now, if even one person arrived before you, people’s eyebrows would rise.

“We’ve blown a bulb in the drum risers!” Everything changes the night that you’re pretty sure you’re going to die. A bulb blows in one of the parcans beneath the drum risers, and the sound operator from his spot in the bio-box, is losing his goddamn mind. The stage manager tells you, and you’re just confused.

“We have spares but-” You’re cut short by the frantic stage manager feeding off of the sound operator’s panic.

“Where? How fast can you get to them?” He asks, and you take a deep breath, re-centering yourself in the chaos before answering that you can get to them in less than a minute, but you’re not sure what- “Can we go to black at the end of this song?” The stage manager is speaking into their headset, and you feel adrenaline flooding your veins as you realised what you would have to do.

The space behind the drum risers is not a lot, and there’s even less beneath them; space enough to fit one person, maybe. And yet here you were, spare parcan in your hands as Killer Queen comes to an end and the lights fade to black.

“Go! Go! Go!” You’re urged on stage, pushed by the stage manager, and you move as quickly as you can in the almost complete darkness, sitting yourself down behind the drum risers as the lights come up.

“What the fuck?” You hear Roger murmur to himself, unaware of you currently shifting to lay on your belly and wriggle beneath the about-to-be-active drummer. The rest of the band also confused, none of them having known what had happened, but they played it off well, Freddie laughing with the others about a technical difficulty before starting their next song.

You unplug the faulty light from the power board the moment the first bass drum beat kicks in, and you jump, whacking the back of your head on the drum riser, swearing loudly and profusely, though it was drowned out by the music. Pulling the light from it’s position as the drum beats set your teeth on edge, deafening you with every passing moment, you burn your hands on the still hot light. Gritting your teeth despite the tears welling in your eyes, you pull out the scalding gel in it’s frame from the parcan, shifting it into the spare. As the song died down, you moved the spare light into position, waiting for the lights on that level to die down so you could plug it back in, and have it come up naturally with the others. 

Heart in your throat, you can feel every movement of the drum risers above you, and you’ve never felt closer to death before; large burns on your already calloused hands, whole body being knocked around by the beat of the bass drum. Once you’ve finished you’re job, you pull the broken light from it’s position, and lay behind the drum risers in shock, staring up at the ceiling, tears in your eyes as the adrenaline has already started numbing your hands, and the music turns to white noise in your ears.

Roger catches sight of you at the tail end of the set list, and his eyes go wide, mid-song, but he can’t stop playing. Looking up weakly, you see the stage manager giving you the thumbs up, but clearly signalling for you to stay where you are, and you do, pressing your burning hands to your cheeks in an attempt to cool them down as the adrenaline slowly vanishes and you’re left with the realisation of what had happened.

The lighting designer and operator yells at the stage manager for a full fifteen minutes while you sit on a road case, still in shock after the gig.

“One light doesn’t fucking matter in that situation; she could have died! Look at her; look at her!” He hollers, and you realise vaguely that he’s talking about you. Looking up, the stage manager meets your blank, shocked gaze with a guilty one. “Get her to the fucking medical officer, that was so fucking irresponsible.” 

Once there’s cream and large bandaids on the burns on your hands, you make your way outside, having been given the night off as compensation, and almost immediately you’re swarmed by the band, asking what had happened.

Freddie calls you brave, calls you darling, kisses your forehead and brings the others in for a group hug.

“I don’t get paid enough for this.” You’re definitely still in shock as the laugh escapes you, but it makes the rest of them smile, and they offer to buy you drinks at the afterparty. You’re too dazed to say no. The others seem happy that you’re okay as you walk to the pub, but Roger trails behind the group, expression dark.

He keeps you close all night, always by your side though Freddie is also just as likely to be on your other side. The boys are true to their word, keeping your hands full of cool drinks all night, though you mostly sip them, pacing yourself to keep your balance as the night progressed.

“You seem really rattled, Rog,” John sits on your other side as you take a moment of peace at the bar.

“She was beneath my drums.” It’s the first time he’s said it all night, angry and a bit afraid. John’s expression fell and he nodded in understanding, wrapping an arm around you to give you a squeeze, and moving to clap Roger on the shoulder before moving on. 

When you suggest leaving, Roger agrees without hesitating, telling the others he would walk you back to your hotel room; they all gave him understanding smiles, knowing how much seeing you in pain and shock behind him, mid-show, had freaked him out.

The walk back to the hotel is quiet, his arm around your waist for the whole duration, though he still radiated an anger. 

“Are you okay?” You’re pulling off your shoes, sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Me? I-” the question seemed to bewilder him, and he frowned, still lost in his own thoughts, “I’m fine, you- are you okay?” He asked, and you smiled gently at him, still not having fully processed everything that had happened. “Who fucking let this happen?” He snapped, not at you, just bitter at the universe, now pacing.

“Roger.” You stood, reaching out to catch him by the shoulder, and he turned to you, anger melting away.

“You looked scared and hurt. I know how loud I play, I can’t fucking imagine being trapped beneath that.” He admitted, quietly bitter. “I can’t believe they made you do that.”

“It’s my job.” Was all you could say in response, expression falling. “Sometimes I love it, sometimes I-” something catches in your throat, finally looking in his eyes, and you suddenly understand, and you scowl. “You shouldn’t have to worry about me, Roger, it’s how I make a living.” You snap, defensive, turning away to get changed into the pyjamas you’d thought to bring along when he checked in earlier in the day.

“If you think I’m not going to worry about you,” his hands are on your hips the moment you pull off your shirt, his voice a low growl in your ear, “you’re dead wrong.” A shiver runs through you, and he turns you around, pulling you close enough that he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, bodies pressed together where you’re only wearing a bra and your jeans. 

Seeing the fear in your eyes when he had looked back had fucking terrified him, and he can’t get the image out of his mind. When he opens his eyes now, however, you’re looking up at him, pupils blown wide, smirk on your lips.

“Shut the fuck up, just tell me I’m good at my job-” You tease, but you don’t mind when he interrupts you with a kiss. All he wants to do is to hold you, be with you after everything that had happened; the realisation that his feelings for you ran a lot deeper than he thought began to shift to a primal need to show you what you mean to him in the best way he knew how.

“You’re incredible at your job, okay?” He murmurs, walking you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed and you sit back on it. “What you did tonight? Dedicated to a fucking fault, you know that right?” He’s making quick work of his own shirt as you slide further back onto the bed, grinning as he praises you. “At the top of a ladder, you’re the queen of the goddamn stage and you know it, don’t you?” He follows you onto the bed, leaning over you, seeing the equal parts pride and mischief in your eyes, splayed out and waiting beneath him on top of the duvet. Your grin morphs into a smirk, the only confirmation he gets before you’re pulling him into a heated kiss. 

When you wake the next morning, your burnt hands ache a little, but that’s nothing compared to the ease and contentment that you find yourself filled with. Roger’s got an arm slung over your hip, you can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing with his chest pressed against your back. You lace your fingers with his, feeling him give your hand a gentle squeeze in his sleep, and let yourself fall back to sleep.

Things get easier after that, between the two of you, easier and more comfortable. After everything that had happened, it seemed the other band members’ suspicions had died down, which you were thankful for, and it seemed like things almost went back to normal. 

You spend your breaks up ladders and shoving lights into the drum risers from the front, and you have a smoke with Roger as the break comes to an end, though now more often than not you’re using his stomach as a pillow. Freddie’s the only one who’s seen the change, you think, but he has the decency not to say anything.

The sex is pretty incredible; you’re given a few nights off from bump out after the incident had occurred, which you and Roger took full advantage of. Even after, you started to attend more of the afterparties, integrating yourself into the culture he was already so submerged in. 

Sometimes, you’d get there late, and there’d be girls hanging around like flies, and you’d have to beat your own rising jealousy with a stick, because once you arrived, still wearing theatre blacks, he’d have eyes for no-one else.

So maybe you got comfortable in the new, easy dynamic, been a little bit careless. 

“Lighting wench?” He calls, and you make a noise of discomfort in the back of your throat.

“You know I hate that.” You call to him from where you’re sitting against the drum risers, and ask him to retrieve the stack of gels from where they were resting on the edge of the stage. He does so without complaint, pulling out a cigarette and patting his pockets for a lighter. He doesn’t even need to turn and ask for you to pull the one from your pocket. 

Lighting the cigarette as you cut a new gel for the ones that had been burned through during the last show, you feel him put the lighter back in your pocket, and hear him take a long drag, leaning back. It’s a comfortable silence that spreads between you, and he’s offering you the cigarette after he takes a second draft. When you look up, he presses a quick kiss to your lips, more as a greeting than anything else, and you take the cigarette from him with a smile, passing him the stack of gels to hold while you worked. 

“Um, Y/N?” It’s the sound operator, and you look up suddenly, unsure of how long he’d been there. “I was told you’re the person to talk to if I want a cable run?” He asked, a little confused.

“It’s Spotlight.” Roger doesn’t look at the interloper, looks instead out to the empty audience. The sound operator doesn’t look less confused.

“I’m your gal!” You reply, smiling far brighter than you necessarily needed to, pointedly ignoring Roger. After being handed a cable for the weirdly positioned amps in this particular theatre, the sound designer leaves, giving an awkward smile to Roger, who’s been sitting, smoking, and crinkling a gel between his fingers while he waited.

“Thanks, uh- thanks Spotlight.” And with that, he leaves you and Roger to yourselves. Roger’s smiling to himself.

“Shut up, you barely call me Spotlight anymore.” You roll your eyes at him and begin to run the cord, listening as Roger mutters something about it being the principle of the thing, and moving to practice a song you didn’t recognise. 

From that moment on, there was a tension in the air, and it felt like everywhere you went, the other members of the crew were watching your every move. It made it difficult to steal from the band’s catering, but it made it substantially worse to try and have a private moment with Roger.

“How’d you get so close with the band?” The assistant stage manager actually chose to sit with you at the back of the equipment bus on one of the shorter journeys you would be taking.

“They started hanging around me, I sort of had no say in it.” You shrug as much as your pretzeled up position in the back allowed.

“But they like, really like you.” She grinned, eyes shining as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Like, Freddie gave you a nickname, Spotlight.” She said, pointedly, and you shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, he saw me... doing my job.” You mused, unsure if your discomfort wasn’t clear, or if she was just choosing to ignore it.

“And I heard about how Roger spends all his lunches with-”

“Yeah,” you laugh, loud and uncomfortable, cutting her off, “listen, why are you asking me this? You know you can just talk to them if you want to get to know them... they’re just people.” She looked taken aback by that, and you think she’s finally starting to get it. Except that you’re pretty sure you’ve offended her with your bluntness, and she purses her lips.

“Well, anyways, I’m glad he’s got a little ‘tour girlfriend’.” She sneers, and her words hit you squarely in the chest. She stumbles back to the front of the bus as it continues along, and you feel like you’re gasping for air.

“Hey, what are we?” It’s only a few stops until this leg of the tour is over, and the ASM’s words have been playing on a loop in your head for almost a week. Roger, laying beside you in the morning sunlight, is quiet for a long moment.

“Whaddya mean?” He asks, propping himself up on his elbow to properly look at you, though you’re staring at the ceiling, slight frown creasing your brow.

“I mean... well what happens after the tour?” You still can’t bring yourself to look at him, even as he presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“We’ll get to that when we get to it.” Though he may have thought it would be assuring, you feel tension knot in your stomach at his words.

“Rog, if you wanna leave me after, I- I mean I’ll understand.” It hurt you to say the words, and you don’t see the way his expression falls. He hadn’t thought about it, not really, you’d been together for almost two months, and he’d sort of just expected that you’d be on the next leg of the tour too. “They don’t usually keep the same crew for the full, cross-continent tours.” You admitted, heart sinking a little at your own words.

“What if I had a word to them?” His words surprised you, caused your heart to soar momentarily, though you tried not to get your hopes up.

“You really don’t need to do that.” You laughed humorlessly. “It’d be easier, honestly, less paperwork and hassle and shit.” Turning away from him, you feel him reaching for you, resting his hand on your shoulder, tapping a gentle rhythm.

“It’s not a hassle.” He tells you, and then, much quieter, “and it’s not like I want to leave you behind.”

The week and a half of the tour is nice, but different. You and Roger don’t talk about the future, just make the most of your time together, oftentimes becoming frantic and desperate to leave reminders of your existence on one another. Holding tighter than necessary, leaving pleasant bruises and scratch marks in places no-one else would know about, never speaking about what was to come. 

He’d never made mention that he’d talked to EMI, not until the night of the final show. 

It had been ethereal, he was glowing when he played, so focused and energetic, you tried to listen to the music, thinking it was one of your last chances to hear this set live, but you kept getting lost in the image of him. He beams at you when he catches you watching from side of stage, starry-eyed. You can’t even bring yourself to be irritated by the ASM’s eye roll. As soon as they finish, you feel the adrenaline flooding through your veins at the prospect of the final bump out, and he heads off stage to the dressing room.

As soon as the auditorium is cleared, the crew is given the go-ahead to start bump out, and you get to work. He comes out fifteen minutes later, and you’re both thrumming with energy.

“Spotlight!” Roger calls to you where you’re pulling up taped down cords. Looking up, startled, you see him making a beeline for you, before he wraps his arms around you, swinging you around. Surprised, you make a squeak before he puts you back down, pressing his lips to yours. You melt into his embrace, kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What’s that for?” You asked a little breathless, grinning at where he was beaming back at you.

“You’re coming to Europe with us.” He told you, and your eyes widened, before you hugged him tightly, laughing with disbelief. “Told EMI you’re the best lighting assistant we have; told them the show’d be a mess without you.” You murmurs in your ear, giving you a squeeze. Looking at him, there’s awe in your eyes, and he can’t help but kiss you again, in the middle of bump out.

“Okay, so who had ‘final show’?” You hear John’s voice behind you, and when you and Roger break apart, you see the crew crowding around him, all withdrawing their wallets.

“Me, obviously.” Freddie said, and the rest of the crew groaned. “I knew you too had a flare for the dramatic.” Freddie grinned at the both of you, accepting as people offered him ten dollar notes. “Good for you two.”

“Did everyone bet on when we’d get together?” You asked, frowning, and at that, you heard a chorus of laughter rippled through the crew and band members.

“Oh, we’ve known for ages, we’re betting on when you’d make it public.”

[part 3]