#skid’s ask album

[skidcd-megamix]

Since testament is like Dizzys God parent, do you think they would introduce the be(a)stie A.B.A to her?

This ask was before dizzy update so ermm perhaps testament would reconnect them and this is how they got back in touch

[koiiiji]

i must admit, i’m amazed by your calmness

author's note ; slightly inspired by Ocean’s 8, so for mood you can turn 'the investigator' or 'taking out the trash' from Ocean’s8 soundtrack album🕯️💋💄

summary ; when king of Busan is released from prison, his first stop is to confront the person who betrayed him.

the room was steeped in quiet tension even before you arrived. Jinrang sat in the armchair, shrouded in shadows, his fingers drumming idly against the leather armrest. the soft hum of the city outside seeped through partially open window. your apartment smelled faintly of jasmine and red wine, an intoxicating mix that reminded him of you.

he had enough time to spent thinking about you. about the way you’d always slip out of his arms after a long nights, your lips teasing promises you would never keep. you had always been untouchable, a wild thing he could never cage.

you wasn’t his. not really. you never had been.

but tonight, as he waited, he told himself you owed him. you owed him for the nights you left him aching, for the betrayal that sent him to rot behind bars, for making him believe, even for a fleeting moment, that you could be tamed.

the door clicked open, and his gaze darted to the entrance.

you stepped inside, your heels clicked loudly against the hardwood floor, and your silhouette framed in the dim light. you paused briefly when your eyes found him, but you didn’t flinch. shoulders remained calm, chin slightly tilted in that defiant way that drove him mad.

“back so soon?” you asked lightly, your voice calm, though he caught the faintest tension in its edges.

you set your purse down and turned your back to him, movements smooth and deliberate as you walked to the kitchen. he didn’t respond. instead, he watched you, his dark eyes following the graceful curve of your back, the sway of your hips. your calm facade only fueled the storm brewing inside him.

“would you like a drink?” you called over your shoulder, pulling out a bottle of wine. you poured herself a glass with steady hands, but Jinrang could see the slight tension in the way your fingers nervously gripped the stem.

still, you didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge the crackling energy in the room as you moved to the table. you set your glass down and gestured to the chair across from you.

“sit,” you said, tone inviting but laced with subtle steel.

he stood slowly, his powerful frame unfolding like a predator rising from a crouch. your confidence was a thin veil, but he didn’t want call you out on it. not yet. instead, he walked to the table, his footsteps deliberate, each one a quiet declaration of control.

his chair scraped against the floor as he joined you.

when he sat down, the air thickened.

“i must admit,” you began, voice smooth, betraying none of the tension coursing through your veins, “i am amazed by your calmness.” you tilted your head slightly, lips curving into a faint smile as you took a small sip from your glass.

his jaw tightened. you was baiting him. you always did this — pushed him to the edge just to see if he’d fall.

Jinrang didn’t answer immediately. his jaw tightened, a faint twitch playing at the corner of his mouth. when he finally spoke, his voice was deep and deliberate, every word carrying the weight of years. “you expected me to storm in? to throw a tantrum, maybe?”

your smile widened, a feline expression of amusement. “oh no, Jinrang. that’s not your style. but i did wonder if you’d show up at all.”

he leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. “and here i am, with the woman who betrayed me. and she acting as though we’re here for a friendly dinner.”

“betrayal?” you set your glass down with a soft clink, your brows rose in mock surprise. “that’s a harsh word. i’d call it… making a business decision.”

an that did it.

in one swift motion, he was on his feet, his chair skidding back with a violent screech. you barely had time to react before his hand was around your throat, grip firm and unyielding as he pressed you into the back of your chair. wine glass trembled on the table, a single drop spilling over the rim and trailing like blood down the stem.

he towered over you, his sheer size and strength making you seem impossibly small in comparison. his voice was a low, dangerous growl as he hissed in your ear, “i rotted in prison for four years because of you. so don’t tell me about ‘business decisions,’ woman.”

your heart hammered in the chest, a wild rhythm and blood pulsation you was certain he could feel beneath his hand. fear coiled in your stomach, cold and sharp, but you refused to show it. your eyes locked with his, defiance flickering like a match against a hurricane.

“you don’t scare me, Jinrang,” you rasped, tring to make your voice as steady as possible, despite the pressure on your throat.

his grip tightened just enough to remind you of his power. and it worked when the edges of your vision blurring slightly as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your cheek. “you should be scared,” he murmured, his voice a deadly whisper. “you have no idea how much i’ve thought about killing you.”

your lips twitched into a faint, foxy smile despite the situation. “and yet… you’re here,” you said, your voice softer now, almost mocking. “in my home. unable to stay away.”

a low, humorless chuckle rumbled from his chest. “you’ve always been good at playing games, haven’t you? always outsmarting me, always—”

click.

the sound was soft but unmistakable. Jinrang froze, the cold pressure of metal against his groin anchoring him in place. he didn’t need to look down to know you had drawn a gun, the barrel pressed firmly against his most vulnerable spot.

your free hand, hidden beneath the table, held the weapon steady. the sharp curve of your lips deepened, your smile now wicked and triumphant.

“i’ll give you credit,” you said lightly, voice dripping with mockery. “you almost had me this time. almost.”

his eyes blazed with fury, his jaw clenching so tightly you thought it might crack. slowly, his hand loosened from your throat, though he didn’t step back. “you think this is a game?” he growled, his voice shaking with barely restrained rage.

you tilted her head, feigning innocence as you met his glare. “oh, Jinrang. it’s always been a game. and you’ve always been the one chasing.”

his massive hand slammed onto the table beside you, making the wine glass jump and the walls tremble with the force of it.

you flinched.

his expression was a storm, dark and deadly, but beneath the anger was something else — a simmering tension that neither of you could deny.

“you’re lucky i didn’t come here to kill you,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice low and raw.

“and you’re lucky i don’t feel like pulling the trigger,” you countered smoothly, your smile as sharp as a blade.

for a moment, you two stayed like that, locked in a dangerous stalemate. his towering frame loomed over you, your much smaller form unyielding despite the gun you held. the air between you was thick with more than just hostility — it was electric, a charged tension that neither could escape.

finally, he stepped back, his movements slow, deliberate. you lowered the gun but didn’t put it away, keeping it resting casually on your lap...

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

the moment the door closed behind him, the tension you had fought so hard to suppress unraveled like a snapped thread. the air felt heavier, as if the weight of his presence still lingered in the room.

your hand rose instinctively to your neck, your fingers brushing the tender skin where his grip had been. the faint ache made you shudder, a physical reminder of the power he wielded, the raw force he had so easily used to remind you who he was.

your hand trembled as it fell away from your neck, and you pressed it to your forehead, closing your eyes.

get a grip, you told yourself, but it was no use. your breathing was shallow, uneven, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t push away the memory of his hand pinning you to the chair, his towering frame blotting out the world around you.

you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the table as your other hand clutched the cool marble surface. the gun you’d pointed at him now sat discarded on the table, its presence doing nothing to erase the fear that had coiled tightly in your chest the moment he rose from that chair.

your fingers brushed the stem of your wine glass, but you didn’t pick it up. instead, you bowed your head, letting the weight of the moment crash over you in waves.

you had always been good at the game. you thrived on it, played it better than anyone. but tonight… tonight you’d felt the danger in his eyes, the crack in his control. for the first time in a long time, you wondered if you’d pushed him too far...

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

Jinrang gripped the steering wheel in his car, his knuckles white against the leather. the city lights blurred as his mind raced, replaying the encounter over and over.

your defiance had been there, of course — it always was. you’d held your head high, your sharp tongue slicing through the thick silence between you two like always.

but beneath it… he had felt it.

your pulse, wild and frantic beneath his fingers. the subtle quiver in your breath. the way your body had tensed when he loomed over you, when he slammed his hand on the table.

you’d been scared.

it should’ve felt satisfying, knowing that for once, he had managed to crack your armor. but it didn’t. instead, it left a bitter taste in his mouth, a gnawing unease that twisted in his gut.

he leaned back in the driver’s seat, exhaling slowly as his mind drifted, unbidden, to a memory he hadn’t thought of in years.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

it was late, the kind of late where the world seemed suspended in stillness.

you had worn one of his shirts, the fabric comically oversized on your smaller frame. it was white, crisp, and hung off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin and a teasing hint of collarbone.

“you look silly,” he’d said, smirking, but there was warmth in his voice.

you’d rolled your eyes, sinking onto the couch beside him with a grace. your legs tucked beneath you as you leaned against his side. “it’s comfortable,” you’d shot back.

he’d been reading something, but whatever it was had quickly been forgotten as you leaned against him, your head resting lightly on his shoulder.

for once, you weren’t trying to outmaneuver him, to tease or provoke. you were just… there.

eventually, you shifted, your body sinking deeper into his side until your head slipped down to his lap.

he’d frozen at first, unsure if you’d even realized what you’d done. but then he heard your breath, slow and steady, felt the weight of your body fully relaxed against him.

you’d fallen asleep, your cheek pressing into his thigh, and your hair scatter over his lap.

he’d stared down at you, his large hand hovering over your hair for what felt like forever. and then, finally, he’d let it settle, his fingers brushing lightly against your temple.

you had been so vulnerable, so open in that moment. it was a side of you he rarely saw, and it had burned itself into his memory, the softness of it, the fragility.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

Jinrang blinked, the memory dissolving as the harsh reality of the present returned. he drummed his fingers on the wheel, the tension in his chest refusing to fade.

you had been vulnerable tonight, too, but not in the same way. tonight, it had been fear — not trust — that left you exposed.

and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

he shook his head, shoving the thought away. you played your game. you always did.

but no matter how many times you slipped through his fingers, no matter how many times you pointed a gun at his heart —or worse, his groin — he knew he’d come back.

because you were the only one who had ever made him feel this alive.

[reconstructwriter]

Star Wars Fix-it: The Holonet Edition

The well-bribed algorithms of the Holonet should have relegated Tookruta1387’s clip to the tender hearts of a few friends. The days of spontaneous viral posts – without credits to grease the wheels – died not long after the rise of megacorps in the Republic. But the poster was either lucky or savvy enough to play the algorithms because “Jedi Being Cold” exploded. Screens, conversation, even news. And their post was just the start of a trend…

“Jedi Being Cold”: An old transport ship, frost coating the inside of its windows. A corner swathed in a nest of robes. Within three padawans snuggle together, fast asleep. If they were cats they’d be purring. One is purring despite a lack of feline attributes. A hand nudges them with a datastick, only for it to float away to a cloud of similar items.

“Jedi Being Cold” part 2: A snow-covered lake. One knight finishes sculpting a realistic snow tiger. Two others Force push each other like hocky pucks across the ice. One goes flying towards the statue. An expression of ‘oh crap’. Incredible, Force- assisted acrobatics deftly avoids the sculpture but crashes right into the sculptor in a tangle of limbs, sending them skidding into a snow-bank. The third Jedi pokes their head into the many-limbed hole and gets snowballed for the trouble.

“Jedi Stealing Children”: A child at a slave auction. A robed figure swoops in like a hawk, slicing through chains with their lightsaber and ripping apart cages with the Force. The camera pans to one slaver Force shoved into a cage, clearly furious as the Jedi escapes with a whole crowd of people, many children.

“Jedi Stealing Children” becomes the title for 1287 pictures, clips and gifs before someone adjusts the algorithm. This makes them surprisingly hot commodities on the Dark Holo, especially the one with a Nautolan Master dramatically fleeing the capture attempts of a horde of children – ending in one dramatic arm reaching out as kids bury him

“Jedi As Warmongers”: A young Padawan, blood splattered, has a ‘does it get better’ look on their trembling face as they stare up at their Master. The Master is even grimier and gorier as they gather their Padawan up with an ‘I’m sorry but no’. The Padawan weeps and shakes, burying their face in their Master’s robes, who has silent tears down their face. In the background is a war zone.

“Jedi as Warmongers: part 2” Has war holomovie music playing in the background as the snap-thumm of a lightsaber echoes, vivid blue piercing the dark. The blade raises over something, is brought down…over a block of cheese and loaf of bread. The Jedi padawan gleefully declares: “Grilled Cheese for all!” The sound of sprinting footsteps is heard and a dramatic “Noooo,” from a Jedi Knight.

“Jedi as Warmongers: part 3”: The music has switched to aftermath of war horror, the kitchen looks like a cheese atomic bomb hit. The children are cleaning up and one wipes cheese with bread and pops it in their mouth: “grilled cheese for all!” An adult admonishes “You spit that out right now that’s not sanitary.” In the background the Jedi Knight is doing the same thing.

“Jedi Showing Off” Is Yoda’s contribution to this mess – which is just him going through an entire stack of photo-albums on his previous padawans. He opens the last book to Dooku the Padawan when Dooku the Master barges in: “Stop this indignity immediately!” The camera shows an intense close-up of someone’s palm. “Who even taught you how to operate holo-video? –” feed cuts off.

“Jedi Dignity”: Feed resumes from a different perspective as Master Dooku – previous camera still in hand – gives Yoda and several other watching Jedi a lecture on appropriate Holonet-posting behavior. “Not appropriate baby photos are?” Yoda asks, a card-shark’s spread of pictures with Dooku’s baby face. Dooku yanks them out of Yoda’s hands. “Not without m-the person’s permission!” Does a double-take. “Are you filming –?” Horrified glower. “Mace you traitor!” Video abruptly cuts off. Permanently this time.

Not even algorithm adjustments – and there are clearly several – can stop that from becoming viral. “Mace you traitor!” becomes slang for the latest generation. Mace himself rolls with it. Dooku attempts to entomb himself in the archives until this all blows over.

Actions may speak louder than words but memes speak loudest of all.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

loml

Request: absolutely need u to write a fic about roy kent’s controversially young ex gf writing so long, london about him and the teams reaction to the realization. happy ending or not 👀

Roy Kent x Popstar

1.7k words

Warnings: Language, angst, age gap, did I mention angst?

A/N: It's been a minute since I posted anything! This definitely put me deep in my feelings, not gonna lie. Enjoy all the emotions 😝

Roy clenched his jaw as he rounded the corner to head towards the changing room and his office. There wasn’t the usual ruckus that greeted him before training; instead, he followed the sound of what he realized was music. And it wasn’t the usual rap or energetic pop the lads usually blasted and sang along with, either. No, this was slow, haunting, something that left Roy tightening his grip around his black duffel bag.

Thinkin, how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

Oh, the tragedy ...

So long, London

You'll find someone ...

The breath caught in Roy’s throat as he came to a skidding stop outside the changing room door. He knew that voice. He’d heard that voice humming in his kitchen. Giggling in his ear. Whispering into his chest. Sighing in his bed. For almost two years, that voice had filled his home and his heart, bringing warmth and joy to both places. And the lips that voice came from always formed the most beautiful smile, the smile he always wanted to kiss right off that pretty face- and fuck, he sure tried his best every chance he got.

Gritting his teeth, Roy took one step into the changing room, doing his best to ignore the immediate stares of his squad. He hated the looks on their faces, all filled with sympathy, reminding him way too much of the faces he saw after his retirement. He swore he saw guilt in some of their expressions, too.

Of course they felt guilty. They’d been caught listening to his ex-girlfriend’s new album. The album that had skyrocketed to the top of the charts since its release over the weekend. The album Roy couldn’t quite bring himself to listen to yet. The album, he knew, that she had written about him.

Refusing to meet anyone’s eye, Roy stalked into his office, closing the door firmly behind him. Beard and Nate were nowhere to be found; they were probably on the pitch, he reasoned. He ignored the feeling that they’d probably want to give him some space with the album’s release.

Everything had started off innocently enough. He’d taken Phoebe to one of her concerts, motivated purely by his desire to be a good uncle. Keeley had been kind enough to arrange a meet-and-greet before the show. And, while Pheebs was definitely thrilled to be meeting the popstar, it was Roy who was left completely starstruck. She was beautiful and charming, not to mention down-to-earth and so kind to his niece. He spent the whole concert enchanted, jaw slacking slightly as he watched her strut around the stage with a magnetism he wasn’t sure he’d ever encountered before.

Fuck the almost two decades between them; Roy Kent was smitten.

Apparently the feeling was mutual, because the next thing he knew he and Phoebe were invited backstage after the concert, where the young singer had shyly thanked them for coming and asked if she could come watch the Greyhounds sometime. She was so timid for someone who had just rocked a stadium filled to the brim with thousands of screaming fans; Roy found her bashful, blushing face nothing short of endearing. How could he ever say no to her?

So he didn't. For two years, he never said no to her. He wanted to adore and spoil her the way no one else ever had, and she let him. The only condition was he had to let her do the same. So, for the first time in goodness knows how long, Roy Kent let himself be loved.

It was perfect. She was perfect. Roy found himself laughing and smiling more than he ever had in his entire miserable life, and it was all her fault. Never mind the articles and tweets about their age difference, condemning him for being with what they called a “twenty-year-old girl”. (They never could differentiate between twenty and mid-twenties, Roy had thought as he rolled his eyes at yet another opinion piece about his relationship.) They had both agreed that the abundance of affection and respect between them was more than enough to ignore what she always called the “haters”, and he called “wankers with nothing better to do”.

After about a year together, Roy found himself thinking about houses. And rings. And babies. And forever. And less and less about their age difference. While he never said flat-out that he wanted to marry her, they both seemed to know where things were headed. And, thanks to her songwriting, so did her fans. Not that Roy minded; for once, he was in a relationship where he didn’t mind having his business paraded around for the world to see. Hell, he even did some of the parading from time to time.

But, like every other good thing in Roy Kent’s life, it didn’t last forever.

He could deal with the judgy headlines. He could deal with the invasive paparazzi. He could deal with the ribbing from his friends and family. He could even deal with being the subject of pretty love songs. But just as he was starting to look at engagement rings, an article came across his newsfeed. And this one, unlike the million others he’d ignored and rolled his eyes at, gave him pause.

It was about her. It was about how young she was, how in the prime of her career she was. About how Roy was going to tie her down and take her out of the spotlight. About how she could say goodbye to the already legendary career she’d spent the better part of a decade building. About how all that hard work, all that potential, would be swept away the moment he put a ring on her finger.

About how it would be all Roy’s fault.

He couldn’t do that. Not to her. So, he made up some shit about not being ready to settle down, about how he didn’t think marriage was for him, about how he didn’t want to waste her time. And she’d listened, with those understanding eyes and her mouth in a straight line. While she wasn’t afraid to shed a couple of tears in front of him, she didn’t shout or fight him. All she did was lean close and ask one little question:

“Are you sure?”

No. No, Roy wasn’t fucking sure. He had never been less sure in his entire fucking life. As she gathered her things in stony silence, Roy had to stop himself from telling her to stop, that he’d made a mistake and that of course he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But, like the idiot he was, he just watched silently. And he watched as she disappeared from the public eye, as the papers reported their breakup, as she reemerged at the fabulous parties thrown by her fabulous friends, as her outings with various men sparked rumors of new romances; in short, Roy watched as she moved on from him.

And now, a little less than a year after their breakup, with the release of this new album, he was sure she’d cemented how over him she was.

Despite knowing he had a football team waiting out on the pitch, Roy decided he needed to listen. To one song, at least, he reasoned with himself as he opened the music app on his mobile. Beard and Nate could handle the team for a few minutes, couldn’t they?

As he skimmed the track titles, he spotted one that caught his eye: So Long, London. He’d heard that phrase in the song the guys were playing; surely this had to be the same song, right? With a trembling breath, he clicked on the song and closed his eyes.

I stopped trying to make him laugh.

I stopped CPR, after all it's no use. The spirit was gone, we would never come to.

And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.

I'll find someone.

Just how low did you think I'd go?

You swore that you loved me but where were the clues? I died on the altar waiting for the proof.

For so long, London… Had a good run… A moment of warm sun… But I'm not the one.

Every word stabbed at the heart Roy hadn’t realized was still so fucking raw. All that regret that he’d buried away under football and bottles of beer finally bubbled back to the surface, reminding him of how deeply he wished he could go back in time and stop himself from letting her go. He somehow felt even more gutted than he did the day he lied and said he didn’t want to be with her anymore.

“Fuck,” he growled, stopping the music and opening his texts. He typed that familiar name, pulling up texts that he hadn’t looked at in months. He gulped, remembering all the memes, all the texts about what to have for dinner.

She’d probably ignore his text, he warned himself as he started typing. Hell, she probably already had him blocked. Part of him hoped she did; it would be a lot better than the absolute dressing down he deserved after breaking her lovely heart.

Still. That stupid little part of him that was willing to admit that he was still completely in love with her emboldened him.

She’d always made fun of him for signing his texts, he recalled with a reflexive smirk. She’d made fun of him for lots of things; fuck, he missed her teasing, the way she’d raise an eyebrow when he growled at her to fuck off. The way she’d lean close and hum, “Make me.” The way-

Hey, just listened to ‘London’. Incredible as always. I’m sure the rest is too.

-Roy

The whistle from the mobile in his hand dragged Roy out of his reminiscing. With another gulp he looked down at the first message she’d sent in months.

Thanks, Roy! I’ll actually be in London next week. Maybe we could catch up while I’m in town.

Despite himself, a smile broke out across his face. He wasn’t much of a believer in second chances, or fate, or happily ever afters. He was so sure all good things had to come to an end eventually.

But maybe, just maybe, some things could begin again.

Tags: @i-am-mrsreckless

[lulublack90]

Prompt 15 - Snow

@wolfstarmicrofic December 15, word count 590

Finally, the day Sirius had been waiting all year for had arrived. The first snowfall. The entire view from the window was a blanket of white, with fat flakes falling thickly. He raced to the fireplace and threw a handful of floo powder into the fire and bellowed into the emerald flames. 

“JAMES, IT’S SNOWING!!!! BRING HARRY!!!!” And he pulled his head back before rushing over to the coat cupboard and pulling out the beautiful miniature sleigh he’d bought especially for this moment. 

Remus came out of their bedroom, yawning loudly. 

“What’s going on?” He asked before he noticed the sleigh in Sirius’s arms. He looked at the window as understanding came to his eyes. “First snow, is James bringing Harry?”

“I just called him on the floo,” Remus yawned again, and went back into their bedroom. 

“Please, will you make me a coffee,” Remus called through. Sirius set the sleigh down beside the bay window, so Harry would see it the second James brought him and hurried into the kitchen to get breakfast started. 

James and Harry arrived just as Sirius and Remus were finishing up breakfast. Sirius jumped up and raced through to the living room. 

“Wow!” Harry's excited little voice cried out. “Thank you, Uncle Moony!” 

Sirius skidded to a halt with his mouth agape. How could his precious godson think that Moony could have got such a good present for him?

He snapped out of it when Remus kissed his cheek and Harry started dragging the red sleigh towards the front door. 

“Hang on, Harry, and I’ll help you,” Sirius called and rushed over to pick both of them up and run out into the fresh snow. 

He put them both down and dug around the footwell of the sleigh, pulling out a leather harness. He laid it out in the snow and, after helping Harry into the sleigh, transformed into Padfoot. He needed James’s help to get into the harness, but soon, he was dragging Harry around the garden, the snow crunching under his paws and the sleigh skis and the bells on his harness tinkling as he trotted around. 

They rode around until Remus called them in for lunch. The garden was covered in crisscrossing lines and paw prints. Padfoot shook out his coat before transforming back into Sirius and going inside the warm cottage. 

“You know Harry knows it was from you, right? He just loves pulling your tail,” James said as he stuffed the struggling toddler into the highchair Sirius kept there for him. 

“Yeah, I know,” Sirius said more confidently than he felt. Remus came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him. 

“You looked so sweet out there. I got some photos for the album,” Remus murmured into his ear as he kissed soft kisses onto his cheek. 

“You did?!” Sirius said excitedly, spinning in Remus’s arms as he beamed up at his boyfriend. 

“Of course I did. Lily would kill me if I didn’t.” 

They spent the rest of the afternoon taking it in turns dragging Harry around the garden, building snowmen, and making snow angels. By the time it began to get dark, they were all exhausted, apart from Harry, who, after a power nap, was running circles around them again. They all felt relieved when Lily appeared in the living room, and Harry jumped into her arms, telling her about his day at a thousand miles an hour. Sirius loved having Harry over but was glad it was just him and Remus once he was gone. 

[moonhoures]

11:06PM — c. soobin 💌

a/n: did i write this in 30 minutes on my lunch break immediately after soobin posted? yes. am i insane for doing so? probably. do i care? not one bit. this is just some fluffy bf soobin, enjoy!

“Should I pose like this?”

You watched your boyfriend move through the screen of your phone, standing facing you with his arm bent, hand at the back of his head. You snorted quietly, snapping a somewhat blurry picture before he put his arm back down with a pout.

“What?” he asked with a hint of playful annoyance.

“Nothing. You look cute,” you laughed at his childish demeanor, “Come on, just a couple more.”

This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for you two. More often than not your dates were late at night, spent getting dinner and then taking a long walk back to your car. On your walks you both enjoyed having little photo shoots together, either of each other or different stuff you saw along your way. Tonight, you wanted to take pictures of him.

“I don’t want to look cute. I want to look handsome,” he said, lightly kicking a rock across the pavement with his shoe.

“You look handsome too. You can be both, you know,” you tried to reassure him, picking your phone back up. You encouraged him to pose again. After a couple minutes you had enough pictures to fill up an album in your camera roll. Soobin reached for your free hand, taking it in his as you put your phone back into your pocket. Then you set off again down the sidewalk together, fingers intertwined.

You loved nights like these. When the air was warm but there was still that night breeze making the few fallen flower petals and leaves shake and skid down the concrete. The moon shown most nights, hanging in the dark blue sky like a nightlight. Sometimes Soobin pointed it out, telling you what phase it was in. Crescents were his favorite, because it looked like a smile. Crescents slowly became your favorite too, because it was his favorite. And they made you think of him.

You sighed contently, unraveling your fingers from his so that you could pull his arm over your shoulder. He smiled warmly, taking the opportunity to kiss your head.

“It’s getting a bit chillier at night. We’ll have to bring jackets next time,” he said.

“Mhm, I think I’ll wear that white pullover you gave me last year,” you were picturing the perfect outfit in your mind, trying to remember where you put the matching shoes you were imagining. Had you left them at the bottom of your closet? Or under your bed?

“You mean my white pullover?” he corrected you with a smirk, “I didn’t give you that, you stole it from my room when you came over. And you have yet to give it back.”

“A small price to pay for a girlfriend, don’t you think?”

You both laughed as you crossed an intersection. When you stepped back on to the sidewalk, your car was parked only a few yards away. His was parked just in front of yours. Like always, he walked you to your car, stopping beside your driver’s side door.

He let out a heavy sigh, expressing his disappointment with having to part ways. He held both of your hands in his, a pout evident on his full lips, “I hate this part.”

“You say that every time, you know that?”

“And I mean it every time, too,” he grumbled, pulling you into a hug. His chin rested on your head as he squeezed you tenderly, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume before letting you go. His hands found a temporary home on your cheeks as he leaned in to place a kiss on the tip of your nose, “Text me when you get home?”

“I always do-,” you started to say, and before you could finish speaking, he interjected.

“Not last time,” he said matter-of-factly, “And I didn’t sleep well that night, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you rolled your eyes jokingly, “I fell asleep as soon as I got home. And I said I was sorry!”

“Well now you have to make it up to me by giving me an extra kiss.”

You nodded in understanding, placing a sweet, short-lived kiss to his lips. Then, another, more affectionate kiss. Each time, you had to lift yourself a bit on your tiptoes to reach him.

“I think I actually deserve one more,” he said, his hands still resting on your waist.

You smiled, but obliged. Your calves strained again as you reached up and placed your lips on his.

“Mm, one more.”

“Soobin.”

“Just one more,” he pouted again, “Please!”

He was lucky you loved him so much.

“You lean down this time. My legs hurt.”

He would do anything you asked him to, so naturally he listened. He leaned down, melting his lips onto yours in a kiss that was longer than the previous ones. It was a bit more sensual, too. The air seemed heavier and hotter in that moment. You could feel your back pressing against your car door.

When he let you go, his lips were puffy and his cheeks were a warm shade of pink. You giggled.

“What?”

“You just look really handsome right now.”

“You bet I do,” he spoke with elevated confidence in a joking manner, making you playfully nudge his arm.

“Dork.”

“I love you too. Drive safe,” he called as he started to walk the few feet to his car. He caught the way you smiled at him before getting in your car. Tonight, just like every night, he waited until your car drove off first before leaving. Then he would go home and wait for you to text him before falling peacefully asleep, knowing you would repeat this night again soon. He couldn’t wait.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this timestamp, please feel free to leave a like, reblog, and/or a message in my inbox! i would love to hear your feedback! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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[galaxysupreme17]

The Witches Road?

Y/n = Your Name

Alice Wu Gulliver x Fem!Harkness!Reader!

The morning sun filtered through the café windows, casting a warm glow over the mismatched wooden tables and chairs. Y/n stirred her latte absentmindedly, her French tip nails tapping against the ceramic cup in a steady rhythm. Across from her, Alice Wu Gulliver rolled her eyes so dramatically it was almost audible.

“I’m just saying,” Y/n began, a sly smile tugging at her lips, “Edge of Seventeen is untouchable. Stevie Nicks is a legend.”

Alice smirked, taking a slow sip of her coffee before responding. “I never said Stevie isn’t a legend, babe. I just said that Edge of Seventeen sounds like a bird stuck in a blender.”

Y/n gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been mortally wounded. “You did not just insult the White-Winged Dove herself, Gulliver!”

“Oh, I did,” Alice shot back, her voice dripping with mock defiance. “That ‘hoo-hoo-hoo’ part? It’s like she’s trying to summon an owl in distress.”

“You’re impossible,” Y/n huffed, leaning back in her chair. “Do you even have taste?”

Alice leaned forward with a grin. “Oh, I have taste, sweetheart. It just doesn’t involve pretending I’m in a 70s cult every time I listen to music.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n raised a perfectly arched brow. “Says the woman listening to lo-fi rain sounds like it's a Grammy-worthy album.”

“That’s called focus, dove,” Alice teased. “Some of us have to work hard for our genius, unlike you and your magic jazz hands.”

They both dissolved into laughter, drawing a few curious glances from the other café patrons.

As the laughter faded, Alice’s expression softened. “You ready for today, dove?” she asked, her tone losing its teasing edge.

Y/n exhaled, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. “I think so. It’s just…it’s been three years, you know? Three years of her stuck in Westview, reliving someone else’s narrative.”

Alice reached across the table, her hand finding Y/n’s. “Hey, whatever happens, you’ve got me, always. You hear me, dove?”

Y/n looked up, her heart swelling with gratitude. “I know. Thanks, darling.”

Alice grinned, leaning back in her seat. “Now, if you could just promise not to blast Stevie on the drive, I’ll consider this morning a win.”

“No promises,” Y/n said, the spark returning to her eyes. “The White-Winged Dove flies free.”

Alice groaned, shaking her head with a smile. “I’m definitely hexing you next, dove.”

By the time they were back in Y/n’s car, the opening riff of Edge of Seventeen was blaring through the speakers. Alice groaned dramatically but didn’t reach for the volume knob, letting Y/n have her moment.

“You’re so lucky I love you,” Alice muttered, shooting her girlfriend a side-eye as Y/n tried (and failed) to mimic Stevie’s iconic wail.

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Y/n gripped.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the mall, where Alice found a job. She leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to Y/n’s cheek before stepping out. “Drive safe, dove. And good luck with your mom.”

Y/n watched her disappear into the building, her heart feeling slightly lighter despite the day ahead. “Thanks, hunny,” she murmured to herself, cranking up the music as she pulled back onto the road. “You’ve got this.”

Y/n drove down the familiar street, softly humming to the radio as her fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel. She slowed and parked in front of her mother’s house, only to freeze as her eyes locked on the front door—or what was left of it. It lay flat on the ground like a discarded welcome mat.

Her heart raced as she bolted up the driveway. Skidding to a stop, she stared at the door, her pulse thundering in her ears. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside, her eyes darting toward the kitchen.

The kitchen was a disaster. Among the wreckage stood a teenage boy taped at the wrists, ankles, and mouth. He wriggled slightly but froze as Y/n approached cautiously. She ripped the tape from his mouth with a swift tug, earning a muffled yelp.

"Listen, kid," she began, her voice tight, "I'm trying not to assume the worst here. But the door’s gone, the kitchen’s trashed, my mother is missing, and you’re tied up. Care to explain?"

The boy barely opened his mouth before a loud crash echoed through the house. Footsteps followed, along with muffled muttering. Y/n whipped around and ran toward the hallway, her heart leaping when she saw her mother.

“Mom!” she shouted.

Agatha turned abruptly, her face lighting up in surprise. "Y/n!"

"What the hell happened here?" Y/n demanded, panic slipping into her tone. "Why is the door busted in? Why is the kitchen a mess? And what’s with the tied-up teenager?"

Agatha waved a hand dismissively, though her expression was frazzled. "No time for explanations. We need to leave. Now." She grabbed Y/n's arm, dragging her toward the exit.

“Wait!” Y/n dug in her heels, eyeing her mother’s mismatched footwear. “You’re only wearing one shoe.”

Agatha muttered something under her breath and snatched the nearest shoe, jamming it onto her foot. "Good enough."

As they moved, Agatha called back to the teen, "The house is yours, random boy! Tell the vengeance seekers I said hello."

Y/n blinked at her mother, utterly baffled. The boy, now free of his mouth tape, finally spoke. "Take me to the witches' road!"

The room froze. Agatha stopped mid-step and turned back, her face unreadable. Slowly, she approached him and pulled the remaining tape from his wrists and ankles. “Come again?” she asked, her voice sharp.

“The witches' road,” he repeated, his tone earnest. “I want you to take me there. Please.”

Agatha’s gaze darkened. "The witches' road doesn’t exist."

“You’re lying,” the boy shot back with a defiant smirk.

Agatha arched a brow. “Am I?”

“Witches say that to keep people away,” the boy argued. “But I know the truth. The road grants what you desire most if you reach the end. And I can. I will."

Agatha hummed thoughtfully, then glanced at Y/n. “The road is no place for a kid.”

“I’m sixteen!” the boy protested.

“Oh, sorry, Teen,” Agatha quipped dryly. “I don’t know where you got your information.”

“Books! Legends! Lore!” he declared, puffing up slightly.

Y/n had heard enough. “It’ll kill you,” she snapped.

The boy pointed at Agatha. “It didn’t kill her.”

Agatha adjusted her hat smugly. “Well, I am exceptional.”

The boy leaned closer, grinning. “Exactly. That’s why I came here. You’re a legend! I even broke you out of the Scarlet Witch’s spell—it was my pleasure, by the way.”

Y/n froze, her eyes narrowing at the boy. For three years, she had tried—and failed—to break that spell. Yet here stood this random teen claiming he’d done it. Her mother’s knowing glance confirmed it.

Agatha folded her arms. “Well, if you are powerful enough to break the spell cast by the scarlet witch, why do you need the road?”

The boy hesitated before answering, “Studying can only get me so far. I want to blast, shield, levitate—real magic!”

Y/n crossed her arms. “So you want a shortcut.”

“Call it what you want,” the boy said, undeterred. “But the road can give me what I’m missing. Power. Sounds like you could use it, too.”

Agatha straightened abruptly. “Too risky. No time.”

She started walking again, but the boy wasn’t finished. “Run if you want, but whoever’s after you won’t stop. You really think you can outrun them without magic?”

Agatha paused, picking up a necklace from the floor. She stared at it for a long moment before snapping it shut. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice low.

The boy’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Agatha frowned, her suspicion deepening. “Say that again.”

Once more, his words were silenced by some unseen force. Agatha sighed. “Fine. You’re driving.”

“What? Really?” the boy asked, practically vibrating with excitement.

Y/n gawked at her mother. “What?”

Ignoring her, Agatha grabbed scissors and dropped them before the boy. “You’re driving,” she repeated, then hauled Y/n out of the house.

“Mom, have you lost your mind?” Y/n hissed as they walked briskly down the sidewalk. “You’ve got vengeance seekers on your tail—probably the Salem Seven—and now you’re indulging this kid’s fantasy about a road that doesn’t even exist?”

Agatha briefly glanced at her daughter and put on her sunglasses. "Is that really how you will greet me after I break out of a spell I have been stuck in for three years?"

Y/n huffed, stopping in front of a house, "Yes, it is how I am going to greet you because you have actually gone insane! I mean seriously, Mom. What are you going to tell the kid when he sees no door appear and watch as stupid enough witches attack you just for you to steal their magic?"

Agatha rolled her eyes before giving her daughter a pointed look. Then, it clicked in Y/n's head: "You were going to keep him out of the room. I answered that myself." 

Y/n groaned, running a hand through her hair. “You missed a lot, you know.”

Agatha’s expression softened. “I feel like I have.”

Y/n glanced at her, a small smile forming. “Like me getting a girlfriend.”

Agatha stopped in her tracks. “I’m sorry, what?”

Y/n laughed, but the moment was cut short as the boy caught up, pointing out his car. Soon, they were on the road—Agatha in the passenger seat, Y/n in the back, and the boy eagerly bombarding Agatha with questions. Y/n, tuning them out, pulled out her phone to text Alice.

Y/n: You are not going to believe what I’m dealing with right now. 😑

Alice: I’m guessing your mom being free isn’t all sunshine and magic wands? ✨🧙‍♀️

Y/n: Oh, it’s worse. Picture this: Mom’s house is trashed, her front door is in the yard, and a teenager is claiming to have rescued her from the hex. 🤦‍♀️

Alice: A teenager? Like, an actual baby human? 

Y/n: Yep. He’s sixteen, thinks he’s the next Merlin, and now we’re chasing the “witches’ road.” 🛤️

Alice: Wait… the witches’ road? Like, the witches’ road? The one from my mom’s song? 🎵👀

Y/n: Yep. He’s quoting your mom like she wrote the magical gospel. Says the road can give him ultimate power. 😒

Alice: Okay, but you know my mom thought the witches’ road was real, right? She wasn’t just writing a story—she believed every word. 

Y/n: You’re kidding. 🤨

Alice: Not at all. She spent years researching it. She used to say it’s not a myth; it’s a test. She even told me she wished she could walk it herself. 👣

Y/n: Fantastic. Now, the kid has more backup for his theory. Meanwhile, I’m in the backseat, texting you so I don’t lose my mind. 😤

Alice: Backseat? Who’s driving? 👀

Y/n: The teenager. Mom literally handed him magical scissors and said, “You’re driving.” I don’t know if I should be impressed or horrified. ✂️🚗

Alice: Definitely both. Your mom is living in her magical road trip movie right now. 😂

Y/n: Tell me about it. Also, I might’ve told her about you. Accidentally. 🙃

Alice: Accidentally? Y/n, how do you “accidentally” tell someone you have a girlfriend? 🤔

Y/n: She was ranting about how much she missed, and it just slipped out. Her reaction was priceless, though. 🤣

Alice: What did she say? 😳

Y/n: She looked at me like I just told her I was dating a dragon. Then she asked, “I’m sorry, what?” 😂

Alice: Oh, I love her already. Can’t wait to meet the legendary Agatha Harkness. 😏

Y/n: Let’s survive this road trip from magical chaos first, okay? 🙄

Alice: Fair. But hey, if the road turns out to be real, make sure you wish for something good 😘

Y/n: Deal. Thanks for being my sanity check, darling. 💕

Alice: Always, dove. You’ve got this. 🩷

YY/n looked up from her phone when the car came to a halt. She stepped out, waiting for Agatha and the teen to join her. The trio entered the shop and stood in a line as Y/n quietly observed the room. She could tell her mother was about to spin one of her elaborate stories and decided to stay silent.

Moments later, a voice called out, and a woman stepped through a bead curtain. Y/n recognized her instantly. It had been nearly a century, but Lilia looked the same. “Welcome to The Curious,” Lilia greeted, her voice calm and commanding.

Agatha wrapped her shawl tighter, adopting an exaggerated Southern accent. “Good day, madam. Oh, thank ya kindly for seein’ us. We’re hopin’ for a miracle today. This is my sweet girl, Scarlett, and my boy, Beauford. He doesn’t talk much—poor thing’s got social anxiety. Their daddy passed recently, and, oh, how we miss him somethin’ awful. We’d dearly love to commune with him today. But to be quite honest with ya, what’s weighin’ most heavily on my mind is the location of some gold bars he might’ve buried in our backyard.”

Y/n blinked, almost impressed. Her mother had concocted the lie—and the accent—with astonishing speed. Then again, after centuries of mischief and travel, Agatha was an expert.

Lilia gestured to the trio, offering her three chairs. Y/n stood behind her mother, watching Lilia perform a routine reading, feeding Agatha vague yet satisfying answers. But just as they were about to leave, Lilia paused.

“There’s something else,” Lilia said, her tone sharp. “You’ve been under the influence of another—someone you hurt. They took your agency for three years. It’s not the first time your witch kin have betrayed you. But you survive. In ways few others could. That’s why you’re here.” Lilia’s gaze hardened. “And I’m not interested.”

A tense silence followed. Agatha straightened her back, matching Lilia’s intensity. The teen glanced between them, smiling awkwardly. “Wait, what?” he asked, breaking the tension.

Lilia ignored him. “Thank you for your purchase. Your bank statement will say ‘Lilia’s Leggings,’ but that’s just my side hustle,” she said, vanishing back through the bead curtain.

The three followed her into a dim backroom. Agatha tried to persuade Lilia to join them, explaining how “blasting Agatha” could be useful. Lilia lost in one of her witchy episodes, scribbled names onto a piece of parchment and handed it to Agatha.

Curious, Y/n leaned over her mother’s shoulder to read the list. Two names stood out immediately—her own and Alice’s. Her stomach churned. That can’t be right…

Without a word, Y/n was the first out the door, leaning against the teen’s car. When Agatha and the teen emerged, Y/n had already plastered on a neutral expression, though Agatha could read the worry in her daughter’s eyes.

Once they were settled in the car and driving to the next location, Y/n stayed in the backseat, staring out the window. Agatha glanced at her, then at the teen.

“Out. Now.” Agatha snapped, gesturing for the boy to leave the car.

He complied reluctantly, shutting the door behind him.

Agatha turned to her daughter. “Are you okay?” she asked gently.

Y/n hesitated before offering a tight smile. “I think so. It’s just… one of the names on the list.”

Agatha unfolded the paper, scanning it. “Which one?”

Y/n closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath. “Alice.”

Agatha’s expression softened as understanding dawned. She squeezed Y/n’s hand briefly before the teen knocked on the window, breaking the moment. Agatha rolled her eyes and exited the car.

While they were inside the store, Y/n pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over the screen. Alice needs to know, she thought, sending her girlfriend a quick warning text.

Y/n: Heads up: my mom and this teenager she picked up are on a mission, and your name’s on their list. 

Alice: This feels like the setup to one of those cursed fairy tales. What list? 😳

Y/n: The “witches we need to recruit for a coven revival” list. Apparently, it’s a whole thing. They’re visiting everyone on it in order, and you’re next.

Alice: Wait, what? How did I end up on a witchy recruiting list? I didn’t even apply. 🤨

Y/n: Neither did I, but I’m on it too. I guess being magically inclined is enough. They’ve been going witch by witch, and since I’m already here, they’re heading to you next.

Alice: Oh, great. So what do I do? Hide? Pretend I’ve taken a vow of non-magic?

Y/n: Honestly, I’d just hear them out. If nothing else, you can watch my mom and Teen Witch’s theatrical pitch—it’s weirdly entertaining in a trainwreck kind of way.

Alice: Let me guess: your mom is doing most of the talking, and the teenager is awkwardly tagging along?

Y/n: Pretty much. Though Teen Witch occasionally chimes in with something vaguely inspirational. It’s... a lot.

Alice: Oh no. Am I supposed to be flattered by this? Or scared?

Y/n: Both? Just wanted to warn you so you’re not caught off guard when they show up at your door with the “join our coven” pitch.

Alice: Thanks, babe. But I swear, if Teen Witch starts talking about destiny, I’m closing the door.

Y/n: Fair. Just don’t make it too hard on them. They’ll probably guilt me into smoothing things over.

Alice: Noted. Love you, by the way. Even if your family makes life weird. 💕

Y/n: Love you too. Stay strong. I’ll text when we’re en route.

After twenty minutes, the duo emerged, clearly arguing about something. Y/n observed as Agatha crumpled up the paper and shoved it into her mouth, swallowing it without a second thought. Once they climbed into the car, the teenager turned to Agatha and asked where they would go next.

With a sigh, Y/n pocketed her phone. "Head to the mall."

The teen glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "The mall?"

Y/n nodded, and the teen reluctantly started driving. Once they arrived, Agatha grabbed a corndog, claiming to be hungry. Afterward, they followed Y/n into a store. "She’s working in here," Y/n said, "Try not to cause any trouble while I grab something."

Y/n excused herself to the bathroom. When she returned, she found Alice looking mildly annoyed at Agatha and the teen trailing behind her. Alice noticed her first and made wide eyes, mouthing, Help me, which made Y/n snicker. Y/n walked closer, and Agatha and the teen instantly stopped talking.

Y/n looked between her mother, her girlfriend, and the teenager. "What happened?"

Alice sighed, knowing Y/n would probably lecture her. "I was just coming to find you!"

Y/n raised an eyebrow, motioning for her mother to take the teen and walk away. Agatha smirked at her daughter before pulling the boy along to the car.

"Okay, so... funny story," Alice started, attempting to laugh but falling short.

Y/n crossed her arms, unimpressed. "I’m listening."

Alice shifted nervously, avoiding Y/n's gaze. "First off, you know I love you, right? And I would never do anything to hurt you or... I don’t know... break witchy rules?"

Y/n narrowed her eyes, tone skeptical. "Alice, what did they do?"

Alice sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Listen, don’t be mad at your mom. They kind of showed up at work, and things got a little...well...complicated."

Y/n leaned against a nearby display, unconvinced. "Complicated how? Did they do something to get you fired?"

Alice winced. "Not exactly. I mean, technically, no. But also... yes?"

Y/n blinked, her voice sharp. "Alice."

"Okay!" Alice threw her hands up. "They didn’t mean to, but they might’ve caused a bit of a scene. And my boss... might’ve fired me."

Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose. "Let me get this straight: I leave my mom and the stranger teenage boy alone in your work for five minutes, and they get you fired?"

Alice shrugged sheepishly. "Pretty much. But hey, at least I didn’t agree to join the coven without talking to you first?"

Y/n blinked again, her mouth falling open. "Wait, after getting you fired, they tried to recruit you?!"

Alice fidgeted, flashing a nervous smile. "Yeah, they said something about discovering what happened to my mom and that I could get extra power. But I told them I needed to talk to you first because, well, us."

Y/n stared at her, a mix of exasperation and amusement flashing across her face. "Alice, the way you are talking to me right now is unbelievable."

"Yeah, but you love me," Alice grinned, batting her eyelashes.

Y/n shook her head but couldn’t suppress a small smile. "You’re lucky I do. Let’s figure out how to fix this mess before my mom ropes some poor stranger into something."

Alice grinned, stepping beside Y/n and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Thanks, babe. You’re the best."

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled. "Don’t make me regret it."

Once they climbed into the car, Y/n immediately noticed Agatha’s smirk. She rolled her eyes as the teen started the engine. When they arrived back at Agatha's house, Agatha quickly changed outfits while the teen began decorating. Y/n and Alice sat on the couch, watching the scene unfold.

Y/n had told Alice years ago how Agatha’s powers worked, so when the road inevitably didn’t appear, Alice knew not to try to blast her magic at Agatha. As everyone arrived, Jen pointed out the absence of a green witch and that they needed one. Y/n watched, bemused, as Agatha completely panicked over the fact. The group collectively agreed there had to be a green witch. Agatha dashed off to find one and returned with Mrs. Davis, leading everyone but the teen into the basement.

Y/n turned to Alice before they started. "Remember, whatever happens, don’t blast your magic at my mother. She can’t control it, which makes her steal magic from you."

Alice smirked at her girlfriend. "I’ve got it, baby. Don’t stress."

Y/n nodded, turning when Agatha motioned for everyone to move closer. As they began singing the ballad, a peculiar energy was in the air. Once they finished, Agatha antagonized the group, complaining about how the door didn’t appear. Just then, Mrs. Davis pointed out a door that had materialized. Both Y/n and Agatha exchanged a look of pure disbelief.

A loud crash echoed upstairs when they opened the door, followed by the teen running down the stairs, now holding the door. Lilia, Jen, and Mrs. Davis quickly followed, and the group watched as Mrs. Davis descended further. Alice and Y/n exchanged concerned glances as a distorted figure crawled down the stairs.

"Go now!" Agatha shouted at Y/n and Alice.

Alice grabbed Y/n’s hand, pulling her down the stairs. Agatha followed, shutting the door behind them just as the creature arrived. When they finally emerged from the tunnel, Y/n looked around in awe. Agatha walked ahead a few steps, removing her shoes. The group, in sync, followed her lead, copying her actions.

[daceydeath]

Hi! I just recent found your page! I was wondering if you could do a story where y/n sprained her ankle during dance practice and how the boys take care of her. Scold her a bit too? Lol thank you 😊

Hi, I am glad you found me 🥰 I can absolutely write something like that for you, I just hope you like it and I don't disappoint. DaceyDeath xx

When you Fall and Hurt Yourself While Dancing - Hyung Line

Word Count: 3.1K Genre: Fluff, Angst Warnings: Swearing, injuries (obviously) Requested

Maknae line can be found here

Chan You had dropped by JYP to have lunch with Chan, he had been so busy over the past week that you knew it was going to take every spare moment you could squeeze out to see each other. As usual he was in his studio on a work call so you wandered over to the dance space to visit the others. Opening the door you were confronted with chaos, like usual really, Minho was monitoring how Innie was dancing while Seungmin and Hyunjin dicked about to annoy Changbin.

"Hi noona" Felix called excitedly skidding over to give you a hug.

"Is he still on a call?" Han laughed as you sat yourself down against the wall to watch them practice while you sipped from your water bottle. After a little while they all got back to seriously practicing blocking out the choreography for the new song that would be to title track for the new album.

"We can't get anymore done until Chan gets back" Minho sighed looking disappointed as he glared at the door in the mirror.

"Why not" you asked tilting you head confused.

"It's really hard to start the choreography practice if we don't have where each of us will be for the start point, we can't get the spacing right otherwise" Minho explained as you nodded along.

"Why don't you just have someone stand in for Chan?" you asked like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"We would need someone who isn't doing anything else for an unknown amount of time no one is just sitting around doing nothing" Hyunjin added frowning deeply as Felix laughed loudly and ran across the room to you.

"What is so funny?" Han asked looking at Felix as he took your hand and pulled you to your feet.

"Who else is sitting around waiting for Chan?" Felix asked bringing you to stand beside Changbin where Chan would be for at least the start of the choreography.

"Genius" Minho grinned turning back to the mirror as he started to instruct each of them what they were doing. You had no idea how long you had just been moving where ever Minho instructed you to, or at what point you started following along with the choreography but once the run through had happened half a dozen times you were following along just fine until Changbin went right instead of left and took you out.

"Fucking shitting hell" you groaned in real pain after you had gotten tangled with Changbin and ended up on the floor. "Bin you're heavy get off".

"Yah I'm sorry" he yelped getting up quickly as the others watched in amusement before noticing your face was actually screwed up in pain.

"You were meant to go left not right" you whimpered as he pulled you up making Minho cut the music to help you.

"Shit you're actually hurt" he gulped looking slightly alarmed.

"It's just my ankle and I have two" you tried joking and Changbin helped you limp to the couch to sit. "Just don't tell Channie".

Chan came back a few minutes later and was thrilled to see how far they had gotten without him and after another hour of practice they finished up. Still in pain from when you fell you didn't get straight up to kiss Chan or mention lunch instead trying to hide your grimace when Han flopped down next to you.

"Baby what happened? Are you ok?" he instantly caught your expression and tensed up.

"I had a tiny accident while I was waiting for you. It's nothing just my ankle is a little sore" you explained vaguely attempting to get up and put all your weight on your other foot.

"What tiny accident?" he narrowed his eyes looking at you suspiciously

"I fell over dancing" you admitted sheepishly biting your lip.

"I have told you dozens of time the boys mess around too much and you will get hurt" he scolded you halfheartedly swinging you into his arms "You aren't a professional baby girl"

"I'm sorry Channie, I was only trying to help with blocking out your spot while the guys practiced and I was helping before I got taken out" you pouted.

"You're lucky you're cute baby" He sighed kissing your forehead.

"Chan" you squealed as he made for the door the others following behind the pair of you.

"We are going to get this checked out, then you are going to tell me which one of them took you out" He grumbled although you could tell he meant it softer.

"I'm no snitch Christopher Bang" you snipped making him chuckle.

Lee Know In order to hone his ability to choreograph different styles and types of dances you had agreed that, even though you were not a very good dancer, you would help your boyfriend out. He had been thinking up how to choreograph a couples dance for weeks now and once he had inspiration you were going to be going to the studio to learn and practice it.

It was currently 4 am and you had been practicing for three hours now, not that you were going to complain this was his passion and you would do anything to support him. You had nothing to do the next day so you could sleep then, suppressing a yawn you got back into your starting position.

"Did you want to try it with the heels now kitten?" he asked softly looking at you with excited eyes.

"Of course love" you smiled tiredly going over to sit and change into the pretty heels that he had asked to wear when he filmed the final product, he had been very specific about the look of what he was going for you after slipping into the new shoes you took your place back beside him on the floor.

"Alright from the top. Five, six, seven eight" He counted the pain of you in and you started the first one was a little more difficult with the heels instead of sneakers but you managed not to fall on your butt.

"You did that really well kitten, do you want to try it one more time and we will go home?" he asked his grin bright as he panted slightly the sweat gleaming on his forehead. Nodding you returned to your start point even though your feet hurt and you were tired one more wouldn't hurt to make him happy. He spun you one last time moving to go into the final chorus when his foot knocked the heel you were still holding all your weight on making you crumple like a house of cards, your ankle rolling in the process. You shrieked loudly as you landed the pain in your ankle obvious before you even moved.

"Kitten???" he shouted loudly as he ran to turn the music off and then help you up. You were slipping the shoes from your feet when you noticed your ankle was already slightly swollen.

"My ankle" you whimpered sniffling a little.

"Oh shit, kitten I'm sorry I will get you some ice and I will take you to the hospital" he mumbled seeming quite lost. "I can't believe I hurt you so badly, I'm so sorry kitten". His face was pained as he looked at you tears starting to pool in his lashes.

"You didn't hurt me it was an accident" you sniffed "I'm sorry I stuffed your choreography up" you took one of his hands in yours squeezing it.

"Don't be silly kitten you're more important than a stupid dance" he huffed as he helped you hop to the couch before texting Chan who was still in his studio to help him get you to the car. You knew Chan was fast but when he burst through the door a good minute or so before Changbin and Han you knew he had properly sprinted from the studio. You were sitting with your leg up on Minho's lap he had strapped ice packs to it to keep the swelling under control.

"Shit" Chan frowned coming over to look at your ankle before clapping his hand on Minho's shoulder squeezing it "This isn't your fault, stop blaming yourself accidents happen".

"We can grab your stuff" Han swatted your hand away from trying to pick up your bag "Minho and Chan will get you to the car".

After being treated like you had broken both your legs and would never walk again, bundled into the car by the two worried looking boys and driven to the hospital where embarrassingly the others all turned up to you were diagnosed with a sprained ankle, not an incurable injury as they were all treating it, making you laugh at Minho for his dramatics about the whole thing.

"I hope you learned a lesson here kitten" Minho scolded lightly "You are never dancing in heels again, ever".

Changbin Changbin had always adored that your were so close to his members, swapping recipes with Minho, join in on the online games with the younger members and, much to everyone's relief the one that now learnt all the TikTok dances with Felix.

You were currently laughing loudly at the over the top version that Minho and Han were dancing to imitate Felix teaching you whatever this stupid one was called. Hyunjin was trying his best to give you tips and pointers on your moves but you had told him the fact that you were a crap dancer added to your mystique making them all crack up again.

"Seriously you aren't that bad a dancer" Hyunjin insisted through his giggles.

"I'm never going to be graceful Hyunjin, I'm not built for grace I'm built for falling on my face" you joked as Felix slid down the wall laughing.

"Ok, ok, we need to get it together so we can get back on track" Chan grinned trying to stop his own laughter.

"One more practice then we will record it and were done" hiccuped Jeongin who had promised to film for you today. Chan nodded as you and Felix got back into your positions and did one last run through you trying not to make a total arse of yourself before you grabbed the two over sized black hoodies and hats that you needed to disguise Felix and yourself for the clip.

"Now I know we didn't practice the jump but I know you can do it I've seen you jump on Binnie before" Felix grinned and you nodded knowing you could do it without too much issue.

"I'm heavier than you think though Felix, you sure you want me to?" you asked cautiously not wanting to seem like you were doubting his strength.

"Yeah should be easy" he reassured you pulling the hat all the way over his face and you grinned in response as you got into position to record. You put more effort into the actual video than you had playing around with Felix and Changbin was proud to see Hyunjin actually look impressed with how you moved your body. You finished up with jumping and wrapping your legs around Felix's waist as the routine needed, Felix catching you easily except he hadn't been expecting you to move with such force so you both moved out of the view of the phone.

"Shit" Felix grunted softly as he tried to maintain his balance, and failing, as you started to drop your legs you both hit the ground hard making the others laugh loudly and Jeongin stop recording.

"Fuck sorry" he chuckled until he moved and you shrieked your ankle popping loudly, he froze watching the tears run down your cheeks freely as the laughter stopped and Changbin was at your side helping Felix to move you off of him and off the floor.

"Baby! Shit I knew you shouldn't be doing stupid shit like this" Changbin yelled his worry over coming him more than anger.

"M'sorry Binnie" you cried as you felt your ankle pop again this time making the pain lessen slightly but not much.

"Changbin, take a breath it was an accident" Chan pushed him to sit beside you as Felix looked at you from across the room where he was being hugged by Hyunjin tears in his own eyes. Swallowing thickly you let Chan and Minho put ice on your ankle as they called their manager to get you to the hospital. Changbin continued holding you his concern obvious to the others.

"I'm so sorry" Felix repeated again and again watching you wince and whimper as they moved you around.

"It's not your fault Felix" you tried to reassure him.

"You shouldn't be doing these sorts of things baby, you could have hurt yourself worse or you could have hurt Felix" he muttered into you hair his voice shaking slightly.

"I'm sorry" you mumbled miserably as their manager came in with the first aid kit to help you bind your ankle before you were moved to a car to go to the hospital.

The manager took you by yourself to the hospital and you texted Felix and Changbin non stop to tell them you were alright, it was your fault and you were sorry, once you were bandaged up properly and given crutches to get around on the manager brought you back to JYP where the others were now almost finished for their day. Limping back in on the crutches they all crowded around you to cuddle you.

"What's the verdict?" Chan asked softly patting your head.

"I dislocated and sprained my ankle" you mumbled "I'll be on crutches for weeks.

Hyunjin You had been seeing Hyunjin in secret, secret from the fans at least, for about six months. Both of you being idols had put a huge amount of pressure to not let either of your fandom know, not because either of you thought your fans wouldn't be happy for you, because the company was happier just not having to deal with any sort of drama at the time. You had agreed to abide by the rules they had set for you both and so far you had managed to keep everything under wraps.

It was the second night of your groups concert and your family and Hyunjin's had made their way into Seoul to see you perform, you had obviously invited Hyunjin and his members too in order to make it less suspicious that he was there and since you shared the same company it wasn't to strange and idea that they would be supporting your group.

The show had been going well, you had performed in your duo units, done all of your crowd pleasing hits and had been interacting with the crowd making you so happy that when the encore stage started and you were all ready for your last song you didn't notice on of the streamers that had gotten caught around one of the fold backs on on the far end of the stage, going into the chorus of the last song you slipped landing hard and almost falling into the wings of the stage where you remained sitting as your ankle throbbed painfully. Your members were quick to notice when you missed your line quickly making their way over to you and cutting the song short as they helped you from the stage.

You told them to start the last song over and apologize on your behalf and, to their credit they did, but not before you hear Hyunjin's voice calling for you down the corridor.

"Go, apologize, I will use the back stage mic to apologize as well" you instructed quickly your leader agreeing and hurrying the others back to the stage.

"Princess?!?" he almost shrieked as he, Chan and Felix made their way into the room.

"Just let me make this announcement first" you swallowed the lump forming in your throat "Hi again Love Bugs, I'm sorry I could not finish the show but lets take it from the top one more time" you cheered hearing the crowd from the stage as the music started once again. The backstage microphone was taken by staff before either of you spoke.

"Princess, I have told you to always look where you are going" Hyunjin scolded lightly "What if you had seriously hurt yourself? you could end your dancing career so easily, then what would you do?".

"She knows that Hyunjinnie no need to be harsh with her" Chan soothed gesturing for Felix to give him a hand wrangling their dramatic member "Can you get your shoe off?"

"I don't know it's really painful" you sniffed your eyes watering as the members and your manager came back in after finishing the final song.

"You still need to be more careful, what if you broke something!" Hyunjin continued as he sighed worryingly.

"I'm sorry Hyunie" you whimpered

"Do you think you could stand for the final photos?" your manager asked carefully noticing how agitated Hyunjin was and how Chan was trying to ease your high top off without hurting you.

"She needs a doctor pretty quickly I would say it's already turning black" Chan interrupted looking at Hyunjin who looked at your leg wide eyed.

"Alright lets get some of the security to get you out of here and to the hospital, obviously your guests will be told and looked after and can meet you at the dorms" you manager nodded organizing two of them to carry you to the car Hyunjin in tow with Chan while Felix went back to the others to update them.

Hyunjin didn't speak to you again until you were sitting in your private room waiting for the x-ray results as Chan kept your members, family and his members updated knowing that Lee Know and Changbin would organize to take both sets of parents for a meal with their remaining members to keep them occupied until you were released.

"I'm sorry I was mean princess" Hyunjin whispered his hand squeezing yours "I just get so scared when you get any type of injury, I know you worked so hard for your dream".

"I know Hyunie" you smiled at him softly squeezing back.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting Miss" your doctor bowed walking back into your room "The x-rays are clear so it looks like it is just a sprain so we will wrap it for you and give you some pain relief but you will need to come back in a week for us to examine it again".

"Thank you doctor" Chan thanked him as the nurse who had followed him smiled gently and began strapping your ankle to keep it from swelling further.

"Just ice it continuously and use the medicine and you will be back to dancing in no time" she instructed kindly before also taking her leave.

"Let's get you some dinner the guys aren't far from here with your parents" Chan smiled as Hyunjin quickly leaned in to kiss you softly before helping you up.

"I'll be coming round to help you whenever you need me" he whispered helping you to get the crutches right.

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz, @armystay89, @damnyouficc, @roamingpolar, @bakedlilgoonie, @krishastumblernow,

[hairmetal666]

EDIT: ao3 should be back so you can read this now 😭😭

Robin rips the cream-colored polo out of Steve's hands. "Hey!" his surprise makes him shriek.

"Absolutely not." She jams the hanger back on the rack. "We're in a boutique in Paris. You are not buying a polo shirt here."

Steve pouts. "But it's my size."

"No. I'm putting my foot down." She stomps to get her point across. "C'mon, they have sunglasses in the back."

He leaves the shirt behind, allowing Robin to lead him towards the table of over-sized, dark-framed sunglasses.

She gets lost in trying them on, vamping in the little mirror, leaving him to card through a rack of silk scarves, until a case of vintage wrist watches by the register catches his eyes. He studies the them—Omega, Rolex, Cartier, Patek Philippe—bands of finely tooled leather and steel, inlaid with gold, silver, diamonds; things Steve could never afford for himself in a million years.

He's so lost in contemplating the fine jewelry and the state of his life, everything that will change once he gets home, that it takes him a second to register the increasing noise coming from outside. At first, it's excited voices exclaiming in rapid French, but it quickly becomes near-hysterical screaming.

Steve’s first impulse is to locate the danger, block Robin from whatever might be coming. Before he can move, though, the most beautiful man on the planet skids through the door, long, dark curls flowing behind him like they’re caught in their own breeze.

"Kiss me," the man says. His voice is deep and breathy, and he has the biggest, brownest eyes Steve has ever seen. He loses himself in them—they’re so dark he can see his reflection in their depths—and it takes too long for the words to register.

"What?" Steve mumbles.

This gorgeous guy—long limbed and slender, a cropped cut-off t-shirt showing acres of pale skin punctuated by dark swirls of tattoos—can’t have actually asked to kiss him. This is a lust-based hallucination, it has to be, because this guy has a belly-button ring and wears pants so tight they have to be cutting off his circulation.

"Kiss me. Please?" the man asks again. The shouting from outside is louder now, people are crying, and Steve is sure that, this time, there's a definite note of desperation to his words.

This is a dream, for sure. There’s no way this breathtaking man is actually asking Steve for a kiss. Even so, Steve hears himself agreeing in a voice that doesn't sound anything like his own. The guy—the impossible, beautiful guy—smiles all gentle and soft, cupping the back of Steve's head in his large hand.

He's kissed a lot of people in his life. Like a lot. But nothing like this, not ever. Their mouths slot together, and he's expecting it to be chaste, and it is, but. Something electrical fizzes in his blood, goes straight to his brain, because his mouth is pressing harder and the man moans, grips Steve closer, pulls him until they crash against a clothes rack.

It's wanting and hot, but their tongues barley brush together before the embrace is broken. Steve wants; it infuses his blood stream, becomes a delicious ache in his lower abdomen.

"Thanks, sweetheart," the man whispers, pupils blown and eyes glassy. He brushes his thumb along Steve's cheek, then spins on his heel, disappearing out the door.

Steve can’t move, doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe, mouth still hanging open in bemused shock. What the fuck.

"STEVE," Robin screams.

He jumps, the noise stark in the quiet store and the now ringing silence outside, whatever commotion from earlier gone as though it had never been.

"Robin, what?" He snaps.

"Do you know who that was??"

His face flames crimson. "Uh. Just some guy?"

"Steeeve, dingus, you're hopeless."

"Who was it, then?"

"Oh, only Eddie Munson? The Eddie Munson, Billboard number one for sixteen weeks? First album sold out at stores around the world? Didn't you wonder what all that screaming was about?"

"Oh my god,” Steve says. Hand going up to touch his kiss reddened lips. “Oh my god."

Read the rest on ao3!

[fictarian]

Hobie w/ an equally as punk reader? <3 🤘🎸

𝐇𝐢𝐦 <𝟑 . ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝐏𝐭. 𝟔

ღ Of course! I apologize if there are issues with this fic, because i’m not very familiar with the style despite trying to learn about it 😭 Fun facts and criticism is VERY MUCH appreciated in the comments, so don’t be afraid to comment

ღ Gang we’re like 21 followers away from 100… i’m shivering in boots ‼️‼️ Tysm for following me omg

ღ Here’s a couple headcannons for if Hobie was with a punk partner (relationship goals, shout out to all my punk lovers I aspire to be like you)

ღ Paring: Hobie Brown and a GN! Punk reader 🙏

ღ Previous part can be found here !

• Whenever the two of you go out together, you always make an effort to go to your local record store. It has become a tradition between you and Hobie to buy two records (preferably of a song that the other hasn’t listened to or knows about) each and gift them to the other at the end of the trip. This helps broaden your guys’ music taste, introduce each other to a new possible favorite band, and just be a bonding experience all together

“The Skids?” You question while looking down at the album in your hands, intrigued by the vibrant colors on the cover. Hobie only nods his head, looking down at the records you had gotten for him. “Mhm, one of my favorites. You’ll like it luv, I promise.”

• No matter what either of you say, you and Hobie are both history nerds. Especially about punk history. So there’s no doubt that whenever you both are on call or are just relaxing in your room in silence, one of you are bound to start a conversation with a history fact. And for the next couple of hours, you’ll both be ranting and exchanging facts to each other

• Since you guys have practically the same style, you often find yourself taking some of Hobie’s jackets, pins, jewelry, etc. Hobie doesn’t mind, in fact, it gets his heart racing whenever he sees you in something that belonged to him at one point (let’s be fr, he isn’t gonna get shit back). So don’t be surprised when you catch him leaning against the doorway to your room, watching you try on one of his leather jackets or ripped jeans with a small smirk and a blush coating his face 🤭

“Y’know, it’s rude to stare” “I just can’t ‘elp it luv, not when something so pretty is right ‘front of me” Hobie cooed, causing you to blush from the tone of his voice. “Whatever…”

• You’re Hobie’s #1 hype person during the concerts he participates in (he doesn’t like consistency, so obviously he switches it up a lot and plays with different bands). This makes him go absolutely WILD. Just seeing you go full on crazy and vibe to the song he’s playing makes him 🥺. Hobie makes it a requirement for you to go to every one of his gigs, which obviously, you don’t mind at all

• You always get a front row view during his concerts, no questions asked. While you’re jamming away to the song his band is performing, Hobie is staring directly at you (somehow managing to not mess up his playing). And when you notice this and finally meet his gaze, the bastard doesn’t even look the least bit shamed or embarrassed. He even sends you a wink, making you the embarrassed one instead

• Hobie dedicates songs to you. Hell, bro will full on WRITE songs for you. He just loves you so much, and wants to show you that in a form that you both bond over constantly every single day. And when Hobie does dedicate a song to you, he makes it very clear to the audience. This makes you want to stomp on him with your platform boots, but it also makes you want to pull him in by the collar of his shirt and kiss him all over his face

“This one is for my arsekicker, _____. Didn’t tell em I was gonna do this before ‘and, since they would ‘ave done just that.” Hobie announced, meeting your sharp glare with a wink and his usual smug smirk. You shook your head, feeling your face burn as the band started to play.

tag list ! @zalayni @luvstarrstruck @jrrantss @pixqlsin @kairiscorner @k4tsu3 @asmobeuses

[skidcd-megamix]

I love the way you draw Aba why is she so scrungly what have you done

Aba disease

[cillianmurphysdimples]

I had pain meds when I went to bed last night, and I dreamed I was on the Holyhead to Dublin ferry with Cillian Murphy, Andrew Strong, and an old school friend I haven't seen since 2002. Andrew was singing Mustang Sally at the top of his amazing lungs on the deck, in the middle of the Irish Sea - that was rough as fuck - and my school friend was seasick.

I remember I was searching for Cillian, and he was in the bar with a half-pint of Guinness. He was talking the ear off some overly made up woman who looked like she was from the 1910s. I tapped him on the shoulder and asked what they were discussing. He turned to me and, because it was a dream, the woman just vanished into thin air and he then started soliloquising 😅. I get the full, detailed version of some mad novel (I wish I remembered because I was invested. I could have written a best seller!).

And then the sea got really, really rough and Cillian was like "I'm gonna spill my fucking drink." And set it on the bar, and it skidded down the bar and then he looked at me, and was laughing his head off - that really adorable laugh he does when he has his tongue sort of between his teeth, like this...

And then I woke up.

I didn't even get a fucking dream shag or grope, or nothing! 🤣

Although it has reminded me that Andrew Strong existed so I need to listen to The Commitments album.

[beyondthesefourwalls]

TIME TO PARTY. Pretty please.... Bradley, angst, candle, and "I made dinner."

Last but certainly not least! Hope you like this, Em!

Thanks for all your help with the festivities. Wouldn't have been half of what it was without you and @mak-32💚💜

----

warnings: angst, fire, hospitals

Burning Love

It was a beautiful evening in San Diego, and Bradley drove with the windows down and the music playing loudly. It had been a long week and work kept both of you busy, but you had plans for a relaxing, quiet weekend holed up in your small apartment. He couldn’t wait to spend the next 48 hours with his arms wrapped around you, ignoring the rest of the world. 

He saw the smoke first. It billowed high in the air, thick and dark in the fading evening light. He hears the sirens once he turns down the Monkees album he had playing. He didn’t for a second think it would be coming from your apartment building until he tries to turn the corner and is met with flashing lights, first responders, and the largest flames he had ever seen. All coming from the place you called home. 

He was screaming your name before he was all the way out of the Bronco, running as fast as he could toward the burning building. He’s stopped by a police officer before he can break past the barricade they had put up, yelling that he couldn’t go any further. 

“Sir, you can’t go in there!” 

“My girlfriend lives here!” he yelled, trying to break through. It takes another officer and a firefighter coming over to assist to hold him back. He was desperate to get to you, because what if you were still in there? “Please. She’s on the fifth floor. I can’t - I have to make sure she’s okay!” 

“Sir, I can’t let you go in there. I understand you’re worried, but we have Fire and Rescue evacuating the building,” the officer explained, shaking Bradley’s shoulders when he still fought against him. “Don’t make me arrest you, okay? I need you to stay behind the line. All evacuees are being gathered on the other side of the building. You can go look there.” 

He barely spared him a sympathetic look before he turned away, running in the direction of other first responders. 

Bradley felt like he was going to choke and it wasn’t because of the billowing smoke. He couldn’t lose you. He watched the flames lick at the crumbling building and felt his world crumbling along with it. 

He took off in the direction the offer had pointed him, desperately looking for your face in the crowd. There were probably a hundred people, but you’re nowhere to be found. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest with how it was pounding, and the panic was wrapping around his throat with a tight grip. Your phone was going straight to voicemail, and his calling of your name was yielding no responses. Tears pricked at his eyes. He couldn’t do this. Not you, not you, please not you. 

“Excuse me, Bradley?”

He whipped around, eyes frantic and desperate. Your neighbor stood before him, ash and dust in his graying hair. He gave him a kind smile and pointed to their left. “I saw her that way, with the paramedics.” 

Later on, Bradley might feel guilty for not inquiring as to how he was or if he was okay. But at this moment all he could think about was getting to you. He wound his way through the crowd, eyes searching. Finally, finally, he sees you. You’re sitting on the back of an ambulance, a blanket draped over your shoulders and an oxygen mask on your face. A paramedic is to your right, tending to your arm. 

He yelled your name again, and this time your eyes met his. His name was still forming on your lips by the time he skidded to a stop in front of you, dragging your body against his. 

“Oh my god,” he spoke into your hair, holding you as tightly as he could manage. “Oh my god, you’re okay. I got you, you’re okay.”

He only pulled back far enough to cup your cheeks in his hands, still not entirely convinced you were here with him. The panic still clutched at him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked for confirmation. You nodded, wrapping your left arm around his middle. 

“I made dinner,” you started, your voice raspier than he had ever heard it. You coughed around your words as you forced them out. “I hope you don’t mind if your steak is a little well done.” 

Bradley sputtered out a laugh as he pushed your hair out of your face. He was in awe of you, always, but especially now - he knows you're making jokes to put him at ease. He kissed your forehead and didn't even mind the taste of soot and smoke, because you were right here in front of him. 

“She has some smoke inhalation and a few second degree burns on her arm. We were just about to take her over to Memorial for observation. Are you riding along?” 

Bradley nodded before the man was even done speaking. He was going to make sure you were okay, and then he was never going to let you go ever again. 

Two hours later, you were settled into the room you’d be in overnight. You had inhaled more smoke than the doctors were comfortable with and they wanted to keep you for observation. The fire had started in the apartment directly below yours, and the smoke had traveled through the vents before it had hit the rest of the building. Each cough you let out sounded hacking and painful, and every single one sent a shot of worry through him. He held your hand tightly in his when the doctors finally left, promising to come check on you in a few hours. 

“I’m okay,” you promised him, not for the first time. A coughing fit took over shortly afterward. He kissed the back of your hand and nuzzled your skin as you got through it, before handing you a cup of water. You sipped on the liquid greedily. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said once you had settled down. You give him a tired smile. A knock at the door interrupted the conversation before it could go any further, and a kind looking nurse walked in holding a dinner tray. “Oh, I’m sorry - she’s only allowed liquids or soft foods right now,” he said, but you put a hand on his arm and shook your head. 

“I had it brought up for you,” you explained. An overwhelming feeling of love came over him as the nurse settled the tray on the table beside him and smiled at the both of you before leaving the room. Bradley thought he had maybe heard her mumble something about young love as she did. You gestured toward his phone sitting on his lap and he handed it to you with a raised eyebrow. After fiddling with it for a moment, a triumphant look appeared on your face. 

Laughter escaped him when you stretched to set it on the table beside his food. You had pulled up a youtube video of a flickering candle, with sound effects and all. 

“It wasn’t exactly the candlelight dinner I had planned, but I suppose it will do,” you grinned. Bradley rose from his seat and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“I love you,” he murmured softly, pushing your hair back. You returned the words just as genuinely and encouraged him to eat. Just because you weren’t allowed real food doesn’t mean he should starve too, you explained. He settled back into the chair and pulled the rollable table in front of him, the video playing on repeat on his small phone screen. 

“So,” he started after he chewed his first bite. You looked at him questioningly. “I guess this means you don’t have any reason not to move in with me now, huh?” 

word count: 1,307

[rolandrockover]

Do You Wanna Touch Me Now

What can you call something like this? A review of a Kiss song that was not recorded to completion and never officially released? If you ask me Phantom Entry doesn't sound too bad, and also kind of Kiss-like.

So, who among us Kissians doesn't inevitably think of the often mentioned Do You Wanna Touch Me Now, the only leftover from the Revenge (1992) sessions, which Paul had written with this Skid Row guy, but ultimately didn't make it onto the album. For a long time, even a very long time if you want to do yourself the displeasure of measuring your life in time, this one was considered pretty much a Holy Grail among ever-searching fans.

Until it was leaked on a mainstream platform, just like that. Out of the blue. After 30 years. (0) So, it's precisely this tiny blip that makes our little head trip here possible in the first place, so shhh, all this is top secret, of course. Let us therefore try to be gratefully and humbly accept what this may offer us.

Firstly, we have the long-range main riff that also opens the song, which can best be described as massive and anything but bad. If Take Me's (1976) chorus riff comes to mind, that would be pretty close. If you were to dance a few steps further and stop at the end with spread legs in a self-assured pose, then we would even have a bull's eye. On top of that, you get a Mr. Speed-style lick as a sort of calling card (1). This works in much the same way as the Roadrunner in the cartoons likes to stick out his tongue before he meeps and blasts off at the speed of light.

Anyway, to my ears it seems as if, in the overall context of the song's structure, it harbors a certain short-sighted, extroverted attitude that is unwilling to take the final step and whose own unrequited expectations unfortunately become its undoing. In simple terms, it promises more than it means to deliver (2).

Kind of like a long-armed boxer with a handful of excellent swinging hooks in his repetoire, with which he is able to send his opponent to the mat very safely and quickly, only to make the fatal mistake of letting go of his opponent too early and using his additional light-footed skills just to put on a little extra show for the audience (and himself), which unfortunately has little to do with the fight. And with that, I've basically already given away the verses and the bridges.

And these sound like a continuously alternating vivid, but still somewhat unsatisfying mixture of The Elder's (1981) The Oath (3), Mr. Blackwell (4), and now dear people fasten your seatbelts, Welcome to the Jungle (1987) respectively its main riff. Which should come as no surprise once you consider that in 1991 Guns N' Roses were probably the biggest rock band on this planet alongside Metallica (5).

And so it goes back and forth until you eventually reach the mid-part section, which is not much more than a big brake pad, led by Detroit Rock City's (1976) cinematic widescreen riffs, those that follow its super iconic pulsating intro, and to which you literally have no choice but to imagine Paul leisurely and majestically swinging his arm out wide. Still, you're not supposed to enjoy it to the full, because after just one run-through, the fun is over again and it moves like a souped-up tractor at adle in the direction of Black Sabbath and Iron Butterfly. This is noticeable in a passage that sounds as if somewhere the beginning of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida (1968) was stuck in a loop. On steroids, of course.

And somewhere in between a guitar solo must have been envisioned, although unfortunately it never materialized. Which is regrettable, but not necessarily essential for the sake of this cause.

But hey, since when can beggars be choosers?

Side Note:

(0) Hardcore Insiders not included, which in turn should include myself.

(1) And from the first refrain even a riff appendage in the guise of Plaster Caster's (1977) bridge melody, as well as another old buddy, this time from the future, who can be found on Sonic Boom from 2009 and beyond (which we can talk about another time).

(2) So much for the gratitude.

(3) I (1981) would also fit the bill, but The Oath even more so. Just think of its characteristic opening.

(4) That AC/DC Back in Black thing we already talked about here.

(5) On the other hand, I wouldn't necessarily accuse them of intent.

And no, Do Yo Wanna Touch Me Now is not a link, just a photo. All other links are real, by the way, and highlighted:

Do You Wanna Touch Me Now (1991/92)

Take Me (1976)

Mr. Blackwell (1981)

The Oath (1981)

Welcome to the Jungle (1987)

Plaster Caster (1977)

Detroit Rock City (1976)

In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida (1968)

[metalmusicwhore]

Hi hello heyo salutations wassaaaaappppp

Hihi im Juniper🖤🖤

my blog is 15+ it will most likely contain sexual content

dms and asks always open!

I don’t have many rules just don’t be too rude and idc about being weird doesn’t really bother me y’know

I play guitar! I’ve been playing on and off for about five years I also collect guitars too I have 9 so far.

I play bass as well I just started the year so I’m kinda new.

im trying to start a band called Dethnell its not going so well GUHGSJSB I only have one member it’s literally me a that’s it💀💀(I changed the name this time this is probably the one imma keep)

Some bands/artists I like are: Primus, Mötley Crüe, Motorheäd, Metallica, Megadeth, Slipknot, Infectious Grooves, Suicidal Tendencies, Pantera, Lorna Shore, Black Sabbath, Ozzy Osbourne, Anthrax, The Beatles, Kiss, Cannibal Corpse, Opal In Sky, David Bowie, David Lee Roth, Van Halen, Jimi Hendrix, Misfits, Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Ac/dc, RHCP, Guns N’ Roses, Alice Cooper, Deftones, Slayer, System of a Down, Anthrax, Bon Jovi, Three Days Grace, Type O Negative, Skid Row, New York Dolls, The Doors, Les Zeppelin, ZZ Top, Weird Al, Pink Floyd, Marilyn Manson, Korn, Rob Zombie, Murderdolls, White Zombie, Alice In Chains, Cream, Blink-182, Soudgarden, Judas Priest, Dokken, Hanoi Rocks and like a shit ton of others that I can’t remember rn and I don’t feel like writing all that(again)

Some shows/movies I watch are: Family Guy, The Simpsons, Grand Tour, Top Gear all the classic horror movies, house of 1000 corpses, Blades of Glory, Napoleon Dynamite, The Dirt, most Will Ferrel movies, most Jim Carey movies, all of the bttf movies, all of the lotr movies and like a crap ton of others

My hobbies: Crocheting, playing guitar and bass, drawing, collecting records/CDs/tapes, hanging posters in my room, sleeping and listening to music.

my fav albums atm: DIARY OF A MADMAN BY OZZY OSBOURNE ITS THE BEST ALBUM EVER TO EXIST EVER

all time favorite actors/rockstars: HUGH JACKMAN IS MY NUMBER ONE ACTOR RN GRRG, Ozzy, Rob Trujillo, Bruce Dickinson, david bowie and ofc always CLIFFORD LEE BURTON

random facts about me: I have bad social anxiety so it’s hard for me to talk to people irl so I tend to do that online more, I’m half-ish(idk) Irish and I wanna go to Ireland SO BADD, i love men and i LOVE CARSS ARGGG THEYRE SO COOLLLLANJSSJS

my other blogs:

@totallypaulmccartney im like only ever on this one now💔

if there are any grammatical or spelling errors please ignore them I have add so it’s kinda hard for me to write properly and also ignore my ASS memory😭😭

anyways have a good day or don’t idc BYE!!

last updated 1/4/25

[angelsanarchy]

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 8

Tagging: @ophelialaufey@madamemaximoff06@forever-not-gonna-sink@ajmiila02@liquidsmoothdomme@shady-the-simp @auggiethecreator

Oystein paced the house all day waiting for her. He had put in a grocery order first thing this morning so he could talk to her about an upcoming show that he wanted her to come to. He also wouldn't mind her sitting in his lap and doing his corpse makeup either but he felt that might be a bit much. He watched the skies and knew rain was coming but that never stopped an order in the past when he was living at home.

He knew the others were too engrossed in their own shit to even pay him any attention as he stirred in his own anxiety but the moment her car started down the road, he started to pull on his boots, almost skidding out in front of her car as she parked.

"Were you waiting for me to get here?" Y/n smirked at Oystein as she popped the trunk of the car.

"What? No of course not. I was waiting on the groceries, obviously." He teased taking the bags that she handed him. She followed him into the house and tried to put the bags down in a spot that wasn't beer soaked or gross. It took a few back and forth trips but as Y/n closed the trunk of the car, Oystein put his body in front of the driver side door.

"So is your shift over?" He smirked. He knew what he was doing and Y/n knew why he was doing it.

"Yes, you guys were my last stop but I already told you, I'm only here to deliver your groceries." She leaned against the car, folding her arms in front of her chest.

"Well if you don't have anywhere you need to be then why not just come in and hang out with me? Dead is the only one home but he's locked up in his room. It's quiet and I can guarantee my room is the cleanest place in the entire house." Oystein wasn't one for begging but he really wanted to spend some time with her.

"I'm not going to fuck you Oystein." Y/n said flat out with a smile.

"Well I was kind of hoping I would be the one fucking you..." Oystein teased making her roll her eyes but he reached out to put his hand on her arm.

"I'm kidding, well not really but I promise I'm not trying to put any moves on you. I just want to hang out." Y/n looked him over. His skin was so pale that the blue in his eyes almost looked like sapphires. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Oystein was a very pretty man.

"I will come in to see your room but I'm not staying." Y/n gave up. Oystein took her hand and pulled her back towards the house like a little kid ready to show off his toys. Y/n tried not to breath through her nose as the smell of piss, cigarettes and decomposition made the house reek. Oystein's room seemed to be in an isolated part of the house and she was relieved to see he wasn't lying about having the cleanest space.

"What do you think?" Oystein waved his arm around and offered her a chair. She nodded her head, passing on the chair and looking through his things. She ran her fingers across his typewriter and stopped short at the stack of records he had. She thumbed through them with Oystein approaching over her shoulder.

"Which one is your favorite?" She asked holding up two different albums. Oystein reached over her and pulled his favorite album from the bunch and put it on the player. Y/n sat on his bed and listened intensely to the music. Oystein watched her from the chair her once offered her, taking in how she listened to the music that he loved so much, almost nervous at how she might react.

"This feels like you. It's loud, very bodied and almost feels like someone is screaming secrets, if that makes any sense." Y/n tried to explain. Oystein smiled. The last thing he would ever call himself is smitten but fuck if that girl didn't say all the right things.

"It's not something I would likely listen to when trying to unwind but its not unbearable." Y/n turned her body towards him and caught his smile.

"What?" She asked nervously. Oystein couldn't help himself. He sprang up from the chair and slammed his mouth into hers. She was surprised by the contact and let herself meet his tongue with her own. She could hear the sound of Oystein's bullet belt being opened and she panicked, pushing him backwards to break the kiss.

"I told you, I'm not going to fuck you! Why do you insist on trying to make me one of your groupies dammit!" Y/n was embarrassed that she let herself get so carried away and threw the door open, fleeing the room. Oystein followed quickly behind her, trying to get her to stop.

"Y/n! Please just wait! I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable or hurt you-"

"You didn't hurt me! The kiss was fine!" Y/n had spun on her heel so fast, Oystein's knees almost buckled from stopping abruptly.

"Fine?" He was confused.

"Yes, I didn't mind the kiss but I'm trying to be one of those girls who fawns after you, gets fucked and humiliated by your friends and your band." Y/n insisted trying to open her door. Oystein shut it.

"I already told you! I don't do groupies! I never have. The girls that come here all end up fucking Hellhammer or some of the others. I don't know why you keep insisting I'm fucking everyone." Oystein argued.

"So what do you do when women throw themselves at you? Turn them away? I'm not a fucking idiot Oystein." Y/n wasn't going to pretend she didn't like Oystein but she knew any kind of relationship with him would be complicated at best.

"I tell them I don't want groupies! I find them disgusting-" Oystein's mouth stopped working almost instantly as Y/n yanked the buttons of her work shirt open, popping the buttons and flashing her bare tits to him. Oystein's eyes fluttered taking in how perfect they were. He wanted them in his mouth, he wanted them in his face. He wanted to fuck them, cum on them and watch them bounce as she rode him.

"Yeah disgusting. I can tell you have a real distaste for the female form." Y/n pulled her shirt closed and zipped her jacket to her chin.

"You aren't a groupie. You could never be a groupie to me." Oystein felt like he was drooling with how much spit was collecting in his mouth but Y/n shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I just...it's a bad idea Oystein. Once we push past that boundary, everything changes and I really don't want to end up hating you." Y/n got in her car and Oystein stood dumbfounded by the response. He watched her drive away thinking about everything she had just said. She was scared. She wanted to be more than friends with him, his feelings were mutual but she was scared of getting hurt. Now he his next move was critical. First, he was going to have to get back up to his room and handle the painfully hard cock she had left him with, then he would plan his next move.