#every time. every other member of the band has their arms around each others’ shoulders. except aarni always has his around Johannes’ waist

[nanoa1foryou]

Something about Aarni always putting his arm around Johannes’ waist when they bow to the audience

[good-griief]

losing game pt. 1

HEYYYY i'm actually back with a lil smutty angsty ellie fic bc i needed to write for this woman... anyway here's part one its only a lil angsty i just wanted an excuse to write rly gay smut so enjoy and p2 tmrw!!

as most of yall know any reader i write (as a poc writer) has no race, i just wanted to use a picture of taylor momsen bc i love tpr and that's definitely the vibe of the music in this fic

part two part three

read me click me

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Being in the rock scene was your dream. You started with small gigs, then small venues and festivals, and now you had a band to go along with your music. Your career was kicking off and it felt like heaven; every performance, every song, all the adrenaline made for some of the best nights of your life. 

When you picked your band, you hand-selected each member, and to say you picked your guitarist for any reason other than how pretty she was would be a lie. Yes, she was amazing, but you also couldn’t speak when she walked in for her interview. She just smiled, laughing at the way you stared at her before your manager started talking for you. He often did, she came to realize. 

She still accepted the moment you offered her the position, but she made it clear that she didn’t like your manager. She accepted for you; to be with you.

And she slowly became your favorite part of performing. You had this way of connecting with each other — of course, you were close with all of your band members, but she was different. You’d spend time together one-on-one, smoking a joint and talking about nothing until one of you had to force yourself to go. You’d get coffee together, have dinners, and even spend the night at each other’s apartments. Whenever someone asked about you two, you said you were best friends. Even when she was waiting for you at the end of the carpet, and you both laughed at your answer like it was some kind of inside joke. 

Even when you were onstage, on your knees, singing your most sensual song to her as she melted to your level, smirking as her hips thrust against the electric guitar. Sometimes, she even sang with you. You’d hold her face, or thread your fingers through her hair as you held eye contact or rested your forehead against hers with shut eyes, and if there was a break in the song you’d kiss her hard — a stage kiss that the crowd would erupt in cheers over. But they happened offstage, too… after a shared joint or during a party. Nothing more.

She’d let you place your fingers on the strings of her guitar to find the chords as you stood behind her, her head leaning back on your shoulder in a way that showed the muscles on her neck as she breathed in heavy, hot breaths. She let you wrap your hand around her throat, groaning in your ear as fans caught pictures of you dragging your tongue over her sweat-ridden jaw or biting her shoulder as she grinned. 

There was one night you let her take over the mic as you danced along. She played her guitar, singing and watching you until you sang with her. Your hands drifted down her thighs as you kneeled behind her, the crowd screaming as you lifted her shirt and came around to kiss the line of hair below her belly button. She smirked, stopping her playing and fisting your hair to pull your head back as you laughed. 

Nights when you’d take off your shirt, tossing it into the audience and pouring your water on yourself before she came to lick it up, tongue dragging over top of your breasts as you sang breathlessly. There were times she had to wrap her arm around your back to keep you standing when she did that, the action so intimate, so arousing, that it was hard to remember why you were on stage and not in your dressing room, alone with her. Some nights she’d take her shirt off and give it to you if she didn’t want anyone else to see you, smiling at you with her shirt on before you came over to kiss her cheek. 

There were moments with other band members, but none of them were like her. They didn’t make you feel the same — none of them were her. 

So, when the end of her contract came up and she talked to you about leaving to pursue other things, you were devastated. You didn’t think she’d leave, but after a talk with your manager, her decision was set. 

“I think you should,” you told her anyway. “Whatever makes you happy, Els, seriously. I’ll support whatever you do.” She smiled, taking your hand to kiss. On the inside of her fingers, and yours, you could see the matching tattoos you got months ago, threading your fingers together so they match up. 

You dedicated your last show with her to her. It was a surprise, and she cried when you said it in the beginning, but she just turned away to shake it off quickly. At least, she did until you started crying during a song you wrote for her — it was another surprise from you and the rest of the band, but the minute she saw you crying she couldn’t keep it together. She came over to hug you, kissing the top of your head as she let you hide your face in her chest. The crowd awed, but Ellie took the mic to say you’d be back. She set it down and lifted your head to make you look at her. “I love you, pretty girl,” she said, away from the microphone so no one heard her, but they could sound it out if they wanted to. “Please don’t cry.” She wiped beneath your eyes, ignoring the camera flashes and screams from the crowd. “I hate that I can’t do anything about it right now.”

You smiled. “I’m gonna miss you so much.” 

She laughed at you. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” She nodded to the microphone. “Finish my song, I wanna hear the rest.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, now standing at the mic and making the audience laugh. 

You were such an idiot. 

She never told you what other things she wanted to pursue, but you should’ve known. 

Of-fucking-course she was pursuing her own music. Of-fucking-course she was starting her own band. With yours. Of-fucking-course all of their contracts ending over the course of a few months would amount to this. Of-fucking-course each last show you dedicated to them meant nothing. 

You couldn’t even be mad. It was smart. But you were beyond hurt. 

And she still dedicated her first show to you. She texted you herself, asking you to come. 

When would you learn your lesson?

“I just want to thank you guys for coming,” she said to an audience of mostly your fans. “You might know me — us — from a backup band, but we got a little tired of being backup, didn’t we?” The band laughed. “So, uh, my name’s Ellie if you don’t know… probably don’t,” she laughed as if you’d never thanked or introduced your band before. “And I just want to dedicate this show to the previous artist I worked with. I wouldn’t be here without her, so she means… a lot,” she said it so fucking snarky, “to me, and… I have a few songs for her… if you all wanna guess which ones they are.”

And her first song was the biggest Fuck You song you’d ever heard. 

Still, she texted you after the show. 

She didn’t ask you to come to another show, and maybe that was because you announced a break from music, or because she was getting so much attention that she didn’t care. You saw her at award shows sometimes, and she would cheer when you won. Of course, you’d cheer for her too, but it never went beyond that. Almost like it was an unspoken rule that you weren’t on speaking terms. 

But the minute you came back to the scene, almost a year later, she texted you for the first time since her first show. 

You didn’t reply at first. You hadn’t kept up with her at all during your break, your manager telling you to stay away from any of her and her band's promotions and interviews. He had you block all of them and their numbers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to block Ellie’s. And you were glad you didn’t. Usually, you didn’t have your phone on you until late at night, your manager having your assistant handle your messages and social media, but you were about to fall asleep when she texted. As if she remembered your schedule. 

And it prompted you to look her up. Then her and you, and you could see countless videos. 

every time ellie has mentioned “her” compilation was what you decided to click on. It was made by an account that was clearly a big fan of hers, so you readied yourself for any hate that’d be thrown your way. 

The first clip was an interview, asking her why she split from your team. “You know, I really loved her and her team,” she said, “still really love her. It’s just hard being reminded, constantly, that you're a stepping stone and your time is running low, you know? We might’ve held her back if we stayed, and she was moving on to better things,” it sounded like she was quoting someone else. “—I mean, she always wanted us to shine, and I’m so grateful for her. I really miss being on stage with her, but I don’t miss anything else besides her and I think that says a lot.” 

Another was on her way into a hotel, a reporter asking if you congratulated her on an award. You could remember seeing her at the show before your manager called you over just as she was walking your way. She laughed, “haven’t talked to her in months.” 

Another of a sit-down interview with the whole band, your name being brought up and Ellie snapping at them, “You know I really wish people would stop asking me about her.” She got choked up as the others answered, nose reddening when the question finally circled back to her. “We’re not friends, we don’t talk, she doesn’t want anything to do with us, so...” She shrugged, pissed off. 

The next was another interview. It seemed she was just having to get used to being asked about you. “I’ve tried to reach out,” she said, “maybe she changed her number.” 

Another. “She was my best friend, I miss her a lot. I hope she’s doing okay.” 

And another, asking about her songs. “Yeah, I wrote a lot about her — No, I don’t regret it. I feel like it reflects a moment in time, you know? It was a really nice moment — I mean, I still have our matching tattoos,” she laughed, showing the tattoos on the insides of her fingers. 

Another, after a show. She was always emotional after shows, and it made it harder to watch as she wiped her eyes when the interviewer asked what your relationship really was. “I don’t fucking know,” was her answer before she walked away. 

Some of them were sweet, memories you shared that made you laugh. Others made you sick with guilt, like when she mentioned your lack of response or you blocking the band. Some just made you sad. And you felt like an idiot for doing this, but after reading the comments, some defending you for not running your socials or phone, or angry with you for the same reason, you played a compilation of the two of you together from the same account. 

Then you called Ellie. 

It rang once before sending you to voicemail and you just hung up. You kept your attention on the video to distract yourself from how much that stung. 

But she called right back. 

You stared at the phone for a moment, seeing the contact poster of the two of you at her last show with you lighting up your screen and feeling your words get caught in your throat as your eyes stung. You grabbed the phone, answering quickly. “Ellie?” It was silent, “Ellie, I just wanted to say, I had no idea… I understand if you never want to talk to me again, but I—“ You cleared your throat, trying not to sound like you were about to cry. “I’m really sorry.”

“I thought — I didn’t think you were going to — It feels so good to hear your voice,” was what she settled on after stammering through a few sentences. “You have no idea how much I’ve, just, wanted to talk to you…”

You bit down on your lip as you listened to her. She didn’t sound angry, but she clearly had so much to say to you. Her voice was filled with feeling as she went on, trying to get everything out as if she thought you’d hang up the phone at any minute. You just listened, shutting your eyes and bringing your hand over your face as hot tears spilled down your cheeks. You couldn’t bring yourself to understand why you were so emotional, maybe it was the fact that you misunderstood her so easily, or that your manager had ruined your relationship with her, or maybe it was even that you were just getting to hear her talk after so long, but she paused the moment she heard you trying to calm your breathing. 

“Please don’t cry.” She already knew. “I hate it when you cry and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “Keep talking. What were you saying?” You looked at your computer, auto-playing something else of the two of you. It was clips of you on stage and during interviews, heads on each other's shoulders, hugging, kissing each other’s cheeks, singing together. You pursed your lips, tears coming quicker as you slammed your laptop closed. “Ellie,” you cut her off, biting at your lip as you looked at the empty spot on your bed she used to take some nights, “what are you doing right now?” 

“I’m on my way,” she said quietly, and you could hear her shuffling on the other line. She was probably getting ready to go to sleep, and wake up to no response just like every other time she messaged you. And you would have woken up with no idea she even texted you. “Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“If you’re already headed to sleep—“

“I’m coming over,” she said. “I’m already in the car, I’ll be there in ten, okay?”

“Okay…” Now you felt bad for making her leave her house, looking outside at the snowfall and sniffling as you tried to wipe your eyes. “I’ll see you soon.” You hung up the phone and groaned at yourself, shoving your head in your pillow. 

You opened your laptop, typing in the song names people speculated she wrote for you and queuing them all. Not one was the one you heard during her first show, and it made you feel even worse by the time the doorbell rang. You moved off of your bed, wiping your eyes and going to the door to buzz her up to your apartment. 

You waited by the door, balls of your feet kicking at the floor as you crossed your arms and waited for her to knock. It was the same rhythm she used to knock in, and where it usually made you smile, it made you cry more. God, you missed her, and you didn’t even realize how much until now. You took too long to open the door and you heard the lock click. She still had her set of keys, and that made you feel worse, too. She’d probably texted you about returning them, and you never got to see it. Nothing was making you feel better as she opened the door, and seeing her face just made it worse. 

“God,” she muttered, immediately bringing her arms around your waist. She tucked her head into your shoulder, shutting her eyes as your arms went around her shoulders. Her hands held you like you’d disappear the minute she let go, thumbs running soothingly back and forth over your shirt. “I missed you so much,” she said. “They all wanted me to get over it, but I knew there was no way — I knew we had something more than just — fuck, I know you better than they do. I know I do.” Her lips brushed your skin with every word. “I missed you so fucking much,” she repeated, hugging you tighter. 

Just her touch made your tears slow to a stop, relaxing into her hold and hugging her so tight, but she didn’t care. She was happy to be back in your arms. Your hand drifted to her hair, cradling her head to your shoulder. You could remember the nights you spent playing with her hair until you fell asleep and the thought made you run your fingers through it. She sighed, pulling her head back but refusing to let you go. 

There was a silence as you moved her hair out of her face, tucking the strands behind her ear. Slowly, your hand cupped her cold, flushed cheek. She leaned into your touch, eyes falling to your lips as your thumb stroked her cheek. 

“Ellie,” you muttered and she hummed, turning her head to kiss the inside of your palm. “I missed you, too,” was all you chose to say despite the wanting in the way you said her name. Her hand took yours as she kissed the inside of your wrist. “So much…” Her kisses trailed up your arm, with more of a meaning behind them than any of the kisses you’d given each other before. 

You moved your hand back to her face, turning her head toward you. She met your eyes, hers shining in the low light. They fell to your lips again and she leaned in, kissing your cheek. She kissed away every tear stain, still wet and warm. She moved closer and closer to your mouth, but never kissed you, kissing away the stains on your other cheek instead. 

Then you turned your head, catching her lips for a brief moment before she pulled back. There was a moment of hesitation, neither of you able to speak before she pressed her lips to yours. They were still cold from being out in the snow, but they warmed as you kissed her back, pressing your body impossibly closer to hers as she sighed into your mouth. She couldn’t tell you how long she had wanted this, but she knew it was long enough that her waiting for you was pathetic.

[leviathxn]

So I have a request for a Miguel fic, if you are willing to do it. 😊🤗

So...Miguel has a family but he hasn't told the other Spiders. One day he has to take his baby to work to look after him for a while. But then, in his office, bang the Spiders and see Miguel with a baby in his arms/or in a baby carrier. Later Miguel's wife comes in the picture too to take the baby in their universe.

OKAY I LOVE MIGUEL WITH A KID SM

So I know people were asking me for a part 2 on my other one so I’m gonna work on it but obviously it’s these requests firsttt

Thank you all so much for the support 💕

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“”Are you infected??”

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You were typically the one to watch the kids, the double trouble twins. Miguel was a busy man, protecting the spider-verse and all, so you would work from home and play with the twins. It wasn’t so bad, of course Miguel felt bad that he couldn’t have as close of a relationship with them but they still very much knew who their daddy was ((and you did too 😳)). But overall it was a good system and you would get to take things slow at home while being a fun mother.

However, every so often there was days you would need to go into work, very rare but still at least a semiannual occurrence. Sometimes you would even take them into work and they would end up bothering coworkers, but most times you were able to get a family member or close friend to watch them but as they’ve gotten older, spider powers started to shine through. Not only was it hard to control them but it would be too revealing.

Obviously nobody knew Miguel was spider-man, but if two twins started to hang on ceilings, people would eventually put two and two together. This meant you couldn’t leave them with family, resulting in Miguel carrying them around in double baby backpacks. One would be on his chest, the other in him back.

Miguel, in typical fashion, stayed in his office. Nobody assumed anything by his yelling, the man was weird, what would be surprising if he was schizo? Although every now and then people would look at each other, it didn’t sound like typical frustration or talking to himself, it was almost a back and forth. They were in no way heavy, but oh my, they were annoying. How did you get a grip on these two? They’re animals. Halfway through the day, the twins got out of the carriers and there was no going back.

“Put that down! Ay- I’m sorry don’t cry- HEY”. Miguel was struggling, because he loved the kids and he felt so bad for yelling but they wouldn’t listen. He thought to himself about the teens. You’d think as they get older they’d be better, but he saw himself comparing them to his 1 year old twins.

Disgusted at the thought, he grabbed them and webbed their hands. They giggled, struggling to get it off. It was a good distraction….. for like 3 minutes, then they were back to running around. He tried playing fetch with the twins but that didn’t go very well. They were just.. confused. Why did he throw the toy the just got. Although he appreciated their thinking skills, he really had no idea what to do. He held both of his kids, they hung from his arms and were climbing around him like a jungle gym.

Completely lost in thought about his children dilemma, the doors to his office opened, and the lovely teen band walked in. What a sight for them to see. Miguel standing completely disheveled and staring into space, a kid on his shoulder grabbing his ear, and another kid gorilla hugging his ((massive)) leg and trying to bite the suit.

Panic bells went off, everybody rushing over to Miguel. Was this an attack, was Miguel okay? Oh my gosh he’s being attacked by alien morphing baby things. As they all got ready to ready for the babies, Miguel jumped back, making sure to grab hold of his kids, and getting defensive.

“What the hell is your guys problem?!!” He shouted, sheltering both of his kids, who were now on high alert and looking fearful.

“Are those Aliena??? What happened to you, what did they do?? Why do you look like that!” Miles replied back to him, pointing his fingers at both babies. “Are you infected??”

Hobie, naturally didn’t look concerned, and stop back. “Mate, they look just like him”

“They bit him and took his DNA!! That’s why he’s protecting him”, Pavitr shouted while getting in an offensive position. Hobie almost lost is as he hurled over. Gwen looked over for a moment, then back to Miguel. “Wait… those are your kids”

“WHAT”. Miles and Pavitr shouted, looking at the very tired Miguel. “By that doesn’t make sense- you’re not- are you married??”. Questions flew right and left, chaos ensued as the babies ran around again. Miguel was done, SO DONE with babysitting the actual babies and now the teens.

Suddenly the door opened again, a very sweaty you running through. “Oh Miggy- I’m sorry I’m late I just got so lost in this place, but I’m here for the twins”. Miguel looked over at you in panic, the teen’s immediately stopped in their tracks. As the kids ran to you, so did the teens…. and what was supposed to be Miguel’s saving grace, ended up in having everybody over for dinner.

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Ahh I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly what you asked for, I traveled today to see a college and I’m writing this very late so I hope you don’t mind that it’s rushed. I’ll get more writing done this week since I’m on break, I promise!

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[rebelfell]

The Third Date

Eddie Munson x Anorgasmic!Reader

When you move back to Hawkins after graduating college, you find yourself reconnecting with an old friend in a new way. Your first two dates with Eddie Munson are everything you’d ever dreamed, but the next one has you unraveling.

Part One│Part Two

cw: childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, deceased parent, mentions of poor sexual experiences, some drinking, sexual anxiety, making out, fingering, panic attack, eddie being sweet and reassuring, fluffy ending.

I was kinda in my feelings and needed Eddie to tell me all the right things. Sue me.

18+, MDNI 7k

You used to like this mirror.

It was vintage. Full length with an ornate gold frame, swirling embellishments on the top and sides. Not to mention it was a fucking steal at $10 from an estate sale. You’d liked it enough to make it one of the scant number of things you hauled all the way back to Hawkins when you moved out of your shoebox apartment in the city.

Right now, though? You kind of hated it. 

Usually, standing before it made you feel stately and elegant, even if all you had on was ratty denim shorts and a threadbare t-shirt riddled with holes and bleach stains. Yet here you were in one of your favorite outfits, hair meticulously styled, face glowing and dewy after spending an hour on it, and all you felt was ridiculous.

Not the mirror’s fault, technically. But it was the messenger. It told you at every twist of your hips, at every outfit change, at every pluck and tug of your clothes, that you were never going to look right—that you were never going to feel right. And it mocked every failed attempt to do so.

You inhale, breath shallow and shaky as you try yet again to calm down. It’s just a date, you tried to remind yourself. It’s just a date and he’s just a guy. There’s nothing to be worried about. 

Except it wasn’t just a date.

It was the auspicious Third Date.

And it certainly wasn’t just a guy…it was Eddie.

This was something you’d been waiting for forever. For longer than forever. For longer than you could count. Eddie Munson was your oldest and dearest friend. Growing up, you were like each other’s second heads—facing the worst of what small minds in a small town in Indiana cooked up. You stood, middle fingers brandished like swords, dreaming of a wider world.

It felt strange to think this would only be your third date when you’d basically been dating since you were thirteen. You went to movies together, wasted weekday afternoons at the record store, lounged on the gravelly bank of Lover’s Lake reading well-worn paperbacks—Two Towers for him, Dorothy Parker for you. He begged you to sit in on Hellfire when he started the club your junior year and only had three members, himself included. He’d sneak you into the dive bar where his band played Tuesday nights, and you would immediately stick out among the five drunks who assembled every week. But as long as all you ordered was ginger ale and swore up and down you weren’t a cop, the bartender let you sit there all night to watch him.

Nights never ended the way “real” dates did. No hands being held as he walked you from his van to your doorstep; no kisses under flickering porch lights scored by a cricket symphony.

He never touched you too much, always quick to withdraw his hands when they lingered on your hip or back or arm. That would change, though, if he smoked or drank a bit and his cuddly side came out. Secretly, you longed for these times. You reveled in having his chin rest on your shoulder or his arms wind around your waist to hold you close. It never felt gross or crossed the line into groping like with other, lesser, guys looking for something to fondle. With Eddie, it felt more like he was showing you how he wished he could be all the time.

At least that’s what you let yourself imagine. 

He always apologized the following day, just short of castrating himself over it. It made you want to slap him. Slap him and then kiss him and slap him again. How could he not get it? How could he not see how goddamn in love with him you were? How could he not feel the same way? You waved him off, assuring him he hadn’t done anything wrong. All the while thinking, you fucking idiot, and not even knowing if you were referring to him or yourself.

Then came graduation. Or rather, your graduation and his sullen admission he wasn't eligible, which lead to the longest, most difficult conversation of your lives so far. It wasn’t even a conversation so much as it was you swinging wildly between reactions—scolding him for not telling you sooner; grasping at the straws of extra credit assignments your teachers would never assign; volunteering to stand guard while he broke into the administration office.

Eventually, though, you had to face the reality of losing him and it left a prominent break in your heart. Your acceptance letter to a school in Indianapolis that used to make you feel weightless, like you could finally fly out of here, now felt more like chains dragging you away.

You had half a mind to take him with you. You must have rehearsed the speech you wanted to make something like fifty times. Screw Hawkins, you’d say. Screw their closed minds and their disdain for anything even a little different. He could get his GED—you’d help him, happily. He could find work in the city and take community college classes or go to trade school. The two of you could live together and watch slasher movies every Friday night, falling asleep on his chest when you got tired just as you’d done all throughout high-school.

Of course those thoughts inevitably spiraled into what would happen once he started dating. A bigger city meant a bigger pool of people, all with the potential to realize the kind, sweet, caring boy who was bursting with passion for his fantasy games and music and his other rich interests was actually a massive catch and not a social pariah. In no time, it would be someone else falling asleep on his chest and you watching them be carried to his bed.

You couldn’t bear the thought of that. Maybe even moreso, you couldn't bear the thought of asking him to come with you and him saying “no.”

So, you went alone. You packed up your car with the barest necessities, you kissed your dad goodbye and said you’d see him at Christmas. But it was Eddie who saw you off, taking you into his arms and holding you there with your head tucked under his chin. You buried your face in his chest, tears leaking onto the patches you’d helped him sew on his denim vest. He told you how proud he was and how much he was gonna miss you. He said to write. To send pictures.

All you could do was sniffle.

At college, you tried expanding your horizons. You joined a couple clubs to make new friends and started going to parties. You met people like Carl. And even though he was handsome and seemed nice enough, you turned him down when he asked you to dinner. It wasn’t until much later, when your roommate scolded you for doing so, that you even felt some doubt about it. What was even the point when you knew he wasn’t what you wanted?

Except what you wanted might never be yours.

That first trip home to Hawkins was wildly unnerving. You knew it hadn’t actually been that long since you left. But why did it feel so strange that everything felt exactly the same? Had you really changed so much already that your home no longer felt like home? 

Even seeing Eddie again felt like rupturing old wounds you thought had successfully scabbed over. You withdrew from him without even realizing you were doing it. He knew something was wrong, but didn’t dare voice it. His greatest fear loomed: you were done with Hawkins. 

Done with him.

It took a while to strike the balance between the old and the new. You’d run away so fast and tried to overwrite everything in your life, returning to Hawkins felt like entering a fantasy world. And Eddie became like an apparition, a specter of everything you missed most. 

You started writing to him more, sharing stories about your classes, gossip in the dorms, drunk adventures in the city. And he wrote back, telling you all about the new members of Hellfire who also happened to play instruments and were eager to replace the members of Corroded Coffin who had graduated and moved away. Eventually, the letters became more like a diary. 

You could confess things you’d never imagined telling anyone—stuff about your mom and how you’d spent every day wondering if she’d be proud of you; how you worried about your dad and wondered if he would ever get over her; how you feared you might never find love like theirs and even if you did, how it might be taken away from you like it was from them.

And he confessed back to you. Amidst his ideas for new D&D campaigns and song lyrics, he gave you deeper insight on things you knew already—his father’s sordid criminal history and his mother’s inability to cope, which led to her dropping Eddie on his uncle’s doorstep at the ripe old age of eleven. Reading about Hawkins through his eyes made it feel more real and less like a dream you’d woken up from. It kept that connection open, a bridge between your worlds, so  you could experience college and all the new things it had to offer, but still felt connected.

Then the end of your sophomore year brought more bad news. 

Again, he wasn’t eligible. Again, he wasn’t graduating.

You’d not been able to let go of that fantasy of him joining you at school. Every time you walked across the quad, leaves crunching beneath your boots, sunlight dying as it dipped behind the old brick buildings and cast everything in a hazy golden autumn glow, you imagined a pair of clean, white sneakers next to yours and a ringed hand squeezing your fingers.

He promised you this was his year. Swore it, in fact. ‘86, baby! he’d scrawled big and messy under his signature at the end of one of his letters. And maybe it would. He said he was doing better—army crawling his way towards a D in Mrs. O'Donnell's class, already planning how he would snatch his diploma and flip the bird at the principal as he walked the stage.

He was certain enough it made you start to believe it too.

You never dared to broach the subject of what he wanted to do after graduation. He hadn’t mentioned applying to any colleges or looking for work. The rest of the band was graduating with him. Maybe they’d all move here to get more exposure. Maybe they wanted to record a demo they could pass out to record companies. Or maybe Eddie wanted to go solo.

The lack of information made you antsy. Was he being decidedly cagey about his plans? Was he hiding something? Or was he just afraid of disappointing you again?

It was nearing the end of the school year when you finally broke. You had to see him.

For once, your spring breaks were going to overlap. You blew off your classes on Friday to make the drive and managed to get to Hawkins High just as the final bell was ringing. His van still sat in the parking lot and you pulled in alongside it to wait, practically jumping out of your skin with excitement. Thirty whole minutes crawled by before you finally spotted him.

He emerged from the woods at the back of the practice sport fields, chattering with ease to maybe the last person on earth you would have expected to see.

Chrissy Cunningham was just as pretty as she’d always been. She was a couple years behind you and Eddie in school, but everyone knew of her from the moment she made the varsity cheer squad as a freshman—a staggering feat no one else had ever managed. She still had the same bouncy ponytail, the same enormous eyes and cherubic cheeks you imagined must ache at the end of each day from her constant smiling. And she was somehow smiling even wider than normal at whatever Eddie was saying as he grinned back at her.

It made your stomach churn thinking what they could have been doing to have her smiling like that. You knew he’d started dealing for Reefer Rick to earn extra money, but in what universe would the queen of Hawkins High be struck with the urge to buy a bag of skunky weed? 

Unless it wasn’t weed she was after at all.

Panic doused your body. You jammed your key back in the ignition and sped out of the lot, praying he didn’t see you. You drove straight back to school, tears streaming down your face for the entire journey, making you hate yourself more with every salty trail that stained your cheeks. Because what else did you expect? For him to pine for you like you did for him? For him to be like you and not date anyone, ever? To keep everyone who even attempted to get close at a distance? Reserving a space in your heart for someone who might not even want to fill it?

You loved him more now than you ever had. Even without seeing him every day, even without having him constantly at your side. If anything, it had gotten worse. Your feelings piled up within you just as his letters did in your room. They all lived in a box under your shitty dorm bed to be pulled out over and over and over so you could parse every line for hidden meaning. Crying at his words, so heartfelt and honest you didn’t even notice the grammatical and spelling errors.

By the time you got back to campus, you felt raw and spent. Your face was streaked with tears and you were breathless from crying. For days, you walked around campus like a ghost until you bumped into Carl, the only other soul not off on some debaucherous Spring Break trip. And when he asked you for seemingly the hundredth time if he could buy you dinner…you said yes.

It came in the mail a few months later. Your address scribbled messily on an invitation to the Hawkins High Class of 1986 graduation. Eddie had included a photocopy of his final grades and written “proof it’s not a clerical error” with a little smiley face in the corner.

You called him that night to tell him how proud of him you were. And you were proud of him. So unbelievably proud. But when he asked if you were coming, you lied. You said your boyfriend’s parents would be in town and that he wanted you to meet them. You told him how sorry you were, all the while thinking Chrissy could congratulate him enough for the both of you. 

And in spite of yourself…you let yourself pretend you heard a little dejection in his voice when you used the word “boyfriend”—fictitious as it was.

The truth was, you’d only been officially dating Carl for a couple weeks. And he was perfectly nice. He’d kissed you and it felt fine. It didn’t quite live up to what you believed it should feel like, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe what you imagined wasn’t realistic. Maybe what you thought it should be wasn’t feasible.

Maybe you just had to let that go.

And dating Carl was simple and uncomplicated. It served a purpose. It made you feel at least like you weren’t languishing in a wasteland of your unrequited feelings. It made you feel like you were trying. Sure, the sex wasn’t great. But you hardly expected it to be good for you. 

You’d hooked up with the odd guy here and there over the years. It was a pattern that began with some guy you met downtown whose assignment was to keep you occupied while his friend put the moves on your roommate. You were a little drunk and a lot lonely, so you’d gone along with it. It was quick. A little uncomfortable. It certainly didn’t make you eager to repeat the experience. But at least you could say you’d done it.

Part of you thought maybe it would get better, but it never did. 

Even guys you thought were decent at first were quick to gloss over the preamble and lead up, jumping straight to stuffing themselves inside you with no regard to your winces of discomfort. It didn’t take long before you started to assume you had to be the problem. Even by yourself, it took you ages to reach any sort of precipice. And even when you did, even when you felt your heart rate rising and your body heaving in response, the pay-off was…underwhelming.

With Carl, you thought it could be different. Maybe you needed a deeper connection; maybe you needed a few times to get comfortable with someone to properly ascend that peak. But the more you did it with him, the less attainable that seemed. Maybe you were just broken. 

You also tried not to dwell on the fact that the only times you ever got close were when you pictured a different face hovering over yours; when you imagined your fingers twisted up in dark, shaggy curls; when you visualized pale skin littered with tattoos and sinewy arms caging you in; when you lit that one candle you only bought because it reminded you of Eddie’s cologne.

The decision to move back home turned out to be less a decision and more a necessity.

A whole year out of school and you’d had truly terrible luck finding a job—at least a decent one that actually wanted to pay you. Carl, ever the charmer, wondered why you even wanted to work when you’d just wind up quitting when you got married. Really, you appreciated it. It was exactly the kind of comment you needed to jolt you out of a relationship that had been on autopilot.

You were a mess. Lost. Aimless. Barely treading water. Wishing you could call the one person you knew would cheer you up, but unsure if it would only result in more heartache. In the blink of an eye, it had been over five years since you left home and it was starting to feel like your only accomplishments were breaking up with your boyfriend and buying a mirror.

Then came the call from your dad.

He’d taken a nasty fall at his hardware store. He was fine, for the most part. But he was now significantly weaker and would have to have surgery as well as physical therapy after. And he certainly couldn’t run his store anymore. It had never run particularly smoothly to begin with and his books left something to be desired—another thing you’d be helping with once you moved back. He never outright asked you to do so, but he also didn’t have to.

The only good news was the bad news: a massive fire that disintegrated Starcourt Mall had led to an influx of renovations to the downtown area. In the wake of the mall’s destruction came a resurgence in small businesses that breathed life back into the desolation the mall caused.

It was in this newly resurrected downtown where Eddie was making his mark. He had opened a hobby shop where he still hosted his weekly D&D games with a lot of the kids who had originally been in his club. His store became like a beacon for all the kids (and even some of the adults) in Hawkins who felt there was no place for them. Eddie gave them somewhere to belong and celebrated all the things that made them targets of ridicule to everyone else.

It was also your first stop on your first day back.

The whole shop was so Eddie. As you walked inside and took in the decor, it seemed entirely possible he had just moved everything from his bedroom at Wayne’s right in here. He’d even rigged the entrance with a speaker that played the guitar riff of “Enter Sandman” when someone came through the door. 

You wished you could bottle the moment he came out front, your arrival signaled by the song.

“Holy shit…”

The box of miniatures and figurines he’d just finished pricing in the back fell to the floor with a thump and a rattle of plastic parts. He barely registered it, though. With round, unblinking eyes he stared, too stunned to move a muscle until a smile cracked his face wide open.

In just three long strides he crossed the store and swept you into his arms, lifting you up and whirling you around. “You’re here!” he gushed, arms crushing you around the middle in the most exquisite pain. “You’re really here!”

“I told you I was moving back!” 

You laughed heartily in his ear as he placed you back on the ground, telling yourself it must have been the unexpected lift making you breathless and not how the sunlight coming through the windows hit his eyes and made them shine like molten honey. He kept you close, letting his hands rest on your arms and squeezing them like he had to be sure you weren’t a mirage.

“I thought it was one of those ‘too good to be true’ things,” he said sheepishly, a pink blush creeping across his cheeks. “Had to see it to believe it.”

“Well, believe it,” you sighed.

You were already prepared for the loss of his touch, for when he would shamefully retract his hands, but he never did. He held you comfortably, his thumb lightly brushing over your skin. He let you go reluctantly, not regretfully, letting his fingertips trail softly down your arm.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, his voice coated in warmth. “I missed you so much.”

You nodded, your throat pinched as you tried not to cry. “I…I missed you too.”

Eddie’s smile grew even bigger, his eyes seeming to dance with excitement. “Well, we have to celebrate,” he said. “I close up shop at six. Meet me back here and we’ll go to the Hideout?”

You stalled, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you considered. Almost on instinct, you’d nearly agreed right away. Old habits and what not. But did you want to fall immediately back into your old patterns? Hawkins had changed so little since you left, it felt too easy to slip back into the trap. Could you really go right back to hopelessly pining for him as you’d done so long?

“Come on,” Eddie urged, flashing those doe eyes he knew you couldn’t resist. “It’s one drink.”

“Okay, okay!” you laughed. “One drink.”

One drink turned out to be three. Starting with your first legal drink together at his old haunt while a different band of hopeful kids fumbled their way through clumsy Metallica covers.

“Please tell me we were never that young,” Eddie sighed, taking a swig of his beer.

“You’ve never been young,” you teased. “You came out of the womb a crotchety old man.”

A little later, you absconded to the corner booth and tucked yourselves away from the rowdiness of the growing crowd. You were flushed from the alcohol buzzing in your bloodstream and from how close Eddie was sitting. It felt just like old times, except it was nothing like old times.

Because this time, he was flirting with you. And not being subtle.

You thought maybe you were imagining it at first, but it only became more obvious the longer the night wore on. There was a whole new confidence and intention in the way he talked to you. He’d never been shy, never had any trouble drawing people in, but there was a fire lit behind his eyes tonight you’d never seen before. And you were the sole object of that blaze.

“So…still with Carl?” He finally asked, after bolstering himself to do so for the last three hours.

You took a long sip of your drink, eyes never leaving his over the rim of your glass. The liquor made you bold, the burn at the back of your throat adding smokiness to your voice.

“No-pe,” you said, popping your lips on the final syllable. Eddie smiled wolfishly and leaned in.

“Good,” he purred. “Cos that would have made it real awkward when I asked you out.”

He took you to dinner two days later. Rang the doorbell and smiled at you as he stood on your porch wearing a black button down under a darker black velvet vest. His black jeans were a new- looking pair of the same kind he’d always worn, sans the ragged holes over his knees.

Despite the thin material of your sundress and the balmy weather outside, you were sweating with nerves. The breeze played with your skirt as he walked you to his van and the coolness of it on your clammy skin made you shiver. But when Eddie suddenly darted ahead of you to open your door and turned around with his hand held up to help you inside, it made you melt. 

The gesture filled your body with warmth, chasing away any hint of a chill.

After dinner, he suggested you walk a block or so to a bar where Eddie liked to play pool. And as you did, his hand reached for yours and he threaded your fingers together. You stared down at it, stunned. How many times had you wished he would do that? How many times did you imagine the heat of his palm against yours mixing with the coolness of his chunky silver rings on his fingers? It had always seemed so impossible and he’d just done it.

Like it was nothing. Like he’d done it a thousand times before. Easy. Natural.

He held your hand all the way into the bar, only letting go of you to accept a tray of balls from the bartender when Eddie requested a table. With a couple of beers in hand, you followed him to his favorite one that was tucked away in a little alcove, practically private.

You set down the beers and watched as he racked the balls, gaze lingering on his long frame and chuckling at the way he shimmied his hips as he leaned over the table to break. “Eyes on me,” he told you, playful smile revealing his teeth.

It was a redundant request, because it was entirely impossible to look anywhere else.

Eddie had filled out quite a bit since high-school. He was never an athlete by any means, but evidently a regime of guitar playing and dice throwing was enough to maintain decent tone. You stared at him unabashed as he walked around the table, lining up his shot. His vest now flapped open and he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves to reveal the familiar smattering of bats under his elbow and the puppetmaster etched inside his forearm. It made you wonder how many more tattoos—new ones you’d not yet seen—were hiding under the rest of his clothes. He smirked at you, smug as he leaned over the table, thoroughly enjoying the way your eyes followed him.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” he drawled before sinking a bank shot.

You rolled your eyes, trying to fein being unimpressed. “Trying to distract me, Munson?” you asked, chalking the tip of your cue in a much more sensual manner than necessary, letting your fingers lazily stroke the stick as Eddie watched transfixed. He huffed a laugh at the display.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Evidently, both of you were equally distracted. Most of your games lagged for a mutual inability to sink more than one shot in a row as the other did their best to pull focus. It was far easier for you, having only to lean forward slightly across the table from him to reveal a healthy dose of your cleavage. That, coupled with a coy smile and batting eyelashes, spelled disaster for Eddie. Everytime you did it, he’d scratch his shot and chuckle dryly at his own hubris.

He took a different approach, choosing instead to stand as close to you as he could as you lined up your shots. His musk and cologne filled your nose, a tantalizing woodsy smell that made your head spin as you struggled to keep your eyes on the ball. He rested his hip against the table, handcuff belt buckle glinting as it reflected the light from the lamp hanging overhead.

You could practically hear the childish taunt of not touching you, not touching you.

“Just take your shot, baby,” he cooed, low and husky. The sound made your heart hammer.

A couple hours of teasing and toying later, both of you were ready to explode. Your glasses sat empty on the nearby table, neither of you terribly interested in a refill. And as Eddie sunk the eight ball again, his eyes flashed to the tray for the balls rather than going to re-rack them.

“I guess I should get you home?” he asked.

A little sullen at the idea, you nodded and returned your cues to a rack on the wall while Eddie brought the balls back to the bartender and settled the tab. Only when you were walking back to the table to get your purse and passed a pair of men who reeked of tobacco did something occur to you: Eddie hadn’t taken a smoke break once.

“Did you quit?” you asked, staring at him with wide eyes. He smiled as he drew nearer to you, relishing the way your chest heaved as you reacted to his closeness.

“Took a couple years, but yeah,” he said. “Sometimes I still need a little help, though.”

He tugged his shirttail out from the waistband of his jeans, causing his belt and the chain on his wallet to jingle slightly as he lifted his shirt to flash a strip of his stomach. You’re so distracted by the action and the cut of his v-muscle it takes a few seconds to register the beige nicotine patch stuck on his hip. You stared at him and then back at it, fingers itching to reach out and touch.

He leaned in, his face the closest it had been to yours all night, his voice hushed so only you could hear. “For when I’m really nervous,” he said.

Streetlights and stars blurred as you stepped out of the bar and he whirled you into the alley. The rough brick scraped your back and snagged on your dress as you were flattened against it and you gazed up at Eddie, string lights overhead shining brightly in your eyes.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly. “Are you ready for this to start?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight his eyes trained on your face. Your hands settled lightly on his waist and you gave an impatient tug as you nodded. It was all the invitation he needed. 

His mouth met yours like the sun met the horizon. The softest kiss you’d ever had deepened gradually until you were grasping at him, fisting his shirt in your fingers. Your lips felt molded together, pliant to the other’s movements, but still insistent as they chased one another.

Control shifted subtly between you, taking turns drawing the other in and pulling back. More teasing, more toying. Yet you never denied each other long, unable to stay apart.

God, this was it. This was what it was always supposed to feel like.

It could have been hours you stood out there kissing and laughing, but you’d never have known. The only thing that alerted you to the passing of time was when the lights inside the bar shut off and the employees filed out for their final smoke break before heading home.

Giggling like terrible criminals begging to be caught, you and Eddie hugged the shadows and made your way back to his van. You rode home with your panties soaked, subtly shifting in your seat, trying not to think about the arousal pooled between your thighs. And at home, back in your room, you were so tempted to dip your fingers into the slickness as you thought about Eddie’s breath on your lips; how the ends of his curls tickled your sternum when he leaned into you; the way his scent lingered on your skin after being pressed between his body and that wall. 

But you didn’t dare risk the disappointment that would follow when your pleasure receded like waves being drawn into a riptide; when you backed down from the edge of that cliff, feeling even emptier after not reaching that peak. Again. No, you couldn’t spoil this night with all that.

You saw him more throughout the week. He started popping into your father’s store almost as soon as it opened, offering you coffee and a kiss. And he spent the first hour of the morning with you at the front counter, propped up on his elbow with his chin resting on the heel of his hand.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you asked, swatting him with a folded up newspaper after you finished doing the jumble together.

He just shrugged with all the casual ease of somebody whose own shop didn’t open until 11. Or noon if he was hungover. “What could be better than hanging out with my favorite girl?”

Favorite girl. The words lived in your brain all day. It made you positively giddy every time you thought about it, even causing you to accidentally enter a customer’s 15% discount as 51% and not even bother correcting it. The loss on a value pack of paint brushes and trays seemed a paltry fee for the smile that spread across old Mrs. Gershwin’s face when she saw her total.

Eddie started calling every night at 9:30, practically on the dot, and it didn’t take long for you to get in the habit of settling into your bed around that time so you could pick up the receiver in your room before the ringing disturbed your dad dozing in his recliner downstairs. 

“So when do I get to take you out again?” he asked, clearly not oblivious to how it made you melt on the other end of the line. 

You blushed your way through making arrangements for an early movie Saturday followed by dinner. Then, before beginning the long process of saying your goodnights, you paused to ask him the thing you’d been wondering since that night at the Hideout.

“Eddie…are we really doing this?” you asked, torn between giddiness and trepidation.

“I certainly am,” he hummed into the receiver.

He talked the whole way through the movie and still had more to say at dinner afterward. 

It didn’t bother you, though. You loved listening to him talk. Your ears had gone so long without his rambling, it was more like music than words. His feet toyed with yours under the table and after you ordered dessert, he excused himself to use the bathroom only to slide into your side of the booth when he came back. You giggled over tiramisu and cheesecake, your sides pressed together from shoulder to ankle. Later, the tastes of your desserts would mix in your mouths as he kissed you deeply in his car dropping you off.

Everything about it felt so alive. So ripe with the promise of what this could turn into, what it had already become. In two dates with Eddie, you felt more connection than you had in two years of dating Carl. Not that it was fair comparing them. Nothing and no one could ever compare to this.

It was a Wednesday when he made a new proposition. You had already crawled into bed and swathed yourself in blankets to wait for his call. And after the few customary minutes of talking about your respective days, he brought up his idea for Friday night.

“Would you want to come over here for dinner?” he asked.

“You…you mean like your place?”

“I was thinking mine, but if your heart is set on a neighbor’s, I’m sure breaking in wouldn’t be too difficult.” He’s smirking so hard you swear you can hear it over the phone. 

“I guess yours will do,” you chuckled. “Does this mean I’ll get to see The Hair in person?”

Eddie was living with Steve Harrington, which had taken a commanding lead for being the most confusing thing you’d learned since returning home. Apparently they’d been brought together by a shared friendship with Dustin Henderson, one of the kids from Hellfire Eddie had taken under his batwing during his third and final senior year. Dustin had spent months insisting both boys would get along if they only gave the other a chance until his badgering paid off.

Now, the pair shared a tiny apartment downtown, walking distance from Eddie’s shop and only a short drive to Family Video where Steve was now the manager. And Dustin evidently couldn’t go five minutes without congratulating himself for bringing the two of them together. Eddie liked to joke that they were now co-parenting the little shithead (affectionate).

“Actually, Steve is out of town this weekend,” Eddie said, struggling to contain his excitement and keep his cool. “So, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Breathe, breathe, breathe. “Oh, yeah?” you said, voice spiking just an octave too high.

“Yep. And, um…you could stay over if you wanted? If that sounds good to you?”

Stay over. You knew what that meant. There was something gut wrenchingly endearing about the way he asked—the innocent peal of his voice. But there was no doubt in your mind what he was getting at. This wasn’t going to be like crashing on his couch after a movie night or pouring yourself into his bed after a Corroded Coffin show that lasted to the wee hours.

This would be something new. Something completely different.

“That sounds great,” you said, finally.

And it did sound great. It just also sounded a little terrifying.

Admittedly, you hadn’t been on many dates in your life. But television and film had successfully indoctrinated you with knowledge of that classic Third Date milestone. And it made sense. He wasn’t some stranger. You’d known each other for so long, it stood to reason things would continue to accelerate between you.

And was that such a bad thing? 

This was Eddie, after all. He was your best friend. He was your other half. You weren’t sure if  you even believed in soul mates, so to speak, but if they did exist you couldn’t imagine anyone besides him in that role. He had stoked life into the coals within you that you were certain had burnt into a lump of ash. You never felt with anyone the way you felt with him. 

So if you were gonna do this, you were gonna do it right.

You went shopping, fighting off anxious nausea as you perused the racks of lingerie in the far corner of a little boutique. Averting your eyes from the more salacious options, you settled on a matching set of midnight blue embroidered with silver thread to look like stars. It was made of thin mesh that gave the illusion of coverage, but revealed plenty through the sheer netting.

It also looked a little like something a wizard might wear. And for obvious reasons, you had a feeling Eddie might like that. 

Securing your purchase you thought might make you feel more prepared, but it only caused your thoughts to unravel further. This was the first time Eddie would be seeing your underwear and it wasn’t even your own. At least it didn’t yet feel like your own the way your drawer full of less suggestive garments did. What if he thought you looked ridiculous? What if he laughed or got turned off because your thighs were too big or the pudge of your stomach grossed him out? Worse yet, what if you failed to live up to the implications? What if he saw it and assumed you knew what you were doing, only to be woefully disappointed by your skills? Or lack thereof?

It was impossible to reconcile the two wolves fighting for dominance in your mind. On the one hand, it was wildly exciting: the thought of finally getting to be with him and touch him and have him touch you back. At the same time, though, you were overwhelmed at the prospect. What if it changed things between you? You’d always thought you wanted more than friendship with him, but what if in that pursuit you lost the person you treasured more than anything in the world?

And then of course there were the normal fears. 

After so much unfulfilling sex, you couldn’t help but be fearful your body would betray you as it always had. It was hard not to pin all your hopes on this and you didn’t want to add any more pressure to this night than you already felt. But even if you backed off that peak and failed to reach the summit, surely the ascent would feel just as nice as long as it was with him. 

Right?

This was what you tried to tell yourself as you turned one last time in front of your mirror. 

Literally everything about this night was making you uncomfortable and it hadn’t even begun yet. The lingerie that felt fine when you bought it was tight and itchy on your skin, and it felt glaringly obvious you were wearing it under your clothes—like a diaper or a straightjacket.

You’d shaved, even though it made you feel like a creepy bald Barbie, and even though you found the concept kind of disturbing. Whose brilliant idea was it anyway that to be sexy you had to look like a child between your legs? And you always wound up completely bare because you could never get it even and kept having to take more from each side until nothing was left.

Still, you did it. Because that was what everyone did, right? That’s what he would expect?

Shaking your head, trying to fling away all your thoughts, you busy yourself packing your small overnight bag. It was the same one you must have brought over to Eddie’s a hundred times over, but for the first time you found yourself doubting it. Would he think you were high maintenance for wanting your own toothbrush and a change of clothes? For bringing something comfortable to sleep in? Would he think you were a weirdo for not just sleeping naked? God, what if he saw it and figured you’d been sleeping with so many guys, you just kept it packed all the time?

Panic creeps up the back of your neck. It burns hot on your cheeks and makes your heart pound in your temples until you’re so dizzy you have to lean against the door with your head bent.

Breathe, you think. Breathe, breathe, breathe. 

Frustratingly slowly, the thrumming in your chest subsides. You managed to bring yourself down off the ledge and find your center—Eddie.

Eddie would make everything alright. 

He always did.

Part Two

[dean-a-mean-tae]

Take A Rest

Request

PAIRINGS: Poly SKZ x Gender Neutral Reader WARNINGS: Shitty managers and fans. Mention of a creepy band member. Lack of communication which leads to last minute solutions. Male reader requested but I don't think there's any reference to the reader's gender. I think that's it.

Everything had gone to shit. The venue, missing band members, last-minute replacements, and a ton of other issues. All of them were swept under the rug by your manager, Tony, until the day of the concert.

The venue didn't have enough seats. The replacements for your missing band members didn't know the songs. Your lead guitarist and drummer weren't there. Tony decided he didn't want to tell you that the props were broken.

Your drummer got sick after being overwhelmed with stress from practice and her finals. Your lead guitarist said something about having a baby, but you knew that was a lie. That man has been a creepy virgin since you've known him.

Some fans didn't understand the stress you were under. With a recent flux in fans, the demand for a full album instead of songs was higher than ever. And with love comes hate. 

No matter what you did. More music, less music, or different genres of music. Everyone still felt the need to put their 2¢ in where it wasn't needed.

Fortunately, those who attended the concert were understanding of the current situation. None of the issues happening were under your control.

"Remember when I told you all that communication is the key to almost everything?" 

The crowd's screams of agreement echoed in your ears. Every outro on a video, a concert, a fan sign, or other event you exit with a similar speech and farewell; a signature in your fanbase. 

"It appears my manager didn't listen and failed to communicate," You sighed in disappointment. The crowd's mummers of irritation quiet down when you raise your hand to continue. "Nothing is prepared. And I know you paid money to see me and the guys perform."

"This time the concert will be a bit like a fan event-" You wave at those sitting closer to the stage and they scream greetings back. "When we reschedule a concert for you guys, and I'll make sure they do, you can see me perform." 

"How's that sound?" Your grin is showcased on the big screens behind you. Everyone cheers and the impromptu fan event begins.

With a sigh of relief, you walked off stage with the sound of people laughing and cheering ringing in your ears. Your manager was talking with one of the staff, waving his arm around as he shouted at them. With a tearful nod, the staff member left and disappeared into one of the rooms.

Tony followed the girl with his eyes before turning to look at your approaching figure. He glared at you from behind his iPad. "What's wrong?"

"What isn't wrong?" You scoffed, moving past him and into your dressing room. 

You're greeted by your boyfriends scattered around the room. Hyunjin, Felix, and Changbin sit on the couch watching edits of you in your recent music video. Jisung chases Jeongin around the room, narrowly avoiding Seungmin and Minho from their spots on the floor.

Chris is the only one who stands from his spot in your chair to greet you. He catches you as you flop into his arms. Before Chris can speak, your manager busts in and calls you back out.

"Since you want to give away free tickets, you can help schedule them into another concert," Tony grins, a malicious glint in his eyes. 

You need to nap and then find a new manager.

Even in bed, your shoulders were tense and your brain was in overdrive. Thinking of the damage last night's not-concert has, and will, cause. Helping your team to comb through each person who attended the event so you could squeeze them into another concert at a later date. The scolding your manager gave you wasn't helpful.

Tangled in the sheets and limbs belonging to your lovers, their scents pressed into the covers. You were warm and so very, very tired with a sprinkle of guilt seeping in. This was supposed to feel nice. It was supposed to help ease you. 

But why couldn't you relax?

"When are you going to let someone take care of you?" Chris asked, wrapping the curls on Y/N's head in a scarf and bonnet. "It doesn't have to be one of us or someone we know."

"Just let someone in." Hyunjin's hands were warm against Y/N's cold face. His plump lips press butterfly kisses against your eyelids, forehead, and temples.

With Changbin and Hyunjin calling dibs on your sides and Chris laying you between his legs, so your head pressed against his stomach. You're pretty sure Seungmin is asleep, curled onto your legs with his hands gripping your calf. 

Jeongin is sprawled behind Hyunjin with his arm over Hyunjin, and hand on your chest, over your heart. 

Felix and Jisung were somewhere in the dorm causing chaos in the kitchen with Minho supervising. You could hear Jisung yelling at the pots for burning him, Felix's laugh, and Minho shouting about melted plastic.

You'll probably have to clean the kitchen at some point.

"For once, just relax and let someone care for you. Please," Changbin whispered with arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"Don't hog him," Jeongin whined, pulling you back into his and Hyunjin's arms. 

Changbin grumbled as he yanked you back giving a chain reaction of Hyunjin and Jeongin pulling you and Changbin fighting for you to stay in his arms. Poor Chris with him latched onto you, he was tugged in every direction with you.

So, this is what the rope felt like in tug-of-war.

"You need to go to bed," Minho's voice comes from the doorway and everyone's heads turn in sync. He stands in the doorway with his hands on his hips, Jisung and Felix peeking around his shoulders.

"Who?" You ask.

"All of us," Minho answers, carefully curling up in an empty spot on the bed. 

Minho's attempts not to wake the sleeping boy are futile as Jisung dives onto the bed. He sandwiches himself between Changbin and your side, scaring Seungmin awake. He grumbles as he adjusts himself and falls back asleep.

Felix lingers at the end of the bed, looking for a spot to sleep. The moon shines on his milky skin and his eyes reflect the light. You turn so your back presses against Chan's chest, and Seungmin huffs as he turns away from you and tucks his face into Minho's neck. Felix was lying atop you amidst the commotion.

"Go to sleep, Y/N."

You hum, your eyes slipping close. It's warm. It's peaceful.

©️DEANAMEANTAE2024

[pettyprocrastination]

Two Phantoms

Pairing: Simon Riley x Female Reader

Summary: Simon sees a familiar face that doesn’t recognize him back. Kid!fic warning for those who do not enjoy them. 

Warning: nothing explicit but vague descriptions of violence, sex, and PTSD.

Word count: 1.2k

Authors note: This is purely a word vomit i did last night at 2am while thinking about Simon not being recognized by certain members of the 141 since they dont know what he actually looks like (ignoring the MW2 canon where he shows his face to them all) but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!

_____

     There’s a struggle in the shift. Going from being Lieutenant of the 141 to being a civilian. From hunting down arms dealers through rain forests and balmy deserts while ignoring the pain in his body and ringing in his ears at the gunfire around him to stepping off of a plane at the Manchester airport and hailing a taxi. To go from a masked monster to a man who hails a taxi in the pouring rain and ignores the driver’s attempt at conversation, shoulders curling in so he can fit his bulk into the backseat with his bag on his lap.

     Going from Ghost to what remains of Simon Riley. 

     There’s no reason to wear a mask in public anymore. Nobody knows him. The spot he’s picked an apartment in is empty of those who remember little Simon and his brother Tommy, nor the tragedy that befell the family. They only know the man who doesn’t speak and only stays in his own apartment every few months but offers his neighbors a terse nod each time he catches their gaze in the hall. 

     If anything a mask would draw more attention to him in public. Nobody bats an eye at the tall man with dark eyes in the fruit aisle of the supermarket.

     Which is why when you see your Lieutenant in public you walk right by him without a second glance in his direction while he remains frozen in place. He isn’t sure why it's shocking to him. You get leave just the same as him. You have a home to return to, a life outside of the blood and shit of the missions where you take his orders with ease, where you leave your fatigues to wear a comfortable pair of jeans and a hoodie with a bleach stain on the back.

       Simon hasn’t seen it before. He knows it exists. That you exist outside of the 141, outside of him. A place where you don’t follow his command in the heat of gunfire and slip into his cot the night after when neither of you can sleep to find solace in each others arms and the marks he leaves on you. 

     But now he’s witnessed it with his own two eyes. In the form of two boxes of pancake mix in your shopping trolley and the sleeping baby in your arms as you try to decide between orange juice brands.

     “Quality is going to shit everywhere, isn’t it bubs?” 

     Simon is staring. He knows it but can’t look away. 

     It’s a duality he knows everybody has. He’s aware that Johnny goes home to Glasgow to visit his brother and gaggle of nieces and nephews that no doubt shriek with joy and hang of his arms every time he visits, asking a myriad of questions that the man answers with patience and kindness one only reserves for children. He knows that Gaz goes home to a small apartment and a girl two semesters away from getting her masters in psychology that Simon doesn’t know the name of but can tell from the way he tries to hide his smile that she’s important to him. Price goes back to an office where he goes over reports and budget plans in a chair that makes his back ache and knees pop every time he stands from it before driving to a house that was once filled with the raucous that can only be made by 15 year old boys that have since graduated college and only call him when its Christmas or his birthday. 

     It’s different to see. To set his eyes on the little curls on your child's head (is it your child? Maybe you're babysitting, a godchild perhaps? Nephew? He knows you aren’t married. There’s an absence of a wedding band nor the tan line that would come from the removal of one in all the years he’s known you.) and to witness the same hand he’s seen sink KA-Bar into the chest of an enemy move up and down, up and down on the little ones back while their fingers curled and uncurled into the fabric of your hoodie like a cat kneading a pillow. 

     Logic knocks in the back of his head when he realizes time has passed since he first saw you. And that if you didn’t recognize him then you definitely won’t recognize him when you turn around and realize he’s been staring at you and your baby without moving for a solid seven minutes in the middle of the juice aisle. 

     Just as his foot shifts to turn and pull him away from this peek into your life that he didn't know existed,  the little one in your arm stirs. A soft whine curls in the back of their throat as their chubby face scrunches up and eyes crack open to latch onto the man watching them back. 

     You still haven’t noticed him. You're far too busy swaying from side to side to keep the baby in your arms calm and checking a carton of eggs for cracks to see the man behind you that is now locked into what feels like a staring contest with an infant. 

     “It’s alright Sam.” Your voice, even when talking to a baby, has a dry clip to it that he knows so well. The same curl in ‘sir’ when he’s pissed you off and the rasp of your laugh at a dingey bar under Soap’s arm. “I’m almost done, okay? Then we can go back home and take a nice long nap.” 

     Sam babbles behind his pacifier and wiggles in your arms. 

     “Yeah, you and me both, little man.” 

     Brown eyes stare into his own from over your shoulder without shame or abandon. 

     He looks like you. 

     But even without your fatigues and your weapon, you’re still a soldier. They all are. 

     You feel it, his eyes on you like a soft tug in the back of your head. Your sister calls it paranoia, her husband says PTSD. 

     You aren’t sure which is better. But when you turn around you see a man standing behind you, an empty basket in his hand and sad eyes sinking into your form. 

     Sam whines. 

     You can feel the thread of recognition between your fingertips as you look at him if only for a moment, a split second of staring into his eyes and grasping for some memory from high school or perhaps a date years passed that never turned into a second because you were overseas, just barely able to feel the fraying strings in your hand before its gone. 

     “Sorry-” 

     Your sister says you get stuck in your own head too much anyways. 

     “-Didn’t mean to block the aisle.” 

     He should say something. Some small reassurance that it’s no problem or he didn’t mind waiting, but he just nods his head once and watches as the woman he’s been through hell with walks away from him without a flicker of realization of who you're talking to. 

     Sam watches him over your shoulder and raises one little hand out toward him, before wiggling it back and forth in goodbye. 

     Simon waves back as you turn into the cleaning aisle and vanish from his line of sight. 

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

uh...hehe. no reason why i wrote this...no reason at all🙂in any case, writing this has also let me know i'm not that great at writing threesomes. oh well, ya live and you learn

Summary: You go to a concert of your favorite band and you manage to catch the attention of the vocalist, who invites you backstage for a more intimate meet and greet. In a not so surprising turn of events, the guitarist walks in on you two at just the right moment.

Warnings: Rockstar!Steve x Reader x Rockstar!Eddie, slight drug use, SMUT (MINORS DNI) threesome, fingering, light degradation and name calling (slut, whore), king of consent Steve, grinding, spitroast, oral (m!receiving), overstimulation, multiple creampies, and some Steddie implications and impossible situations

word count | 5.3k🤙🏻

You were finally going to a concert of one of your favorite bands ever, Corroded Coffin. Having enough money saved up to get the tickets, you almost cried tears of joy seeing the big bold letters of Ticketmaster read: You Got ‘Em. Let the Anticipation Begin.

And anticipate, you did.

The waiting was the hardest part. You had bought the ticket a few months in advance, purchasing the VIP meet and greet package as well. You did without thinking honestly, and as soon as you realized what you had done, you almost had a full blown panic attack. You knew this band were just people like everyone else, but these dudes practically saved your life and the realization that you were going to meet them? It felt like you were going to meet God, but like, ten times the nervousness of that. You had no idea how your mind and body was going to handle this. You’d never met your idols and inspirations before. 

You just hoped to every deity out there that you wouldn’t pass out. That would’ve been fuckin’ embarrassing. But the nerves only got worse the day of, the drive to the venue not helping in the slightest, but talking to other fans about each other's shared nerves made you feel a little better knowing you weren’t the only one to feel this way. And before you knew it, it was time to head inside the building to meet and take a picture with the band before the show started. Time sure flies by talking to other people while waiting in line.

You tried to keep your hands from shaking as you waited your turn, seeing the fans in front of you return with wide smiles on their faces and even some with tears. Oh god, you really hoped you didn’t cry, that would be even more embarrassing than fainting somehow. You won’t cry, you won’t cry…

You tried your best to not freak out when you walked up to the band members, but you couldn’t stop the smile that decorated your face when they seemed just as happy to meet you. Okay, you weren’t crying or freaking out, you were behaving like a normal human, so far so good. You made small talk for a few seconds, introducing yourself, telling them how much their music meant to you, etc. You felt a little guilty about it, but you were most excited about meeting Steve and Eddie. They were by far your favorite members, everyone who’s met them always talks about how sweet and down to earth they are, which made you feel much more at ease when you first bought the meet and greet pass. And those comments proved to be right, if anything it was an understatement. 

Steve was somewhat handsy, but not in a creepy way, you could tell that’s just how he interacted with people, but it didn’t stop your face from heating up. What made it worse was how Eddie was staring at you, a smirk on his face as he watched you and Steve talk excitedly. It almost distracted you from the conversation, but Steve’s hand on your shoulder quickly made your brain focus back on him.

For the picture, you were standing in between Steve and the drummer, with Eddie and the other member on the end. But that wasn’t okay with Eddie for some reason, you had to hold in a soft gasp as he pushed his way over to stand next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist with an innocent smile while Steve, after rolling his eyes, put his own arm over your shoulders. 

While you all got in your picture poses, your eyes almost widened comically as you felt a wetness gathering in your underwear…right in front of them. 

Why? Out of all the moments, your body had to pick exactly now to lube itself up. You hoped the band couldn’t tell how your face was. If your cheeks got any warmer, you would probably have steam rising from your skin. You really respected these dudes, you felt awful being so goddamn horny for them. But it seems luck was not on your side because when you lifted your arms to wrap them around Eddie and Steve at the same time, your shirt rode up just enough for Eddie’s hand to touch your skin. “Damn, you’re hot.” Eddie blurted out suddenly, making everyone stare at him in confusion, mostly embarrassment from Steve.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“No, no, no, not like that.” He winced but before you could get slightly offended, he corrected himself again. “No, fuck, I mean, you are hot but you also feel hot.” The long haired man stuttered, making you giggle.

Then Steve decided to put the back of his hand to your forehead, as if you couldn’t be anymore mortified. “Wow, you’re right, Eds. She does feel kinda hot. You okay?”

Not even having time to register how sweet Steve was for being concerned, you came up with the first excuse you could. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I’m always a bit warm. Plus, it’s August.” They seemed to be okay with that excuse enough for the photographer to finally take the fuckin’ picture, allowing you to escape the awkward situation without any more blows to your ego.

“Hope you enjoy the show!” Steve smiled at you before you had to leave. You knew you would.

It was by far the best night of your life so far. Meeting the people you looked up to, watching them perform your favorite songs up close. The barricade was so close to the stage you honestly thought you could probably reach out and they’d be able to reach back, but you were too busy ogling Steve and Eddie to even think about doing such a thing. They all sounded pitch perfect, just like they do on their albums. If you couldn’t hear the breaths Steve took before belting out another lyric, you’d think he was lip syncing because his vocals were perfect. And you didn’t even know Eddie could sing until you heard him doing backup vocals. You felt like you were in heaven. No matter how much your feet burned from being on your feet dancing around and how hoarse your voice was going to be in the morning from how loudly you were singing along, you felt like you could do this forever.

Watching Eddie play guitar was a privilege in its own right, seeing how fast his fingers moved across the fretboard shouldn't have made you as horny as you were. You were positive your underwear was going to be drenched by the time the night was over. Steve winking at you in the crowd didn’t make your situation any better. If you didn’t know any better, it’s like he knew. But he couldn’t, right? No way. You caught Eddie’s eye multiple times as well, you both smiling at each other before he looked back at his guitar. Yeah, this was the life.

All too soon, the show was over and people were starting to head home. Time really does fly when you’re having fun. But something happened and you had no idea how to react. About to head to the merch table, you heard your name called. Out of all the people that called out your name, you never expected it to be Steve. You saw some members of the opening bands out on the standing room floor and merch tables talking and taking pictures with fans, but you never expected to see members of the headlining band out and about. “Hey, did you enjoy the show?” He asked and you had to blink a few times before being able to reply.

“Yeah, yes, I did! It was the first time seeing you guys and you really knocked it out of the park, seriously. I doubt any concert I go to in the future will even come close to this one.”

“I’m so happy you enjoyed it.” He grinned, reaching up to gently grip onto your upper arm. “I mean, from the way a smile never left your face during the show, I figured you must’ve liked it a little.”

You felt your face heat up again, a wide eyed expression on your face. “You…you were watching me?”

He shrugged. “It was hard not to, you’re pretty adorable.” You giggled like a schoolgirl and immediately regretted it, hated being flustered so easily. But being called adorable by the vocalist of your favorite band was definitely not on your mind when you woke up this morning.

“T-Thanks.” You stuttered, unsure of what to do, but Steve already had a plan in mind.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you and if I make you uncomfortable at all then you have my permission to kick me in the nuts, I swear.” You chuckled in confusion, but motioned for him to continue. “I think you’re gorgeous, I’m pretty sure I kept looking for you in the crowd cause I don’t remember doing anything but that, besides singing of course. So, only if you’re a hundred percent comfortable with it, I’d like to take you back to my dressing room and…show you how much I appreciate you coming to see us.”

You blanched, your body freezing in shock at the sudden proposition. You were dreaming, you must’ve been. Unable to form words, Steve took your silence as offense and quickly started to apologize, calling himself stupid among other self deprecating words. “No, no, don’t be sorry! I just wasn’t expecting it, is all” You quickly explained.

Steve winced. “I’m sorry, I should’ve phrased it a bit better.”

You giggled. “Steve, stop saying sorry! It’s okay, really! I’d…I’d love to.”

Steve’s eyes lit up instantly, a shine coming to his puppy dog brown eyes. “Really?”

“I haven’t kicked you in the nuts, have I?” You joked with a light smile, eliciting a relieved chuckle from the man.

“Then please…follow me.”

You were all nerves as you followed Steve to the dressing room, wringing your hands and trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself. You obviously wanted this, so badly, but you couldn’t help but to be a bit intimidated alone with one of your heroes.

“You want a drink or weed or anything?” Steve asked politely as he escorted you into his dressing room.

“Oh, no, thanks. I’m good.” You replied, trying your best to keep the timbre in your voice from wavering.

Steve smiled, taking a few cautious steps closer to you, his eyes gazing over your form. “Okay.” You tried to even out your breathing as he gently pulled you to him by your jeans’ belt loops, his hand coming up to trail a finger along your jawline, the act making your core throb and causing goosebumps to raise along your arms.

Impatiently, you went to lean in, but Steve stopped you. “Just to make sure; you do want this, right? You don’t feel pressured? I don’t wanna force you to do anything. You can walk right outta here and I won’t judge you one bit. Hell, you can still kick me in the balls if you want.” Steve’s eyes portrayed genuine care, making your heart melt at his blatant kindness and consideration. It made you absolutely sure.

“I do, Steve. I want this. I want you…” You whispered, feeling your body already being consumed by lust. Your stomach churned at the boyish grin he gave you, gently grabbing a hold of your hips and leaning you against the vanity, tugging at the hem of your shirt before kissing you.

It was soft and slow at first, more of a peck. You could feel him testing the waters, giving you an out just in case you changed your mind at the last minute, but your heated body soon grew tired of his carefulness. Steve let out a quiet noise of surprise as you deepened the kiss, hungry for more of him already.

Your mind went fuzzy as you felt Steve’s hands traveling across every inch of you he could reach, each tentative squeeze and pinch growing more confident as the rougher he got the more mewls he elicited from you. You gasped into his mouth as he started to grind against you impatiently, keeping you securely pinned to the vanity behind you, the desk digging into the small of your back.

“Can I give you a hickey?” Honestly, he asked so sweetly that you had to say yes. So polite, so soft and innocent sounding, it almost made you forget he was grinding his erection against your clothed core.

His lips on your neck raised goosebumps all over your body, you were sure he could feel it. But he continued sucking and licking the soft skin of your neck until stung, making the friction of his pelvis against yours all the more pleasurable. Fuck, you could feel your arousal pooling in your underwear as the minutes passed. The more Steve pressed his obvious erection against you, the more your sticky slick spread. You couldn’t take it anymore. “Steve, please…” You whined, craving more of his touch.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl.” Steve whispered, his lips coming up to gently nibble at your earlobe.

“I want you to fuck me…but I need you to stretch me out with your fingers first.”

Steve smirked. “As you wish.” And before you knew it, the man had expertly tugged down your jeans along with your damp underwear, then awkwardly tried to remove them over your shoes before you just kicked them off to make it easier. Steve let out a boyish chuckle that made the butterflies in your stomach flutter rapidly before pushing your legs apart to stand in between them. You shivered as Steve ran his fingers through your slick folds, a cheeky grin decorating his face at the feeling. “So wet already?” I’ve been wet ever since the meet and greet, you wanted to say but you were cut short by two of Steve’s fingers entering you without warning. “Still tight, though.” He chuckled, pressing further into you until he was knuckle deep, curling his digits and hitting that sensitive spot at the front of your walls.

Steve looked up at you with bright, wild eyes, a small smile playing at his lips as you stared back at him in a pleasured haze. “That feel okay?” He must’ve known it did, from the way you were breathing heavily, grabbing at his shoulders like a lifeline; but he sounded so genuine that you nodded with a soft whine. “Good. Let me know if it ever stops feeling that way, deal?”

God, he was so sweet and patient, it started to make yours run thin. You wanted him so badly, and after a few more minutes of Steve finger fucking you, you were sure you were ready to take his cock. You palmed him through his jeans, feeling his thickness, making your mouth water. “I need your cock, pretty boy.” Steve’s cheeks dusted a light shade of pink, making you grin.

You eagerly helped him shimmy down his jeans and briefs down to his ankles, too impatient to remove the articles of clothing. You were already so sensitive, so when Steve ran the head of his dick though your slick folds, you let out a pitiful whine. Steve gave you a once over before slowly pushing himself through your entrance, the two of you letting out gasps, groaning once he was fully sheathed. “Are you okay?”

“God, yes, Steve. Please, move…” You whimpered, trying to restrain yourself from canting your hips to get some more friction. You wanted it hard and fast, but Steve decided to take it slow…way too slow.

Steve thrusted in and out languidly, the feeling heavenly but not enough. You could feel how much he stretched you out, could feel every pulse in his veins, could hear how much your cunt was sucking him in deeper and deeper; all the while Steve never broke eye contact with you, he was every expression on your face, how your eyes subtly rolled to the back of your skull every time he brushed against your cervix, ate up every cute noise you made. You knew he was trying to draw this out for as long as possible, smiling every time you whined impatiently. He knew what you wanted, he was just being a fuckin’ tease. “Steve, please…I need it faster. Harder.”

He playfully raised a brow. “What? Trying to get it over with, huh?” He asked, pinching your side through your shirt.

“No-ah!” You yelped as he suddenly rammed into you, the force making you bounce, his grip on your waist the only reason you didn’t fall off the vanity. “Fuck.” You moaned loudly as Steve thrusted into you at a much faster rate, any objects on the vanity’s desk toppling over and falling to the dressing room floor. “Yes, yes, yes…” You cried, feeling his cock beat against your pleasure spot at the front of your walls, trying to keep in your embarrassing wails as he finally was giving you what you wanted.

“Goddamn, you feel so good, pretty girl. Fuck, I’ve been wanting to feel this gorgeous pussy for hours. I loved watching you in the crowd tonight, a smile never leaving your face, looking up at me like I was a god. You sure know how to make a man feel special, huh?” He rambled.

“You-fuck, you are special, Steve.” You tried to reply back, stuttering with every syllable.

“Yeah? Tell me again.”

“Y-You’re s-special, Steve…”

“Fuck, yes…” Steve’s lips attached to your neck once more, his teeth grazing against your sweet spot immediately, your walls pulsing around him as you were already so close to that peak.

You and Steve were so eager to take pleasure from one another, you both didn’t even hear the door to the dressing room open. “Well, well, well, now what do we have here?” You both gasped and turned to the intrusion, a sweltering heat coming to your cheeks as you saw the guitarist staring you both down with a small smirk playing at his lips.

Steve looked at you first, gauging your reaction before he replied to his bandmate, finding no shame or nervousness in your expression. “Caught myself a little groupie, Eds.” Steve chuckled, his thrusts halting to a stop, almost eliciting a whine of protest from you. Fuck, you were almost there. You could feel your almost orgasm dull and fade away. “Ain’t she a beaut’?”

You probably should’ve been mortified, but the way Eddie was staring down at you from his place at the door, you couldn’t help but want him as well. Both him and Steve seemed to pick up on your desires. But from the way you were looking at both of them, it didn’t take a genius to put it together.

Steve leaned down to peck the underside of your jaw, slightly jerking his head in the direction of his bandmate. “Want him to join? Though, I gotta warn ya, he’s a kinky little shit.” He teased.

You giggled, the idea already making your stomach churn with overwhelming excitement. “What, you like being called daddy or something?”

Eddie scoffs, his already dark eyes darkening further. “Anything that’s not missionary is kinky to Steve. What about you, hmm? Why don’t you tell me what kinks you enjoy and I’ll decide if you can handle me or not.”

His words went straight to your core, your walls pulsing around Steve’s dick, making the man grunt. “Big on impact play. Spanking, slapping. Choking is fun. Scratched, bit, hair pulled; love all that.”

Eddie smirked widely, allowing himself to step closer to the two of you. “Right up my alley. I think we’ll get along just fine, sweetheart.” Then he gave a look to Steve, he had stopped thrusting into you as soon as Eddie started to chat you up. “Take her to the couch and keep fucking her, Stevie.” He didn’t have to be told twice, as soon as the words left his mouth, the man above you switched you both over to the little loveseat in the green room, continuing the pistoning movements of his hips, making you cry out at the sudden pleasure. “And you don’t have to call me daddy, sweetheart. Just Eddie. What about you? What titles are you okay with?”

Steve’s cockhead rocking into that sweet spot inside you made your mind go blank once more. You knew what you loved, but nothing came to mind. “Any. All. Whatever you want to call me, Eddie. I’m fine with anything.” You whined, reaching out to palm the growing bulge in his ripped jeans.

“Whatever I want, huh? What if I called you my little whore, hm?”

You blushed. “Or slut…”

“My pretty little slut…” Eddie tested, interrupted by Steve’s groan.

“Fuck, she squeezed down so hard on me when you called her that.” He mumbled out shakily.

Eddie’s eyes lightened up at the conformation. “You liked being degraded, huh?” You squeaked when he wrapped one of his large hands around your throat, squeezing roughly and cutting off your oxygen supply. “You like being called a dumb little slut, don’t ya? Such a greedy little fucktoy.”

“Woah…” Steve laughed in shock. “I was gonna say that’s a little far, but she pulsed around me again. Felt so good…I think you can make her come with those words alone, dude.”

“I could see it on her, man.” He chuckled darkly, removing his hand from your neck, allowing you to take a gasping breath. “Flip her over, Steve.” Taking instruction obediently, Steve flipped you over onto your front, forcing you to slightly lean over the pleated arm of the sofa, making your face level with Eddie’s crotch. “I could just tell she��d love being degraded like the whore she is. Now, go on and take out my cock for me, pretty slut.” You cried out as Steve reentered you from behind, the new angle making stars obscure your vision. A harsh slap to your cheek forced you to come back to reality, Eddie’s expression morphing into impatience “Already too cock drunk to listen to simple commands?” He cooed condescendingly.

Trying to ignore the immense pleasure your body was feeling, you reached up with shaky hands to undo the fly on Eddie’s jeans, feverishly shimmying them down along with his boxer briefs. You gasped as his hard cock sprung from its confines, gently smacking you in the face before you got a hold on it. The tip angry and red, feeling the blood pulsing through the veins on his shaft from underneath your fingertips, your mouth watered in anticipation. You looked up at Eddie with a grin before wrapped your lips around the head of his dick, a relieved sigh escaping his mouth. “That’s a good girl…” Eddie moaned as you tried taking him deeper, your own moans adding a vibration around his cock.

“She caught your eye too, didn’t she?” Steve’s voice echoed from behind you, not stopping his thrusts into you, inadvertently forcing you to take Eddie deeper.

“How could I not? That cute little nervous expression when she met all of us. Plus, she was at the barricade, practically drooling.” The admission made your face flush with heat, but you were too preoccupied to care.

“I could see her eyeing your fingers during all your solos.”

You took a big gasping breath as Eddie pulled out of your mouth, getting on his knees to be level with you, a smirk playing at his lips. “That true, gorgeous? You liked watching my fingers play along my fretboard?” He chuckled condescendingly when you nodded. “Pretty girl’s so cock hungry, hm?”

“Fuck…” You whined as you felt your orgasm build and build, faster than before, feeling edged way too long.

“Oh.” Eddie hummed in amusement. “Steve, I think she’s gonna come. Can you feel it?”

“Yeah, she’s squeezing around me so fuckin’ hard.” He groaned loudly.

You moaned as Eddie’s hand returned to your throat, gripping tightly enough that you felt lightheaded. Sharp pricks of pain shot through your entire body as you felt the pressure on your trachea, but it only careened you forward to your release, eliciting a loud strained moan from your lips. “Fuck, are you gonna come for Stevie, hm?” You nodded, babbling nonsense you were sure Eddie couldn’t understand. “Good slut, go on, come on his dick.” You heard Steve moan beautifully as you pulsed around him, your velvety walls holding him in a vice grip as you shook and jolted from the intensity of your climax. You barely registered the dark chuckle that escaped Eddie as he watched you writhe and sob, almost hyperventilating as you came down.

“Oh, fuck…” Steve whispered, leaning down to place gentle kisses on the nape of your neck. “So good, so good, pretty girl. Doin’ so well for us.” You purred at the praise, the hodgepodge of both Steve’s praise and Eddie’s degradation throwing you for a loop. You barely had time to recover before the two men started to thrust into you at both ends, moaning in overstimulation and gagging on Eddie’s dick as Steve’s continued its relentless pace, desperate to get to his end too.

“Look up at me, sweetheart.” Eddie spoke and your eyes widened when you noticed his phone’s camera pointed down at you. “Such a pretty thing, sucking my cock so good.” He growled, keeping a tight hold on your hair. The fact that he was filming you sucking his dick probably should’ve concerned you, but honestly, it was kind of hot and you were too fucked out to care.

“Fuck, I’m close.” Steve announced, his dick pistoning into you like his life depended on it.

“Yeah?” Eddie grinned, putting his phone away. “You gonna come in her tight little pussy, pretty boy?”

Steve grunted as his thrusts became more sloppy and erratic, using you for his pleasure wildly. “Shit, I’m coming…” He moaned, throwing his head back in pure ecstasy as ropes of his warm cum filled you to the brim. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chuckled in exhaustion, pulling out and watched as your pussy clenched around nothing, how it slowly pushed his release out and dripped into a little puddle on the loveseat beneath you.

You took deep breaths as Eddie finally pulled out of your mouth, gently wiping drool off your chin before pushing a fucked out Steve out of the way so he could position himself behind you. “My turn, Stevie. Her mouth is fuckin’ phenomenal, but I wanna feel her tight little pussy myself.”

You gasped as Eddie flipped you over, making you face him. He looked fuckin’ angelic with him above you, much like how he looked performing on stage earlier. “Let’s take this shit off.” He growled, all but ripping your shirt and bra off your body, rendering you completely naked while he and Steve were practically still fully clothed. “Gorgeous fuckin’ tits, baby.” He groped them roughly, pinching your nipples until they stung. Eddie was much more comfortable being rough with you than Steve was. You were a hundred percent sure you’d have a multitude of bruises just from Eddie alone.

Again, unlike Steve, Eddie started with a much more rough pace. He wasted no time fully sheathing himself inside you with a hard cant of his hips, your slick and Steve’s leftover cum making his cock slid right in, the force making you cry out. “So tight still, baby girl. I wanna feel you come on my cock too. Think you can do that for me?”

“Maybe. Can try…” You stuttered, your brain practically melting from oversensitivity.

“Aw, she’s so eager.” Steve cooed, running his thumb along the sweat that was formed on the crease of your brow. “A people pleaser, this one, huh?”

Eddie smiled down at you. “That true, sweetheart? You wanna come on my cock just to please me?”

“Y-Yes…want you to feel it too.”

“Then let’s see if we can get you there one more time, okay?” Eddie’s cock was thicker and longer than Steve’s, the stretch a bit more painful but no less delicious. You couldn’t keep in your moans even if you tried. “Yeah, babygirl, let it out for me. Get fuckin’ loud. Let this whole building know how good my cock is making you feel.” You glanced over to see Steve lighting up a joint, his hair tousled and jeans pulled back up to his hips but left them unbuttoned. He looked properly beautiful. “Hey, eyes on me, slut.” Eddie growled, lightly slapping your face to get you focused. “Give me a hit of that, Stevie.”

Steve grinned as he placed the joint at Eddie’s lips, holding it for him as he took a deep inhale and blew the smoke out onto your face. The smell of the drug mixing with sex made for a delightful combo you wouldn’t have expected, the secondhand making into your lungs and making you dazed. With Eddie’s ruthless thrusts and the contact high, you felt yourself building and building up to your second orgasm, wailing and holding onto Eddie’s wrists where his hands were holding onto your love handles with a bruising grip. Your stomach ached with how rough and deep Eddie was inside you, but you never wanted him to stop, not when you were so close to another climax.

“Oh my god…” You sobbed, unable to hold back your loud moans even if you tried, the pleasure all too consuming and intense, you feared you’d black out.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna come again, aren’t you?” Eddie mocked as he saw your body start to shake, chuckling darkly when you nodded hastily. “Steve, play with her clit for me, would ya?” You almost sobbed as Steve’s deft fingers came back for round two, finding your throbbing nub immediately and rubbing in a swift circular motion, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Paired with Eddie’s long, thick cock hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, you were barrelling towards your orgasm at speeds that made you lightheaded. The room almost spinning and you couldn’t focus on anything besides the intense, blinding pleasure that was surging through you. “Yeah, good fuckin’ girl, come on this dick.” Eddie groaned, fucking you through your orgasm until your were crying in overstimulation once again.

“S’okay, pretty girl, you can take it.” Steve encouraged, coming to sit next to you to slot his lips against his and wipe away your tears. You couldn’t stop moaning into his mouth as Eddie sped up even more, chasing his release.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Eddie moaned. “You want my cum, slut?”

Steve grabbed your jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes on Eddie. You only nodded, all words escaping you for how fucked out you were, but Steve gripped tightly and making you wince. “Use your words, gorgeous.”

“Yes, E-Eddie, I want your c-cum.” You squeaked. “Come in me, please, Eds.” Eddie grinned at the whiny cadence of your voice, barely able to form the words. Steve started to suck and lick at your nipples as Eddie’s cum painted your inner walls, the man letting out downright beautiful whimpery moans as he finally finished, pulling out of you with a sharp exhale.

Finally able to fill your lungs properly, Steve and Eddie both peppered your face with gentle kisses before they helped clean you up, though not before admiring their handiwork. Hickeys and bruises galore, it looked like you were hit by a truck, you definitely felt like you had been due to the endurance of these two boys. You started to wonder how you were going to be able to walk to your car, let alone drive home with how wobbly your legs were.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Eddie asked softly as he and his bandmate helped you dress.

You beamed giddily. “More than okay. That was…amazing.” You giggled, causing both men to grin proudly. It was like a dream come true…

“Glad you enjoyed yourself, we sure did.” Eddie teased.

“And be sure to let us know whenever you’re coming to another show. We’ll let you have a backstage pass so we can do this all over again, pretty girl.” Steve winked.

“Oh, don’t worry. I definitely will.”

lalalalalalalala brain rot brain rot, i'll be in horny jail bye-bye!

[bonesandchalamet]

welcome to the final show - h.styles

masterlist

pairings: harry styles x reader!

warnings: fluff

a/n: in my depressed era now that tour is over ☹️

it’s over. it’s somehow a bittersweet ending that for some reason, you never saw actually coming to an end. he’s exhausted, but his heart has never been so full seeing his fans send the love right back to him night after night, and this one seems to get to him more.

family, friends, team members, band members, and even celebrity guests all approach his sweaty body first. fist bumps, high fives, and hugs are all he knows for the next couple of minutes, until the crowd of loved ones part like the sea to reveal you. a kiss would be nice, he thinks to himself. after all, it’s the second most magical thing he could experience after his final performance.

“you did such a good job, h.” you launch your body into his. the smell of his heightened body odor doesn’t bother you in this moment. you just press yourself further into him before pulling away and giving him what he wants. a kiss.

“you enjoy it?” he asks like it’s a ever question. every moment of each show was more than enjoyable, so when he sees you roll your eyes he knows. he knows you loved every second until it was over.

“go get changed.” you point in the direction of his dressing room, and it hits him. the emptiness in his gut appears once again attempting to swallow him. this was over. the performing would actually stop and he could have a break. you can already see the wheels turning in his head, he’s wondering what he’ll do with his free time. he’s never had this much of it since COVID.

“what if I want to stay in this?” he gestures to the gold fringe suit he’s wearing, the vest showing off his beautiful abs and butterfly tattoo. one of his best outfits, you thought to yourself when you saw him enter the stage.

“I won’t mind that.” you smile, cheeks hurting so badly from the whole night of doing so, but you still press on watching his eyes light up at your approval.

you know why he doesn’t want to take it off. it’ll be like admitting the best thing thats ever really happened to be over. that him hearing his fans scream when the lights drop, sing his lyrics back to him, and dance to his songs will be over. the joy he brought to millions upon millions would finally stop. for the first time, he could fly home and have no where else to be later.

“I bet he’ll sleep like a baby tonight.” Anne wraps her arms around your shoulders, a tight smile on her lips and tear stained cheeks that match yours. she’s proud of her sons accomplishments, but she knows he’s ready to go home. she knows he’s ready to sleep in your arms for hours upon hours.

you nod in agreement watching him trot off to Lloyd, his camera hung around his neck showing the band members his photography of the night.

“I got this picture of you, y/n.” Lloyd’s eyebrows wiggle in a mischievous way, harry taps his shoulder with his index finger begging to show him already.

“calm down!” Lloyd laughs, his thumb clicking through the photos until it stops and settles on, what you believe, is an image of you.

harry takes the camera in his hands, a small smile forms on his lips as he stares long and hard at the picture. it’s like if he blinks the image of your visibly tears streaming down your cheeks, bright smile, and pink boa would all go away.

“I love this picture, can you print it out for me?” harry taps the small screen, and he talks with Lloyd like you’re not there. the camera gets passed around to band members again, and your image fades with the millions of other ones.

“was it a good picture?” you ask him when he’s finally moved on from the group and back over to you.

“darling, the best picture ever. going to have it framed forever.” he presses his lips against your temple, arms wrapping around your body, and once again you’re pulled into his sweaty body.

“going to have this night framed for ever as well. it was one for the books.” you watch him nod, arms wrap tighter around you for a second, “now let’s go home, h.”

“I couldn’t have agreed more, let’s go home.”

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Finally Free

Summary: Harry is well aware that his shows are a place for people to be themselves, and he's often asked to help them "come out". But tonight he's helping someone special, to both him and YN, which for him makes it that much more amazing!

Warnings: Absolutely none, and please treat people with kindess

"Are you sure Daisy wants to do this? Here? Tonight?"

"That's what she said." YN shrugs. "You do it all the time for people… what are you worried about?"

Harry shrugs, looking over the homemade sign in his hands.

"Dunno. This one's just diff'rent." He states, turning his head to look at his love. "She's your sister, and your parents are about to hear her big news. It's 'lot of pressure!"

"Harry…" YN places her hand gently on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb along his collarbone, something they both know helps to calm his nerves. "She trusts you! That's why she asked to do it this way."

He nods in agreement. He and YN's sister Daisy became friends as soon as he started dating YN, despite being 5 years younger. He has known what Daisy identifies as for a while now, as she felt safe enough to tell the pair first. He's honored that she wants to include them, or at least him, in this important moment. Coming out to their parents is a big step. It's not as if they wouldn't be accepting, but it is still a huge moment and Harry just wants to make sure it goes right. That it's everything Daisy wants it to be.

"Alright." He states, letting out a large exhale in hopes to breathe out his own anxiety over the situation. "I won't let her down."

"I know you won't." YN replies, leaning up and placing a kiss on his cheek. "She knows you won't."

After raising the pink, purple, and blue flag for a fan in the audience, he turns to them once again to offer some encouragement.

"Go out and conquer and enjoy your bi life as hard as you possibly can! Make some noise for Alfie ev'rybody!"

The entire crowd cheers in celebration, which builds up the excitement, but also the nerves, for what he is about to do next.

"Now, I apologize. I know I said that was the last sign, but I do have one more person that has asked me to help them come out, and now is as good a time as any."

"Umm… can I have that, please?" He bends down at the very front of the walkway, reaching his hand out to the crew member he entrusted with this specific piece of bright paper.

He holds his other hand over his eyes, shielding them from the light with his microphone, and walks about until he reaches the very spot where he sees those familiar faces.

"There you are!" He exclaims, a wide grin on his face now, every ounce of anxiety melting away. He holds up the sign, checking that the big screen is capturing the bright colored letters, outline in glitter pen, and shows of the words that read 'HELP ME COME OUT HARRY'.

"This person is a close, personal friend of mine. We've known each other for a good while now, and she asked me to help her t'night. I feel very honored, thank you."

He notices YN wrap her arms around her sister, their parents on the other side of Daisy with seemingly no clue what is about to happen.

"Could I get some… hmm… upbeat sparkly music now?" He asks of the band, knowing his friend will appreciate making this moment just a bit more unique for her. Like he's been telling himself, he wants this to be everything that she wants it to be.

"Ooh, I like that." He approves, slightly swaying his hips from side to side. "Very good."

The crowd laughs, and claps. He assumes it's mostly for his antics, but hopes it raises the anticipation for YN's sister in a positive manner.

"Daisy!" He shouts, watching the other family members immediately shoot their gazes over to her. "We are doing this, are you ready?"

Daisy nods, quickly turning her head to her parents as she waits for Harry to make her declaration.

"Daisy, t'night, wants her wonderful family to know that she is… oh, wait, I need a flag!" He stops, not intending to stall, but finding relief in the comedy it has appeared to create. He places the sign down, and leans over the side, grabbing a rainbow flag being handed to him by a fan. "Thank you very much."

"Alright. Now we're both ready." He chuckles, sending a grin and wink to the girl as she waits. "Now once I raise this flag, Daisy, you are officially out. So, to Daisy's family, and to all the amazing people here in London t'night…"

Harry begins to jog around the stage, flowing to flag up and down, keeping it low and edging the moment for just a few seconds longer.

"Daisy is…" He raises the flag one more time, keeping it at his shoulder. "Coming out as…" He continues, lowering it down to his thigh.

He looks over to the band, signaling for the music to get bigger and louder. Harry suddenly shoots the flag up higher than his head, as far as his arm can reach upward.

"Gay!!"

The entire venue cheers. Fans, staff, and crew alike. But most importantly, as Harry runs to the place he can get the best view of his friend, he sees YN and her parents embracing Daisy in a big, tight, loving, and accepting hug.

Tears start to form in his eyes as he continues to wave the flag above his head.

"Daisy! You did it! You're officially out and I am so proud of you!" He shouts, hoping the shakiness in his voice didn't prevent the words to fully be heard and understood. "I hope I did this moment justice for you! Ev'rybody, give it up one more time for Alfie, and Daisy, and for anyone else who has been brave enough to share who they truly are with those they love. You are free!"

Harry focuses his gaze on YN, Daisy, and their family, watching all the love being shared between them.

"You are finally free!"

This blog is a safe space. I celebrate all of you who have been able to come out and share who you truly are with the world. I stand by with all of you whom have yet to do so, no matter the reason. I am proud of every single one of you! Happy Pride Month to all!

Overall Taglist: @watermelonsugacry @tw1nflamebruis3 @hopefulwastelandcreation @tenaciousperfectionunknown @queenmadi2 @runway-to-my-aid @theekyliepage @be-yourss @b-reads-things @behindmygreyeyes @michellekstyles @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @buckybarnessimpp @msolbesg @sleutherclaw @katiebaxterrrrrr @percysaidnever @mrspeacem1nusone @thurhomish @harrystylesrecs @vickiii17 @itsbebeyyy @divalovesyou @bxbyysstuff @jessitpwk @sunshinemoonsposts @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @boybands-baseball @austynparksandpizza @missmielyhoran @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @matildasatellite @cherryshouse @yatebe-kohayu @perfectzinenerdperson @babyiamperfectforyou @daphnesutton @around1302 @daydreamingofmatilda @swiftmendeshoran @one-sweet-gubler @jerseygirlinca @carey86 @lomlhstyles @vrittivsanghavi @fdl305 @sunflowersloverr

[maknaeswrld]

a life forgotten | l.mh, h.js

memories are both a treasure and a curse, and the bliss of them barely outweighs the pain that comes with bearing them

wc: 2.1k

genre: soulmate au; reincarnation au; fluff; angst; poly!minsung x reader

cw: marriage; cheating/allusions of cheating; mentions of pregnancy/parenthood; mentions of food/eating; I’m sure there’s other things, please let me know what you catch🫶 no happy ending for you; memories of past lives in italics

a/n: IN HONOR OF MINSUNG OUTTING THEMSELVES???????? respectfully I have no other explanation, enjoy!!!

Soulmates were an unpredictable thing. Everyone has them, but not everyone meets theirs.

Some actively avoid trying to find them, some do everything in their power to seek them out. You had always been in the boat of knowing it’ll happen when it happens, and if not in this life, then in the next. You had always been at peace with the knowledge that your soulmate was the one person you’re meant to find in every lifetime, so you didn’t see a point in searching for or avoiding them. 

Everyone grew up hearing the stories, that seeing your soulmate for the first time will feel like instant recognition, like deja vu, and slowly as you spend more time together and see each other more, your memories of your shared past lives slowly unravel. You could understand why some would be scared of that, of the knowledge of who you were in a completely different lifetime, but you liked to think it was natural, otherwise it wouldn’t happen. 

You always assumed you’d find your soulmate in a normal setting, meeting on the street or at one of your places of work, feeling the tingly feeling of familiarity and planning to meet up for a coffee, giving it the natural time to build to see if it was actually the soulmate bond or just mutual attraction. You found solace in inevitably becoming a statistic, in seeing your soulmate for the first time and them seeing you and everything happening the way everyone always told you it would. 

But as your best friend was telling you about her current favorite band, listing off members names and facts faster than you could think, swiping through pictures of them all, you felt your heart sink as your eyes met the digital ones of two frighteningly familiar faces, your mind buzzing with soft recognition.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you grabbed your friends phone to swipe back to the picture, your brain alighting with renewed interest at the second look of the boys on the screen.

Water surrounded you in every direction, the sounds of laughter coming from behind you. You felt relaxed and happy, your body swaying with the peaceful rocking of the boat.

You startled only slightly when arms wrapped around your waist, a chin propping on your shoulder and a kiss being pressed gently to your cheek. 

“Where is your beautiful mind right now, my love?” 

“Just lost at sea, I suppose.” You laughed, turning around in his arms, one of your hands coming up to cup his face, the other reaching behind him to the other man. “Just thinking about how happy I am.”

Jisung’s smile lit up his entire face, his eyes twinkling as he leaned in for a quick kiss. 

“Come back to the group, love. The boys are going to start their whining if you ignore them for too long.” Minho groaned, squeezing your hand lovingly.

“Just the boys?” You ask teasingly, raising a brow at your lovers, Jisung grinned sheepishly.

“You know how your boys can get.” He waved nonchalantly.

You excused yourself, apologizing for cutting the lunch date with your friends short, but you needed air. Stumbling down the street, you were thankful the place they picked was only a block from your apartment.

The cool spring breeze calms your nerves and clears your head enough so you could watch where you were walking. You stumbled through your door, kicking off your shoes as you made your way to your couch, sitting heavily, head in your hands as your leg bounced.

A path cleared between two groups of people, a beautiful altar covered in vines and wildflowers at the end of it. Everyone present was looking at you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off them.

Jisung had a lovesick smile on his face, Minho’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears. You felt weightless as you made your way to them, being the center of their attention making you feel like the most incredible person in the whole world.

Chan passed you off to them with a kiss to your cheek and a teasing threat towards your lovers, filling in for the father who disowned you for loving two men. They took one hand each, guiding you to stand in between them, all three of you giddy throughout the entire ceremony. 

The rings Hyunjin made for the three of you were intricately beautiful, you saw them for the first time only as they were placed on each finger. 

It was a fairly small and sweet affair, but you wouldn’t want to have had it any other way, everyone that mattered most to you and both of your husbands were present.

The night ran long as your love was celebrated, and ran even longer once you three finally got a moment for yourselves.

You felt numb, staring blankly at your floor while memories seemed to drown your mind. 

“Do you ever feel like there’s something missing?” You asked quietly into the darkness. The arms around you tightened as Minho sucked in a deep breath, you knew he was frowning.

“What do you mean, darling? We have everything we could possibly need or want right here in this home.”

You didn’t disagree. You were happily married to the love of your life, three beautiful children sleeping peacefully just down the hall. You were safe from the wars raging in distant lands, your husband was far from being called to join, but yet you felt as if there was a space that was yet to be filled.

Sighing, you propped your chin up on Minho’s chest, squinting to see his face through the darkness.

“I think you know what I mean. I cannot explain it, but you must feel it too.”

You knew you and Minho were soulmates, you had no doubt about that, the endless shared memories in different worlds proved it well enough, but it almost felt as though that bond didn’t fully seal, despite everything.

“I think you should be worrying more about getting proper sleep so our child you're growing stays healthy than to worry on about something neither of us can actually explain, my love.”

Your hands slid down to your stomach, rubbing it as if second nature. You tried to ignore the pang in your heart now, knowing that what was missing in that memory was your second soulmate.

You got up from your spot on the couch, realizing it was already dark, and stumbling your way to the kitchen to make yourself some dinner.

“You two are never allowed in this kitchen again. I’m serious. How do you burn water?” 

You and Jisung couldn’t stop giggling as you held each other, the both of you also confused as to how you’d managed that particular situation.

“Does that mean you’ll take care of us and cook for us every single day of the rest of our lives?” Jisung asked teasingly. 

“If I did, it would only be to save our house from burning down.” Minho grumbled.

“Awe! Min loves us, Sungie!” 

You and Jisung’s giggles started back up as you both took a side to sandwich your lover into a hug, heart fluttering when he didn’t reject it and instead wrapped his arms around you both to drag the two of you in tighter, nuzzling his face in the nook between you.

“Yes. I absolutely do.” Minho muttered into Jisungs shoulder.

You didn’t think soulmate bonds worked this fast. You were always under the impression that it took time for the memories to surface. You felt dizzy by the non-stop assault, heart swelling with love and breaking with loneliness at the same exact time.

The early morning light cast a gentle glow across the kitchen, the birds were chirping peacefully, and the welcome scent of fresh coffee was filling your house. But your morning was far from peaceful.

You had barely moved from your spot on the couch all night, refusing to lay in a bed that was half empty and unable to sleep while your husband was God knows where. 

Jisung had stormed out last night, leaving you sobbing and took nothing but his keys. You weren’t even certain he’d come back at all unless it was to get his things, and it was honestly your fault.

You had always despised cheaters, they were amongst the worst kind of people in your mind, but when you’d met Minho, he drew you in the exact same way Jisung had. You couldn’t fathom how it was possible, you and Jisung were soulmates, you had loved your husband more than anything in the world, but you somehow also shared all of that with Minho.

You never should have hid it, Jisung was a kind and understanding man, he would have been willing to at least hear you out before leaving you, but instead he found some of Minho’s belongings in your shared home. You tried to explain it to him, but he wasn’t in the mind to listen, just repeatedly asking for your secret lovers name and leaving the second you’d finally uttered it, ignoring your pleading for him to stay.

The wedding band on your left hand felt heavy as you twisted it subconsciously, as if trying to remind yourself that Jisung was still your soulmate and still legally bound to you, you hadn't lost him. At least not yet.

You leaned against the counter, trying desperately to keep yourself from breaking down again as you stared at the extra mug you had subconsciously poured for your husband.

“Can you poor another one of those, Y/n?” You whipped around at the sudden voice, fear and love filling you at the same time at the sight of both Jisung and Minho standing in the doorway, holding hands. “I think it’s gonna be a long morning.”

Grabbing your laptop, you settle into your bed, looking up your best friends favorite band and throwing yourself into compilations of your soulmates. The proof of them being soulmates was glaringly obvious, the subtle glances and touches, the soft looks, all the little things that scream they're in love, you truly couldn’t comprehend how people could look at it and assume it’s all perfectly platonic.

The more you watched, the more you fell into a pit of confusion. You didn’t miss the endless amounts of fans claiming to be any of the members soulmates, claiming they remember things, that if they could just be given a chance to meet up, the members would see. It was glaringly obvious that if you’d tried to reach out, you’d just be marked off as another fan seeking a way in to the bands inner circle. 

Memories continued to interfere with your research on your soulmates throughout the night, in between ‘Minsung’ edits and compilations of the whole band. You could see why your friend liked them so much. They were the type of band with a bond so tight it was obvious their loyalties lied with one another first and foremost. From what you knew of the K-pop industry, that wasn’t standard. 

The more you watched, the more you started to recognize all of them from your memories, not just your soulmates. Tears pricked your eyes at the thought, the fact that this group of souls seemed drawn to each other in every lifetime, and you were supposed to be one of them.

A quick search proved that they’ve talked about it before. Not much, mostly only in small subtle jokes, like one of them saying they all clicked so well from the beginning cause it just felt like they already knew each other. It was never actually said outright, but the evidence that they all knew they were a friendship that transcends lifetimes was obvious to anyone seeking it. 

You could feel your soul longing for its other parts, and you began to wonder if there were more of you out there. Soulmates of your other apparent friends who know exactly who their souls belong to, and know that in this lifetime they are essentially unattainable. Your heart aches at the thought that if that were the case, there are more people out there that are likely extremely important to you that you won’t get to meet in this lifetime.

That realization hits hard. The reality was you wouldn’t meet the loves of your life, you wouldn’t meet the friends you have endless memories with, and you’ll never remember the rest of those friends or get to learn their faces and the memories you hold with them in this lifetime. 

Because soulmates are an unpredictable thing. Everyone has them, but you wouldn’t get to meet yours.

a/n: I’m sorry?😅 I’m really not🤧

Part 2: a life remembered

[fritz-federleicht]

You should do Corey, Joey, and Jim with reader who’s a model!

... with reader who's a model (Corey, Joey & Jim)

Words: 968

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

Corey:

- you remember many years ago when the first headline came up: Model Y/N and singer Corey Taylor a couple?

- that was the first time you were photographed together, Corey grinning and holding your hand while you laughed at one of his jokes

- he accompanied you to your apartment

- after that there were more and more rumors, positive and negative. Whereby it was more negative against Corey

- there were articles about your relationship. Why is a model like you with a bad boy like Corey Taylor? Or what do you see in him? Your relationship was not official yet

- you were not too famous as a model. You got jobs you liked to do. But there was one person you liked modeling for the most. And you do it over and over again. For Corey... well actually Slipknot. At some point he asked you if you could model for the store. Of course you didn't hesitate and said yes right away. Since then you model for every new collection

- when people suddenly saw you on the website it was clear that you and Corey are a couple. You officially confirmed your relationship

- all the attention didn't hurt you no. On the contrary. You got more jobs for designers that never considered you before

- whenever possible Corey accompanies you to fashion shows, sits in the audience and looks at you in love

- part of all the headlines were true. Corey was a bad boy. That's how you came to know and love him. But he quickly changed, became calmer and more relaxed because he finally had the love of his life with him

- eventually, all the headlines about you guys died down. The next ones were years later when you got married and later had your first child

- despite the fact that you are often far away from each other your relationship has lasted over the years and you are happy together

- Slipknot fans only know you as a couple

Joey:

- It is unusual to have a metal band as a guest at a fashion show, this night was probably the first time ever (maybe just because you begged the promoter to invite Joey)

- Slipknot is standing in front of the building, masks on and giving interviews

- you just wanted to check if they are already there, Joey sees you out of the corner of his eye and grins proudly under his mask

- next to him is Shawn answering a reporter's question

- you can't help it. You scurry to Joey and kiss the cheek of his mask, you can literally feel his smile

- as quickly as you came you are gone, the reporter and Shawn look confused. "Was that Y/N?"

- later the show starts, you look like a decorated Christmas tree

- you are supposed to end the show with your walk

- when it's finally time, you step onto the catwalk

- all nine members are sitting in the front row, Joey is sitting at the head

- it looks a bit funny, the men are sitting there bored in suits and masks

- when they see you they straighten up in their seats and watch your performance

- you pose at the end of the runway and turn around, wink at your boyfriend and disappear behind the wall

- Joey is speechless. How can you move so gracefully and seductively at the same time?

- Chris leans toward Joey, the long nose of his mask touching Joey's shoulder. He whispers. "You're really lucky." He pats your boyfriend's shoulder appreciatively

- after the show, pictures are taken with the models. Slipknot comes up to you immediately. They congratulate you on the successful performance

- Joey puts his arm around you. "You were wonderful honey."

- the photographer comes to your group and asks if he can take pictures, you agree

- Joey pulls you to his chest, the other members stand next to your sides like bodyguards

- days later the pictures appear in different fashion magazines, you find the strong contrast between your colorful outfit and the black suits funny

- in the future Joey accompanies you whenever he can

Jim:

- he really tries to be at every photo shoot or fashion show, to support you

- in the beginning he was not liked by the photographers because... well he is in Slipknot. But once they get to know him they find him quite nice. What should he do? Yell at everyone for no reason and destroy everything?

- when you're elegantly lolling in front of the camera he cheers you on, says things like "You look fantastic babe."

- in the breaks he comes to you immediately, asks if you are well, if you have eaten and drunk enough

- sometimes it happens that you model in your underwear, which Jim likes the most

- when you come out of the dressing room and are perfectly made up, he stands there with his mouth open

- when he first saw you like this, he came to you and said softly in your ear. "I think I'm in heaven. I just saw an angel."

- you slap his arm laughing, you've never heard such a corny line from his mouth before

- today he just stares at you, when you stand in front of a white wall and the light caresses you perfectly, nothing makes him happier than to see you like this

- when he then sees the resulting pictures... according to him they should be 'forbidden', no one else should get to see something like that except him...

- Jim keeps all the articles and pictures about you, he says he wants to show them to your kids later so they know how beautiful you are, but you know he just keeps them so he always has something of you with him on tour

[peacesells-imbuying]

I'm so late to this but I saw you wanted angst. So... Sami Yaffa with a girlfriend who like SEVERELY struggles with drug abuse. Like she takes more pills than she needs to and always lies to him, saying she's not doing it anymore and one day he comes home to her on the floor, barely conscious and she refuses to tell him what she took and how much of it because she doesn't want him to hate her for lying. So eventually Sami just forces her to go to the hospital and after testing her they find out she took a deadly dosage of something so now she has to stay in the hospital and go to a mental hospital for a week because she overdosed and almost died. And like Sami tries to call her (in hospitals your friends and family can call you and the nurses will give you the phone but you can't call anyone) but his girlfriend just refuses it everytime because she's scared he's going to break up with her. When her week(s) in the hospital ends she doesn't know Sami is the one coming to get her so when the nurses lead her to like the exit and she sees Sami she just doesn't say a word to him the entire drive back to the house out of fear. You can decide whether or not they break up or Sami stays with her and loves her still :3

Fear and Lies (S.Y)

Hope it was good :) masterlist couldn’t decide the ending. OMG why it took SO LONG for me to post this 💀 tried lol no more posting after this until 12/24💕

Sami struggled to comprehend the allure of drugs. Then, he met her and suddenly, his curiosity multiplied. Their love was undeniable, but something felt off. Was it the drugs and the alcohol? Or were all her promises and truths just empty lies? Every "I promise" and "I'm not lying" left a painful ache in his heart. He understood that she needed medication, and he didn't judge her for that. Still something bugged him.

Once touring was over, Sami arrived at their shared apartment, immediately noticing everything seemed untouched. The coffee was still warm, filled to the brim, and the plates laid in the sink. Pills scattered the bedroom floor. His heart sank, her lies had tricked him once again. Sami cursed himself for being naive. 

Upon entering the bathroom, he sat on the cold tile floor with a frown. “We’re going to the hospital right now.” Sami carefully wrapped his girlfriend’s arm around his shoulder. 

“What? Fuck no, Sami stop-“

“You can barely do anything. I’m driving.” 

She sighed and sat on the passenger seat trying to stay awake. The guilt ate her alive. Losing tract of all the lies said.

As the doctor and nurse checked her body, shocked faces appeared. “She will be needing to stay for the next week, then she’ll be transferred to a mental hospital. She has consumed too many pills along with a substance very deadly.” The nurse walked away leaving the couple alone. Sami looked down at his girlfriend and fear took over her. 

“What did you swallow? And how much?” Sami felt like crying but held it together. All she does is shakes her head, refusing to answer. Sami left it at that. 

The time came for her to be transferred and it was tough. Every chance Sami got to call her, she never picked up. The reason being, she was drowning in her own guilt and shame. She wasn’t perfect. Far from it actually, but she could’ve at least tried. Now the fear of being alone without Sami broke her. Weeks pass by and freedom arrived. 

“Alright, follow me. Your driver is here.” She kept her hope up for family members or close friends but to her disappointment, it was neither. Sami came instead. 

From the parking lot, to the car, to all the way back home- it was silent. Neither of them were going to break it either. 

Eventually though, the tense silence got the best of them so Sami broke it. “I know we both barely had time for each other. With me touring with the band and you in the hospital.” This made her heart beat incredibly fast. 

“Yeah..look Sami. The amount of times I had to lie from the beginning is crazy. I should’ve just been honest with my struggles and addiction.” He sat down next to her. “Why weren’t you?” 

“Because I didn’t want lost you.” Sami fragile heart shattered as he embraced her into a tight hug. “You’re never going too lose me.” Hearing those words broke her into tears. In the end, Sami helped his girlfriend with her struggles which lead to a better relationship than before.

[stratossphere]

do you have a part 2 planned to the jealously v.v fic? because 👀 people would kill for a jealous smut

mine. | v.v

ville’s jealousy doesn’t take much to rear its ugly head. and you know it.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), enough possessiveness to kill a man, getting walked in on, blatant exhibitionism

word count: 7.7k (sorry!!! plot!!!)

a/n: this isn’t exactly a pt. 2, but it is a jealous smut! sorry it took so long to get to this ask but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so here you go :)

tags: @asskickedbygirl @lieutenant-cinnamon-roll @kissofdawn666 @brandons-wife @valos-venus-doom @ghoulishguns @4377666 @d34c1

— —

Sometimes, you wondered how the hell Ville had so many 'friends'. All around the world, wherever you went together, he always knew somebody. And, tonight in Amsterdam, he apparently knew a lot of people. He insisted they weren't his friends, because Ville was about the opposite of a people person, and yet they acted like long lost brothers when they'd all seen each other after HIM's show.

And, of course, you were the only girl in the entire apartment that we had migrated to for the night. Everyone else was either a member of a band you'd never heard of or was a tattoo artist of some kind, and everyone was either ridiculously trashed or smelled ridiculously bad.

So yeah. The night was going great.

You were currently sitting on a couch with what had been Ville and some dude that he'd apparently done shows with on HIM's first ever tour, but Ville kept getting up, so you kept being left alone with his grimy friend. Who clearly had a thing for you, because every time Ville would get up for something, his arm would move to rest on the back of the couch behind your head.

"I’ve never seen a woman that could hold real drinks like you can.” Sometimes men made you wonder how they ever caught any game. This guy especially, considering how many times he’d tried lines on you in the short amount of time Ville had been away from your side.

"How many women have you seen?" You were trying to hold an unbothered tone despite being extremely uncomfortable and extremely close to snapping on this guy, but you couldn't help but make a tiny, unnoticeable dig. He leaned into the arm behind you a little more, and you silently prayed that Ville would come back with the drink he had left to go get soon.

"I'm around one right now. I'm just saying, I'm impressed." He grinned like he'd just nailed the best compliment ever given, and all you did was sigh and take a long sip of your drink as you looked away from him again.

"Thanks." Great. Your drinking skills had impressed someone that probably shot up on his weekends. You didn't want to think too hard about what that had to say about you.

"So, how long have you and Ville been together?" Jesus Christ. It seemed like men who assumed girls would fuck them just because they were confident never had any humility. It made you glad you had ended up dating the man who was about as uninterested in using his lead-singer position to impress or manipulate as one could possibly get.

"A few years. So uh, pretty serious." You said, giving him a pointed look and then glancing at his arm where it was getting painfully close to being around your shoulders. He obviously didn't take the hint, and it felt like he was only leaning in closer.

"Yeah? Where'd he go?" That was clearly a pointed statement, and as you leaned a little bit away whilst considering how much of a problem it would cause if you just nailed this fucker right in the face, you suddenly spotted your saving grace coming back into the living room as he loudly talked to some other dude that was in the same band as the guy sitting next to you. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you pointed right towards Ville.

"He's right there." Your movement seemed to draw Ville's attention, and as soon as he was actively looking in your direction, you gave him a look that pleaded for him to get you out of the situation that he had left you in. As soon as his eyes moved from you to the guy sitting ridiculously close by this point, he stopped talking and his jaw squared. You immediately felt the guy's arm withdraw from behind you when he followed where you were pointing.

"Oh, uh...Jesus. He really knows how to sneak up on a fucker." He tried to play his nervousness off with a laugh, but you could see him subtly moving away from you with every step that Ville took towards the both of you. "Hey, man! Did you bring beers for all of us?"

"It's for her. Get fucking lost." He had shifted into full death-stare mode, and he was standing directly in front of the guy with a beer in each hand. You held a hand over your mouth to cover your grin as the guy spluttered in the face of your boyfriend looming over him.

"What—"

"Get fucking lost. You're in my spot." This time Ville motioned aggressively for him to get up, and you had never seen a person move faster in your life as he shot up from the couch. Ville shouldered him as the guy walked past, muttering something you couldn't hear before he was replacing his spot on the couch and immediately wrapping his arm around your shoulders with that stare still on his face. "And don't fucking look over here, either."

Once again, you had your hand over your mouth to hide your beaming grin, and the guy just tried to act like he was scoffing Ville's snap at him off before he walked away.

"You should've came and got me." Ville said through his teeth as he opened your beer for you before handing it over. You rested your cheek against his shoulder, thankful to have him back next to you again so that you weren't stuck alone surrounded by kind-of disgusting rockstars.

"I mean, what do you expect, babe? I'm the only girl in this entire apartment right now." You said calmly, not really all that affected by it now that Ville was next to you again. He only let out a huff.

"I don't give a shit. It makes me want to fucking kill someone when you get that look on your face." He said tightly, referring to the uncomfortable look you’d given him when he'd come into the living room. You leaned up to kiss his cheek, smiling against his skin.

"You're so sweet." You cooed, noticing that despite the fact that you were giving him a kiss, he in no way acknowledged you or even glanced in your direction. Upon following his gaze, you realized that he could still see the guy that had now moved to the kitchen, and he was still staring. You ran a hand over his hair. "Ville. Honey, relax. It's okay."

"No it's not. No one needs to be getting that close to you." He muttered, finally looking at you when you continued to push his hair back out of his face and behind his ears. "I'm surprised you put up with it for that long."

"Well, he's your friend. I didn't want to start a big thing." You shrugged, wrapping your arm around his shoulders so that you could be closer to him where his was still wrapped around yours while you drew your legs up to your chest. He spat out a scoff at that.

"That dick is not my fucking friend. And even if he was, I still wouldn't care. You could punch Mige if he ever got that close and I'd understand." He insisted, speaking fast and harshly out of hatred. "I shouldn't have brought you here. I promise I won't leave you until we're ready to go."

Thankfully, with every beer that he drank, Ville seemed to lose interest in his proclaimed worst enemy for the night, and you finally felt able to relax as he slowly gave up the hatred that had been brimming inside of him. That was, until Mige showed up with an apprehensive look on his face.

“Uh…I’ve got something you probably want to know.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced back toward the kitchen. You let out a sigh as Ville perked up at that, his hand slipping under your shirt to rub your lower back where his arm had moved to wrap loosely around your waist. He was clearly trying to relax you, but you had already noticed the way he was heating up all over again. It didn’t take much. Mige motioned for you to lean in like he was going to tell you a secret.

"You know Esa? The drummer who used to huff spray paint?" He said, motioning back like you were going to see him standing right behind him. You immediately felt Ville fully stiffen next to you before he was wrapping his arm around your shoulders and almost around your neck as a result, and using your innate ability to pick up context clues, you assumed that Esa was who had been sitting next to you on the couch.

"What. What the fuck did he do." All of that animosity that had been in Ville's voice 15 minutes ago had come violently shooting back, and you rolled your eyes as you shoved your fingers between you and Ville's arm so that he wasn't squeezing you so tight and possessively.

"He is talking ridiculous amounts of shit about you in the kitchen. Things that we wouldn't even say." Mige announced, shaking his head as he said it. His tone of voice told me he didn't exactly feel great about saying that in the face of what was becoming Ville's furious stare. "And he's uh...talking about your 'hot ass' girlfriend."

Ville immediately moved like he was going to stand up, but you stopped him with a tight hand on his arm, giving him a look that warned him not to act impulsively. Ville usually lost sight of his senses when he was even the slightest bit irritated. Especially when it involved you.

"Y/n, let me go." He was speaking through his teeth, and he pulled in your grasp but not actually standing up. Mige watched this with amusement in his eyes but didn’t yet interject as you bickered back and forth with your overzealous boyfriend.

"You promised you wouldn't leave me again, so don't." You warned, tipping your head so that you could give him a death stare. "Take a fucking pill, Ville. Everything is fine."

"Yeah. Take a fucking pill, Ville." Mige goaded, snickering when he saw Ville force himself to relax under your direction. Ville did, however, reach out his long leg and kick Mige's chair back a good foot or so.

This was clearly not working for calming Ville’s nerves, and you sighed before excusing both him and yourself to give him some space to decompress. You knew he was more than antsy, and that the incident with Esa had thrown him off indefinitely for the night, so you were quick to get him alone for everyone else’s sake.

So, a few minutes later in the bathroom, you turned on him with an unimpressed look on your face.

"What's wrong, honey?" You asked, biting the bullet because he clearly looked both incurably miserable and uneasy. He immediately spun around so that he was fully facing you.

"I want to strangle that fucking cunt and then drown him in a puddle of my fucking piss." He spat, one fist clenching while he jabbed a finger back towards where the party was still going on past the bathroom door with his other hand. You snorted at that.

"That's really descriptive. Thank you." You said painfully, taking his hand where it was balled up in a fist and gently uncurling his fingers. "We can go if you've had enough."

"I'm not that much of a bitch." He sighed woefully, letting his hand fall limply at his side once you'd undone his angry fist and then continuing to mope as you moved behind him to press yourself against his back and wrap your arms around his hips over his belt.

"If it makes you feel any better, he’s really fucking ugly." You mumbled as you slipped your hands under his shirt to rub your warm palms over his even warmer stomach. Ville chuckled half-heartedly at that, a soft sigh escaping his lips at your touch.

"I'm not really a looks man." His joke came out dryly, but you laughed regardless, wishing you were tall enough to rest your chin on his shoulder but instead settling for your cheek resting against his shoulder blade.

"Let me rephrase. I'm only going to suffer through drunk party sex with one man tonight, and it certainly isn't Esa." You hummed, letting your hands fall still around his abdomen as you hugged him tightly and leaned up as high as you could go so that you could press a kiss right over the tattoo on the back of his neck. "Think horny instead of hateful, please."

"Ah, you always know the way to my heart, my love." He seemed to lighten a little bit at the word 'horny' leaving your mouth, because he was nothing if not someone who took an opportunity, and he quickly turned in your grasp with a soft smile on his face. "Am I being too much?"

"I think the 'piss puddle' part did it. You need to fucking relax and stop letting everything bend you out of shape." It had been too long of a day for you to word that nicely, but he usually didn't take the hint until he was forced to, so that actually worked well in your favor. He leaned down to kiss you when you slid a hand up to the back of his head to encourage him to do so, but his eyes were still troubled.

"I just fucking hate it that I can't even introduce you to anyone I know without feeling like I'm feeding you to a goddamn wolf's den." He complained, fisting a possessive hand in your hair as he looked down at you with a deep frown. You cooed, rubbing your thumb over his cheek where you were still cupping his jaw.

"Honey, I promise you're making it out worse than it really is. They're all men in their 20s. No man in his 20s comes on to women appropriately." You reassured, giving him a look because he was the pinnacle of that statement. A hint of a coy grin moved to his lips then, and he tucked his face further against your touch.

"It's a daily heartache to be so in love with the most beautiful woman to ever have been created, you know that? I get tired from having to keep back the hoards." He spoke in the verge of whining, and you full-on laughed at that, because he was sweet. Eternally grumpy, but so sweet.

“Are you going to be able to breathe normally out there? I’m really fine with leaving.” You reiterated, letting your hand drop because you knew you couldn’t stay cooped up in a bathroom forever. He blew out a scoff.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

However, he was not in fact fine. Because the second you and Ville re-emerged into the party, you were inexplicably being dragged to the kitchen. You knew he was lying when he said he needed another drink, and you settled with the fate that he was probably looking for Esa. All of your soothing had been for nothing, apparently.

“Please don’t. I don’t want to be a part of a fight.” You complained as Ville led you into the kitchen, stepping around couples standing way too close together to get to the drinks as you watched your boyfriend’s eyes scan the room. He just waved you off.

“I just want to talk to him.” He reassured, his words coming up empty because you could so clearly see the animosity building in his eyes once again. You frowned skeptically.

“I’m getting another beer. Leave me out of it. Seriously.”

You stepped apart from Ville then, letting him do whatever the fuck you clearly couldn’t stop him from doing as you genuinely just tried to find another beer. You were starting to wish this night would just end, because you knew it was right on the verge of turning into a shitshow, but this had mostly been for Ville. It wasn’t often you were in Amsterdam long enough to stop and say hi to anybody, and a good portion of the people at this party were truly his good friends.

But Ville had never been one to quit. And the ‘hot ass girlfriend’ comment that Mige had relayed to the both of you was clearly digging deep, because within a few seconds of searching around, you had lost him completely.

And, just your luck, someone else appeared to take his place.

And that someone else was Esa.

“Are you looking for the beer?” He seemed to sense your irritable confusion in such an overpacked house, but you could see that same hungry look in his eyes as he pointed you in the right direction. “I can make you something special, if you would be so inclined.”

“No thanks. I’m cutting off soon.” You lied, because you knew that you’d watch Esa lose limbs if Ville were to walk up on someone who was so deeply on his nerves making his girlfriend a ‘special’ drink. You weren’t going to encourage what you knew was going to be Ville’s overly-dramatic protective behavior, and you certainly weren’t going to add to it, either.

“Relax. You know, I’ve heard Valo’s girlfriends all do whatever the fuck they want because he never pays attention.” Well, it’s not like he was making it easy for you not to encourage what you knew was going to be a shit-storm when Ville finally found you. You also knew it wouldn’t take long for him to lose his shit.

“Well, Valo’s only got one girlfriend now, and I’d watch yourself with saying he never pays attention.” You said uninterestedly, starting to rip open a new case of European beer and silently wishing that Ville just didn’t have any friends at all. If he was just a little more bitchy, you would never have to go to these parties and play nice with rockstars who knew no boundaries.

“What? Is he supposed to scare me just because he’s your boyfriend or something?” The thought seemed to amuse Esa, but his laughing was short-lived when suddenly it felt as if a shadow had fallen over the both of you. You didn’t even have to look to your side to see who was there.

"What the fuck is that goddamn funny?” Oh yeah. Ville was pissed. And clearly in one of those moods that you knew always led to you breaking up a fistfight. You pushed a gentle hand against Ville’s chest where he was starting to swoop in on Esa like a vulture.

"Just go sit back down. I'll be back in a minute." You reassured, wishing that your fingers could get at the beer box faster to get you (and Ville) out of the goddamn kitchen.

"No. He can stay. If it’ll make you feel less insecure, Valo." And here started the dick measuring contest that you’d been doing your best to avoid. Ville bristled at that statement, and promptly got right in the way of you trying to get more beer. He was too busy glaring over your shoulder, however, and you had to shoulder him to the side because he ignored all your other attempts to get him to move.

"This is all shit fucking beer." Ville clearly pretended that he was talking to himself, but he was talking loud enough for the entire kitchen to hear. Esa scoffed and retorted something you couldn’t hear, but you were more focused on the fact that as you bent over to just grab a beer from an open box of a shittier brand, you felt Ville’s hand on your ass. You let out another huff.

"Go save our spot, Ville." You said tightly as you reached your foot back to nudge him away from you with your heel in his thigh. However, the conversation about you was continuing on without you, and Esa only spat his response to Ville’s insult towards his beer.

"Then maybe you should get out of the kitchen and stop following Y/n around like a fucking bitch." He crooned, shaking his head as he took a step closer to Ville. "You're right up my fucking ass."

"I'll get out of yours as soon as you get out of hers." Ville shot back, getting about three times as close as Esa had just as you stood back up with two beers in hand. "Did no one ever teach you how to shut your fat fucking mouth once in a while?"

"Enough! You both need to shut your fat fucking mouths." You cut that shit really quick where you could see it nearing violent territory, jabbing a finger first at Ville and then in between both of them. "Might as well whip your dicks out now and grab a measuring tape."

"I'm just saying, if you can bear to put your eyes anywhere other than her tits, then I'd be happy to drink your shit beer." Ville completely ignored you, as to be expected, and you quickly grabbed his wrist tightly where he had his arms crossed before starting to forcibly pull him away from the kitchen.

"You and I need to talk. Right fucking now." You snarled through your teeth, not giving either Esa nor Ville a chance to get another word in edgewise as you headed towards the hall. You were praying the first door you saw was unoccupied, because you really didn't feel like going in on Ville in the bathroom, and you let out a breath of relief when you opened the door to an empty bedroom.

"You're hurting my fucking arm." Ville complained as he came into the guest room after you, looking completely unbothered when you slammed the door behind him about as hard as you could.

"I don't give a shit!" You let yourself boil over for a second, throwing a hand in the air as you stared at him with my eyes wide. "Are you seriously that immature that you needed to talk about my tits to some dick I’ve never met? Do you have no consideration for how I feel about you saying things like that?"

"Y/n, I understand that you like to live life pretending that all the men around you aren't objectifying you, but I can't stand it. If he's looking at you like he wants to bend you over the counter, then I'm going to say something." Ville replied hotly, giving you a look that basically said what do you want me to do about it. "And don't even try to give me a face about it. I know you knew he was doing it."

"Yes, I did know he was doing it. But causing a scene and making me look like an object that you’re battling for doesn’t help." You groaned as you dropped down on the suspiciously unmade bed behind you, raking your fingers through your hair. "The more attention you give someone, the more they’re going to do it."

"So what am I supposed to do, then? Stand there and fucking smile while he takes mental pictures of your tits and ass to jerk it to later?" Ville asked, speaking crudely as he stepped a little further forward so that he was standing directly in front of you. You glared up at him.

"Ville." You didn't need the image of some grimy stoner jacking off to mental pictures of you in your head. "One of you shared a bed with me every night and the other one only knows my name. I don’t understand how you’re worried."

"I'm not worried. You're just mine." He spoke possessively, and a simple glance forward where his crotch was basically right in your face told you what territory this was steadily veering into. "I just don't think he knows that well enough."

"Once again, I'm not a possession. You don't own me between the two of you." You’d reminded him many times how irritating it was when he acted like he was defending his property, and yet he never seemed to listen. He reached down and grabbed your chin roughly between his fingers, that infamous stare trained heavily on you.

"Your pussy is certainly fucking mine. I know he knows that." He said lowly, giving you a look that dared you to say otherwise. You just stared back at him with your lips parted slightly, unable to move your head with how hard he was keeping you in place. He pouted his lips at you just slightly. "You know that, right?"

You didn't speak, just nodded slowly as he let you go enough to do so. You knew that all he was thinking about was the thought of you only being his, and you could tell by the fact that his cock was starting to strain against the fabric of his jeans that it was working. And well, at that.

He let you go then, jaw clenching just for a second before his hand came to the outline of his hard-on in his jeans, rubbing slightly as he eyed you with hungry eyes.

"I have to give Esa credit. You are fucking perfect. Every part of you." He said, reaching out and grabbing your chin to tilt upwards so that you were forced to draw your eyes away from where he was palming himself through his pants. "Lie down."

"Baby, this bed is so gross." You mumbled, motioning to the stained sheets and ripped up comforter that you knew without a doubt had seen some questionable things. He shrugged off his coat then, eyes never leaving yours as he came and laid the expensive pinkish-red leather down beneath you on the mattress.

"There. Now lay the fuck down." He repeated, and you couldn't have physically done so as fast as you wanted to when you watched him slowly move to kneel down to his knees at the end of the end in front of you. "You're not my possession, Y/n, but you are my woman. And no one else gets to fucking have you except for me, understand?"

"Always." You inhaled shakily as his fingers found the buckle of your belt, starting to nimbly undo it as, once again, his eyes never left yours. Once your belt was undone and he had pulled it from the loops of your jeans, he hooked his fingers in your waistband and ripped your jeans right down completely unceremoniously. And, as a result, revealing the incredibly skimpy g-string that you were wearing for when you got home. Or now, apparently.

Ville clearly enjoyed the sight, because he pulled your shirt up to your tits to fully expose your lower half, a low groan leaving his lips as his hands ghosted down your sides before they settled at your hips.

"You are so beautiful, you know that? There's a reason no one can ever take their fucking eyes off of you." He mumbled, leaning forward and beginning to kiss softly at your stomach. You whined softly as you felt him sucking at your skin, and as his lips moved, you could see that he was leaving deep hickeys. He then broke away to pull your underwear low on your hips. "Say you're beautiful."

"What?" It was hard to focus, both because he had gone right back to kissing and sucking low on your stomach while his fingers worked on coaxing your underwear down your legs.

"You heard me. Say it so that you know it as well as I do."

God, you were so fucking in love with him.

"I'm beautiful." You said quietly, fingers lacing themselves gently into his hair as he continued to suck deep marks all over your stomach whilst laving his tongue over each one.

"Good girl. I love you." He bit gently at your skin as he spoke, and you gasped slightly as your grip tightened in his hair at the feeling. At that point arousal had fully kicked in, and all irritation had escaped your mind in favor of desperately craving the feeling of his skin on yours.

"I love you. I need you." You whined, spreading your legs wide where he was laying between them. He had your underwear in his hand, and his mouth on your stomach was so close to where you really wanted him that your clit was aching.

"I'll give you whatever you want, love. All you have to do is ask." He said, and you watched as he pushed your underwear into his back pocket. That was definitely going to cause issues later, but you weren't in the mindset to worry about it now.

"Touch me. In any way. I don't care." You begged, reaching up to slide your foot and then leg over his shoulder as an incentive. He very clearly eyed your pussy as his tongue darted between his lips, and then his hands were quickly at your thighs to hold them open before he was leaning down and licking a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit. You whimpered, hand immediately shooting down to card your fingers through his long, messy hair. "Yeah, just like that."

Ville guided your other leg over his shoulder, groaning with the feeling of your fingers in his hair as he quickly began to suck at your clit, hands on your hips holding you down as you began to roll them with every stroke of his tongue. He wasn't teasing at all by this point, and you knew it was because he was trying to get you as loud as possible. Which, on one end, annoyed you because you didn’t want to embarrass yourself at this party, but on the other end deeply aroused you because you knew he was claiming you. And you would've been lying had you said that you didn't secretly like the idea of that.

"Baby, please. I need you so bad." You wanted him on you, and you wanted him in you. As much as you loved his head between your legs, you were craving the feeling of every inch of his skin on every inch of yours even more. He lifted his head then, your fingers still attached to hair.

"No. I'm not done yet." He said firmly before he was dipping his mouth back to your pussy, tongue swirling in lazy circles against your clit as those intense green eyes stayed trained directly on you. "God, I love your fucking pussy."

Whining in response, your hand that wasn't in his hair gripped at the already-ripped and fading comforter on the bed tightly, your back arching just slightly as he resumed sucking at your clit. Your soft moans were beginning to develop into high-pitched whimpers, and he only held your legs open wider as he licked and sucked sloppily at your clit.

Your head was spinning with pleasure, especially when his grip on your hips started to ache enough for you to know that you’d have bruises to accompany the deep red and purple hickeys that covered your abdomen. He groaned against your pussy as your grip tightened in his hair, the vibration of his voice making you shudder as you felt your orgasm approaching faster and faster.

"I'm not gonna—I can't—" Your voice was a hoarse stutter as you tried to get across that he was pinpointing the spot that made your legs shake way too aggressively for you to hold on for much longer, and all he did in response was look up at you with wicked delight in his eyes. That was exactly what he wanted.

When you came, your legs closed a little less than gently around his head, your hips arching harshly off the bed despite his tight grip on you as you moaned loudly. You would've had half a mind to consider how many people were standing not a foot away from the door that was the only separation, had he not been continuing his assault on your clit through your orgasm. Instead, all you did was whine his name as he pushed your legs right back open.

"No more. Too much." You breathed, hand pressing into his head as his tongue slowed but didn't stop. He then finally moved his head back, his still-entertained eyes eating you alive as his lips moved to kiss wetly at your inner thigh that was still pressed open with his hand.

"Are you starting to remember who you fucking belong to yet?" He spoke as if he was goading the answer out of you, and when you used enough of your depleted strength to lift your head and shoot him a dirty look, he just crawled right up onto the bed and dropped himself onto you with your legs on either side of his hips. When he was face to face with you, he immediately kissed you sloppily, and all you could taste was yourself on his lips as one of his hands moved to rub up your thigh.

"Will you calm down?" Even though you were out of breath and a little empty-headed from your orgasm, you could clearly see the wild possessiveness that had yet to fade from his eyes. His hand tightened on your thigh, and he stared right down at you as he ground his hips against you.

"Right after I fuck this pussy and remind you whose it is." He said pointedly, biting at your hand when you brought it up to push his hair out of both of your faces. You glanced towards the door that looked as if it had been kicked in and shittily repaired a couple of times.

"The door doesn't lock." You fretted, frowning at where you could see the broken lock even from the bed. You knew better to get naked in unlocked rooms that resided in parties for more than a few minutes in order to avoid someone drunkenly barging in with their hand down the person accompanying them's pants. Ville immediately scoffed.

"I don't give a fuck. I want you now." Of course he didn't care. He never did. This was the man that had stared his own friends down and had kept going when you'd been walked in on whilst going at it when you though no one was going to be on HIM's tour bus.

You weren’t going to deny that you wanted him just as much, so all you did was let him go so that he could get up and undo his jeans, waiting until he stood up off you before you readjusted on top of his coat. He quickly kicked his boots off before he had his belt undone and his zipper down, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watched you watch him push his jeans down and off. The boots coming off was a sign of how committed he was to this whole situation, and you couldn't help but swallow thickly as he came back towards your open legs.

"I don't want to get anything on your coat." You pointed out, pinching the red leather material and looking up to him with that hint of worry still in your eye. He only raised an eyebrow, climbing back into the bed over you.

"Guess it'll just have to be inside you then, huh?" He crooned, pushing your legs open a little wider as he kneeled between them. "You want my cock?"

"Yes. Need you so bad." You pleaded, wrapping your legs loosely around his waist where he hadn't yet moved from his position in your best attempt to lure him forward and onto you. Or into you. "Please, baby. I can't wait anymore."

He shushed you softly, reaching down to pull you further towards him by your hips before he was shifting onto one arm above you while the other hand pumped his cock a few times. Your eyes stayed glued to him as he did so, your lip bit harshly between your teeth as he positioned himself at your entrance and then pushed in slowly. You gasped at the feeling while he groaned deeply, his arms readjusting to hold himself up where they were resting against the bends of your knees and holding your legs spread open wide.

"Fuck, you take my cock so well. You're such a good girl." Ville breathed against your cheek when his head dropped slightly, the deep baritone of his voice so close to your ear making you full-body shiver. You slipped one of your hands underneath his shirt that had started to ride up to scratch your nails against his back as you let out a stuttered moan when his thrusts began to find a fluid rhythm.

The guest-bed frame was shitty as hell, and it was starting to creak loud enough to make your face heat up a little bit with every forceful roll of Ville's hips. Ville obviously didn't care, and only seemed to fuck you harder at the sound of the moans that fell from you lips with every hit of his cock inside of you.

Your nails were now cemented in his back while your other arm wrapped tightly around his neck as he dipped down to kiss you sloppily. It was all tongue and teeth as he groaned into your mouth, your fingers pulling at his hair to get more where he was basically eating you alive with every kiss he gave you.

"Does that feel good? Hm? You like when I fuck you the right fucking way?" Ville broke away to grunt that against your jaw where his lips had drifted, and all you could do was whimper a yes as you tried to ignore both the creaking and the fact that the metal bed frame was beginning to slam into the wall. He then lifted his head to stare right into your eyes, his face brightened with ecstasy. "Whose pussy is this?"

"Yours." You gasped immediately, arching your back up so that your chests were pressed flush up against each other in order to feel him as close as you could possibly get him. He groaned, thrusting particularly hard and hitting your g-spot for the first time that night.

"Tell me again. Whose is it?" He goaded, pressing wet kisses along your jawline and down to your throat as he leaned into his arms a little more so that your legs were stretched even further. Your eyes were slammed shut, and you had to take a deep breath to even force yourself to form words.

"Yours. Only yours." You repeated, your hand on his shoulder where your arm was wrapped around his neck fisting the material of his shirt tightly as you tried to find some semblance of stability where you had none. Ville crooned against your skin.

"Who?" Him and his fucking games. If he hadn't been fucking you so good into oblivion that you could barely see through the stars clouding your vision, you would've snapped at him for making you repeat yourself so many times. You knew what he wanted, and you also knew exactly how he wanted it.

"Ville." You cried his name as you arched your back a little further, opening your eyes just quick enough to see the satisfaction that flashed on his face at the sound. You knew you were being loud. In fact, you were both being ridiculously loud, but you were too far gone to care.

That was, until you heard a loud banging on the door.

"Hey! Is someone in my room?" Holy shit, that was Esa. You immediately opened your mouth to shout something along the lines of 'fuck off, one second', but you then noticed the smirk on Ville's face about a split-second before his hand was clamping down over your mouth.

"We're done when we're done. Don't fucking say anything." He ordered, not relenting his pace even the slightest bit in the face of the threat of the house owner standing just on the other side of the half-busted door. You pleaded with your eyes for him to let up his game for just a second, because you knew exactly what he was aiming for. And you did not like the idea of some random guy walking in on you getting dicked down within an inch of your life in his bed, no matter how much of an asshole he had been. But Ville gave no sign that he cared.

"Hey! I’m fucking serious! Who’s in there?" The irritation in Esa's voice gave you a pretty good idea of how close he was to opening that door, and you whimpered against the cover of Ville's warm hand. He only moaned as his free hand shifted your hips a little so that he could hit deeper inside you.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

About a second later, the door was open. And Ville still had his hand over your mouth, so all you could do was look fearfully towards the doorway where Esa was standing, and respectively getting a complete, full-body shot of Ville fucking deep inside of you. Ville's head had turned as soon as he heard the door opening, and his face was practically lit up with smug, cocky delight as he presumably made direct eye contact with the man he was in an obvious dick-measuring contest with.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Esa immediately stepped back in disgust, his eyes switching between both of you as he quickly reached back for the doorknob. Ville just let out what you knew was an exaggerated groan, his boasting knowing no bounds as Esa muttered something that sounded like fucking dick before he slammed the door shut.

As soon as he was gone, Ville's hand came off of your mouth, and you literally could not physically help the moan that spilled from your lips the second you were free to use your voice again. You had already been close to finishing, and as much as you hated to admit it, Ville's exhibitionistic act had pushed you much closer in record timing. And he knew it, too.

"Oh, was that good? Did you like that, my love?" He breathed out raggedly, his head dipping before he was kissing you slowly and moving his hand that had been over your mouth back against the bend of your knee as he brought you into your original position. "Cum whenever you want, for being such a good fucking girl."

You were going to fucking marry him someday. Maybe smack him upside the head a couple times before then for his behavior problems, but the fact remained. He was so fucking perfect.

"I'm gonna cum. Oh—so good." You whined, subconsciously wondering if you were hurting him with how deep your nails were in his back but simultaneously too fucked-out to stop yourself. He just shushed you and continued, and then you were cumming, legs shaking and spasming harshly as he fucked your g-spot directly through your orgasm with his lips still brushing against yours.

He came soon after, his moan raising a pitch past his normal voice and making another, post-climax shudder roll through your body as his head dropped to your shoulder and he spilled deep inside of you. He hadn't been lying about finishing in you, and you whimpered at the feeling.

His thrusts went shallow and slow for a while as you both came down from your highs before he finally slowed to a stop, his breathing sharp and heavy in your ear as his back heaved against your hand.

"Fucking hell." He muttered as he lifted his head back up, his eyes that had now gone soft finding yours before he leaned down to kiss you. His kisses were much more gentle now, and he moved a hand up to push your hair away from your forehead and out of your face. "You look so perfect right now."

"I love you." Your voice was so hoarse that your words came out as a whisper, but you knew he heard them, and his lips found your cheek and then your forehead before he was slowly pulling up and off you.

"I love you too. Look. You didn't even get anything on my coat." He praised with a hint of amusement in his eyes, his hand trailing softly across your stomach and hip as he gingerly pulled out of you. You ran your hands over your face in an attempt to bring yourself fully back down to earth, shuddering slightly at the aftershocks of him pulling out before you watched him get off the bed.

"I can't believe you let him come in here." You muttered, holding your feet out as he came back with your underwear and jeans in hand to put them back on. He just scoffed.

"Serves him right. I was just giving him a little reminder." He said stubbornly as he pulled your underwear up and over your hips, holding his hand out afterwards to help you sit up. You just shook your head, a slight laugh that you really couldn't control bubbling up in your chest.

"You are something fucking else, you know that? I can't believe you just stared at him." You smacked his chest lightly as you said it, standing up once he had your jeans up your legs and then combing your fingers through his ridiculously-unruly hair as he buttoned them up.

"Well, you're laughing, so clearly you're not that torn up about it." He pointed out, giving you a knowing look as he finished with your jeans and handed you your belt. "Let's get the fuck out of this shithole so that I can have your ass to myself at home."

"It's not like we can stay now, anyway." No way Esa was going to ever let Ville in his house again after tonight. You accepted his kiss when he leaned into you, resting a hand on his thigh with the hand that wasn’t holding your belt and then grinning when you felt him moan shamelessly into your mouth. "I can't believe people think you're shy."

"I am. You just bring the slut out of me." He defended himself adamantly, motioning pointedly to the now-tighter crotch of his jeans as his point of evidence. He really amazed you sometimes.

"You don't want to wait a minute?" Here he was ready to leave, and he was literally hard. And it was pretty obvious, too. He waved it off, that immaturely unbothered look on his face as he started right for the door.

"I don't care. Esa has to get the full picture of what keeps you coming back for more, eh?" Like you said, immaturely unbothered. You just huffed out an unimpressed sigh and carted him out the door as soon as he pulled it open, trying to ignore that you were walking beside your boyfriend who had a full erection.

He was going to drive you fucking insane someday.

[skzoologist]

word count: ~4.3k, roughly 550-600 words per member

warnings: Bae has a bad mental day in the Jisung one, but it is not described in depth; Bae yells at someone in the last one

genre: slight angst, but mostly fluff and comfort

a/n: Of course I can, thank you very much for the cute ask! I hope this is what you wanted, have fun reading! It was honestly a bit hard to write, because Bae has such a strong martyr syndrome, so he never asks for help and rarely does he get sick, this idiot.

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Bang Chan:

The band was filming something for STAY, which wouldn’t surprise anyone. They were always working on something, new albums, interviews, award shows, all kinds of things.

This time they were all gathered in a room to film, clothed comfortably as they just chatted with their fans and each other. No dancing, singing or anything, just harmless chatting and fooling around, maybe some cheeky hinting at future albums or things STAY could look forward to.

And just as usual, Bae sat there between Chan and Hyunjin, silent. Not that he had to be, of course, no one forced him, but he loved letting the others speak and just listen to them. It was calming for him, and talking a lot just wasn’t in his nature. He added in his own thoughts and comments here and there, answering a few questions occasionally.

But sometimes, sometimes the others’ chatter and yelling became too much to bear, his mind becoming hazy and chaotic. Words would make less and less sense to him, the syllables turning into simple noise that grated against his eardrums. Every yell or shout pounded into his skull, as if someone was actively stabbing the squishy organ.

This didn’t happen often, but when it did, he tried his best to hide it.

Bae was never one to ask for help, always wanting to solve everything on his own, thinking that the moment he would ask for help, he would become a burden. Thus, he remained seated there, lips slightly pursed and a hand tugging at his ear that was hidden by his long hair. He would always do this unconsciously, the notion slightly easing the pain and confusion residing in his skull.

A hand gently grabbed his, tugging it away from the raw skin underneath his fingers. His head was led towards a shoulder, his pained ear pressed onto skin and fabric. His other ear was covered by a hand, the thumb slowly caressing the hair around it.

That unbearable noise became quieter, as if he was further away from it, everything now muffled and more tolerable. The hold on him was tender, as if the smallest of wrong moves would shatter him.

Even without glancing up, Bae knew it was Chan who held him so carefully. Only one person did this, quietly humming for him so he could focus on the vibrations that left Chan’s chest. His overwhelmed mind was grateful, immediately latching onto that quiet buzzing and focusing only on that.

The chaos decreased around him, no doubt the result of that shushing sound he’d heard just a few seconds ago. It was probably Minho, his other hyung who always came to his rescue whenever this happened.

“How’re ya, baby?” - Chan’s pleasantly low voice asked, urging Bae to hum in response.

He was definitely feeling better, his jumbled mind able to focus on what someone was saying, but he remained there anyway. Bae would never admit it out loud, but he felt the safest in Chan’s arms, as if nothing could harm him.

His hyung let out an airy laugh and squeezed his shoulder, only holding him tighter. It was all Bae could ever ask for, a gentle distraction from his failing mind. From the outside, it just looked like he was cuddling with Chan, so it was the perfect solution.

And for the rest of the live, Bae remained seated there, leaning against a dimple-smiled Chan who held him happily.

Lee Know:

That day in particular wasn’t any different than the others. Everyone woke up at the crack of dawn, ready to start their schedule after -hopefully- throwing something into their stomachs.

Bae was no different, starting his day at the gym to get into shape for their tour. An hour or two later, he was done, absolutely sure he would be sore the next day. After a quick shower he hopped over to the company, only to go to singing practice.

They wanted him to hit a higher note, something that he couldn’t get just right. So they had him try again and again, his throat sore and head hurting. It took him an embarrassing amount of time, but he finally hit that note, the coach letting him go for the day. It was a good thing too, because with how long he took, he had to go straight to dance practice, unless he wanted to be yelled at.

Bae ran there as fast as he could, his breathing heavy as he opened the door and found everyone already inside, ready to start. They smiled at him, standing up and getting into formation. He followed their examples, getting into place and dancing when the music started, even though the room felt too bright, painfully so.

But it seemed like it wasn't his day, as he only kept messing things up. His vision had black spots swimming in it, his mouth felt dry no matter how much he drank. No amount of blinking helped him either, half his vision already gone, making it really hard to see the others or even the wall-sized mirror in front of him.

“Bae, you either get yourself together or leave.” - it was Minho’s voice, prompting Bae to look in his direction. “With the tour on our necks, we really can’t afford anyone lazing around. So fucking try harder!”

Minho was becoming extremely agitated, his voice loud and snappy. Bae understood why, knowing fully well that his hyung was simply saying the truth, so he just nodded in response.

“Look into my eyes when I’m talking to you.”

Bae really tried, he truly did. But no matter how much he looked, he could only see a part of Minho’s face, everything else was covered by darkness. His head was starting to develop a dull pain too, slowly growing stronger by the minute.

“Hey, Bae. Bae, can you see me? Jagi, say something.” - his hyung’s voice immediately softened, his face held in careful hands. Yet, he could only stand there, gulping air greedily with swimming vision, even though he'd closed his eyes a while ago.

“Shit, he’s having a migraine.” - that was all it took for him to be lifted up and quickly taken away from that horribly bright room.

Only when he was gently laid down onto a bed did he manage to pry his eyes open, wincing at the pressure that built behind his eyelids and skull. It throbbed relentlessly, as if something wanted to burst out of there.

“I left out water for you on your nightstand, please drink as much as you can. Your phone’s there too, call us if you need anything, like always. We’ll be back soon, just try and sleep it away.” - with the sensation of lightly cold fingers fluttering over his forehead and pushing away some stray strands of hair in their wake, Bae heard the door to his room close as both his hyungs left, whispering to not worsen his headache.

Seo Changbin:

Everyone knew Bae was careful when it came to dance practice, even the managers and the other workers.

So imagine their surprise when they witnessed Bae twisting his ankle first-hand, all because he didn’t want to accidentally collide into another member.

No, it was usually Bae who was the first to assess damage when something happened, the first one to help and calm everyone down. And somehow, he did that even when he himself was injured, holding a slightly shaking Jisung’s hand and patting a freaking out Felix on the head. It wasn’t like it was a big injury, no, it turned out to be a simple sprained ankle, one that would heal in a few weeks.

At least Bae thought so, unlike everyone else, who babied and pampered him endlessly.

“Binnie, I just wanted to grab some water…” - he sighed out, but no malice was in it. “You must not move a single muscle while I’m here, your knight in shining armour!” - came the loud reply, Changbin soon appearing with a big glass of water in front of his patient.

Bae could only sigh and accept it wordlessly, watching as the little dwaekki’s eyes shined with what could only be identified as pride.

Why?

Well, for some unknown reason Changbin nominated himself as Bae’s personal assistant, ready to help in anything. In anything. Bae wanted to grab something? It was in his hands in the blink of an eye. He wanted to go somewhere? Changbin immediately knelt down before him, ready to give him the piggyback ride of his life.

“You do know I can walk with crutches, right?” “What crutches?”

That was the other thing, he kept asking the poor doctor for crutches, only for them to disappear the next day. He wasn’t that stupid -unlike the members of baboracha-, he knew it was this little dwaekki’s doing. Bae was on the verge of giving up, letting Changbin have his way. The man was way too stubborn for his tired mind.

The sound of a door opening could be heard, Chan and Hyunjin striding through.

“How you doin’, baby?” - Chan asked in a singsong voice, giggling as Bae just glared at him in return.

Hyunjin merely dramatically draped himself over Bae’s uninjured side, making sure to snuggle up to him extra hard. Bae’s face contorted, protesting against this unfair treatment. But no matter how hard he pushed the younger away, Hyunjin always came back and latched onto his immobile form. Chan also joined in on the fun, ruffling up his hair and leaning against the back of the couch.

“I’m glad you’re in high spirits, but don’t forget to go to the photoshoot in an hour. Take Changbin with you, I don’t want you to worsen your injury.”

Bae nodded at that, knowing fully well that he most probably had no choice in the matter anyway.

And how right he was.

That hour rolled by, his form smothered in the others’ and his ears still ringing with their teasing and giggling. Somehow he got free from them, only to have Changbin carry him to his room and help him get ready. He really didn’t need help, but he couldn’t fight the man off, it was like trying to push a giant rock with a broken hand.

So, with heated cheeks, he was finally ready to go, only to witness the dwaekki rush in front of him after he himself got ready as well, kneeling down.

“No.” “Yes.” “No, Bin.” “Yes Bin.”

Bae groaned as he dragged a hand down his face, praying that no camera would catch them like this. With a heavy heart, he climbed onto Changbin’s back and buried his head into his neck, listening to his delighted giggles as he ran out of the dorm.

Hwang Hyunjin:

They were doing a live for their fans, listening to music and chilling while chatting. It was the usual shebang, everyone joking around and teasing each other.

While Bae was quiet, like usual, he was somehow even more out of it that day.

He didn’t comment on almost anything, he didn’t give any of them a criminal side eye when they acted like their usual gay self, nothing. It was a bit troubling, something that even a few fans noticed.

In all honesty, Bae was just a bit under the weather for no particular reason. He woke up tired, as if someone took him off the charger halfway through the night.

That remaining energy only diminished as he went through with his day, now seemingly nearing its end. He tried to mask it up, but it felt nearly impossible.

Bae desperately hoped that no one would notice his damp spirits, but his prayers weren’t heard.

Hyunjin moved next to his standing form -because they were all huddled up, watching a clip-, a hip bumping into his. He glanced at the younger next to him, seeing him start to lightly dance around, a little habit of his. So he ignored him, focusing back onto the clip–

Another bump. Then another and another, until he finally looked at the perpetrator, who just flashed a cheeky little smile his way. Bae couldn’t stop the slight upwards curve of his mouth, especially when Hyunjin took his hands and started dancing harder, forcing Bae to join him in his shenanigans.

They swayed together, spun around, even as the music ended and another took its place. No, Hyunjin didn’t let up, not until he heard Bae’s soft laughter, until he saw the older smile so wide his eyes turned into little crescent moons.

Sometime along Felix and Jisung joined in, fooling around and filling the place with laughter. The remaining members either took some photos or filmed them, having the time of their lives watching this rare moment.

Bae didn’t notice them until it was all too late, his breath short and lungs greedily demanding more air. He stopped with a Hyunjin draped over his shoulders, his cheeks hurting from the smile he formed. Slowly, his mind catched up to what he had done, his eyes settling on the camera and the zooming chat, the latter filled with comments on how cute he and everyone was. His skin flushed red, something everyone caught before he hid behind his hands.

“Come on, don’t hide, you were so cute while dancing!” - Hyunjin whined over his shoulder, no doubt enjoying the situation.

Bae merely shook his head, unable to face anyone, especially the camera and their fans behind it.

“You never really dance with me, what’s this!” - Changbin started protesting, soon joined by several other members. “Yah, he’s right, are you playing favourites now?” - it was Minho this time, his typical cheshire smile dancing on his lips.

Bae couldn’t form an answer, too flustered and mortified. The members and the staff all laughed, watching as Hyunjin walked in front of Bae and turned him away from the camera, hugging him. He let Bae bury his face into his neck, swaying from side to side gently to the rhythm of the music.

“Thank you.” - Bae whispered it out, but even over the chaos, Hyunjin heard it, bringing a gentle smile to his lips.

Han Jisung:

Waking up felt useless. Getting out of bed was even more useless.

Why should he bother, when his efforts were wasted, only his faults pointed out? Why should he even try at that point?

None of it mattered.

Those were the thoughts circling around in Bae’s head, his sad form engulfed in his blanket, his room plunged into darkness. It was way past his alarms, the time nearing noon. He was lucky to not have anything on his schedule that day, besides his own training and practices. This way he wasn’t causing trouble for anyone else for not appearing, something that slightly eased his guilt and self-deprecating thoughts.

He could freely mop in his room, or at least, that was his plan.

The plan that was shattered when someone knocked on his door gently, the knob twisting and light pouring into the room once he gave no answer. He was facing away from the door, so he had no way of knowing who the intruder was. But it was better this way, they wouldn’t see his sorry state and how miserable he became.

The bed dipped next to him, only the quiet shuffling of clothes could be heard in the deafening silence.

“Why are you here?” - Bae grated out, his voice rough from the lack of use. “Felix texted me.” - Jisung answered, because of course it was him.

The boy had a keen sense of Bae’s mood, always knowing when he was having a bad mental day. It was both reassuring and frightening.

None of them talked after that, just merely existed in the same space. It was as peaceful as it was suffocating.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Silence greeted Jisung, his question remaining unanswered. But he didn’t huff, whine or ask it again, no, the boy just slid up against the headboard and made himself comfortable. No talking, prying, nothing. Only their soft breathing could be heard and the soft taps as Jisung was no doubt messing around on his phone.

Bae remained lying there, guilt eating away at him like a slow-working poison. He knew Jisung had his schedule full, the boy needing to be at a photoshoot. But no, instead he was sitting in his room, dealing with his sorry ass.

“I know what you’re thinking, and no, there was a technical problem with the cameras, so my shooting was rescheduled. So don’t even think like that, aegi.” - Jisung’s voice was soft, yet stern.

Bae wasn’t sure if it was the truth or the sweet lie he needed to be told to feel better. Either way, he accepted it, because he had no choice. Not unless he wanted to completely break down in front of his quokka.

A soft melody started filling the room, completely unprompted. It came from Jisung’s direction, the song immediately recognised by Bae as a Howl’s Moving Castle OST. It gave his mind something to focus on, instead of his spiralling thoughts that were eating him alive.

Han Jisung knew him too well, to a scary amount.

To the point where he took Bae into his hold without missing a beat the moment Bae moved towards him. He also knew of that specific motion that calmed him down, his touch soft and gentle. He also knew not to pry, not to shush him or whisper sweet nothing into his ear. No, he knew Bae merely needed to be held, to be hummed to softly.

Han Jisung knew him too well, but he cherished it.

Lee Felix:

They had a rough day, filming shot after shot, busy making the new MV for their upcoming album. This time Bae had a bit more role than the others, being the one who was put into the spotlight. He himself wasn’t sure why, because usually it was Felix or Hyunjin who got this role.

But, he wasn’t about to complain, so he just quietly did as he was told, following the instructions quietly and cursing silently when something wasn’t right and they had to reshoot it.

He was on his last thread, ready to roll over and die when the staff members announced that they were done, telling him he did a good job and everyone was ready to go home. The other members were already gone, having finished an hour or two ago, no doubt already ready for bed and relaxing -except Chan, he knew how the man could get-.

Bae collected the remains of his strength and said goodbye to all the staff, wishing them goodnight and helping a bit where he could. They only let him linger for a few minutes, soon shooing him away with gentle smiles, no doubt seeing how tired the idol was.

So, he changed clothes and went on his merry way to his dorm, the ride silent and never ending. But eventually, he was in the elevator, the little ding letting him know he was ready to step out shortly. His long legs carried him to the correct door sluggishly, his body feeling heavy and useless.

Bae only wanted to take a hot shower and fall into his bed, but his plan failed before it could even take form.

The moment he stepped foot into their dorm, Felix was there, greeting him with a gentle smile and a gentler voice. The younger took his bag and put it away, leading him to the bathroom after he took his jacket and shoes off.

A steaming bath awaited him, the water smelling sweet and heavenly. Felix didn’t say a word, just pushed Bae into the room and closed the door. Now, Bae was confused, never doubt that, but he was also too tired to question anything, so he just accepted it and took off his clothes. The water was just the right temperature, relaxing his sore muscles and lulling him into a blissful state.

When he caught himself slightly nodding off, the scent of rose and hibiscus like a lullaby, he got out of the bath and dried himself. His fluffy pyjamas were already there, no doubt the work of the young aussie. With a smile on his face, he put it on, the plush fabric engulfing his form comfortably, like the hug of a pillow.

Sauntering out, he was quickly led away by Felix once more, this time towards their living room. Everyone else was there, already piled up on the couch and seats. The young boy led him to an empty space, sitting down and urging him to take a seat next to him. Bae obliged, his tired mind not even thinking about the prospect of arguing.

That was why he even let the freckled boy make him lay down, leading his head into his lap. Nimble fingers immediately tangled into his hair, playing with the strands and massaging the skin. A blissful sigh left Bae’s form, his eyes closing in delight. There was a movie going on the TV, everyone watching it, but he didn’t care at that moment.

Felix’s touch was too relaxing, lulling him into a tranquil headspace, soon plunging him into the land of dreams.

Kim Seungmin and Yang Jeongin:

Bae was obviously frustrated with himself that day, it was written in the slight dip in his brows and the forceful moves he kept repeating in front of the wall-sized mirror. Nothing was good for him, even though to the naked eye, he had already perfected that same move 2 hours ago.

At least that was what Jeongin thought, his gaze plastered on his hyung’s agitated form as he watched the man restart the song yet again. It was an endlessly repeating hellish cycle, one that increasingly worried the maknae.

Without an ounce of hesitation, he stepped away from the windowed door and walked a bit further down the hall, taking out his phone and calling someone. It didn’t take long for the other to pick it up, groggy voice greeting him from the other side.

“Hey, you need to come back to the company. Dal hyung is still practicing.”

That was all it took for the other to understand the severity of the situation, his voice perking up in alert.

“I’ll be right there, don’t go in alone.” - the call ended, Jeongin pocketing his phone and anxiously waiting around.

He never liked when this was happening, it always felt like playing with fire. His hyung would never intentionally hurt any of them, but he could get so consumed by his own self-hatred and perfectionism that it would be impossible to get him to stop.

Not without someone getting hurt, albeit not physically.

But Jeongin didn’t need to ponder for much longer, Seungmin’s form approaching his in the corridor. They nodded at each other and back to that door they went, the only one that had light and music pouring out of it still. With bated breaths they opened it, walking in until Bae noticed them.

But even then, he didn’t stop.

“Hyung, you need to stop.” - it was Seungmin, the braver of the two.

Bae merely shook his head, carding a hand through his hair in frustration.

“No, Hyung, really, stop for today, please. Your form is already perfect, please.” - Jeongin pleaded with him, desperate for this to come to an end.

Their pleas hit deaf ears, their hyung ignoring them and starting the choreography all over again. Seungmin had enough. He walked over to the sound system and paused the music, disconnecting Bae’s phone from it in the process.

Now that got his attention.

“Fuck, Seungmin, I said no!” - his voice was raised, his shoulders raising up and down as he was desperately gasping for air.

The room was silent, neither of them saying anything. It took Bae a few seconds to realise what he had done, regret immediately swallowing him whole.

“Shit, no, sorry, I didn’t mean to shout, Minnie, forgive me. I–” “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.” “No, I’m so sorry, to both of you.” - Bae’s voice cracked at the end, his form engulfing Seungmin’s. “Ew, no, you’re all sweaty and gross!” - the younger playfully yelled as Bae merely laughed, going over to hug the maknae as well, no matter how much he protested. “Sweaty hugs aside, will you come back with us now?” - Jeongin asked, using his puppy eyes to make sure he would win.

With a silent sigh, Bae nodded, knowing he wouldn’t win against these two anyway. After he quickly packed his stuff together, the three were on their way back to the dorms.

“Dal hyung, you’re too harsh on yourself. I saw you perform that choreo 6 times back to back and there was nothing wrong with it, and I’m not saying this only to make you feel better. You’re blinded by your chase for perfection, missing it when it’s right under your nose.” - Jeongin’s confident words were loud in the quiet halls, robbing Bae’s attention away. “Sometimes you have to let up and take a step back, Hyung. There are times when the solution is that, to just take a rest. If not for yourself, then for us.” - this time it was Seungmin, the puppy’s words filled with emotion.

Bae just walked with them silently, but their words cut deep. He didn’t even realise that they were already at their destination, the two youngest already out of their shoes.

“You can crash at us tonight, I already told the old man. Take a shower and sleep, Hyung. We’re watchin’ you.”

The oldest couldn’t help but laugh at that, ruffling his maknaes hair as he walked by them, uttering a silent thanks.

He was truly blessed to have such attentive members by his side.

[hauntedparadisebandana]

141 x drummer!femreader

Summary: fanboy soap drags the group to a downtown bar to see his favorite band member play live.

Pt 1/2

Warnings: swearing, implied scent kink??, Mentions of drinking, Y/H means your height

[The pov's switch in this story]

*7:00 pm, downtown bar*

The bell rings as the group enters, doors shutting behind them, they stand there, taking in their surroundings. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and cheap perfume, the lights above are dim, giving the atmosphere a chill vibe. The group takes a seat in a booth near the stage.

"Why are we here again?" Grumbles ghost, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets. He was forced to come on the groups adventure downtown.

"We're here to see the band play. They're one of my favorites." Explains soap, being the ring leader of the trip, excitement coursing through his viens.

"Couldn't you just listen to their music back at base?" "But it wouldn't be the same, plus now I get to see 'em live." Ghost huffs at his response, leaning back into the seat. He always ended up on soaps trips, whether he wanted to or not.

"What's the band called? I may have heard of them before." Says gaz leaning in.

"The Deck, a total of five people, each named after a card. They mostly play rock/metal, and a few of 'em can sing. My favorite member is the drummer."

"Hm, never took you for the metal head type, soap." Quips price, coming to set down their drinks, then popping a seat by gaz.

"Well, ye learn something new every day, gaz what time is it?" "It's 7:20, are they playing soon?" "Yep, they play at 7:30 once every week at different bars in town, at the end the drummer gives away her pair of drum sticks she used to play that night, if im lucky she'll give them to me."

This gets a reaction out of everyone, ghost chuckles lightly while price and gaz lets out hearty laughs. At this soap's face flushes red, getting embarrassed, "What's so funny?"

"So the drummers a girl huh, sounds like you're a bit of a fan boy." "Am not!" "Are too! You even know what time they play each week! And that the drummer gives away her sticks, whats next, their favorite colors, foods?"

Soaps flushes more, face red as a tomato as he leans back and turns away, "You know what, gaz, I officially hate you." "So you do know all that! Admit it, you are a fan boy!" "You are such a dick! I only know because they said it in an interview!"

Price laughs at soap and Gaz's bantering, getting a little chuckle out of ghost as well.

"Don't worry soap, it's cute how much of a fan boy you are for the drummer," gaz leans in and starts to pinch soap's cheeks, cooing and babying him; earning him a swift punch to the arm.

"That's enough out of you two, they're coming."

"What? No joke?!" Soap whips his head around to look at the stage. No one's on. When he turns around, gaz is laughing into his hand, and price hides his smirk in his glass of whiskey.

"Captain! I thought we were cool, now yer teasing me too?"

"Sorry soap, couldn't resist, but they're coming on for real this time" as he points to the stage the members bring out equipment, setting up quickly as possible, when they finish and take their places. The singer up front, the guitarist to the right, drummer on the far right. On the other side is the bass and second guitarist to the far left. The group could see the appeal, she was hard to miss.

"Soap, if you don't stop staring so hard, your eyes might fall out of your head." gaz laughs again, placing a hand on soaps shoulder.

"Just look at 'er tattoos! They're awesome. "

You could see ghost perk up at 'tattoos' she has officially piqued his interest, but he didn't want to show it, so he just stared at her intricate ink. Her most visible tattoos are on her arms, one arm is a full sleeve, the other arm has scattered tattoos. There is one peeking above her neck line of her shirt, it goes down between her breasts. Ghost nodded slowly, taking in her appearance. She was special, different, the whole band was, and the group liked that. Slightly extroverted, and bold, ready to fuck shit up.

"Aint she a sight for sore eyes" price mumbles, taking a longer sip, the thoughts coming faster than he can drink. "Ghost I can tell you're thinking, You looking at her too?" Says price quietly, taking another sip of whiskey, it turns out ghost can't hide his emotions from everyone,

"She's different..." "That she is," Price chuckles,

"I told you guys, she's cool,"

Suddenly the main lights turn off, and the stage lights come on, illuminating the band. after the singer gives introductions they begin to play. It seems as if the group controlled the bar entirely, the music was bassy, compelling, loud; and the people seemed to like it, as most sung along screaming. The drums and guitar had a solo part, and soap almost melted, gaz just laughed at him. Soon, the song was over, the last echo of sound was heard and the bar erupted into yells, claping and whistling.

By the end of the songs, the group was tipsy, with soap and gaz almost on the edge of being drunk. The group sits there in awe for a moment. The experience was new. "I'll say, that wasn't half bad, I like their style." Price crosses his arms.

"Yeah, you picked good soap," Ghost nods to soap. "I knew you would come around ghost! They're good, right? The way they play is amazing!" "Uh oh, he's fanboying again." "I'll kick your arse."

*y/n pov*

I wipe the sweat off my forehead, taking a swig of water. Me and my band mates smile and wave taking in the praise, the excitement. "Now it's time for the fun part, y/n, pick the lucky winner for tonight's sticks."

I smirk and quickly look around, I spot a booth close to the stage. A total of four men sat there, all looking at me. They're all cuties at that. The one sporting a mohawk had a twinkle in his eyes; a true metal lover at heart, I assume. I nod to the leader, hopping off the stage quickly making my way to the booth. The guards follow close behind, ensuring my safety. As I got closer, his eyes go wide. I take the guy with a Mohawk hands, giving him my drum sticks, my glossy lips form a grin as he stares at me, like a child meeting santa for the first time.

"You're tonight's lucky one." I smile at him sweetly, nodding to the rest of his table mates. Up close, everyone is rather handsome, their eyes drilling into my face, focus y/n. I make my way back to the stage, putting up my equipment, getting ready to leave.

*pov, 141*

Soap sits there, jaw slack and eyes wide. Gaz busts out laughing for the third time this night, and price smirks. "I-I got 'er sticks, I really got 'er sticks!" He exclaimed

"You sure did soap,"

"I don't know if anyone noticed, but damn she smells good," adds gaz. "Her smell is strong, sweet." "It's intoxicating." Ghost mumbles, rubbing his temple, the bourbon was finally getting to him. Her smell is like a sweet musk, hard to rub off, hard to get rid of. He remembers the way her bracelets and bangles jingled, sweet music to his ears. Fuck. He could feel something straining.

"'er voice is sweet too.... and her smile, shes really cool." "Oooook fanboy soap has gotten delirious." "Am not!" "Are too! Stop denying it!" "Whatever!" Their words slur a bit. Maybe they were a bit drunk after all.

Price sighs, rubbing his head at the twos antics. "I'm grabbing another drink, care to join?"

"Yeah, I'll go, but just to move around. I've been sitting so long it feels like my ass is glued to the seat." Gaz complains, holding his head in his hands.

"Let's go." The entire group gets up to get drinks, soap gasps as he spots y/n. She took her shirt of some time ago, now only in a sports bra, showing off her rad back tattoo. She stands with her hands in her pocket. The second guitarist is also standing, leaning against the booth talking to her, laughing.

"You should've seen the way he was looking at you! It was like looking at a kid seeing gifts under the tree."

"I seen his expression, I thought he was gonna get emotional and start crying right there as I gave him the sticks!"

the guitarist smirks glancing past y/n, "speak of the devil, it's the kid on Christmas and his group."

"Oh hush spade, leave the man alone."

We get closer to hear y/n hush the guitarist, we sit at the bar near where they stand, away from her and the guy, too drunk and weary to make decisions. Plus, the band's guards were close by, best not to piss them off. The guitarist continues to look over at us

"You know you guys can stand by us right, join us, we don't bite....well, I do but y/n doesn't." He pulls y/n in by the shoulder, to which she punches him.

"Don't listen to this jackass, come, it's safe to sit over here." She waves us over, inviting us to join her, those same bracelets and bracelets making the same sweet noise.

*y/n pov*

Theres a bit of an akward silence for a moment, I tap my hands on my thighs. Its then broken as the guy to my right speaks up, his voice rough and deep, smooth around the edges. It sends a shudder through my body, the smell of cigar smoke and cologne fills my senses.

"These are my men, ghost, gaz, and soap, I'm price." Each one nods and greets me as price says their name. Spade always being a dick has to speak up,

"So the kid on Christmas is soap, hm," he takes a sip of his drink, I pinch him after he says this.

"ignore him, so, what brings you guys downtown tonight..." I say, taking spades cup and taking a sip of whatever he's drinking.

"Well, our buddy soap here wanted to come see you guys live." Gaz grabs soap by the shoulders, shaking him.

"See us live hm? You a big fan?" I grin, looking soap right in his eyes, questioning him.

"Well-" "He's a huge fan, he knows the times you play, where you play, he even watches the group interview-" "Yes, I'm a fan," he says, cheeks red. Hand slapped over gazs mouth to hush him.

I put down my glass, "Oh, well we love very dedicated fans, don't we spade." "Mhm, love em'"

I lean back, looking at the two. The big one to my left, ghost, speaks up.

"Your tattoos..."

"Hm, what about them?" I look up at him, fuck he's tall, about 5 inches taller than me, as I'm Y/H. He looks about 5'10-6'2, well built, pure muscle, and oh that accent... he could easily crush me-

"Where do you get them done..." those eyes

"I do most myself, others I get a friend to do. I run a tattoo shop in my spare time."

"You have talent, y/n" price speaks up, smiling at me.

"Oh you flatter me," I joke, placing a hand on my chest. "No really, you play in a band, run a tattoo shop along with doing your own tattoos? That's pure talent that deserves recognition."

"Why thank you price," I laugh, running a hand through my hair, getting it out my face.

He nods down at me, I look at him. I see something shift in his expression, it was dark, hungry, I don't question it one bit; getting that all to familiar feeling in the bottom of my stomach. I squeeze my thighs. His eyes are a deep shade of blue, all of theirs are blue, except for gaz, his are a pretty shade of rich brown

"You smell really good..." gaz perks up,

"Ah, that's my perfume, strawberry poundcake, got it as a gift."

"..." Gaz soon has the same aura price had, hungry, wanting. I catch onto this quickly. Feeling my stomach jump I avert my eyes, looking for a distraction. Maybe he's just drunk...

"Hey y/n we need to head out, ace is tired of waiting and hes starting to bitch about it." Thank fucking god

"Ace is tired of everything" I sigh turning back to the group. "I gotta run boys, but me and the group will be down here tomorrow around 7:00 for an off day, if you wanna join."

"Sure lass, we'll join ya" soap nods eagerly, getting the others to agree even in their drunken states.

"Ok that's great! See you soon." I turn on my heels to run after spade who had started leaving without me. Face flushed and the feeling still in the pit of my stomach. Still feeling their eyes drilling into my back, I slide out the bar doors.

[haveihitanerve]

Some things the avengers do because they’re little shits and live to torment each other-

Bucky and Sam are required by law to sing the itsy bitsy spider every time Peter walks in the room

Tony will at any opportunity push something in front of Steve, or place it strategically, because he will, without fail, not notice and stub his toe

Natasha steals everyone’s food from the fridge. Not to eat. Just to watch the chaos when they realize their food is gone

Clint will tape notes to peoples backs, especially right before missions and important formal meetings. It’s not even things like ‘punch me’ it’s more along the lines of ‘stop staring at his ass’ ‘have a great day at rehab babe!’ ‘He gave me aids’

Thor got about seven replicas of mjolnir made and placed them around the tower to see who would pick it up and then be awestruck (his plan backfired tho when he couldn’t figure out which one was the real one and then recruited Peter and Steve to help him which did absolutely nothing)

Peter will casually fling a web at his fellows, without them noticing until they try to take their hand out of their pocket, or with them noticing because suddenly the floor is really close and they’ve eaten shit because their feet are attached to the floor

Clint uses his bow and arrow powers for evil and will shoot food, phones, people, anything out of his friends hands

Peter does the same

Tony created a bunch of powerful magnets and placed them around the tower on the second floor and whenever Bucky pissed him off he turned it on and just watched as the super soldier flew up

Steve got Thor to place a similar “curse” onto the shield that was on Mjolnir (because as King of asgard he can do that) and then threw it at his friends yelling ‘catch!’ and then watched as they slammed into the ground because Steve had Thor change it to “anyone who has never said a rude word to Captain America is worthy to wield this shield.” and then naturally Peter was so proud when he was able to lift it and bragged around but then he also fell to the floor because he called Sam a pig and he was captain america. (sam and bucky laughed themselves hoarse. Peter pouted)

Bucky can and will detach his arm and use it to terrify the shit out of people at night, especially during movie night where he can reach around four people to poke Sams shoulder or when he can hide underneath the couch when Peter goes to the bathroom and grab his ankle. (both screamed like children and Peter started walking on the ceiling whenever he needed to use the bathroom late at night)

Long rounds of Hide and Seek are played where some members are unknowingly the seekers

Sometimes the newer avengers band together and play pranks on the original four which led to quite fun quotes such as “I have enough gray hairs without my own team stabbing me in the back!”-tony “I didn't dive into the ice seventy years ago for this!”- Steve “I will never forgive you!” (nat after kate opened her favorite and last yoghurt and ate it in front of her) “I swear one more fucking verse and I will green all over you!”-Bruce

Okay now some of them being nice to each other, or just some sweet stuff they do all living together-

Clint makes everyone breakfast in the morning on saturdays. Its sweet but hes also the only one who can cook decently

As an attempt to help him they will sometimes try to make him breakfast in bed but it always ends with egg on the ceiling and them sitting at a Dennys

Peter falls asleep anywhere and everywhere because when his energy runs out(he didn't eat enough) he just drops and sometimes he’ll be found on the ceiling, sometimes attached to a wall and they always wrap a blanket around him, maybe tuck a pillow under his head because he likes sleeping in random spots but that doesn't mean it cant be comfortable

Pepper and Nat have girl night at least once a month and at this point its just all the avengers huddled in the den Tony made specifically for the two of them, painting nails and doing hairstyles and complaining about everything

They each wear each others clothing. Tony and Peter do it the most often, Tony being too sleep deprived to notice that hes slipping on Steves shirt and Bruce’s pants and what are most definitely clints shoes, but Peter does it on purpose, sneaking into Buckys room to nab his sweatshirt, snatching Steves shirt off the bench while he changes, unwinding Nats scarf from around her neck as she walks past. Bucky and Sam honestly don't even have their own wardrobe anymore they exchange clothes so much, and Steve has to buy new shirts and hoodies and sweatpants almost every week because his clothes are one of the largest out of all of them and everyone takes his

Peter cannot cook while awake but sometimes he will sleepwalk and make an entire five star three course meal at three in the morning and whenever someone hears him (Bucky and Steve with their enhanced hearing or Clint and Tony who never sleep) they will sneak into the kitchen and watch him to make sure hes okay before carrying him to bed once hes finished and cleaning the kitchen and packing the food away to be eaten the next day

They have mandatory tower cleaning day and everyone pitches in

Even if they're all in different parts of the world (or galaxy) they all facetime on Saturdays and catch up with each other

Tony keeps the fridge stocked up constantly with everyone's favorite foods and has a list taped on it with a reminder of everyone's allergies

Every hero with a side kick/mentor child has a specially designed bag with all the things they might need from bandaids to noise canceling headphones to gogurts. 

feel very free to add any you think of