#skid’s ask album

[skidcd-megamix]

YOUR STYLE IS SOOOO GOOD AND FUN AND PLEASING TO LOOK AT !! I LOVE YOUR ART AND CREATIVITY SO MUCH UWOOOOHHH

AAAUUUGHHH??!!! REALLY.,,, OMCC OMCCC TYSM LOLL I justt kindaa do whatever I see in my headd?? If that makes senseee :3 hearingg that my style is cool makes me smileee

Mini doodle cuz I CANT HELO MYSELFFRAAAAHHHHH

[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.

[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! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

💌 taglist: @boba-beom @beomkaibums @bruh-changbin @day6andetcetera @bluesoobinnie @chaconnelatte @pinklemonadeflav @goldennika

[ join my taglists here ]

[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

[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

[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

[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: Supernatural, 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: Powerslave, Somewhere in Time by Iron Maiden, Look What The Cat Dragged in by Poison and Eat ‘Em and Smile by David Lee Roth

all time favorite actors/rockstars: HUGH JACKMAN IS MY NUMBER ONE ACTOR RN GRRG, Ozzy, Rob Trujillo, Bruce Dickinson AND DAVID BOWIE

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:

@tonys-i0mmi @sp4c3man @totallypaulmccartney

@w3rd-4l-y4nk0v1c @n0-m0r3-mr-n1c3-guy @g3t-y0ur-f1ght-0n

@r3ign-in-bl00d @t4lk-d1rty-t0-m3

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 9/16/24

[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.

[ladykailitha]

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 16

All right my lovelies we have a proper count for how long this going to be. 17 parts with a epilogue. So by Tuesday this story will be done. I am so grateful for everyone who has commented and reblogged this story every time a new part has come out. You know who you are. I love each of you!!

This is it, the part everyone has been waiting for. The boys finally get their heads out of their asses. Yay!!! (Insert Kermit the frog arm waving gif here). A little Buckingham, too. ;) The next part is a little spicy (no actual sex is shown but Steve and Eddie do get naked). And then a super soft epilogue.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9 Part 10  Part 11 Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15

*

Gareth was on the phone with their agent when Eddie arrived for practice. Jeff was pacing and Brian was in the corner with his head in his hands.

Eddie skidded to a stop and opened his mouth to ask when Gareth said, “Yeah, yeah, they’re all here. Yeah one second.” And he hit a button on his phone.

“Can everybody here me?” the agent asked.

All of them chorused the affirmative.

“Great,” the agent said, his voice dripping on the edge of too excited. “I got a call from Upside Down Records, they’re based out of Chicago. And they want you come and record a full album with them in August.”

“I’m going to need you to repeat that,” Jeff said.

“Upside Down Records wants Corroded Coffin to record an album in August.”

“Holy shit!” Gareth breathed. “That’s so awesome.”

Brian coughed, trying to clear his throat. “Did they say why August?”

The agent chuckled. “It’s when their studio will be available. They have a band in there right now. But they have to present their album by the end of June. So August was the earliest they could get you in. But they’re super happy to have you.”

“Thanks, Murray,” Eddie breathed.

“I’ll get started trying to find you guys a place to stay while you’re recording,” Murray said. “It will most likely to be a loft where you all would be staying together.”

“That’s fine...” Jeff stuttered. “That’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Gareth said. “Absolutely.”

“Thanks again,” Eddie said.

“Of course, boys,” Murray said. “Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

Brian let out a watery chuckle. “Yeah, yeah you did.”

“Congrats, I mean it,” Murray said. “I couldn’t believe those asshats at the Queen’s Crown both passed on you. And when you guys go platinum I intend to send them black roses.”

That got them laughing.

“There we are,” Murray said. “Now I’ve gotta go. I’ll keep in contact with everyone to let you know how the living arrangement search is going, okay?”

Everyone voiced their agreement and then the call ended.

There was silence for about a minute and then they were jumping and running to give each other hugs.

“We did it!” Eddie screamed.

“I’ve got to call my girlfriend,” Jeff said.

“Yeah,” Gareth said. “I’ve got my own phone calls to make. I think we all do.”

Brian giggled. “I think it’s safe to say that we’re not practicing tonight.”

“No,” Eddie agreed. “But after we make our calls, we are going out to celebrate.”

The other three whooped and cheered.

Eddie called Wayne and Chrissy. If he wiped away a tear after his conversation with his uncle, no he didn’t. He wiped away several. Chrissy on the other hand screamed so loud that the other members stopped and stared at him.

“I love you too,” Eddie said. “But I’m already destined to lose my hearing as a metal artist, can you not, you know, speed up the process?”

She laughed.

After he was done with her he stared at the phone.

Gareth noticed and ended the call he was on with. He walked over to Eddie and put his hand on his shoulder.

“He’ll be happy for you and you know it,” he told Eddie fiercely. “He’s been your biggest cheerleader since the two of you got your heads out of each other’s asses.”

“I know,” Eddie whispered. “I just wish there was a way he could come with us.”

Gareth gave his shoulder a squeeze and went back to the others.

Jeff cleared his throat. “All right, it’s time to party.”

*

Eddie knew he didn’t have to wear something nice to the gala, but he wanted to anyway. He dressed in a nice black button up with a red vest, the shirt only buttoned from the start of the vest, down. He paired it with tight black jeans and his white sneakers. His hair was pulled back with a black, skull-themed bandanna.

He checked in the mirror again, fiddling with his hair for the billionth time. Chrissy had to drag him from his apartment to get him to stop.

Chrissy herself had dressed up, wearing a pink sheath dress with a white cardigan.

When they got the gallery, they were pleased to see that most of the people had dressed up as well and that set Eddie at ease.

He wandered around the gallery drinking punch and eating the refreshments. In the crowd he spotted Chrissy and Robin with their heads together, giggling at something written in the little program they had passed out. Eddie paused for a moment.

Chrissy threw her head back and Robin looked at her with stars in her eyes.

Well that was certainly interesting. He only hoped that Diamond wasn’t against inter-employee relations, because both of those girls were well on their way to being completely smitten with each other.

He spotted the Karen before he spotted the 18+ area. She was screaming that her little crouch goblin had slipped into the adult area and seen the most awful licentious things imaginable. The guard was pointing out that if she hadn’t let him run around unsupervised he wouldn’t have seen those things. The area was clearly marked and behind a purple satin curtain.

And that’s when Eddie spotted it. Yup. Great, big, fucking purple curtain. With banners stating adults only, 18+, enter at your own risk. He slipped in and was pleased to note that inside they also had partitions up separating, nudity, violence, and social commentary (things that didn’t quite fit in the other two, but were sensitive nonetheless. Scenes after an earthquake, children starving, that sort of thing.)

Eddie started there. Most of these were photos from the photography majors. There were a few paintings and one very notable charcoal drawing. He stopped in front of that one for a while. It was of the 1969 Stonewall Riot. It had a ribbon next to it for best depiction of a historical event.

He moved on to the violence section. The pictures of war. The murder of Caesar. And one particularly hilarious scene of the Bible story of Judith slitting the throat of Holofernes with Eddie as the dude getting murdered. He laughed. He supposed the pose could be interpreted that way. Even if it was a bit over the top. He looked closer at the name and then he really started laughing. Michelle Gardener. The bitch that tried to make Steve move from his spot.

His very first rescue of Steve. Before they talked, before they became friends, before they became essential to each other.

And then finally he got to the nudity section. This is where most of Joyce’s classes were located.

Here was Eddie as Morpheus, as Lucifer, as Lysander. But then he got the center piece. It had won best in show. And it was magnificent. The come hither stare, the sheer white drapes opened to reveal his prone form, the gracefulness of the lines. He was enraptured. None of the other artists had painted him like this. This was a declaration of love if there ever was one.

“What do you think?” Steve asked, appearing suddenly at his elbow.

Eddie’s head whipped around to face him. “Holy shit, Steve, it’s beautiful.”

Steve smiled. “I had to keep taking it home so you wouldn’t see it before now. I wanted it to be surprise. I was so tempted to keep it to myself to only let a handful of people to see it. Mrs Byers. Robin. You. But Robin was right, art is meant to be seen. So here it is for everyone to see.”

“She’s always right,” Eddie said with a soft smile.

“I know,” Steve said with a grin. “It’s so annoying.”

They stared at the painting for awhile just admiring Steve’s work, when he spoke.

“Most of these will be auctioned off at a silent auction later tonight, the proceeds will go toward helping disadvantaged youth to get into art,” he murmured.

Eddie looked up at him panicked, point up at their painting. “Is–”

Steve shook his head. “I couldn’t bare the thought of it going to some random stranger. So I dug into my savings at bought it outright. It’s yours, actually. I’m giving it to you.”

Eddie closed his eyes. “Steve...”

Steve took his hand. “Robin kept begging me to tell you. But I was enjoying our time together so much. But I’m not staying in Indiana. I’m leaving for Chicago at the end of July. I’ll be doing my student teaching and getting my teaching certificate for the state of Illinois. So it’s yours. To have something to remember me by. I just hope you’ll come visit me sometime.”

“Oh.” Eddie opened his eyes to see that Steve was on the verge of tears. “Sweetheart, I think it will go nicely in our apartment in Chicago. Unless you already have a place?”

Steve stared at him in shock. “No, no. You can’t follow me to Chicago. You’ve got a life ahead of you here. You guys are on the verge of making it big. I refuse to be the reason you gave up on your dreams.”

Eddie gently took Steve’s face in his hands. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you for about a week now, but I couldn’t because I didn’t want to face the fact that I would be leaving you here in Indy.”

Steve blinked, unable to cock his head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Our manager, Murray Bauman,” he said softly, “called last week. There’s a record label in Chicago that wants us to come and record an album for them in August.”

“You’re moving to Chicago for a record deal?” Steve asked, needing to be sure.

“That’s right, beautiful,” Eddie murmured. “We’re moving on to the same place.”

“Eddie I love you so much,” Steve cried, tears starting to roll down his face.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Steve’s. They both melted into the kiss and Steve clung to the back of Eddie’s vest.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered when he pulled away from Steve’s lips.

“Are you sure you want to move in with me?” Steve asked, breathless. “I–”

Eddie cooed gently. “I know it’s fast. I know we had a rough start. But baby, there is no one else I would rather be with then you.”

Steve let out a watery chuckle. “Okay. Yeah.” He looked up into Eddie’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“We have plenty of time,” Eddie said with a soft smile. “We have two and half months to find something that fits both our needs.”

Steve kissed him again. Hard and deep. Like he was trying to let Eddie know every thought and feeling that he kept inside.

When they pulled apart Eddie whispered, “Do you have to stay?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m not participating in the auction so I can leave at any time.”

“Great!” Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist and hauled him through the gallery as he looked for Chrissy and Robin.

When he spotted them, he made a beeline straight for them, Steve struggling to keep up.

“Hello, ladies!” Eddie greeted with a wide grin on his face. He dropped his keys into Chrissy’s hand. “I’m taking my boyfriend home and locking ourselves in my apartment.”

“Eddie!” Steve admonished, but couldn’t keep the goofy grin off his face.

“About damn time!” Robin crowed. She gave Steve a big kiss on the cheek.

“Would you make sure to grab my painting before the auction starts?” he asked as he wiped his cheek.

“Absolutely!” she said and then pushed the two of them. “Now shoo!”

Eddie and Steve laughed.

“Don’t forget to use protection!” Chrissy called.

“Back at you, bitch!” Eddie said over his shoulder.

Robin turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “Now why would you need to use protection?”

Chrissy batted her eyelashes prettily at her. “Because it’s cleaner, and more fun with a ribbed action.”

Robin’s eyes went wide. “Oh. So is that on offer then?”

Chrissy pulled her in for a gut searing kiss.

“That would be a yes,” Robin said dumbly and then kissed her again.

Part 17 Epilogue

@artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1 @scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @a-little-unsteddie @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @elluminis @tailsfromthecrypt @danili666 @plyerice27 @alittlegreyfish  @n0-1-important @no-upper-limit-to-stupidity @maya-custodios-dionach @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @heaven428 @thedragonsaunt @ceaselessly-watching @imfinereallyy @messrs-weasley @sharingisntkaren @nohomoyesbi

[skidcd-megamix]

aba daba doo

Type shit

[orions-choker]

+:★:+*Chapter Nine: Last Caress+:★:+*

A/N: Holy crap sorry for the delay in posting this. I paused writing for a bit because I got to see Metallica live for the first time!!! and then immediately got sick after so this had been sittinf half finished for awhile Im sorry ;-;. Anyways we are getting somewhereeeeee, a small Kirky POV chapter. <3 I just wanted some sweet domestic fluff.

“I think Y/N and Newkid are fucking.” Lars smacked his lips around the words, mouth shoved full with food. He sat at the kitchen table with Kirk and James. Looking into the living room across from them sat Y/N and Jason.

She sat on the floor in front of the couch, her nose buried between the pages of her sketchbook as she worked furiously. Above her sat Jason on the couch, legs sprawled out as he lazily flipped through channels on the television. She had been planted between his legs, occasionally tossing her head back and resting it against Jason’s thigh as she took small breaks.

There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary about it. Everyone was accustomed to how close she was with all the boys, Kirk and Jason especially. “Fuck off dude, there’s no way, I know my sister.” James grunted roughly, kicking at Lars beneath the table.

“Why would you even say that man?” Kirk frowned, his voice coming out a little whinier than expected. “She's always like that.” Kirk scoffed. He looked over to his two best friends, watching curiously as Jason threaded his hand through her hair. The bright smile that crossed her face had Kirk’s stomach churning. She had always been like that, right?

Lars’s laugh was outrageously loud, causing the two in the living room to look over curiously. “Jesus don’t get your fucking panties in a twist.” Lars swallowed the bite he had taken. “You guy’s can't tell me you haven't noticed how touchy they are lately, and how everytime Y/N can't hang out neither can Jason.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Kirk dropped his gaze down to the table. James scoffed once more, moving from the table into the living room before he seriously hurt the Danish man. Kirk was pretty sure he was going to burn holes into the wood of the table as he stared down. “Someones pissy they didn’t hit it first, maybe you shouldn't have waited three fucking years.” That final taunt from Lars had him standing from the table, the chair screeching loudly as it skidded across the kitchen floor.

Y/N’s eyes caught his, concern on her face as she saw the anger in his eyes. He joined the growing group in the living room, opting to sit beside Y/N on the floor rather than the couch. “You okay Kirky?” She asked softly, placing her hand on his knee and rubbing soothingly.

His shoulders dropped, there that was normal. He smiled at her, “I'm fine, Lars is just being a dick.” He grabbed her hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. She squeezed back lightly before pulling away. She picked up her pencil once more. She knocked her knee into his own as she settled back into her activity.

“When isn’t Lars being an ass.” Jason chuckled. He leaned forward, resting his arms on Y/N’s shoulders. An ugly feeling swarmed under Kirk’s skin, it was an innocuous move yet the seed had been planted in his mind. “Hey Kirk, want to help me practice that riff for the album I’ve been struggling with?”

Every fiber of Kirk’s being wanted to say no, it felt unfair, the sudden anger he had towards his best friend. “Yeah sure dude.” His voice came out sounding more clipped than intended. The two stood up, looking down at Y/N expectantly. She waved them away dismissively. Her tongue peaked out the corner of her lips, her face screwed up in concentration as she smudged the shading of her drawing.

With a shrug Jason stepped away, Kirk following after him towards the home studio in James and Y/N’s house. “You sure you okay man, you seem tense.” Jason asked, settling into a chair, grabbing his bass off a stand. Kirk’s stomach twisted, since when did Jase leave any of his instruments here. Kirk grabbed one of the spare guitars James had as he sat across from the other boy.

His fingers twiddled with the knobs as the two of them tuned the instruments to the same key. “Yeah I’m fine Jase’” He sighed, running a hand through his hair and pushing his bangs out of the way. Jason’s eyes followed the movement, a soft blush on his cheeks. Jason smiled at him and he felt the anger melt away slowly.

“Alright, you can always talk to us.” The emphasis on ‘us’ hung in the air, when had those two become an ‘us’? Kirk nodded wordlessly, fingers plucking at the strings as they began hammering through the issues Jason was having.

Some time had passed before the two of them had it figured out. Only stopping due to the interruption of Y/N’s head peeking into the room. In sync the two of them dropped their instruments, attention turning towards the grinning girl. “Hey you two, how’s it going?” She slid into the room, her hand’s clasped behind her back and head tilted curiously.

There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she nearly skipped towards them. “Figured out the problem I was having.” Jason said, leaning back in his chair. He pulled his thick curls back away from his face, tying them up into a low ponytail. Kirk couldn't help the way his eyes traced the strong outlines of his exposed jawline.

Kirk found his attention drawn between the two of them frequently, one moment his eyes unable to leave the subtle rippling of Jason’s muscles, the next completely infatuated with the softness of Y/N’s lips. It was terribly confusing, leaving his insides feeling like T.V static. Now the sight of Jason relaxed back in the chair, legs spread pulling the fabric of his tight denim over his thighs, head tilted back exposing the expanse of his neck. It had Kirk gulping and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“That’s good.” The words dripped from Y/N’s tongue. Slowly her gaze settled on Kirk. “Everyone else left, I don’t think James is coming home tonight.” The statement was completely innocent, but it sent Kirk’s mind somewhere darker than it should be. “I was thinking, sleepover?”

The two boys shared a look, the easy smile on Jason’s face only proved to make Kirk’s face a little warmer. “Why not, it's been awhile.” He shrugged, standing up with a stretch that had his shirt rising a little higher, there was a flex of tension in his abs that left Kirk’s mouth dry before it disappeared.

Unable to form a coherent thought at the moment Kirk nodded in agreement.”Good because I already ordered pizza.” Y/N said cheekily. She grabbed Kirk’s hands tugging him up and pulling him out of the studio, Jason trailing behind them with a soft chuckle.

True to her word the food was sitting on the coffee table, beer’s cracked open and waiting for them. “If I said no you wouldn’t have let me leave anyways huh?” Kirk said. He smiled down at the excited girl as she opted to sit on the floor rather than the couch once more. It was now that he noticed the shirt she was wearing, one that he had seen on his bandmate before, one that he was pretty sure he himself had stolen. “Is that Jason’s?” He asked, gesturing to the fabric.

Y/N frowned looking down at her shirt. Her hands gripped the edge as she stretched it out, the design distorting slightly. “Huh, probably.” She mused. Kirk’s stomach twisted uncomfortably at the implications. “I stole it from your house last time I was there though.” She shrugged casually.

“Oh.” The feeling settled quickly. Of course she did, she was no stranger to stealing all of their clothes when she wanted something comfortable. “Yeah that sounds about right.” Kirk nodded with a grin, reveling in the way Jason glared at him annoyed.

“Since when did my clothes become the communal clothes?” Jason huffed, leaning forward to grab a slice of pizza. “I don’t remember giving either of you that.” He swallowed around his food. Still there was a pleased tug at the corner of his lips.

Y/N shook with a laugh that had Kirk joining in, the two of them reveling in the torment they put their best friend through. “Sorry Jase’ clearly you have the superior closet.” Y/N squeezed Jason’s hand gently as she rested her head on Kirk’s shoulder.

He liked this. The simplicity of the three of them being together like this. It was easy, like they were an extension of himself he felt at ease. Y/N shuttered out a yawn as she stretched out. “Tired already?” Kirk asked, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back, rubbing soft circles. “How are we supposed to stay up all night watching horror movies?”

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “You know since meeting you two I don’t think I’ve watched anything that wasn't filled with gore or monsters.” His legs stretched out, kicking Kirk gently. “Should we sleep out here?” He asked.

“I have a tape player in my room.” Y/N yawned once more, she shuffled to her feet and grabbed a few movies off the shelf, tossing them into Kirk’s lap. “I’ll stay up I promise.” The boys shared a knowing look as they watched her shuffle up the stairs.

The two quickly tidied the coffee table off, knowing how much it would bother her in the morning if it was still a mess. “Ask us to sleepover and then immediately pass out. What kind of bullshit is that?” Kirk joked, knocking his shoulder into Jason’s as they made their way to Y/N’s room.

Y/N’s room oozed the same comfort she herself did. It was like coming home after a long day as he saw the familiar posters lining her walls, the plushies he had come to learn all the names of, her bed a tangled nest of pillows and sheets. She was sprawled out across the bed lazily.

Kirk smiled at the sight as he moved to the vhs player. He couldn’t be bothered to care what movie he put on. The thought of laying down with Y/N and Jason growing more enticing. “I think you guys have pajamas left here.” She mumbled half awake, waving towards her dresser.

It wouldn’t be the first time Kirk had slept in his jeans but he was grateful he could avoid it. There was a gnawing at his brain, telling him how unusual it was for the both of them to stay so frequently to have clothes left here. They had lived together so long that it just came naturally.

If the pants he grabbed were his or Jason’s he didn’t know. The room went dark aside from the dim fuzzy lighting radiating from the T.V. The two of them settled in on either side of her. The bed was big enough for the three of them as long as they pressed into each other.

It wasn’t unusual Kirk and Jason tossed their arms around the smaller girl, caging her in. She smiled fondly, turning to her side so that her back was pressed to Jason’s chest, her face against Kirk’s chest. What was out of the normal was the way Kirk’s hand searched for the other boys, finding it and intertwining their fingers.

Jason’s hand was larger than his own, engulfing him. He didn’t pull away, squeezing Kirk's hand softly. It sent a warm tingle up Kirk's arm. It seemed…right. The three of them completely entangled with each other. Any of the worries Kirk had earlier that day were washed away by the gentle breathing of his two best friends.

He was drowning in the two of them, with seemingly no savior in sight. If he were to go out like this, with both of them? He decided a while ago he would be okay with that. Jason’s warm hand on his own, Y/N’s soft breath fanning over his chest, their legs crossed over each other in knots. This death would be the closest thing to heaven he could get.

[steddiebang]

The Rainbow Connection

Author: @hellfireloserclub l Artist: @_sweatypeaches l Artist: @hellfireloserclub Posting on Thursday, November 16

When Rainbow Graveyard made it big, performing as their alter egos Knocks and Munster, it should have been everything Eddie had ever wanted - sold out gigs, number one platinum selling albums, and a band made up of people he had fought through hell with at his side. The upside down might not have killed him, but Eddie never imagined that being on stage with Steve every night would be the thing that finally finished him. Eddie is not a person that was built to be loved, he has no idea what to do with the feelings that threaten to tear him apart. Since they dragged each other from the brink of death, he and Steve have been doing a dance to which neither knows the steps, building a life out of the trauma that follows them like a shadow, seeping into each and every crack it can find. Being a rockstar hadn't been in Steve's future plans, but it was impossible for him to deny Eddie anything, full stop. He’d helped Steve put himself back together when the upside down literally pulled him apart, and now he was pretty sure that Eddie had kept a piece of his heart and held it hostage. Steve was too much, loved too fast and too hard and destroyed everyone and everything he touched. But when he got on stage, Knocks took the wheel, and what Knocks wanted was Munster. They say that sometimes you can have too much of a good thing, and sometimes you don't know what you've got till it's gone. But how much of you is left when you're living as the personified version of your worst self?

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Eddie looked good, and he knew he wasn’t the only one that thought so. Wherever they went these days Eddie turned heads, it was hard not to notice when it was happening right in front of you. 

Charm and charisma were always going to draw people into him, and now without the stigma he had back in Hawkins Eddie was thriving. 

Steve tried not to think about The Thing. The Thing with a capital T, that grabbed his heart and squeezed whenever Eddie was approached by someone in a bar or the service staff smiled a little too enthusiastically in Eddie's direction. 

Steve was just a good friend who ensured his people were safe. He had always been protective, forever the babysitter. Yet he didn’t feel the need to storm out of the bar and throw up when he caught Robin kissing the bartender. But when he caught Eddie a week later doing the same? It hurt, and it hurt in a way that hadn’t happened since Nancy had ripped his heart out and stomped on it. 

“Is Ed picking you up?” Wayne asked as they loaded the last of the tools onto the flatbed, having finally escaped Mrs Fitzgerald. 

Steve was about to say he wasn’t when Eddie’s van came around the corner, music blaring and windows rolled down. It came to a skidding halt not far behind Wayne's work truck, and Eddie was soon leaning out the window. Wayfarer's almost falling off his nose in his enthusiasm. 

“Get in Stevie, we’re going shopping.”  

“Who are you, Regina George?” 

Steve waved to Wayne as he climbed into the passenger seat, trying his hardest to not let his eyes rake over Eddies exposed arms, or the way the black tank top he wore stretched across his chest as he reached out to grab his lighter and ignite the end of the two cigarettes hanging from his lip, passing one over to Steve. 

It was becoming too easy to be around Eddie, he had slid into Steve’s life and now he was lighting his cigarette and walking around his apartment in the nude like he had been sent by a higher power to push all of Steve’s buttons. 

“Do I look like I would look good in pink?” 

Eddie waved to his uncle as he backed the van out of the street, ignoring the amused knowing look on Wayne’s face as they rounded the corner. Steve ignored the question, turning the station to something they could both agree on. Eddie nervously tapped his fingers against the beat during their favorite song.

Something was bothering the other man and Steve knew it was only going to be moments before he found out if it was going to be good or bad, Eddie only got this fidgety when something was playing on his mind. 

They  drove to the coast, the others would probably join them later, gather on the cliffs and talk till the sun dipped below the horizon. There would be no bars and no bartenders tonight, no need for the thing in his chest to show its ugly head, it could stay safe in the Eddie shaped hole. 

Parking up they clambered onto the roof of the van, both with overalls tied around their waists and their arms out catching the last of the sun. 

In this light, it was easy to make out Eddie’s freckles where they had started to form in clusters.

Steve was grateful for his sunglasses, they hid the way his eyes trailed the scars on Eddie's arms. His tattoos were multiplying at an alarming rate now Eddie had a stable income and hush money to fall back on. 

They were sitting close, they always were, it was like they fused at the hip most days. Eddie was almost in his lap where their knees overlapped leaning in as he threw his arms about as he talked. Always moving. A constant hypnotic presence that drew Steve closer each time. 

“So… hypothetically, if we were going to form a band…” Eddie seemed to chew the words over. “Argyle said he would be able to get us some gigs. His dad owns, like, a whole bunch of venues and bars, turns out the dude is like, mega rich. His dad owns a whole chain of hotels or something, and we were talking – over pizza, obviously –”

Steve let Eddie ramble, for all people that said Steve and Robin were the same, not many people got to witness one of Eddie’s full-scale verbal dumps, they often went on as long as Robin’s. 

Steve was happy to ride both of them out, nodding in what he hoped were the right places, enjoying the happy look on their faces when they were giving him new information.

Helping himself to a bottle of water from the bag between them, Steve listened to the twelve-point presentation Eddie seemed to have been working on since Argyle had put the idea in his head.

Steve already knew he was going to say yes, there was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do if it made Eddie this happy.

“So what do you think?” Eddie was practically nose to nose with him now, he could feel his breath on his skin.

“Oh, I get to speak now? The mighty dungeon master deems the fallen King an audience?” Joking when Eddie was this close always felt a little too much like flirting. Steve shouldn’t have enjoyed the way Eddie’s cheeks coloured quite as much as he did.

“We all know I’m nothing if not your humble servant, sire. But yes, you may speak.”

“As long as we don’t call ourselves something stupid like zombie monkey spider brain, I don’t see why not?”

"Are you for real?" 

"Yeah I'm for real" 

Eddie threw his arms around him pulling him into a bone-breaking hug. Steve found he didn't want to let go. 

Read more on November 16!

[writer-in-theory]

Slow Talkin', So Rockin' — Steddie Bigbang

Steve Harrington is Zayne Maine, an international pop star known for his hit TV show about a secret celebrity identity. When the pressure of being famous catches up to him, he decides to retire as Zayne Maine and start a career as himself. Eddie Munson is the frontman of the up-and-coming rock band Corroded Coffin, who has had to fight the media daily to save his image amongst rumors of devil worship and even a murder accusation. When Steve performs an acoustic cover of a Corroded Coffin song, Eddie starts an online feud that gets the world's attention. Suddenly, Steve Harrington comes crashing into Eddie's life and instead of worrying about writer's block on his next album, he now has to deal with the attention, accusations, and rumors that come with dating one of the most famous pop artists in the world. Suddenly, both Steve and Eddie have to come to terms with the price of fame and must decide what they're willing to fight for. Or, a Hannah Montana AU.

Explicit || 60k Expected Word Count || Coming October 2023

Excerpt below:

“Don’t read that bullshit.”

Robin’s hand came down hard on the magazine, forcing it out of Steve’s hands and onto his lap. The movement jolted him too, causing the magazine to fall off of his lap and skid across the wooden floors of his house.

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve says, eyes tracking the gossip magazine as it collides with the baseboards on the other side of the room, still open on a full-page image of him dressed down in sweatpants and a hoodie beside Robin, a baseball cap tucked low on his head in an attempt to hide his Sunny-Side discharge from the media. Even at that moment he’d felt the eyes on them and heard the distant clicks of cameras as people desperately caught such an intimate moment of his life. Like nothing is ever truly his own. “If that’s what everyone thinks, what the hell am I doing?”

“C’mon, you knew this would be hard,” Robin returned, tilting her head and giving him her best unimpressed look. Still, one of her ringed hands moved forward to grab onto his. It’s the kind of comfort that springs tears to Steve’s eyes—the weighted knowledge that there was someone who’d seen everything, someone who, despite having plenty of reasons to leave well before now, still sat on his couch coaching him through his next steps.

Steve did know it would be hard. It was the only reason he’d waited so long to even do it, knowing that people would doubt that he could be anything but Zayne Maine. It didn’t matter to them that he’d outgrown the kid-friendly persona years ago if only so they can still hear the music they like and chase after a celebrity they thought they knew. 

“Those assholes will say what they want,” Robin continued, squeezing Steve’s hand just on the other side of too hard, “But you’ve been talking about doing this since I met you, it’s been a long time coming.”

“It could flop,” Steve pointed out, breaking her hold on him so he could drape himself over the arm of his couch, his back clicking with the movement. His overgrown hair fell over the side too, still a little tangled from his pillow sheet earlier that morning. He hadn’t had the chance to cut it at Sunny-Side (not that he would’ve trusted them with it anyway, he left that task solely for the brilliant stylist Heather Holloway) and now he spends more time with it in his face than actually tamed. It was one more thing to take care of before he jumped back into the public eye, or everyone would be asking about his time in rehab instead of his career. “All of it. The album, the shows, me. I mean, what if I flop? What do I do then?”

“Then, dingus, you quit and become my favorite roadie,” Robin answered without missing a beat, using her foot to nudge him in the spot just under his ribs she knew was ticklish. 

Steve sat up with a jolt, grabbing her foot and tugging her forward enough that her head bounced harmlessly off the other arm of the couch.

“Hey!”

“You fouled first!” Steve laughed, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings of his living room.

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

“And you’re a bitch, so I guess we’re a good pair.” 

It felt good to laugh with his best friend again. Rehab was a necessary thing, Steve would be the first one to admit that. It was what he’d needed to jumpstart the change he’d been aching after for years, but through those 60 days, all he’d ever wanted to do was exactly this: goof around with his best friend until his sides hurt from laughing so hard. Hardly once had he thought about going back to being Zayne Maine or if he’d ever have another sold-out world tour, not when there where more important things to worry about like if Robin was remembering to eat dinner without his daily texts or if she’d forgiven him for ruining the celebration party (which she’d already told him no less than a dozen times that she had).

“I would, you know,” Steve said a few minutes after they’d settled again on the couch, Robin’s legs resting on his lap as some TV show played in the background.

“What?”

“Drop it all now, follow you around the country. I’d do it.”“Nah, you wouldn’t,” Robin denied quickly, turning her head to focus back on the TV, “you’d get bored too quickly. You’re meant to be on stage, this album deserves to be shared on stage, and everyone else’ll figure that out too. You just have to do something to remind them of it. Something different.”

[cas-coding]

Nine times out of ten, Cas enjoys the music that Jack puts on for the pair of them in the Continental. He'll pick some softer, poppy stuff, nothing rock or old like Dean's music, which Cas appreciates. Outside of the Impala, Castiel did not particularly enjoy Dean's music taste, though he doesn't dislike it.

They're on an empty highway when Jack reaches across the dash to turn up the radio, somehow connected to his phone's music, which was a mystery to Castiel. Instantly, the music grows louder and Jack bops his head around to it, wiggling in his seat.

"This is one of my favorites, Dad," Jack remarks, pointing happily to the screen of his phone. "It's Taylor Swift! The Taylor who wrote Shake It Off?"

Cas laughs but keeps his eyes trained on the road ahead, unwilling to drive distracted with Jack in the front seat. "I'm familiar with Taylor Swift, Jack," Cas says, adding, "What song is this?"

That gets Jack excited, practically hopping in his seat as he pauses the song to explain it all. "It's called Cruel Summer. It's from her Lover album and it's about like a secret summer relationship where she just wants it to be a real relationship and be in love openly. If you listen to the lyrics," Jack unpauses the song, and sound once again pours out of the car speakers, "You can really hear some of her lyrical genius."

What doesn't kill me makes me want you more, Jack hums along, looking at Cas expectantly. This isn't quite what he imagined tempo-wise when Jack explained the concept, but he couldn't help but admit it worked very well.

By the time they reached the bridge, Cas is hanging on to every word, Jack closing his eyes and tapping out the beats with all ten of his fingers, and likely all ten of his toes. It's fun, distracted, and meaningful, and Cas wants to smile wider than possible inside his vessel, but he knows Jack can see his true form glowing.

Said "I'm fine" but it wasn't true

I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

At those lines, Cas blinks, feeling something settle deep in his chest. He knew that feeling, didn't he? He didn't know much about fever dreams and vending machines, but he knew secrets. Secrets he couldn't tell or he'd lose it all, everything he wanted, but this wasn't what he wanted, he wanted more, more than just Dean's lips on his behind closed doors, more than just meaningless sex.

Jack has noticed Castiel's stilling, looking over at him with concern on his features, but Cas pays no mind to it, just listens more, gets lost inside the lyrics.

And I scream for whatever it's worth

"I love you," ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

It's dark, Cas' world is dark, and his vessel is leaving, pulled into the dark goo surrounding him, blocking his view of Dean, of Dean's sad features and loveless eyes. Dean didn't love Cas, he couldn't. Cas was dying, almost for real that time, and Dean couldn't say it, couldn't squeeze it out.

Cas comes to and he's got his hands fisted in his hair, the car pulled to the side of the road, Jack's eyes locked on him. There's concern there, a lot of concern, but Cas' heart is thudding in his chest and this isn't supposed to happen and it's a happy song and Jack is going to be so mad at him and Cas is stupid, so stupid, and,

"Dad?" Jack whispers, poking at Cas' arm, "I'm sorry if the song was a lot. Are you okay?" Of course Jack isn't mad at Cas, Jack is a kind person, a loving person.

All Cas can squeeze out in response is, "He doesn't love me. He'll never love me."

"Dean?" Jack asks, and that's what shatters Cas, his last wall crumbling down, tears flowing from his eyes like he's been saving them for years.

"I'm sorry," Cas sobs, "I'm sorry."

There's a skidding noise, sharp in Cas' ears, from just outside the car, and of course, Dean has just thrown Baby in park in the middle of the road, looking over at Cas. Then Dean's running, dashing towards Cas' car, Sam right behind, and then they're both banging on the Continental window, pulling the door handle, trying anything to get in.

Jack hits the unlock button and then there's hands all over Cas, a hand on his shoulder and in his hair and then on his cheek and then down his back and then just waiting for him to respond. "Cas?"

All Cas can do is shake his head, unable to voice any of it, to explain it, because it really was stupid, wasn't it? A song affecting him like this, making him sob like this?

"He doesn't think you love him," Jack explains, staring directly at Dean, earning a soft and quick chuckle from Sam.

It takes Dean a lot less time than Cas assumed to process, Dean responding instantly with a soft, "I love him," and a pat on Cas' shoulder.

Sam clears his throat, leaning into the car, saying, "Not that kind of love, Dean," and rolling his eyes at his brother.

"Oh," Dean says softly, picking up Cas' face with his hands, palms cupping Cas' cheeks, green eyes warming Cas up. "I love you, y'know. That's why I kissed you. Like, multiple times. And the, y'know," Dean sighs, motioning with his tongue against his cheek exactly what he meant (that was going to be an interesting talk with Jack later).

"I'm sorry," Cas sobs, "I know, I know you do, but you don't say it, and I," he pauses, gasping for a breath, "I need to hear it, and not switch back into just friends when we're in a public space. I want," Cas stutters, "I want all of you. I'm sorry."

There's the look in Dean's eyes, a look of utter pity and guilt, of hurt and a dire need to comfort. He's silent, dead silent, and Cas almost needs to count under his breath, remember exactly how long it took to ruin everything, and then Dean's lips are on his and he can't count anymore.

It's quick, no more than a press of lips, but it's warm and feels good inside of Cas' chest, fizzing up and calming the shakes in his body, tears still flowing. "Cas, I love you, and I'm the one who's sorry," Dean says, "I'm stupid sometimes, and I didn't know you wanted that. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for hiding," and then Dean pulls Cas up into another kiss, this one better, deeper, realer.

Cas can still vaguely make out the background sounds of Jack and Sam giggling, and when he pulls back from the kiss, Sam has just handed Jack a $20.