#it’s arranged how they stand at the bus stop!!

[creamdream98]

I’ve been wanting to do this drawing for a long time but now that pride is coming I just couldn’t wait anymore! nvn Happy pride 💙💚🏳️‍🌈❤️🧡

[chestersturniolo]

NOT IT!

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

In which; the lack of bunks on the tour bus result in you and matt sharing….

based on this request

••••••••••••••••••••

The tour bus hummed down the highway as you were perched on one of the small couches near the kitchenette, legs tucked under you as you and Matt exchanged quiet conversations.

It was the very first day of tour. It had been a long day—rehearsals, soundchecks, meet and greets—but somehow, the energy inside the bus hadn’t died down. Everyone was buzzing with post-show adrenaline.

Matt had just finished telling you a ridiculous story from a past tour, one that had you nearly in tears with laughter. You leaned against him slightly, feeling the warmth from his body as he smiled at you.

“What are we doing after the next stop?” you asked, as you fiddled with the hem of your hoodie.

Before Matt could answer, a loud groan came from the back of the bus where the bunks were.

“There’s not enough bunks for all of us!” Madi announced, standing up. “Someone’s gonna have to share”

You didn’t pay much attention to the ensuing debate, still focused on Matt. You were absorbed in whatever tangent he’d gone off on, his voice soft and relaxed, which made it easy to block out the rest of the world. The rest of the group, however, had shifted into a full-blown argument over sleeping arrangements, voices rising as everyone made their case for not wanting to share.

It wasn’t until you heard a chorus of “NOT IT!” from behind you that your attention snapped back to the rest of the group. You blinked in confusion, glancing around at the mischievous grins of your friends.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Matt asked, eyebrows raised.

Madi, looking all too pleased with herself, leaned over the back of the couch. “Everyone called ‘not it’—which means you two are sharing a bunk tonight”

Your eyes widened as you turned to Matt. “Wait, seriously?”

Nick laughed from his spot on the couch, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Yup. You snooze, you lose”

You exchanged a look with Matt, both of you caught off guard by how quickly things had spiraled. Sharing a bunk on this cramped bus wasn’t exactly ideal, especially considering how small the bunks were. They barely fit one person comfortably, let alone two.

“You guys really didn’t notice?” Madi teased, raising an eyebrow. “That conversation must’ve been really captivating” she sneered.

Matt chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess we were a little distracted”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, though you couldn’t deny that you had been completely lost in whatever moment you were having with Matt. Now, though, you were faced with the reality of the situation—sharing a tiny space for the night.

“Well” you sighed, standing up. “Guess we’d better figure this out”

The bus rolled on, the buzz of the engine a steady background noise as you made your way to the bunks with Matt trailing behind you. There wasn’t much space, just a small, narrow mattress with a thin blanket and a pillow shoved into the corner. It looked…tight, to say the least.

Matt eyed the bunk and then glanced at you. “Ladies first?” he offered, a playful smirk on his lips.

You rolled your eyes but climbed in, turning on your side to make as much room as possible. Matt followed, shifting to lie on his back. There was barely enough room to move without touching each other, your bodies pressed together in the confined space.

~

It had taken a while to find a somewhat comfortable position—Matt on his back, with you tucked against his side, your head resting on his chest. You could hear his steady breathing, feel the warmth of him next to you, and despite the cramped space, the closeness was comforting.

The initial awkwardness had faded, leaving behind an unexpected calm. Matt’s hand rested gently on your waist, his thumb tracing lazy circles there, a motion you didn’t think he even realized he was doing.

“This is definitely not how I imagined ending tonight” you laughed

Matt chuckled, the sound vibrating against your ear. “Yeah, me neither-” he admitted, glancing down at you. “-though, I can’t really complain”

You tilted your head to look up at him. “Oh? You’re not miserable being squished in here with me?”

He smirked, shaking his head slightly. “Nah, it could be worse. I could be stuck with Chris. He takes up twice the space”

You laughed softly, imagining the absolute chaos if Chris were in this situation instead of you. “Good point. He’d probably elbow you in his sleep”

Matt’s gaze softened as he looked down at you. “I’m pretty lucky then” he murmured.

You felt your heart skip a beat at the way he said it, the quiet sincerity in his voice. There was something about the moment—maybe it was the warmth of his body, or the softness of his words, but it felt like a tiny shift between the two of you. The air grew heavier, more intimate.

“Are you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper now.

He paused for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Yeah…I’m glad it’s you”

The words settled between you like a secret, and you couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks warming. You hadn’t expected that—hadn’t expected this—but now that it was happening, it felt…right. Being close to Matt, both physically and emotionally, wasn’t strange at all. In fact, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your head on his chest, your hand resting gently on his side. “You’re not so bad to be stuck with either” you say

Matt’s hand tightened ever so slightly on your waist, pulling you just a bit closer, your bodies fully pressed together now. You could hear the faint hitch in his breath, feel the way his heart had picked up a little beneath your cheek.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment, just lying there in the dark, the bus continuing to hum along in the background.

“Y’know-“ Matt said after a while, his voice a little lower now, “-I’ve kind of been waiting for a moment like this”

You blinked, turning your head slightly so you could look up at him again. “A moment like what?”

He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek as if considering whether or not to say what was on his mind. Then, with a small, almost shy smile, he answered, “Just…a moment where it’s just us”

Your breath caught in your throat. There had always been this unspoken thing between the two of you—something neither of you had ever acknowledged but had always felt. And now, lying here together, the words were finally coming to the surface.

“I’ve thought about it too” you admitted quietly.

Matt’s eyes softened, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah” you said, your heart racing. “Maybe more than I realized”

There was a beat of silence as you let that sink in. The air between you had shifted, the playful banter now giving way to something deeper, something that felt like it had been there all along.

Matt’s hand moved from your waist, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face.“I’m glad I’m not the only one” his voice barely above a whisper now.

You felt a wave of warmth wash over you, your heart swelling at his words. “You’re definitely not”

He looked at you for a long moment, his gaze so soft, so full of something unspoken. you lifted your head and you found yourself leaning into him just a little more, this tips of your noses brushing. The energy quickly shifted once again, the intensity of the moment filling the air. Both of your gazes flicking between eachothers eyes and lips.

Without saying a word, you both leaned in, the space between you disappearing until your lips meet. It was soft, gentle , and full of unspoken emotions that had been building between you for longer than either of you would admit.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, as Matt brings up his hand cupping your cheek. “i’ve been wanting to do that for a while” he whispers.

“Me too” you blushed

He gave you a small grin before pulling you close by your waist once again, your head finding its way back to his chest. A few minutes go by of comfortable silence as the two of you internally freak out at what just happened.

You let out a small yawn, causing matt to chuckle slightly. “Tired sweetheart?” he coos

You nod lazily against him

“Let’s try’n get some rest hmm?”

~~~~~

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of soft laughter and muffled voices. You blinked your eyes open slowly, the sunlight filtering through the small window of the bus. You realized that you and Matt hadn’t moved much during the night, still wrapped around each other.

You stretched slightly, careful not to wake Matt, who was still sound asleep beside you, his arm draped over your waist. You couldn’t help but smile at how close the two of you had grown overnight.

As you carefully slid out of the bunk, trying not to disturb him, you heard Chris’s voice from the kitchenette. “Well, well, look who finally woke up”

You shot him a groggy look as you grabbed a cup of coffee. “Don’t even start”

Nick chuckled from beside him “Morning girl”

Chris grinned, “I wasn’t gonna say anything—”

“But?”

“But I did hear something interesting last night-“ he continued, his grin widening. “-something about Matt being really glad it’s you he’s stuck with?”

You froze, mid-sip, your eyes widening. “Wait, you heard that?”

“Oh yeah-” Chris said, barely holding back laughter. “-thin walls, my friend”

Your face flushed as you realized Chris had overheard Matt’s sweet, quiet confession. “You’re the worst” you muttered, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Chris was practically glowing with amusement. “I can’t wait to see what Matt has to say when he wakes up”

As if on cue, Matt stirred in the bunk behind you, stretching and blinking awake. He swung his legs out, sitting on the edge of the bunk. He glanced over at you, then at Chris, and immediately seemed to sense that something was up. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

Chris gave him a sly grin. “Oh, nothing. Just telling her about how sweet you are”

Matt frowned, clearly confused. “What?”

You shot Chris a look, but it was too late. “You know, the whole ‘glad it’s you I’m stuck with’ thing?”

Matt’s eyes widened, his face instantly going red as the memory hit him. “Chris—”

Chris threw his hands up, laughing. “Hey, man, I’m just saying, it was cute”

Matt groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

You couldn’t help but laugh “Don’t worry-” you teased, walking over to the bunk and sitting beside him. “-I thought it was cute too”

Matt peeked out from behind his hands, a small, sheepish smile on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah” you smirked

He let out a breath, his eyes softening as he looked at you, and you knew that despite the teasing, neither of you minded the shift that had happened between you.

Chris, however, was not done. “Man, I’m never letting this go”

••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N; hope you guys enjoyyyeddd!! tysm for the request anon i loved writing this🤍

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST

taglist ; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4

@brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom

[steddieas-shegoes]

pop goes metal

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'alternate universe'

rated t | 964 words | cw: language | tags: famous corroded coffin, pop star steve harrington, flirting, getting together

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

"No fuckin' way are we working with him," Eddie argues with their manager. "You're always so worried about our image and then you go and have us doing a song with a fuckin' pop artist?"

The manager, Anthony, rolls his eyes. "It'll broaden your fanbase. You know who spends money on shit? Women. You know who likes Steve Harrington? Women."

"Does he even write his own shit?" Gareth asks.

"Does it matter?" Eddie turned to him with a glare. "Even if he writes it, it's not our style."

"Maybe we could at least hear what he's trying to work with us on?" Jeff, always the calming presence, asked towards Anthony.

"He sent over a sample before we sign any agreements."

Eddie sat down in the chair furthest from everyone else, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Now, this isn't an official recording. Just what he did on his phone on his tour bus with his acoustic guitar. He arranged the bass already for Frankie, too, but said he's open to whatever Gareth feels is right for the drums." Anthony pressed play on his phone and the room was filled with strumming and a surprisingly raspy voice singing what was clearly a chorus.

Eddie could pretend he hated it, and maybe the guys would agree with him and they'd never have to speak of this again.

He couldn't hide his reaction fast enough, though.

His jaw dropped as he listened to the lyrics, surprised to find that they weren't just about going to a club and dancing or being in love.

Steve's voice broke at the end before there was shuffling and the recording stopped.

Eddie felt everyone's eyes on him. He closed his mouth and looked down at the floor, tapping his fingers against his arm.

"It's not bad," he finally said. "Not sure why he needs us, though."

"Apparently, his brother is a huge fan of you and suggested he try to work with you."

"I think we should do it." Jeff said, a note of finality in his tone that Eddie knew he wouldn't try arguing with.

"Yeah, can't hurt." Frankie shrugged.

"If he's giving me creative freedom on the drums, how can I say no?" Gareth smirked.

"Guess we're working with the pop diva, then."

****

Steve Harrington was nothing like what they expected.

He showed up to their studio in sweats and glasses, holding a tablet and a bottle of Tylenol. They started to introduce themselves as he found a spot on the couch.

"I'm really glad you guys were willing to work with me," he said after he shook everyone's hand.

Eddie stared.

"My uh, my brother, Dustin, he's kinda why I wrote this song and I know it means a lot that you agreed to be on it," Steve continued. "So, thanks. Hopefully it doesn't ruin your vibes or anything."

Eddie felt every wall he built crumbling with every word Steve spoke. God dammit, this man just had to be sincere and hot and talented, didn't he?

"Nah, we're gonna sound great together." Eddie smiled at Steve's wide-eyed look. "You wanna show us the whole song?"

Steve nodded, pulling something up on his phone. Another recording, this one more professional and included an electric guitar.

"Robin was the stand in for the electric while I did bass."

"So you can play bass?" Frankie asked, leaning in.

"Yeah, but my preferred instrument is piano. I just don't do a lot of slow songs. Guitar is what gets the women interested, or so they tell me," Steve smiled awkwardly. "But feel free to change some things up. I'm totally open to suggestions."

But really, it was damn near perfect as it was. Frankie made one tweak during the bridge, but Steve ended up loving it more than the original and told him so with a grin.

"You're a fuckin' genius!" He exclaimed.

Gareth started messing around on the drums while Steve and Eddie worked on the first couple of lines.

"Something still doesn't feel right," Steve mentioned.

"Maybe we change the rhyming pattern?" Eddie suggested. "You've got ABAB. Might work better to do AABB. Some of these words can be moved around to make that work."

Steve stared at the notes app for a moment, then looked back up at Eddie, beaming smile making his eyes squint.

"I could kiss you!" He shouted. As soon as he realized what he said, he blushed, looking back down at the phone. "I mean, thanks. That's a great suggestion."

Eddie searched Steve's face, coming to the conclusion that there was probably a good reason why Steve didn't care about what women liked when it came to his music.

"I have a pretty strict rule about kissing people I work with," Eddie said slowly, quietly so they wouldn't be overheard.

"Yeah, no, that makes sense. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or-"

"But we won't be working with each other for long, right?" Eddie continued, letting his hand rest on Steve's thigh. God, he was muscular.

"Um. No I guess not."

"Rain check, then. Until we've finished our professional relationship." Eddie couldn't believe he was suggesting this. Showing interest in a pop star. What's next? Dating one? Marrying one?

"Are you saying you wanna kiss me, Munson?" Steve suddenly sounded more confident.

"I'm saying we've got work to do before I can get my hands on you." Eddie tapped his thigh before pulling away. "So let's get to it."

"Dude! I got it!" Gareth yelled, interrupting their moment.

"Be right there!" Steve yelled back, not looking away from Eddie. "Might break a record for fastest recording time ever just so I can kiss you," Steve added quietly to Eddie before standing and walking over to Gareth.

"Well, fuck." Eddie sighed, smiling to himself.

[xxcallmemaryxx]

Vessel x GN reader

Vessel loves you, but he refuses to tell you. So instead, he writes songs about you... you'd never figure out who the songs are really about right? ...Right?

(A fully fleshed out fic of this.)

It's an odd little arrangement the four of you have made. You met the boys after you were hired to help keep things in check for them during tours, kind of like an assistant. The four of them living together on the same bus for weeks? Yeah, they learned pretty quickly things were going to fall apart if they didn't get some extra help real quick. From then you formed a friendship, which has grown into a connection the four of you share that you seriously couldn't picture yourself living without. To say that the four of you are close is a major understatement. 

Vessel though… Vessel found himself thinking about you more than what he felt a normal friend should be thinking about another friend. He found himself smiling for ages after every time you two conversed. He found himself trying to quell his trembling hands every time you stood or sat real close to him. He found his heart racing every time you entered the room he was in, and don't even get him started on how long and… weird… his days felt when he knew he wasn't going to see you. He knew damn well what it meant. Of course he knew. So he swore to himself never to tell you. He had well and truly fallen for you, but Vessel knows he is a hard lover. The horrid little voice of anxiety in his head convinced him that it would scare you off. That he would be too much and you wouldn't be able to handle it… that you'd leave. You'd leave him, you'd leave all of them and he would be entirely to blame for it. So he decided he would keep it to himself… as best as he could anyways. 

II, III and IV watch the two of you. They sit back and watch him long for you. Long to touch you and hold you and to just whisk you away to love you and keep you all to himself. And they watch as you continue on without a clue in the world. You don't ever catch on to it. Too busy working and keeping the four of them in check, which to be fair… they are beyond grateful for… but they are astonished at how obvious Vessel is being and you just… don't notice. 

It gets to a point where Vessel needs an outlet. Something to get the things he is dying to say to you… to do with you… to do to you… out of his head. He fears if he doesn't then he'll break. He will snap and it will all come flying out of his mouth and into the air before he can stop himself. The fear that fills him at the thought of that reality is unreal. So he starts writing it all down. 

Once he started he could not stop. Writing songs about you he knew the world would never see. How could he ever let them? How could he ever let the world see you the way he sees you? It's selfish, he knows. But he's almost possessive over these lyrics. They are you. They are you when you're glowing. They are you when you're half asleep on an early morning. They are you when you're absolutely exhausted after a long day. They are you when you're just not doing too well. And Vessel just can't share that with anyone. He can't do it. He wants you to himself bad enough as it is, so the only way he can have that is through the words he writes. Why would he give that away too? 

His mind works against him though, trying to see how far he can push this. He doesn't know why he did it… but he'd written something a little less obvious, a verse he’d come up with, something about your voice. How it makes him feel, how he'd never get bored of it. Really, the piece was well written, he knew enough about writing music to know what worked and what didn't, and again, Vessel really doesn't know why he did it… but he found himself standing in front of you with the damned piece of paper in his stretched out hand. Willing you to read it. He watches you take the sheet, eyes flicking over the few lines once, twice… three, four, five times. Taking them in, letting the words process. The way your eyes lit up, and the smile that he watched grow on your lips was all the feedback he needed. Your reaction was so pure, praising him for his talent and gushing about how beautiful the lyrics were. His heart raced as he walked away with an even bigger smile on his face. He can't help but think about how right you are… the words were beautiful because they were you. Vessel stayed awake that whole night. His mind overflowing with thoughts of you, he swears his hand could not keep up with the words he needed to say. His pen scribbling so fast over the papers he had spread around him, he almost tore a hole in them. 

This became a dangerous little game he played with himself. The lesser obvious of the lyrics he'd write about you would end up in your hand at some point or another. And he would eagerly stand back and watch you soak the words in, watch as you admire them and in return, admire him. The praise you would reward him with would play over and over and over again in his head. You honestly turned into a drug for him, he had become addicted to how much you loved reading the small things he'd written, yet being so unaware of what the lyrics meant or where they came from. He just wanted you. So bad. So he pushed it a little further…

You're standing at the small kitchenette inside the tour bus the boys share, making yourself a coffee. Vessel's form fills the hallway as he glides through it, his eyes locked on you and a piece of paper clutched in his hand. A smile grows on your face the moment you see him, and then it grows again when your eyes fall to the paper. Your hand reaching out for it before he's even made it to you. 

Now, Vessel really should have thought this through… or at the very least taken a few more minutes to triple check the lyrics he'd written about you this time. Because he watches your face fall as you stare at the words. He watches your eyes flick over them two, three, four times before you look up at him in confusion. Vessel hasn't felt fear like this in ages. His heart is hammering in his chest and he feels like he can't breathe, you don't like it. It's the only thing he can think of… you don't like this one and he's gone too far and now you're put off by it and you'll never want to read them again…

His thoughts get cut short at the sound of you speaking…

“Vessel… where did… where did these lyrics come from…?”

It's a simple enough question. He knows that. But it's one he can't answer. And it's that very moment he realises why you are confused… you've figured it out. 

His throat closes and any plans he had of trying to explain his way out of this one fly out the window. He stares at you, completely speechless. He doesn't know what to do, he's frozen in place and he can't breathe and he can't think and he's regretting everything he has ever done that has led him up to this point. He feels ridiculous… the only thing he can will his brain to force out of his mouth is an.. 

“Uhh”

He snatches the paper from your hands, crumpling it and tearing it to shreds with furiously trembling hands. His face is a dark red. He can feel it. His whole body is overheated with shame and embarrassment, he finally forces his feet to move, turn away from you and back down the hall of the bus. He doesn't know why he went this way, he could have left the bus, but it seems he is making really silly decisions today. He listens to your feet hit the floor as you run up behind him following him through the bus. 

‘Wait… wait… Vessel just wait I wanna know…I wanna know who the lyrics are about…”

Tears well in his eyes as he continues to walk away from you, beelining to the small room in the back of the bus. Where he knows he can hide there. He can lock the door and stay there wallowing in his shame. He knows you're going to leave now. He knows you know damn well who the lyrics are about… you now know who all the things he's written recently have been about. Why must you make him admit it? Why must you make him watch the disgust on your face as he does so. Why must you make him watch as he loses you forever. How is he going to tell the band? How on earth is he supposed to tell them what happened and why they've all lost you too? The tears fall. They barrel down his heated cheeks as the reality of what he's done sets in. He can't believe he let this happen… It's entirely his fault.

He does indeed make it to the room in time… what he doesn't succeed in is locking you out of it. You weasel your way into the room and force him to look at you. 

“Vessel… tell me…”

He can't say it at first. He just spends a few moments taking you in for the last time, admiring everything about you. He's sad he never got to love you properly, but he's grateful he got to experience you at all in the first place.

“I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…. I wasn't going to do anything with them I swear, i am so sorry”

He starts rambling through his tears, the torn up mess of paper twists in his hands. More tears fall and he just can't stop telling you how sorry he is. He needs you to know he is sorry. He is so sorry. He can't even see you anymore. His eyes are so full of tears that everything has turned into a blur. He turns his face away from you in an attempt to hide them, he doesn't want you to see him cry. He doesn't want you to see him at all right now but he knows you're persistent. Should he walk away, you will follow. You put yourself in his line of sight again, and he watches you reach for him, for his hands… with the paper still grasped tightly in them. 

He moves his hands away. 

“Please don't…”

He's embarrassed by the sound of his own voice, broken and scared. You look up at him, a look he can't read written on your face. His stomach hurts, his chest hurts, his head hurts. Vessel swears he would do anything just to go back to 5 minutes ago, 5 minutes ago when you hadn’t read these lyrics. These damned lyrics. Maybe then you never would have figured it out, and maybe then he would still be able to keep you… even if it meant he stayed longing for you for the rest of his life he doesn't care. So long as you were still there for him to long for. 

You realise he's not giving up the destroyed sheet of paper he's holding. So you reach for his arm instead. Gently, you wrap your fingers around his forearm. You don't quite know the words to say to him just yet, because honestly… you can read him well enough to know he is embarrassed… but the reason behind his tears is still unknown to you. You want to reassure him, you're dying to settle him down and tell him what he needs to hear… but you just don't know what it is he needs right now. With his arm in your hands, you lead him over to the small couch pushed into the far corner of the room. He lets you lead him, which is relieving. A big part of you expected him to refuse you all together. 

The tension is high, you sit next to him and before you can even stop yourself the question flies out of your mouth. 

“Were they about me?” 

You mentally kick yourself. You could have waited one more damn minute to let him breathe before asking. And the guilt slams into you as you watch another few tears fall down his cheeks. 

“How’d you… how’d you figure it out…?”

He isn't sure if he even wants to know… but he knows that if he doesn't ask, the ‘what-ifs’ will eat him alive. His heart is racing in his chest and he swears he is on the cusp of throwing up. He feels awful. Vessel hasn't felt this horrid in a long time… you being the sole reason for his bright moods. 

“Well… you mentioned a setting sun in Hamburg… and uh… well you and I watched the sun set in Hamburg Ves… after the show there? It's one of my favourite memories… so I just, I mean well… I just assumed. I don't know…” 

The memory of that night with you floods Vessel's mind. Well after he’d realised he had feelings for you, he couldn't believe he'd been gifted that time alone with you. He spent hours and hours thanking Sleep for it. A memory he will never forget, and like you… it's one of his favourites too. So much so he couldn't not write about it… well, look where that's got him. 

“Please believe me when I say I am sorry. I should have asked you… I- I should have asked you if it was okay to write about you like that I am so sorry… I won't blame you at all for leaving I really wont. I just need you to know I'm sorry I'm so sorry I'm sorry I…”

He is rambling now. The truth is out and the only thing that matters to him now is you know he didn't mean anything bad by doing this. And although you understand he is sorry… which you don't even know why because this hasn't upset you at all… the only thing that registered was the fact he thinks you're leaving. 

“Wait. Wait what? Leaving? Why am I leaving…?”

His eyes finally meet yours. For the first time since he ripped the paper from your hands… and they're so full of emotion it breaks your heart just looking at them. 

“Because you're uncomfortable around me now. It's obvious isn't it… I'm in love with you and you don't feel the same and now you can't be around me and now you can't work with me around all the time so you're leaving. You're leaving us… you're leaving me and how could I ever hold that against you? How could I ever force you to stay somewhere you can't bear to be anymore? I don't want you to hate me too…” 

He loves you. 

He is in love with you.

You.

You.

You.

For a moment you think you go blind. You can't see him. You can't see anything. You can't hear anything. Those five words slam into you harder than anything you've ever felt in your life. You don't even register the rest of his rambling because he loves you. Vessel loves you back. 

“Please say something…”

His broken plea snaps you out of it. You didn't even realise he'd stopped rambling. His terrified eyes watch you so intently. They're so guarded. He's prepared himself for your rejection. Your heart is shattering just looking at him in this state. 

“I love you.”

The world honestly stops around you. Vessel stops breathing. He is frozen in place. A valid reaction in all honesty. You let him process for a minute, you have a lot you need to say to him. You have a lot you want to explain. Fuck… you just wanna keep saying it. You love him. You love him and he loves you. You love each other. And you know you'll get there. Give him a few and you'll be able to say it all. But the poor guy was a sobbing mess just a minute ago and now he's looking at you like you've grown a second head. 

It hits you finally… the reason behind his tears, you couldn't figure it out before but now you piece it together and your own throat constricts. He thought you were leaving. He loves you and he was willing to watch you leave him. He loves you and he was going to let you go because he thought that's what you wanted. He fucking loves you and he thought he'd ruined everything. 

“Vessel…?”

“Say it again.”

He utters it out with what sounds like his last breath. And you know just by the sound of his voice it's taking everything in him not to lose his mind. You still don't know if he's even taken one breath since you said it the first time.

“I love you too Vessel.”

Sometimes you think Vessel forgets just how tall he is. There's been a few times when you've witnessed his affections towards II or IV and he literally knocks them off their feet. They love it, of course, and there was always a small part of you that longed to be on the receiving end of Vessel's affectionate moods… yet now… with you both on the couch, you don't quite have enough time to process how you ended up on your back with a fully grown Vessel throwing himself on top of you. He knocks the breath out of your lungs. His arms are wrapped around your back and you're lifted into his embrace quicker than you can think. He's up off the couch, you're still in his arms. Your feet dangling just above the floor as he holds you. He's breathing now. Really erratically. It's like he can't get enough air into his lungs. He squeezes you tighter against him and his face is buried in your neck. And you realise he's crying again. Holding you against him like you're his lifeline, crying because the person he loves… loves him back. You're not leaving. You love him too. You're not leaving. You love him too. You're not leaving. You love him too. 

“Ves…?”

He doesn't reply. He can't. He can't even get words out because you love him too. He's hiccupping and sobbing into the crook of your neck, all while his hands grasp you desperately and hold you so close. You're so close. He is holding you. And you're holding him. And it's okay because you love each other. And this isn't a dream. He's not making it up this time. This is real. You love each other. His knees are going to give out. He falls back into the small couch the two of you occupied just before, except now you're seated comfortably on his lap, his arms keeping you locked tightly against him and you love each other. He pulls back. His face is puffy and red, his eyes are bloodshot and still full of tears but god… he's wearing the prettiest smile you've ever seen. Vessel is just beautiful, you've always thought it. But now, with you holding each other and openly loving each other… Vessel is so full of life again and it makes your own tears spring to your eyes.

“You wrote all of those about me…?”

You ask him quietly, you can't quite believe it now. That all those lyrics, lyrics that were written so incredibly and so passionately were all about you. Your own tears fall when he just nods at you. And there the two of you sit. Wrapped up in each other, crying together, and finally letting it sink in that you love each other. You've loved him for so long. So many nights you've spent lying awake thinking about him, weeks and weeks of admiring him from a distance and keeping your feelings to yourself. You swore to never tell him, or anyone for that matter. Your love for him and for the rest of the band outweighed your want to be selfish with him. You’d accepted the fact that if he didn't know, he couldn't reject you, therefore being able to keep your job and your beautiful friendships with them all. In your head, you'd rather love him from a distance and keep his friendship than risk losing him and the boys all together. 

It doesn't have to be like that anymore. It's not like that anymore. 

“Please… let me kiss you please…”

Vessel almost begs you, through his tears. Your eyes lock, and right there on that couch… in the little room in the back of the tour bus you press your lips to his. It's everything you'd ever wanted it to be and more. It's so overwhelming in the very best ways possible. It causes you both to shed a few more tears. To anyone else it may seem like you're saying a heartbreaking goodbye to each other, but really this is hello. 

This is the beginning of waking up next to each other every morning. Going to bed next to each other every night. Random kisses every single day. Cuddles on the couch. Cuddles in bed. Hand holding. I love yous. No more shying away. No more pretending. Finally. 

Because you love each other. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Can you imagine a fake dating scenario where you hire Lloyd to pretend to be your partner for a family gathering because you can’t stand your family and want to spend the night watching him gleefully terrorize them? 🤣

Hehehe I wrote this on the bus...

Do You Trust Me?

No explicit warnings. Comments and reblogs always welcome. Love you all! 😍

"Look, I need you on your worst behaviour," you say as you face the grey brick manner.

"You don't gotta ask me twice, toots," Lloyd comes around the front of the car to meet you. "I'll be sure to pay extra attention to the oysters."

You want to sigh and smack him in the face. That's a common feeling towards this man, you're sure. Yet you hate to admit, you need him. Just for tonight. You don't think your father could ever tolerate him longer than that.

"Come on," he taps your ass and you yipe.

"Hey!" You sneer.

"Gotta make it believable. Besides, gotta get my shots in where I can."

"Not part of the deal, Hansen." You push his hand away.

"Ah come on--"

"No, you got your money so stop."

"You know, if you want them to buy it, you're gonna have to play along. Spare a few smooches," he hooks his arm around you instead.

"Yep, and I'm dreading it." You charge forward, knowing it's too late to back out now.

You just need him to be himself. He never really has a problem with that. He is shamelessly genuine.

As you approach the door, it opens from the other side. Belinda, the resident maid, lets you in, greeting you with a smile and the offer to take your coat. Lloyd helps you out of your jacket before he removes his own. He's being... too helpful.

You look at his deep blue velvet blazer. He even dressed well. Goddamn, he couldn't find a pair of slides and some socks?

"Cut it out," you whisper as you follow Belinda.

"I'm not doing anything," he hisses back.

"For once," you snip.

He laughs softly and takes your hand as you enter the bright dining room, more of a hall. The chandelier shines over the polished table, gleaming off the cutlery and candelabra. So ostentatious but that's your parents.

"There you are, dear," your mother strides over, "we were afraid you wouldn't make it."

"Got her here in one piece," Lloyd declares, "all to see her beautiful sister."

"Sister?" Your mother gasps and touches her chest. "Nooo, I'm her mother. Oh silly. You must be the fiance?" She preens.

You send Lloyd a piercing look. He's charming when he tries but why is he doing that?

"Could've fooled me," he grins and takes her hand, "honored."

He kisses her knuckles and you almost recoil. She giggles. Your mother. A giggle. Like a school girl.

"Where's dad?" You ask. He's harder to impress.

"He's around. He was just going out to get--"

"Ah, you're here," your father's staunch tone carries across the high ceiling. You turn to meet him. "And this is your... addition."

He nods at Lloyd and offers his hand. The shake, veins bulging in their masculine tango. Your father hums and pulls the cigar from behind his ear.

"Lloyd Hansen, sir," your plus one introduces himself. "Is that a black dragon?"

Your father squints and dips his chin again, "you know your cigars?"

"I'm a casual purveyor, no enthusiast by any means."

"Hansen," you cough and touch your throat. "I mean, honey," you tug on him. "Can I talk to you?"

"Ah, sorry, sir, she's the boss," he says to your dad and turns to you, "yes, dear?"

"Come here," you growl and drag him away.

You take him to the corner and face him, "hullo? What are you doing? You said you would ruin this. Okay? I need out of this bloodline."

"Pfft. You don't know what you got, toots," his eyes scan the walls. "This is spectacular--"

"No, shut up," you whisper sharply. "You promised-- I paid you. Alright? I just need you to get me out of this dumb arrangement. I don't get my trust unless I marry, well, if my fiance is a clown, my parents might just pay me to call the whole thing off--"

"That's a good deal. How much is the trust?"

You tweak your brow and puff out in exasperation, "Hansen..."

"Ah, you know me, baby," he winks, "I'm no good at doing what I'm told. Besides...." he runs his hand down his chest; a designer tie under the velvet and looks around. "Googled this place and well, I like what I see." He turns back to you, "don't look so heartbroken, toots, it's not just the money. I got me a wife with a hot ass to boot."

You gasp and raise your hand. He catches it and cradles it with his other. He kisses it and chuckles.

"Don't worry, you'll get a full refund," he slithers.

[written-in-flowers]

Be the Light: Pt. 5 (seongjoongxFem!reader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.

Word count: 5k

Genre: fluff, smut/ AU: historical au, arranged marriage au, polyamorous, royalty au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), group sex, multiple positions, multiple partners, cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.

And a huge, huge thanks to my beta @daesukiii !!! Without them, this wouldn't be as good lol

Taglist: @scarfac3 @tunaasan @lelaleleb @sevngmin148 @meljoongiee @puppyminnnie @sunasmoke22 @kyourixr @yoongiigolden @lynnsqueendom @atinycafe @soocore @ethereally-lyann @blackbutterfly133 @ddaeing @pearlytinyy @iweirdthingsblog @huachengsbestie01 @glintneon123 @watamotee33 @n3atjok3r246 @sousydive @ashrocker123 @baekmond @escape-from-realitys-stuff @yunpointe @Silentcry329 @st4rcig4r @kaaytea @c4tboyxiao @ppprimary

Part 4 < > Part 6

****

They combed the entire palace, but Hongjoong knew they'd never find her. Sookymung lived here her entire life, knowing the secret passages and exits. With her supporters aiding her, she is likely on her way out of the city. Still, Hongjoong and San searched in the northern part of the palace grounds; Yunho and Yeosang searched the west while Jongho and Wooyoung took men to the east. He knew you were safe with Seonghwa in the harem, but he couldn’t help thinking of Sookmyung finding her way in there. Whether it is true or not, Sookmyung will believe you had a hand in this and come for you. She'd told him repeatedly how deeply she trusted you, bordering on being in "love" with you. Hongjoong couldn't stop himself from picturing her sneaking into your chambers, and plunging a knife into you like she'd done to his mother. He couldn't protect her, but he can protect you. 

This fight was far from over. 

By the time they returned to the harem, he found the other conspirators in the main room awaiting him. Jisoo spotted him first. 

"Did you find her?" 

"No," he shook his head. "She must have fled into the city. The city watch is on alert, but they won't find her." He looked at Wonshik, "We were betrayed. You said we had support on our side," he snapped at him angrily, "You said they'd stand with us against her. I don't know if you've noticed, but at least half of them defended Sookmyung instead of arresting her."

"It was the Dukes of Daegu, Gongju, and Ulleungdo who defected," Wonshik said. "I am not surprised by this. They have much to lose if Sookmyung is not on the throne. I should have foreseen this outcome-"

"-Yes, you should have," he looked about the room for you, "Where is YN?" He needed to see you. 

"She's asleep, Your Grace," Chaewon told him. 

"Alone?" His eyebrows raised at this serious oversight. "When Sookmyung is out there?" 

"She's being closely guarded," said Jisoo. 

"By who?"

"Seojoon and Minho-"

"-No," Hongjoong interrupted, "None of Sookmyung’s old guards. Until they have proven their loyalty to their new queen, I do not want any of the old guards overseeing YN." 

"Your Grace," she began, "Seojoon and Minho have proven themselves to be loyal servants to The Crown, not specifically Sookmyung."

"I don't care." He looked to the men behind him. If he should trust any of them, it should be the men who stood at his side. "San, Mingi, I want you to watch over YN."

"Are you-" Mingi began to say, but Hongjoong cut him off. 

"-I am. San, you used to be an army captain. Mingi, you worked for pirate hunters. I trust you both to keep her safe." 

There are so few people he can trust, he realized. Sookmyung knew about this coupe. Someone within their circle whispered their treason, and she gathered people loyal to her. It is the only explanation. She’d known they’d come for her eventually, but you being revealed as her sister distracted her. Even if she does not get her throne back, she will make sure you suffer. Hongjoong saw, watching San and Mingi leave the room, that he cannot simply let anyone be around you. Sookmyung’s allies may have stationed spies within the palace. One of them might even be ordered to kill you. He’d do everything in his power to make sure that never happened.

“What of the lords from Daegu, Gongju and Ulleungdo?” asked Seonghwa. “They’ll likely still be in the palace, if not already in the city.”

“I vote we round whoever remains,” said Advisor Junhan, “And hold them as hostages. We will send word to their families that unless they bend the knee to Queen YN, their children will continue to be imprisoned here.”

“No,” Wonshik disagreed, “If we do such a thing, we are no better than Sookmyung. We must continue searching for her.”

“But how?” asked Seonghwa. “We don’t have the men to spare for such a search. Besides, a whole host of men is a lot harder to hide.”

“I will write to Changbin,” Jisoo suggested. “He has plenty of connections and people to send about the kingdom for us.”

“Can they be trusted to not speak if captured?” asked Advisor Heechul. “Sookmyung’s methods of interrogation are horrendous. She may discover all she needs to know if she apprehends one of them.”

“They won’t talk,” said Hongjoong quietly. He thought of Naeun, who remained loyal until the very end. “Sookmyung tortured Naeun for hours, and she never said a word. Send word to Changbin,” he told Jisoo, “And tell him to plant his spies in the courts of Daegu, Gongju, and Ulleungdo. If Sookmyung is anywhere near those places, they might find out where.”

“Sookmyung will not make this an easy task,” noted Advisor Junhan. “I personally trained her in combat and martial arts. She is an excellent strategist-”

“-No, she is not,” argued Hongjoong. “She’s built her reputation as a great war strategist on lies and fear. It does not take military know-how to storm a castle and put it to the torch. Sookmyung only succeeded in war because she had advisors much more talented and knowledgeable than herself. Her conquest succeeded because she killed anybody who could possibly oppose her in the future, and installed people loyal to her in their place. That won’t happen again.”

“And what makes you so sure of this?” asked Wonshik, not challenging but curious.

“Because we’re on equal footing this time,” he told him. "She won’t have the support she had before. She's going to be outnumbered and surrounded.” If he's lucky, Sookmyung’s paranoia will cause her to lash out and behave rashly. 

“And she’ll have you to contend with now,” added Seonghwa with a small grin.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” interjected Advisor Junhan, “But you were a concubine for several years. I don’t think the people will-”

“-Hongjoong is the King of Wonju,” Seonghwa snapped. “He is the person the resistance wanted to lead them. He is a skilled swordsman, marksman, horse rider, and combat strategist. He knows Sookmyung just as well as anyone else in this room. If anybody could lead our armies to victory, it would be Hongjoong.”

“Us being her sex slaves will only endear us to the people more.”

It was Yunho who’d spoken. He stepped out from the shadowy doorway, pensive and serious. The healer. The physician. Yunho spent the past eight years personally attending to Sookmyung and her “flowers”. He’d also been the most kind-hearted of them all.

“Everything we know about Sookmyung is not a fact in the kingdom,” he continued. “Those who have witnessed her cruelty only saw a percentage of it. When word reaches the masses that everything they’ve ever heard about her is true, as possibly worse than they believed, they won’t be so hasty to follow her. Just because the dukes who betrayed us side with her does not mean their bannermen or lords under their rule will.”

“Are you suggesting we let the truth come out?”

“Why not? By morning, everyone will know YN is her sister and will be crowned the new queen soon. I think it will do well to tarnish Sookmyung’s reputation a bit further.”

“We could also let it be released that Sookmyung forced YN to participate in her wrongdoings,” Yeosang said from his window perch nearby. “It may cause them to sympathize with her.”

“YN will need all the support she can gather,” said Jisoo. “Sookmyung may have military strength, but the support of the people is a powerful thing. If they see YN is someone they can rally around, they will stand with her.”

Yes, they will. Hongjoong knew the people of Wonju will follow him, and if you’re his wife and he’s your king consort, they will follow you too.

“We must coronate YN as soon as possible,” insisted Wonshik. “The sooner we have a crown on her head and official documents in place, the sooner we can gain support.”

“And when do you suggest we do this, Wonshik?” asked Hongjoong with a challenge in his voice. “Tomorrow morning? We cannot stage a coronation in a day. Besides, a public event might put YN in harm’s way. No, it is too soon.”

“YN must be given time to take in all of this,” Chaewon said from behind Jisoo. “If I may, Your Grace, suggest that we take a small grace period in the meantime? The council can set coronation plans and we can focus on other matters.”

“Other matters?” questioned Hongjoong. 

“There is also another event that needs attention,” Jisoo answered. “Your marriage.”

“I would rather we focus our efforts on Sookmyung-” he began, but she intervened.

“A marriage between Hanseong and Wonju will be the distraction we need to buy us time.”

“And an opportunity for her to strike,” he retorted. “I do not want YN anywhere that Sookmyung could reach her.”

“And neither do we,” she said. “The wedding will be held in the palace behind closed doors and heavily guarded, if that pleases you.”

He thought for a moment, then said, “Let us put this to rest for now. I’d like to discuss this further with YN present.”

You likely do not even know about the arrangement. He knew you'd gone through enough for one night, and he wouldn't make it worse. The council, Queen Jisoo and Chaewon left the harem at his dismissal, bowing to him before making their exit. It felt odd having people bow to him. There'd been a time in his life where everybody knew when he was entering or leaving a room. But, they hadn't done that for years. It would be another thing he must get used to again. 

He turned to look at the men left in the room: Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, Wooyoung, San, and Jongho. He noticed they each held their veils in their hands. His hands clenched into fists whenever he wore the golden veil, which became a symbol of enslavement. He'd removed the red headband she'd given to single him out from the rest; a token of her affection, she’d claimed. Hongjoong knew better. Hongjoong withdrew the veil tucked into a pocket, and walked over to a nearby brazier. Hongjoong examined the long, sheer material dotted in gold and silver pieces. He remembered when Sookmyung gave it to him. 

"You're mine now," he said to himself, recalling that moment in her tent. "And everyone will know it." 

Hongjoong thought of his dead mother, laying lifeless and bloody on the floor of their family room. Sookmyung told him if his men laid down their arms, she'd spare his mother and siblings. She didn't. She cut them down without hesitation. Hongjoong's heart ached in his chest, and he breathed deeply. Sookmyung took everything from him: his family, his life, and his dignity. He replayed every awful moment in his mind, and swallowed back his tears. Running his thumb over the smooth jewels, taking in their shape and size, he realized he'd never wear this again. Even if somehow they lost, and she reclaimed her throne, he'd rather die than be her slave. He'll never wear this veil or this headband again. Angrily, Hongjoong threw the two articles into the fire. Standing by the fire, he watched the silk start to singe at the edges. The veil's mesh material began curling outward in certain parts. It felt cleansing, standing beside the burning coals and watching his chains melt. He is his own person. 

Then another veil joined the fire. Then another, another, and another. Soon, all eight veils burned in the fire. Hongjoong glanced up to see tears welled up in Yeosang and Yunho's eyes, while Jongho and Seonghwa remained as stoic as himself. They're free now. They might not know what their futures hold, but they are their own men again. 

"We will not be slaves again," he promised them, gulping the lump in his throat. "I swear it."

He felt a hand grab his gently, long fingers sliding between his own. Hongjoong looked to see tears escaping Seonghwa's lashes, falling down his cheeks to his sharp jawline. He couldn't help wiping them away with his sleeve. 

"You'll never wear those masks again," he told him. 

"I'd die first," said Jongho stiffly, gazing into the fire with watery eyes. "I'll slit my own throat before being her property again."

"Do not say such insane things," Yeosang frowned, taking his hand in his own. 

"The only throat I want to slit is hers," Wooyoung said through gritted teeth, hands curling into fists at his sides. "She's hurt too many people to stay alive. She's too dangerous." He looked up at Hongjoong, "We have to win, we must stop her."

"We will," he assured him, unable to stop his own tears now. 

He stared at them as they cried in the flames. Hongjoong vowed to succeed. 

They must succeed. 

****

Waking up the next morning felt surreal. You thought you might be lying somewhere between reality and sleep before you sensed a presence near your bed. Panic immediately struck you, and you clutched the sheets around you. The image of Sookmyung standing over your bed, eyes blazing with fury and holding a long knife made you tremble. You knew they wouldn't find her. Sookmyung always got her way, regardless of who she killed to get it. A thousand pleas for mercy bundled in your throat, and you screamed when you felt a hand touch your shoulder. 

"Your Majesty, your Majesty!" a soft, gentle voice said over your panicked screams. You swatted at the figure, eyes closed to avoid meeting her eyes. 

"Get away! Get away!" you cried, your heart pounding in your ears as the person managed to grab hold of your arms. 

Then you felt somebody else at your opposite side, and you moved away from them. It took several minutes to register the white hanboks and the worried expressions of Sookmyung's former handmaidens. Aro, Saehee, Boram, and Dasom stood all around the bed, a bit frightened but mostly concerned. You never realized how similar the women looked. Short and skinny, Sookmyung made them wear their hair in long braids with the red colored daeng'gi at the end. In their pure white hanbok, they became almost indistinguishable. Sookmyung did this on purpose. Not only would she stand out against their white backdrop, but also stand taller and therefore appear more intimidating. Heat filled your cheeks, and you tucked a piece of hair behind your head, feeling embarrassed. 

"Forgive me," you coughed, sitting up properly and covering your chest. "I...I didn't..."

"It's alright, Your Majesty," soothed Saehee. The eldest of the four, you often put her in charge of managing the other handmaidens in your absence. She sat beside you, taking your clammy hand in hers, "It's only us here. Nobody is going to hurt you."

"We wanted to see you," admitted Aro. Only fourteen-years-old, you'd spent a good amount of time training her to serve Sookmyung, but she still made mistakes as children do. Something Sookmyung did not forgive easily. "We heard what happened yesterday, and wanted to see if you were alright."

"I had breakfast brought for you," Boram told you, taking a seat on the bed. "You hadn't eaten properly since yesterday, and I knew you'd be hungry." Boram, always considerate and motherly in that sense. Due to her close relationship with the chef's son and her culinary knowledge, you let her handle Sookmyung's meals. 

You supposed she'd be preparing your meals now. 

“Did you know Mingi and San are outside your door?" whispered Dosam, who crawled onto the bed close to you. "I think they've been there all night." Dosam, while sweet, never hesitated to indulge in gossip. You knew Sookmyung often used her as a spy in the servant's quarters, but Dosam usually lied or told a half-truth. "They almost didn't let us in until we said Queen Jisoo ordered us to come here."

"It's like they didn't trust us!" huffed Boram, arms crossed. "What did they think we'd do? Strangle you?"

"I'm sure they meant no offense, Boram," you assured her. "They're only being cautious." You looked at Dosam, "Did they find her?"

They all shook their heads, and dread filled your stomach. Sookmyung was likely already out of the city, plotting your death as you sit there. You hugged your sheets around your torso, and shuddered. She knew all the passageways into the palace, and you're sure her allies across the city would help her. She could come at any moment, drag you into the dungeon, and torture you to death. The phantom sensation of nails being pulled from your fingers or needles pierced into your skin one by one sickened you. She'd delight in throwing you into The Box, since your discomfort of it amused her. The possibility caused you to flinch at Saehee's touch again.

"But you're safe here," she insisted, rubbing your back gently, "Hongjoong will make sure you're safe."

"Hongjoong?"

"Yes, he's been working closely with the advisors and Queen Jisoo," said Dosam. "I saw him with the Queen when she summoned us to her apartments. They looked like they were having a pretty serious conversation if you ask me.”

"Was my mother there?"

The women paused for a moment. "Which one?" asked Boram, cautiously. 

You then remembered the most shocking part of the whole evening. All the confusion from the previous night returned, and added itself into the anxiousness rolling in your stomach. Queen Jisoo and King Siwon were your birth parents. They'd given you to their servants to keep a succession dispute. They'd done it in vain, since it is happening regardless of their efforts. You tried thinking of happy moments you had with the king and queen, but you only saw your mother and father when you did. Chaewon sang you lullabies whenever you had nightmares. Hyungshik always brought you pretty flowers or stones he'd found while tending to the gardens. They made sure you always ate well, and kept up with your studies. You knew you could turn to them in uncertain times. You didn't feel that way with Queen Jisoo, even if she was always kind and considerate of you. 

"My mother," you repeated a bit more firmly. "Park Chaewon." 

"She's with the queen," said Saehee. 

"She was sitting with her and Hongjoong," Dosam told you. 

"Did you hear what they were talking about?" asked Aro. 

"No," she shook her head. "They stopped talking when I entered the room." You then saw the wayward glance she gave, "But I did hear them at the door."

"What did you hear?" you asked her, somewhat nervous to hear the answer. 

Dosam did not answer right away. You recognized her hesitancy, since it was the same cower she'd give Sookmyung. She closed her eyes as if forced to say it, "They were talking about you marrying Hongjoong!"

Everyone on the bed gasped. You sat frozen in place, your brain trying to comprehend what she'd said. For a moment, you worried you may have heard her wrong. "What?" 

"I heard Queen Jisoo say that a marriage between Wonju and Hanseong will be good for the future," she said hurriedly, "And that together you and Hongjoong can rebuild the kingdom." 

"What? No...No, there's no way she's honestly considering..."

Hongjoong belonged to Sookmyung. He is her favorite flower, her most prized possession. If you married him, whatever plans she had will become especially heinous. Hongjoong's face came to the forefront of your mind. You thought about your conversation with him during the party. He'd told you that you worried so much about others, and rarely yourself. He'd said it in an amused tone, almost as if he found it cute. Hongjoong possibly thinking of you in any capacity outside of formality made your insides churn. You supposed a marriage between you made sense on paper, since he is a prince of Wonju and you're now a queen. But, thinking of marrying Hongjoong made your cheeks burn. 

"He is handsome," Saehee noted, "And tender-hearted. I think he will make a fine husband."

"And he's a prince!" added Aro. "Now that Sookmyung isn't around, he can be a prince again."

"He's a king," Saehee corrected her. "His family is dead, right? That means he's King of Wonju now." 

"Do you think you'll be his queen consort?" she asked you, bright eyed. 

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I'm meant to be the Queen of Hanseong. I don't think we can both marry if we have separate thrones. Who will look over Wonju, if Hongjoong is far away?"

“They can find somebody," Saehee said. "You never know. Perhaps he has a cousin or distant relative somewhere who can handle Wonju for him?"

"Perhaps."

Marrying Hongjoong was meant to be a fantasy of yours. Thinking about being his wife, his closest friend, and confidant was supposed to remain in your head. You'd do your best to avoid looking at or talking to him because you know if you did, you'd fall deeper in love with him. It's similar to your feelings for Seonghwa, who showed you gentleness and reassurance last night. You knew showing too much attention towards them would upset Sookmyung. With her out of way, and word of a possible marriage in the air, the possibilities felt endless. 

“Let us get you dressed,” concluded Saehee. “The Queen wishes to speak with you.”

“I can dress myself, Saehee,” you told her, wrapping yourself in the sheets and fixing your hair from your face. “It’s not necessary.”

“You’re going to be The Queen,” she said. “A queen always has handmaidens.”

“Unless…” Aro fiddled with the ribbon in her hair, “You wish to dismiss us?”

You saw the uncertainty show on their faces. None of them looked directly at you, and you frowned. 

“Of course, I wouldn’t dismiss any of you,” you implored. “Why would I do such a thing? We have gone through so much together, and I care about each of you deeply.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “You might not wish to have a stupid cry baby as you handmaiden,” she sniffled, and you saw her eyes water. “I’m always so clumsy and-”

“-And when have I shown annoyance at that?” you asked her gently. “When?”

“Never,” she sniffed. “You’re always so kind and patient with me.”

“I’m not a virgin!” Boram blurted out. When you all whipped your heads to her, she winced. “I’m not. I have not been for a long time. I knew the punishment for that, so I never said anything, but I am now. Vernon and I are in love,” she said to you in particular, “And he wants to marry me. I hope that it won’t upset or displease you.” 

“Not at all,” you told her, taking her hand in your own. “You are not my property. All of you are free to love and marry freely.” You stood up from the bed, standing straight as you said, “My first order to all of you is to live as you wish. You are all going to remain my handmaidens, but you can do what you please outside of your duties. Wear whatever hanbok you like. Wear your hair however you wish. You belong to yourselves, not me.” 

Their smiles lifted your spirits. You picked at the breakfast Boram placed in front of you while she and Dosam prepared a bath nearby. As good as it tasted, you found it hard to enjoy the food. Sookmyung slowly crept her way back into your mind, and you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking of her. Where did she go when she ran from the city guards? Who housed her right now? Did they know she liked to eat before she bathed? That she liked her soup piping hot, and her rice cooked to the perfect softness? You pitied whoever they put in charge of attending her. The poor girl won’t know the danger until it comes. You thought of the serving girl from a few nights ago who’d accidentally spilled wine. The girl lived, but you remember the long lashes on her bare skin and her painful sobs. Sookmyung found pleasure in her pain, but you did not. 

“Your Majesty,” Saehee appeared from the hall with a long box and you immediately shook your head.

“-No, I won’t wear that,” you stopped her. “I won’t wear anything that’s hers.” It sounded almost like bringing yourself bad luck. 

“This isn’t hers,” the woman insisted. “Queen Jisoo said she had some of her old hanboks stored away, and she thought you may like this one.”

“Oh…” 

You watched her remove the top lid as you finished your breakfast. Red with gold cranes circled on the shoulders, several royal seals were painted into the long draped sleeves. The royal dragon emblem was part of the sash over the top coat; pond scenes with cranes and flowers painted along the stripes down the skirt. You recognized it at once. Queen Jisoo wore it at the last royal event she attended before King Siwon’s passing. She’d look regal and elegant. You spotted the same floral pins she’d worn in her hair that day, tucked into the braided bun at the nape of her neck. 

“She wants me to wear this?” you asked, reaching forward to touch the soft satin fabric. 

“Yes,” she nodded. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”

She’d chosen this one for a reason. If there’s anyone you should be emulating, it should be The Peoples’ Queen, Queen Han Jisoo. You left the bed for the bath, sinking into the warm water and beginning to scrub yourself. Dosam moved to take the sponge from you, but you held it from her. 

“I can bathe myself, Dosam,” you told her with a soft giggle. 

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

The words sounded weird when directed at you. You enjoyed the jasmine scented water as you contemplated the day. People everywhere must know the truth by now. What would things be like when you left the safety of this room? You finished your bath quickly, though you knew you could’ve taken as long as you wanted, and began drying and dressing yourself. Before you could pick up the undergarment layers, Saehee snatched it first. 

“Let us at least dress you,” she said. “You’re a queen now. It’s considered an honor to attend to royalty.”

Was it? You certainly never felt honored when you dressed Sookmyung. Still, you allowed the four women to dress you. With each piece they slid onto you, you felt yourself slowly melting away. You’d never worn such finery before, and wearing the eoyeo meori felt different. Slowly, YN the Handmaiden became YN the Queen, and you didn’t know if you liked the queen yet. Sitting in front of the long mirror, looking yourself over as Dosam finished applying lip paint, you realize this is something you’ll be doing every morning. It didn’t matter if you wanted this or not. You must go through with this now, or otherwise all the effort put into it will be in vain. 

“You look magnificent,” smiled Aro, who stood aside to look at you. “Hongjoong won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

“I don’t look like myself,” you touched the smooth skirt between your fingers. “I don’t feel like myself.”

“It’ll take some adjustment, I expect,” assured Saehee. “But, a nice hanbok and a wig doesn’t mean you’re not still YN. You’re YN with a title, that’s all.”

You didn’t know how to explain that it’s more than that. Your sole responsibilities used to only be the handmaidens and Sookmyung. As a queen, everyone in the kingdom is your responsibility. How can you possibly accommodate and please so many people? Particularly people once ruled over by fear and anguish. You liked to think you had your mother, the advisors and Jisoo helping you. They wouldn’t allow you to fail. 

“Think of all the good things you can do now that you’re queen,” Aro said, smiling. “You can help so many people.”

You knew she meant well, but that only filled you with more dread. 

“And you’ll have Hongjoong beside you,” Dosam smirked, “He’s quite fond of you. I don’t think he’d let you fail.”

‘Fond of you’. Was he? Yes, Hongjoong made kind passive gestures towards you before, but nothing indicating ‘fondness’. As they led you out of your dressing room, you couldn’t imagine Hongjoong being ‘fond’ of you. Every time you thought of his soft giggle or the crinkle of his eyes, Sookmyung's face came up right behind it. You thought of his lips lightly brushing against yours, one hand holding your hand and the other around your waist. He’d taste like mint and smell of cinnamon, a combination that would unravel you in seconds, melting any guard you may have up around him. Hongjoong and you may have not spoken often, yet you could not help imagining that fondness being present. 

“Good morning, Your Majesty.”

Seonghwa stood in the main room of the harem with San and Mingi. Yeosang, Yunho, Wooyoung and Jongho all sat around, enjoying a light breakfast spread put out for them. They all stood from their seats when you entered, and you immediately remembered you’d fallen asleep in the harem. Embarrassment filled your cheeks, and you did your best not to look away. 

“I’d ask if you slept well,” he said, “But I’m afraid not many of us did.”

“I slept well,” you replied. You felt his eyes taking in every inch of your face, and this did not stop the daydreams from expanding further. Seonghwa and Hongjoong. Sookmyung could have two lovers. Why couldn’t you? “Thank you. I assume it was my mother who asked you to keep watch over me?”

“In fact, it was Hongjoong who insisted we keep you here,” he answered, “I only seconded it.” He approached you, “They’re waiting for you in Queen Jisoo’s residence. San and Mingi are sleeping off their guard duty, but Wooyoung, Yunho and myself will walk you there.” 

“What about the other palace guards?” 

“Hongjoong said he wasn’t comfortable with any of Sookmyung’s old guards watching over you,” he said. “We’ll be watching over you until you’ve chosen a suitable guard for yourself.”

“Does that displease you, Your Majesty?” 

Wooyoung asked this with worry in his voice. You stared at him for a moment. His slim build made it easy for him to slip between trees and scurry through dense bushes like a shadow. You remembered Sookmyung complaining about how he can be so loud, but still able to pass through unnoticed. It’d taken them a week to find him when he’d escaped camp during the war. He’d also been the hardest for Sookmyung to break. 

“Not at all, Wooyoung,” you answered him honestly. “I don’t believe I’d feel comfortable around anyone who pledged allegiance to Sookmyung, to be truthful.” 

You then noticed the most obvious thing about the men: they did not wear their veils. They’d rid themselves of their shackles, and you smiled softly at them. “Shall we go now?” you asked, taking a timid step forward, “I don’t wish to keep my mother or The Queen waiting any longer.”

“Of course, when you wish, Your Majesty.”

Right. You’re meant to lead. Taking another step, you kept putting one foot in front of the other as the group followed you outside. Yunho and Wooyoung walked ahead, wearing swords at their sides and no longer hiding their faces behind veils. Your handmaidens flanked you, keeping their heads down, while Seonghwa came into step beside you. 

“May I accompany you there, Your Majesty?” he asked. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “It’s still so odd.”

“What is?”

“To be called ‘Your Majesty’,” you said. “It feels…wrong. It doesn’t suit me.”

“You’re the queen. It’s your title.”

“I still don’t know if I like it.”

“Then, what do you wish to be called?” he asked, “Give me a title and I’ll gladly call you by it.” 

You gave it a thought, “Hm, I don’t know.”

“Alright, ‘I-Don’t-Know’,” he smirked, giving you an amused smile. 

You laughed at his joke, some of the tension inside you deflating as you reached the harem entrance. The world felt different to you, but you weren’t sure how. You thought you might have woken up in a dream, and you’ll wake up any moment. 

“I imagine it will take a while to adjust,” he said when you reached the palanquin. “A lot has changed overnight, and it must be a lot to take in for you.”

“It is,” you admitted with a sigh. You anxiously picked at the inside of your sleeve, standing in front of the palanquin. It wasn’t Sookmyung’s palanquin. Hers had been larger. “Hongjoong is with my mother?”

“He is,” he nodded. “He went ahead with her to talk to the advisors and discuss our next move. I’m sure they’ll inform you once you arrive.” 

He let you climb into the palanquin first, then followed you in. Being in a close, intimate space with Seonghwa put you on edge. Light whiffs of sandalwood came from his clothes, which you came to enjoy very quickly. Once the footmen began moving towards the queen’s residency, you spoke. 

“Has he slept at all?” 

“A bit,” he said. “As I said, not all of us slept very well. The guards are still combing the city for Sookmyung, and word about last night is beginning to spread outside the capital. I imagine everyone will know about you, Sookmyung, and the throne by week’s end.” When saw the anxiousness in your face, he added, “I’m sorry this has happened so quickly, YN, and that you’re not being given sufficient time to adjust. It isn’t fair to anyone, but most of all you.” 

“Thank you, Seonghwa,” you gave a soft smile, trying not to notice his round eyes gazing so intently at you. “Thank you for being here.”

“You’re my queen now,” he grinned, “I will be wherever you wish me to be.”

You smiled for a moment, before it instantly faded. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned. “Did I say something to offend you?”

“No, no, forgive me. It’s not you,” you insisted. “It’s…” you sighed, “Even with her gone, I still see you as hers. She kept you at such a far distance that it’s almost as if she still owns you.”

“She doesn’t,” he said firmly. “And she doesn’t own you either. We are our own people now. We can be whoever we choose to be,” he then added, “And be with whoever we wish.” 

You bit your inner cheek to keep from smiling.

*****

A/N: I'm super sorry I kept everyone waiting so long in between chapters! My mental health, work, and life things really just kept me from really focusing on a single project at a time. I hope this chapter makes up for it! <3

[skellyflowers]

Too Many Beds

Ployvessels x reader

The world tour is going amazing. We just finished the Australian leg where IV really stole the show. Our next destination is America. We got a flight and landed a few days early so we could recover and be ready for the next part of the tour.

Management got us a hotel to recover in. The room would be purchased home for the next two days before the tour starts. We kick off in Las Vegas at a music festival. Check in was a quick process and we were given our key cards and room numbers in no time.  Wait numbers? Like more than one?

If I wasn’t so jet lag l would have said something earlier but I didn't really pay attention. I  wanted to take a shower and get a nap. When we get to our room I take my bag to the bathroom.  II and IV planned to go get a drink at the hotel bar and III wanted to go to the hotel casino. Vessel is only one without a plan, so he is either going to stay with me all night and get room service or wait until I fall asleep and join the others. 

The bathroom is pretty big, it has both a shower and a bathtub. I put my bag on the counter and went to report the information to the boys.

“The bathroom is nice. Shower and tub are only big enough for two.”

I was expecting to hear III moan out a complaint about no group showers. However that is not his main grievance.

“There are too many beds! And they are all too small!” He yells.

“What do you mean too many? How many is too many?”

“THE NUMBER IS NOT IMPORTANT V!”

Vessel and IV watch us talk back and forth. Both clearly trying not to laugh.

“What III means,” interrupts II, trying to defuse to tension “That we have 4 Queen size beds in two rooms”

“We have two rooms?” I ask, still confused.

“Yes they are adjoined right there.” II points to another door that must lead to the other room.

Why did we get two rooms? It’s not like management didn’t know about the five of us and our relationship. We were not trying to hide it. We regularly turn the back lounge of any tour bus into a big bedroom.

“Relax, it's not the end of the world.” Says IV.

“This shouldn’t have even happened!” III grumbles. “We always get a king size.”

“It was pretty last minute. This may have been the best they could do.” I defend.

“That’s enough bickering.” Vessel finally speaks up. “V, go take your shower. We will wait and go get dinner.”

I do as asked and hope the boys calm III down. I decided to dress up a little and not get into my cozy clothes. All five of us go to one of the restaurants near the hotel. It was fun and really what we needed. Afterwards, we walked around the casino and played a couple of slot machines.  We eventually got back to the hotel room.

When I get ready for bed I finally check out the adjoined room. As I expected the room is exactly the same, just flipped. I walk to the bedroom and see that one of the beds is missing a mattress. I head back to our main room to ask what happened.

When I get there I see what happened. All of the furniture has been pushed into the corners, I assume that Vessel was responsible for that, and all three mattresses are on the floor. Vessel and II are making the bed. IV comes up behind me and gives me a hug.

“You ok with this?”

“Yes. As long as it makes your boyfriend stop freaking out.”

“When he’s like that he is their boyfriend.”

That comment makes me laugh. I am not sure how long we are standing next to the new super bed. The others are busy arranging blankets and pillows. I feel my eyes starting to drift close, all the activity from the day catching up with me. IV swaying us is also putting me to sleep.

My eyes open when someone grabs my hand. It’s II, he gently pulls me away from IV. Now it’s time to arrange the sleeping positions. III is in the center on his back, me on his right and II on his left. Vessel is my big spoon and IV settles next to II.

“Four beds really is too many.” I say.

“THAT'S WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT!”

[cottonlemonade]

How You Met

word count: 950 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post time-skip Akaashi x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: one person being casually rude about your weight (it’s quick tho)

The taiyaki were still hot in the white paper bag, the smell reminding you it was almost lunch time.

Looking the street up and down for a bus stop or a waiting taxi you turned on the spot. A little ways up the pathway you could make out the typical black boxy shape of a Tokyo taxi and readjusting your handbag you headed towards it, only for a busy looking person in a suit to snatch it up before you could reach it, muttering something about how you would be better off walking for some exercise.

In disbelief about such rudeness you shook your head, pulling your coat a little closer around your chubby form.

You were sure another taxi would take its place soon enough and got on tiptoes to examine the traffic, on the lookout for one.

A mischievous breeze blew up your coat collar, making you wish you would have worn a scarf after all. Although April was right around the corner, the weather today was icy cold.

Giving up for the time being you headed towards a little flower shop you had passed just a few meters back to warm yourself.

A bell chimed when you opened the door. Pots with regular and more exotic house plants stacked on shelves along the wall, one display case behind the counter held the fresh cut flowers while another showed already bound bouquets in varying sizes and color schemes.

The woman standing behind the cash register called a friendly greeting and held the beginnings of a new arrangement at arm's length to check for possible improvements.

"What can I do for you?", she asked, putting the flowers down and folding her hands over a small pregnant belly.

"I would like a bouquet with peonies and… some eucalyptus, please."

The woman smiled and got to work, asking here and there for specifics in color or fullness.

She was about to come to an end with the simple coral and cream bouquet when the doorbell rang again and a young man looking remarkably like a substitute literature teacher entered the shop, a phone to his ear.

"Yes, father, I am getting flowers. I’ll be there soon. Oh, actually, I might be a while, there are quite a lot of people waiting."

You heard an angry voice yelling something unintelligible from the phone, when he simply hung up and sighed. He reached to tug at his collar like it was too tight and closed his eyes for a second, then, remembering he was in public, gave a bow to you and the saleswoman and apologized.

"Please take as long as you want.", he said, almost pleadingly.

He looked like he had a headache, grabbing his collar again.

"O-on second thought,", you began, turning to the owner that was just about to add the last eucalyptus branch, "I forgot I wanted more. Silly me. Uhm, could you make one with… hmm, those blue ones, some of the small greens, those white tulips, and lots of those light blues there, please? And then another one… with those yellow ones there, there and those, too, please." Your best friends would be delighted.

"Oh", the owner caught on immediately, "that was quite a lot. I don’t think I could memorize which ones you wanted all at once."

"No problem. I can tell you one by one."

The young man gave a small grateful smile at the stage-play-like interaction, letting out a “Thank you very much” under his breath.

As the shop owner wrapped up the first bundle of flowers at snail speed, you turned to the young man, wanting to cheer him up.

"So, where do you not want to go?"

Seemingly too exasperated to care about talking to a perfect stranger he said, "A blind date. Which, by the way, isn't actually blind but with a woman I have absolutely no interest in talking to about anything."

"Oh fun.", you said and trying to lighten the mood added, "Why not bring some flowers that say Thanks for coming, I don’t wanna be here?"

Everyone laughed, but the guy stopped after a second or two, looking at you for the first time, then turned to the florist.

"Can I do that?"

She thought for a moment, then slowly nodded, "I can add some candytuft, for sure and… hm, something really neutral for… and then… maybe I still have some butterweed. Yeah, I think I can do that."

You stayed even after your third bouquet was done, keeping the conversation going, joking around and glad when the young man gave a genuine laugh.

"Let me.", he said, sounding tired, when you drew out your wallet to pay for your flowers.

You shook your head, smiled and handed your card to the owner. Then you reached into the paper bag.

The buns in the meantime had turned lukewarm, but still smelled heavenly when you fished one out in a napkin and handed it to the woman - the other still in the bag you placed on the counter for a moment, grabbing a pen from your pocket. You quickly jotted down your name and number on the paper and handed it to him.

“And here. If you need rescuing from your blind date, send me a text and I’ll call you right away with some made-up emergency.”

Then you raised your free hand that wasn’t busy balancing the flowers with a “You got this.” and after a final wave you left.

Akaashi was still staring at the door for a few long moments after you had gone.

“You’d make a cute couple.”, the saleswoman mused and grinned when the young man blushed profusely, holding tighter to the paper bag.

[vivwritesfics]

Electric Dream Machine

Electric Dream Machine is just opening for Papaya until the release of their first album. Logan just enjoys being around Papayas guitarist

Viv's AUgust Event

(Banner by @nurse-floyd )

It was a temporary arrangement, something they had to do before they made it big themselves. Just while their album was being made.

The tour with Papaya wasn't all bad. He'd grown up alongside their bassist, Oscar, and Lando wasn't all that bad once you got to know him. Carlos was an interesting guy, a lot to deal with when he and Lando were together. Their guitarist was Logan's favourite, but he'd never admit to that. It didn't help that she was pretty.

Electric Dream Machine was a stupid band name. When their manager, James, had approached the four of them, they'd protested. But it was Electric Dream Machine or hit the road.

The music was theirs, and that was all that mattered. The name might have sucked, but the music spoke for itself. Lance's dad was helping fund the creation of the album and paying for them to follow Papaya on tour, opening for them.

The perks of having a ultra rich drummer.

Logan wasn't the most social person in the world. He wasn't rude by any means, but he wasn't the best with people. Shy, the was it. He was shy. Even on the Papaya bus, he sat on his own as Alex, George and Lance sat with Lando, Carlos and Oscar.

The Papaya guitarist was somewhere on the bus, Logan didn't know where. He tried not to make it look like he was looking around for her, but he couldn't help it. She was always kind to him, always going out of her way to include him in conversations.

"Hey."

When had she sat down next to him? A blush covered his cheeks as he slightly turned his head towards her. He couldn't look her in the eye as she sat back, legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankle. "Why aren't you over there?"

Logan shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't feel like it," he answered and copied her pose. Legs stretched out, crossed at the ankle.

She gave a nod. "How is the album coming along?" She asked him, voice sincere.

Logan gave her a small smile. The album. It was a topic he loved talking above more than anything. So many of the songs on the album were his. Don't Stop, Greenlight, Wherever You Are, Never Be, Lost Boy, they were all his.

He was actually animated as he spoke. It was lovely to see, had her grinning as she listened. Seeing Logan like this made a nice change to his usual demeanour.

"I can't wait to hear it," she said when he was done.

His blush deepened. "You wanna listen to it?"

The scoff she released had him worried for a second, but she punched him in the shoulder in that comforting way. "Hell yeah I wanna listen to it! You guys are great!" She insisted. Her smile was so damn sincere, Logan couldn't get enough of it.

The conversation went on. She asked about the name, Electric Dream Machine, and Logan didn't blame her for that. He knew the name sucked, too.

"You guys got any merch yet?" She asked, looking around as they pulled into the venue. Logan gave a nod. "Brilliant, I want a shirt," she said and stood up.

Their shirts were embarrassing. The four of them stood with their instruments with 'Electric Dream Machine' printed behind them. But she wanted it, so Logan gave it to her.

***

"You're not seriously wearing that tonight, are you?" He asked as he followed Lance, George and Alex off stage. He placed his guitar on the stand and looked around.

There she was, wearing the Electric Dream Machine shirt Logan had given her before the set. When he'd given it to her, it had been white. But there was a lipstick stain just above Logans head. His breath caught in his throat.

"Go away, Carlos," she said with a sickly sweet smile as she picked up her guitar.

She went out on stage with the Electric Dream Machine shirt covering her body. It was quite a sight, and it had Logan unable to take his eyes off of her.

It wasn't right for them to be together on the tour, was it? Her band was so much more successful than his, and Logan didn't want her to think he was using her.

As the tour went on, she got flirtier with him. But Logan kept his distance. He liked her, obviously he liked her, but refused to do anything about it.

The remainder of the tour was miserable for the both of them. Hopeless pining that would never be anything more.

[pitchsidestories]

Dear Reader II Lotte Wubben Moy x Reader

arsenal women masterlist

It was Lotte's and yours first year anniversary as a couple before that you’ve been friends for a long time, and you decided to celebrate it in your own special way which meant visiting a bookshop with a café in it and maybe going to an arts museum afterwards.

The latter one was a maybe, because it was very likely you two were eager to start reading your freshly bought books in a nearby park.

“Are you ready?”, Lotte asked beaming from the excitement to spend her free day with you.

Equally excided you nodded: “Yes, I’m ready to go.”

“Perfect.”, she replied with satisfaction in her voice while letting you go first out of the door of your shared appartement.  

On the bus ride to the bookshop Lotte wanted to know from you :“Do you know what you’re looking for or do you just want to browse?”

“A mix of both.”, you answered, your cheeks blushing slightly which your girlfriend found adorable as she often remarked.

The brunette tried to not let her relief shown because she had planned something out for you in the shop: “So, like the same tactic as usual.”

“Exactly.”, you replied, before looking out of the window seeing the scenery of your hometown London unfolding, you knew you could never get tired of that sight where so many of your literary heroines and adored authors lived.

Lotte and you enjoyed those quiet moments between you two just like the loud ones, but soon it was time to step out of the bus and into your first stop of your day.

In front of the bookshop, Lotte opened the door and held it open for you. You smiled at her gratefully as you slipped past her.

With a deep sigh, you breathed in the scent of the books and let your gaze wonder over the shelves. Lotte watched you with a smile, “Go on, love.“

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.“, you laughed as you made your way further into the bookshop.

You loved browsing the shelves, looking for any book that would pique your interest. And there were a lot of them.

Time never felt real in a bookshop, so you didn’t even realize how much time had passed when you looked up from your books and caught Lotte staring at you from the other side of the shelves.

As soon as your gazes met, she looked back down at the book she was holding.

She could pretend all she wanted but you could tell from the grin on her face that she has been watching you for quite some time getting lost in the many different stories.

You could feel a smile spread across your face as well. You took a few of the books that you liked and walked over to your girlfriend.

She was standing with her back to you, so you rested your chin on her shoulder and asked, “Did you find something, love?“

Lotte turned her head to you, looking into your eyes and then down at the books you were holding, “I did. And I can tell you did too.“

"You know I can never contain myself in a bookshop.", you smirked at her.

The brunette defender simply nodded and took the books you were holding on to with the words:"It's our anniversary so let me buy them for you."

"Alright, I'll pay our coffees later.", you agreed to that arrangement happily.

Later you both started reading your books as the waiter brought the hot brews to your table.

With a huge grin on your face you noticed a card with a handwritten message from Lotte hidden inside your current read it read:

I love all the stories you manage to find but our love story remains my favourite. Here's to many more, we can share together.

Moved by her words you kissed your girlfriend's cheek:"I love you, Lotte." "I love you too.", she replied softly and slightly blushed.

[katnisspeetaprim]

Wardrobe Malfunction

Stray Kids!9thmember au, Chan/Reader, Jeon Jungkook/Sister!Reader

Summary: The stylists for the new comeback decide it's time for you to start showing off your figure more on stage. Warnings: fem!reader, established relationship, idol!au

Word Count: 1712 M.list

‘Do I really have to wear this unnie? Why can’t I dress like the boys?’ You glanced at yourself in the mirror, distaste on your face.

‘Of course not honey! You’re a woman now, time to show off your figure!’ You scrunched up your eyebrows and closed your mouth, looking back to the mirror.

One stylist was arranging the clothes on your body and the other working on your hair.

The outfit you’d been forced into was for a show promoting the new LALALA comeback. The hair, you had no problem with. Blonde with pink streaks littered throughout in it’s usual long length, styled in a sort of half up half down look with pigtails.

The clothes themselves was where the issues lay.

The stylists had picked out the shortest skirt you were sure they could find, with an off the shoulder long sleeved crop top. The shoes weren’t all that bad, chunky heeled boots. You silently cheered when you saw you’d at least have something comfortable to dance in.

You tugged down the back of the skirt, extremely conscious about how much was actually on show. Obviously you were wearing safety shorts, but those too were incredibly short, leaving little left to the imagination with only a slither of fabric sticking out beneath the skirt.

Your eyes were then drawn to your shirt. Since it was off the shoulder, you had to wear a strapless bra that definitely didn’t fit you correctly. You’d had to pull it up at least three times in the past ten minutes, and you were standing still!  

‘Unnie please! I can’t dance in this!’ You pleaded one last time, spinning round to face the head stylist, trying to gain any amount of sympathy.

The older woman just waved you off with a roll of her eyes.

‘Oh please, you’ll be fine. Plus maybe it’ll help attract more male fans.’ She said nonchalantly as she walked from the room, leaving you gobsmacked after what she said.

Once you were ready for the show, you were guided to the boys dressing room.

As soon as they saw you, their conversations dried up and just stared at you.

‘Don’t even bother saying anything. I know I look ridiculous.’ You threw yourself down next to Hyunjin and crossed your arms under your chest, unintentionally pushing up your bra and giving Hyunjin a much better look than he’s sure you intended.

‘What?’ You shot him a confused look when he turned away, blush coating his cheeks.

‘Umm... That’s a short outfit, noona.’ Jeongin spoke up, trying to save Hyunjin from the embarrassment.

It was then that you looked down at yourself and blushed harshly when you realised what you’d done. You quickly sat up straight and fixed your shirt, avoiding eye contact.

You trusted your band mates whole heartedly, but at the end of the day they were still men with eyes. At least you knew the stylists plan was working...

Felix cleared his throat across from you, cutting through the awkwardness.

‘Why have they dressed you like that noona?’ You shook your head with a sigh as you answered.

‘Stylists said ‘I’m a woman now’ and ‘This would help to gain male fans.’ You rolled your eyes as you mimicked the older woman.

‘What the heck!? They said that to you?’ Chan shot up and came to stand next to your seat.

You nodded in confirmation. He stared at you for a moment, before scoffing and placing his hands on his hips.

‘If you aren’t comfortable, surly they can’t make you wear it?’ Jisung spoke, not entirely believing his own words. Most of the time, they had no say in what they wore.

‘I’m gonna talk to them.’ Chan was already  halfway to the door when you shot up to stop him.

‘Chan I already tried, plus we have to be on stage soon. I can deal with it for one show.’ He looked down at your hand on his arm, contemplating your words before sighing.

‘As long as you’re  sure, but I’m speaking to them right after the show.’ You sighed in relief. The last thing you wanted to do was cause issues for the boys, just because you didn’t want to wear an outfit.

The first part of the performance went fin, no hiccups.

It was during the second half that you felt your bra beginning to slip out of place. You quickly grabbed the material and held it in place. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest, as you nearly exposed yourself on TV.

There was no way you’d be able to fix your clothing, but running off stage wasn’t an option either.

You just put on a brave face, trying to hold back tears and wrapped your arms round your torso, still dancing as best you could.

All the boys had noticed your predicament, but all they could do was shoot you sympathetic looks.

Luckily, Changbin was wearing a jacket as part of his outfit and smoothly made his way over to you, dropping his coat over your shoulders.

You quickly gave him a thankful look, before turning round and zipping the coat up.

Thankfully Changbin did what he did in that moment. As you stood in your ending pose, you could feel your shirt and bra had completely slipped, leaving you bare beneath the jacket.

This was the most humiliating moment of your career.

You wasted no time bolting off stage, ignoring he calls coming from your members.

Bursting into the dressing room, the stylists all adverted their gaze, too ashamed to own their screw up. Gathering up your comfortable clothes, you locked yourself in the bathroom to change.

‘How could you let that happen?’ Chan yelled raging, ad he also burst into the dressing room.

All the stylists looked up at him like deer in headlights. ‘You’re supposed to keep us safe and comfortable on stage!’ Chan continued on. By now the woman had all bowed their heads, knowing they couldn’t get away from this.

As Chan was scolding the staff, Felix knocked on the bathroom door.

‘Y/N? You in there?’  he got no reply so pressed his ear to the door. He could hear faint sniffles on the other side.

Felix pulled back, distressed at what he heard and knocked again, this time more rapidly.

‘Y/N? Can I come in?’ Felix almost fell into the bathroom when you suddenly pulled open the door, now changed out of the offending outfit.

‘Can we please leave now?’ You whispered meekly.

‘Yeah of course!’ Felix answered without hesitation. He guided your from the bathroom, quickly telling Minho that he was taking you home.

Chan was still too angry to be interrupted right now.

You were quiet in the car ride home. Felix could tell you didn’t want to talk, so he just sat there in silence, knowing his presence was enough to comfort you.

Suddenly his phone vibrated in his pocket.

‘Apparently the stylists responsible are being bought into a meeting tomorrow.’ Felix summarised the group chat, causing you to look away from the window for the first time.

‘Chan is still livid though.’ He snorted with a shake of his head. It was only then that you noticed Felix was still wearing his stage outfit.

‘Oh jeez. I didn’t even let you get changed...’ Your brows furrowed. All you had wanted to do was get out of there. You hadn’t even given a thought to your band mates.

Felix leaned forwards and placed a comforting hand on your knee with a smile.

‘Seriously noona, don’t sweat it! I just care about getting you home right now.’ You leaned back in your seat and nodded. He must be uncomfortable being in those clothes for so long...

‘You should shower when we get back. Get al that makeup and hairspray out.’ He pulled back and gave you another comforting smile.

A hot shower did sound good right now.

The hot shower really had done wonders in helping you relax and unwind.

You were now sat on your bed in cosy pyjamas as you braided your wet hair.

‘Hey’ Chan knocked on your open door, before inviting himself inside. You smiled warmly and scooted forwards, allowing him to position himself behind you.

Chan reached up and rested his hands on your shoulders, rubbing soothingly. Your eyes fluttered shut and you moaned out softly in relief.

'how you feeling?’

‘Better, still embarrassed.’ You breathed out.

‘Don’t be. The stylists should have listened to you.’ His hands ran down your arms and over your stomach, pulling you into a hug from behind. You leaned back and allowed him to take your weight.

‘They’re in trouble by the way. JYP wasn’t happy. He found out right away.’ He chuckled next to your ear.

You were conflicted upon hearing this. On one hand, you were glad they were getting pulled up on their actions but on the other hand, you didn’t want anyone to loose their job because of you.

‘I know what you’re thinking and stop it. They bought it on themselves.’ Chan hugged you tighter and placed a feather light kiss on your neck. You sighed contently and the contact.

‘People are on your side by the way’ You turned your head to look at him in confusion. He smiled down at you. ‘Online. Nobody had anything bad to say. All think you handled it really well.’

You pulled out of his arms and sat up right with a relieved laugh.

‘I’ve been too scared to look. Thanks for putting my mind at ease.’

‘Anytime!’ Chan beamed at you and pushed your braid over your shoulder. He suddenly got up and reached his hand out for you to take.

‘We picked up takeout on the way back. I’m sure you’re starving.’

‘Hell yes I am!’ You eagerly took his hand and followed him from the room.

3 messages from Big Bro Jungkook

Hey sis! Tried to call you but couldn’t get through. I know the guys are probably looking after you, but I just wanted to make sure you’re ok?

I’ve had wardrobe malfunctions myself, but it’s obviously worse for you lol

Anyway, I’m here if you wanna talk!

[lilirari]

　　　　　　　　　　 𐙚 ⋆୨୧˚ KISS IT OFF ME ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. the one where gavi drops his girlfriend off to uni because she (unfortunately) missed her alarm.

💌 pablo gavi x fem! reader (written work + social media au)

# author's note : this is dedicated to my favourite gavi lover, @zowanew :p <3 it's not really proof-read & i have limited spanish knowledge (i used google translate for most of the spanish parts) so if you see any grammatical mistakes or some sentences seem off, please look the other way 👩🏻‍🦯

beep beep beep.

your alarm went off as you grumbled softly and begrudgingly turned to the other side of the bed. your hand slowly hovered over the digital clock on the bed stand, as you pressed the button on the top and lazily opened an eye to look at the time. however, when you saw that it was already 7:00 am, you immediately jolted up from your bed, your sleepy eyes widening as you stared at the clock. you rubbed your eyes and blinked a few times to check if you were actually staring at the real thing or just dreaming.

“ it's 7 already ? how did i sleep through the 6 o'clock mark ? " you muttered to yourself in shock as you quickly scurried out of your bed and folded your blanket. you arranged your bedsheet before giving a soft pat to your miffy plushie who sat besides your pillow and looked after you when you were asleep. " good morning miffy. " you said, smiling down at the white bunny plushie as you slipped into your comfy slides.

you swiftly made your way to the bathroom, doing all the necessities like brushing your teeth, washing your face and doing your daily skincare routine. after you were done, you came back into your room and opened your closet, as you stared the clothes hanging inside. your eyes darted left and right as you made up an outfit combination in your mind straight away. you pulled out those clothes and started getting ready to head to the university. you had your classes at 8 am so you rapidly changed your clothes, not wanting to be late. just then, your phone, which was placed on your dressing table, buzzed and the screen lighted up. you leaned down only to see that it was a message from your boyfriend. your lips curved upwards into a small smile as you opened the message to reply back to him.

imessage 💬

pablito 💗

good morning baby ! did you sleep well ?

mi corazón

good morning lover boy <3 yes i did. although i might've slept a bit too well...

i kinda overslept...

pablito 💗

it's good that you got some well deserved sleep but don't you have uni today ?

mi corazón

yeah 😭 i think i'm going to be late.. i have to turn into the flash to be able to attend my first class on time 😞

pablito 💗

hm.. i don't think that's necessary, y/n. i'll come and pick you up at your house. i also have a practice session for our match tonight and your university's on the way to the stadium anyways.

mi corazón

oh baby, it's all good, don't worry. you don't have to go through such lengths for me ! i'll just try to catch the bus.

pablito 💗

no, i won't take a refusal as an answer. i'll be at your door in 15 minutes. take all the time you need to get ready, okay ?

mi corazón

but gavi 😭

pablito 💗

you can't stop me i'm already omw, amor

mi corazón

.. okay, alright 😞 thank you :( i love you <3

pablito 💗

love you too. see you soon :)

you closed your phone as a soft sigh escaped your lips. you were really so lucky to have gavi in your life. he adored you so much and was always willing to go through extreme lengths just for you. you shifted your focus to the mirror as you dolled yourself up with some light make-up and fixed your hair. you wore the necklace which gavi gave you on your birthday the previous year, and smiled as you looked at it through the mirror. it was your favourite belonging as it had yours & his initials on it. you shoved all the necessities required for the day into your bag and donned your favourite converse all stars.

you made your way downstairs, where your mother and your breakfast awaited. you acknowledged each other's presence, and you had your breakfast and talked a bit about what you were both planning to do this very day. a few minutes later, you heard a car horn in your driveway as a small smile decorated your lips. you informed your mum that gavi was dropping you off, which made your mum chuckle and tease you a little. after you said your goodbyes, you walked out the door to see your boyfriend waiting for you in his sedan car. as soon as he saw you, the expression on his face lighted up.

" hi, amor. you look so pretty today. " gavi greeted, pressing a light kiss on your forehead as you sat down on the passenger seat.

" thank you, baby waby. " you replied back, a small snicker escaping your lips as you noticed the change in his expression when he heard that nickname. you liked to use it whenever you were teasing him because it always made him pout and you found this action of his to be so endearing. " you don't look so bad yourself, guapo. " you commented, giving him a slight up & down look as you smiled. gavi always dressed up really well *cough* unlike his best friend pedri *cough*, and he looked good in any outfit, be it a suit or just a plain t-shirt.

the ride to your university was quite fun. you talked about how much you were dreading to take the afternoon classes and gavi talked about the silly antics his teammates liked to pull during practice sessions. you also had a good laugh when you reached the gates of your uni because of your boyfriend as he kept honking at the students blocking the road, angrily yelling " GET OUT OF THE WAY ! MY GIRLFRIEND'S GOING TO BE LATE !! " at them. this resulted in a few head turns and confused stares but you didn't even notice those looks because being with gavi made you so much more happy and not give a care about anything else in the world.

when you had finally reached your class building, you noticed your friends waiting for you at a distance as you waved at them, flashing them your pearly whites.

" thank you so much for dropping me off today, pablito. i would've gotten some sort of detention if it weren't for you. i owe you one. " you expressed your thanks as you took off your seatbelt.

" you don't have to owe me anything, y/n. all i ask for is a kiss. " he replied back, eyebrows raised and a small smirk plastered on his face as he awaited for your response.

" what ? a kiss ? but my friends are looking at us ! " you exclaimed, the colour of your cheeks turning into a light shade of pink.

your boyfriend, obviously, did not listen to your protests though as he rolled his eyes before immediately leaning in closer to you, planting his lips on top of yours. you could feel his lips forming a smirk as he held the kiss for a few seconds before pulling away.

" who cares about your friends ? anyways, don't be late for tonight's match, okay, mi amor ? since we're going against the merengues in a home match, i need my good luck charm to be present for such a crucial match. " gavi reminded as he cupped your cheeks. " i'll score a goal for you. "

you were still a bit startled by that sudden kiss but you shook it off and nodded at his words. " don't you always ? " you asked, grinning like a cheshire cat. " hm.. i wouldn't miss it for the world. i can't wait to see the looks on the faces of the madridistas when their team loses to us. " you remarked, giggling as you got out of the car. " te quiero, cariño. please be careful when training, okay ? " you requested, waving at him as you closed the door. " hm, don't worry. que tengas un gran día, mi amor. te quiero. see you later. " gavi responded, sending a wink your way before driving off.

you then caught up with your friends, with them squealing in excitement and nudging you teasingly after witnessing your little kissing scene with your boyfriend and you feeling embarrassed but content.

you couldn't take your classes properly though because all you were thinking about was the kiss.

instagram 🎥

yourinstagram 🔒

liked by pablogavi, pedri, joaofelix79 and 306 others

tagged pablogavi

yourinstagram my baby <3 and there's gavi too ig 🧍🏻‍♀️

view all 67 comments

pablogavi " there's gavi too ig " ???? i dropped you off at uni + dedicated not one but two goals for you and this is how you repay me ? 😞

-> pablogavi do you love miffy more than me or what ? 🙄

-> yourinstagram yes ☺️

-> yourinstagram jk jk i love you more than miffy

-> pablogavi ha, take that miffy !

-> yourinstagram what did this bunny even do to you 😭

-> pablogavi took away all your attention from me 😕

-> yourinstagram eres tan lindo.. 🥹 don't worry, you'll always have my attention, pablito

-> pablogavi yeah i better 😠

pedri gavi estaba flipando al verte con su camiseta 🤭

liked by yourinstagram

joaofelix79 love u bro

-> pablogavi ❤️💙

-> yourinstagram um ?? 🤨🤨🤨🤨

yourbestfriend the matching miffy and badtz-maru rings.. the highway looks like a good place to sleep tonight

-> yourinstagram BESTIE NO DON'T GO THERE 😭

-> yourinstagram i promise i'll make gavi find a good footballer bf just for u 🫶

-> yourbestfriend please 😞🙏

classmate1 girl you're seriously so lucky to have the best pro footballer as ur bf 😭

classmate2 wikihow to be y/n 😞

classmate3 y/n please get us footballer bfs too

friend1 the flower 🥹🥹🥹

friend2 OMG THE MIFFY STATUE !!!

friend3 i'm in awe you look gorgeous queen

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pablogavi

liked by pedri, yourinstagram, frenkiedejong and 20,192,299 others

pablogavi con un fan muy especial ☺️ otra victoria en casa ! gracias a todos por vuestro apoyo. força barça ❤️💙

view all 630,122 comments

yourinstagram lo hiciste increíble hoy !

liked by pablogavi

yourinstagram te quiero, mi amor ❤️

-> pablogavi te quiero, mi vida 💙 gracias por apoyarme siempre

fcbarcelona dos goles sorprendentes 👏

pedri chico de oro 💪

joaofelix79 🪄🪄

_ferminlopez 😘

jpcancelo hermanito 😍

_rl9 🔥

user10 you played incredibly well today, pablo !

user21 congratulations on the win, best boy !

user38 forever a culer 🤞🤞

user45 so happy to have gotten 2 beautiful goals from you ! so proud of you ❤️‍🩹

user03 AHHHH GAVIYN CONTENT !!! 🥹🥹🥹

user57 barça's golden boy 🗣️🗣️🗣️

user99 did you guys see how happy y/n was when he scored.. she was literally jumping and screaming 🥹 she's so cute they're so cute :(

user82 my parents <33

user73 the way he dedicated both goals to y/n.. i'm going to take a bath with the toaster tonight

user64 the best barça couple 🫶

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© LILIRARI, 2023 ★

[sushiwriterhere]

open note

summary: your shoulders won't stop aching and Nanami sits across from you at the cafe | 3.1k warnings: nanami x reader 18+, reader is (lightly) cursed, PiV (unprotected), nanami follows reader around sorta (for protection purposes), oral (f receiving) notes: this is my first jjk fic, pls let me know what u think <3 (to all my tg fans.. hope u can forgive me). not sure who to tag but i hope if u read u enjoy!

It’s late. The letters on the screen blur as you try to keep reading–you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been sitting here, trying to slog through your latest assigned reading. It’s not usually like this for you, like pulling teeth or climbing up ten flights of stairs, usually law school feels like a blessing. 

Everyone warned you about competitive peers and cutthroat curves, but instead you found a community of people who shared your passion for the law and didn’t find it odd that you could launch into a twenty-minute rant about the poorly designed logic of originalism at any moment. It was comforting to feel like you’d found your place in the world, to feel like you’d found your path. Was, being the operative word here. 

Lately everything felt heavy, felt, off balance. Some days, you stayed in bed until you were sure you would miss the bus to your lecture hall, only to make it by some grace of god, half disheveled and not sure you’d brought everything you needed. Some days, your apartment was too quiet, the one-bedroom you’d always longed for feeling more suffocating than the freeing space you’d needed it to be. You’d smile at your peers but gently reject invites for drinks or group study at the law library, citing your internship or a family call, but really, you just couldn’t bring yourself to spend more time than you already were in other peoples’ presence. 

Your only bright spot is Nanami. Every week, without fail, at least three times a week, you find yourself sitting across from him at the cafe down the street from your apartment complex. It’s an odd, unspoken arrangement. The cafe had been crowded one Thursday morning and he’d wordlessly stood behind the chair across from you before sitting after you’d nodded once. He always orders the same thing, a hot Americano–though he’s taken to sliding a muffin across to you ever so often. 

Sometimes you think that when he looks at you, he’s the only person who can really see you. Other times it feels like he’s almost looking right past you, like he’s trying to make out the face of someone far over your shoulder.

Even so, it is a tender set of interactions that buoys you throughout the week, until you find yourself sitting in front of Nanami at a quiet restaurant. Whatever you’ve ordered at random is savory and tender, and pairs beautifully with the wine he chose. It’s also exactly what you would’ve picked. 

The candlelight illuminates his face in a way that throws his features into stark relief, masculine, chiseled, and so beautiful. He’s saying something, and you wish you could put your hand on his chest to feel the rumble of the baritone you know is there. You think it might ground you in a way you haven’t felt in a while. You feel like you’re watching the entire interaction outside yourself. 

Then he’s paying the bill and pulling out your chair, taking you by the hand as he walks you to the coat check. You let him slip your jacket over your bare shoulders, missing the way the way he stiffens when his fingers brush your bare skin. Everything feels so far away then, and you almost stumble out the door. 

You move your lips to form words, to thank him for the meal, the company, the kindness, but you can’t. The world is foggy and somewhere between your shoulder blades is a deep, aching sort of pain. 

I should see a chiropractor, you think to yourself, wondering if all your time laying on your side looking out your apartment windows has finally caught up to you. 

Standing in front of you, Nanami considers you. But he’s not looking at you, instead he’s looking at the curse curled across your shoulders. It’s small, but that doesn’t matter–he sees the way it pulses with a dense cursed energy. If he strains his senses, he can pick up on its scent, the almost acrid stench. 

It’s been feeding on you for a while now–he first spotted you from across the crowded cafe you both frequent–a small thing at first. He hadn’t wanted to startle you by trying to exorcize it in the middle of that crowded room. Instead, he sat across from you, made friends, even? 

Despite the curse, he enjoyed your presence. You had gentle features, smelled nice, and your brow furrowed whenever you were thinking particularly hard about something until you would reach up to smooth a few fingers over your brow as if push the wrinkle away. The feelings were on accident, really. He’d just wanted to keep an eye on you, make sure the curse wasn’t giving you too much trouble. 

After that he’d learned too much about you in his effort to ‘keep you safe’–

(“Nanami, where are you off to at this hour?” Nanami ignored the other man as he pulled on his jacket. 

He’d spent a few minutes too many indulging in a hot cup of coffee, now he was going to be late if he didn’t hurry. You always got off the bus at this hour, and the curse was starting to really settle in. He didn’t like the faraway look you had in your eyes as you walked; he wasn’t sure you’d notice someone following you or coming up behind you. You hadn’t noticed him yet.

Gojo really couldn’t help himself, he was too nosy for his own good. Which was why Nanami couldn’t tell him, rather, refused to tell him about you. But he was running out of excuses and Gojo was getting particularly good at delegating, so he was spending more time than ever hanging around looking for someone to bother. 

“Lock the door behind me.” Was all he said in response, cutting off the other sorcerer’s garbled protests.)

Now, standing across from you, he sees a beautiful woman being drained of her life as a filthy curse digs its talons into you. 

Against his better judgment, Nanami steps forward towards you. In the restaurant, the candle light lit your face from below. Here, the street lights are above, emphasizing the darkness under your eyes. You haven’t been sleeping. 

Your eyes are glossed over when you look up at him, but you place your hands on his chest, his dress shirt dimpling under your fingertips. Rising on your toes, your hands smooth over his shoulders. Something curls pleasantly in his chest at the way your eyes widen when your hands find his muscles. 

His hands find their way to your hips, slipping underneath the coat that you didn’t bother to button. 

The curse thrashes angrily the closer Nanami gets. He ignores it. He can smell the perfume you put on you dotted on your wrists, the insides of your elbows, and it makes something twist in his gut. It’s a startling realization to understand that you want someone’s smell on your sheets for the rest of your life. 

You watch as Nanami turns his head, nose dragging across the sensitive inner side of your forearm to dot a kiss in the crook of your elbow. It sends a shiver down your spine at the same time as the pain intensifies in your back. Your knees buckle as he catches you. 

Nanami carries you home. He picked a place close to you just in case he needed to get you alone (not like that) to rid you of the curse. You’re lucid enough to push your purse into his chest so he can fish the keys out and unlock the front door. 

The inside of your apartment is as much the one-bedroom of a law student as he’d imagined it. There’s a desk by the window with textbooks stacked on one side, and one open in the middle. Highlighters of every color are arranged neatly next to it, a stack of cutesy sticky notes tying everything together. 

“Can you stand?” His voice rumbles in his chest next to your ear, and for a few moments you’re free of pain and that ache, like some sort of noise therapy effect. 

You let him stand you upright until, in a flash, your breath is stolen from you. 

What did he just do to me? Who did I let into my house? You think in a moment of panic until you realize your back doesn’t hurt anymore. 

Nanami’s staring at you, a tender look in his eyes. One of his large, warm, hands is gripping your shoulder over your coat, and it grounds you. 

In a moment, your lips are on his. Maybe it’s the way he carried you back to your apartment, maybe’s it’s the way he’s been sitting across from you for three months now, steadily buying you sweets and paying for your coffees and teas. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s so tall, and so broad, and he looks at you like you hung the fucking moon. 

You hang on to the lapels of his coat as his mouth works furiously against yours. Weaving one hand into his hair, you clutch with the other at his shoulders for dear life as he pulls you into him. He’s got one hand cupping your face, the other around your waist. 

Suddenly you feel so full of life and you want him, desperately. You go to throw off your coat but he pulls back for just a moment. 

“Are you sure?” The mere tone of his voice does something indescribable to you, and you nod furiously as you tear off the garment. 

He shoulders off his coat as well and toes out of his dress shoes as he walks you backwards into the nearest wall. You groan in appreciation as he noses down your jawline, behind your ear, to the dip at the base of your neck. 

A shiver tears down your back as you realize he’s smelling you, inhaling the perfume you put on earlier. You pant as he just holds you there, taking you in. The tip of his nose is slightly too cold in contrast with the warm softness of his lips that follow. 

“Nanami,” you try, gripping at his shoulders for dear life as he goes to kneel before you. You want his lips on yours, want to taste the wine you both drank earlier from his mouth. 

“Patience,” He murmurs as he takes one of your legs over his broad, broad, shoulders and you keen, high, reedy, in the back of your throat at the way his teeth scrape at your inner thigh. 

You feel more alive than you have in six months and he wants you to wait? With everything in you you want him to hurry and fuck you, to feel the weight of him in you and around you in your bed, to have him tangled in your sheets. And yet he takes his time.

Nanami is a patient man. He knows what it is to bide your time for the good things–he used to be a salaryman after all. He has waited for this moment. The part of him that sympathizes with what you must be feeling right now, the surge of energy after the months of being drained like a maple tree. But though ever patient, Nanami knows what he wants. 

What he wants is exactly this–tugging your damp panties to the side with a crook of his fingers, tilting his head up and forward to lick up your center and to taste you. What he wants is to keep hearing the sounds you’re making, the sighs and staccato’d ah-ah-ah’s you can’t hold back as he sucks insistently on your clit. What he wants is to keep feeling the way you hug his two fingers, hot, and wet, and so tight and fluttering. 

You tremble against the way he leans against you, keeps you up against the wall. You’ve had people go down on you in your time, you’re in your late 20s not dead. But none of them have done this–have eaten you out like it’s for them, and not you. 

Nanami stays where he is til your hands twist painfully in his hair, til you’re shaking with overstimulation after cumming so hard you think you might’ve blacked out for just a moment. 

Your chest rises and falls quickly, yet in the most tantalizing way, as your nipples strain against the satin fabric stretched over your chest. Your eyes are wild and your cheeks are flushed as he leans in to kiss you ever so gently, only bothering to wipe his chin with the sleeve of his dress shirt so it doesn’t drip onto his chest. 

He has to wear that home tomorrow, you think to yourself, and something curls almost painfully in your chest from arousal. 

One by one, you open the buttons of his shirt as he kisses you intently. He runs his tongue along your teeth as you tug the bottom of it out of his slacks and his fingers tighten on your waist as you unbutton his pants and stick your hand in his briefs. God. He’s heavy and thick and hot in your hand, and you think you can feel his pulse from the way he throbs in your grip. 

He grunts softly when you slide down his length only to tighten your grip and twist your wrist. There’s not much room between the two of you, not with the way he’s pressed up against you, but you make an effort anyways. 

“Take me to bed, Nanami.”

So he does. He pulls himself away from your reach with a final peck, before grabbing your thighs and picking you up. It’s a certain sort of primal attraction you feel at the effortless way he carries your weight and sets you down ever so gently on your sheets. At this angle, you have the perfect view. 

His shirt, untucked and unbuttoned reveals a trim waist and a broad, muscular chest. The one you’d felt earlier. His slacks are tented and there’s a small damp patch just to the left of the middle seam. He flexes his hands once before kneeling before you once again. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch as he slides your heels off one by one, ever so gently. 

You’d forgotten you were wearing them. 

As he shrugs his shirt off, you twist yourself around so you’re sitting on your heels, so you can pull your dress up and over your shoulders. His pants are halfway down his thighs when you reemerge and then you two are frozen in a momentary staring contest.

Nanami doesn’t think he’s gawking per se, but his gaze isn’t innocent by any means. Your satin dress is pooling off one arm, no longer framing your figure just so. Your nipples are hard and he thinks your tits might be the perfect size to fit in his palms (he’ll have to find out). Your panties are lace trimmed, and although Nanami of ten years ago might’ve rolled his eyes (“I’m going to take them off anyway.”), the man before you swallows dryly. The eroticism of watching you undress cannot be overstated. 

He finishes pulling off his slacks to give himself a distraction. You’re so beautiful it makes his chest ache, especially now that you’re not weighed down by grief and anger and sadness. 

You’ve made your way to the edge of the mattress by the time he stands to his full height again. Your hands are warm and soft against his skin as you explore the planes of his chest, scratching softly at the waistband of his briefs. You press a kiss to his sternum and something terrible blooms right underneath his skin. 

He leans down to press you into the bed so he doesn’t have to dwell on that for too long. Below him you’re soft and warm and so responsive. You sigh into his mouth when he drags a fingertip over your nipples, when he rocks his hips into yours. 

Eventually he rids himself of his briefs, and you wiggle out of your panties, an excited look gracing your features. He pretends it doesn’t affect him the way it does. 

When he finally sinks into you, he thinks he can’t breathe. It’s not some overwrought metaphor about being inside you it’s about being with you. You’re here with him, after he took you to dinner, carried you home, got rid of the curse. It’s you who’s moaning his name, scraping your nails across his shoulders and back. 

You’re tilting your hips up into his, gasping in pleasure, whispering filthy sweet nothings– “Been thinking about this since I first saw you–” “Feels so good, Nanami, you feel so good–” “Only want you like this–”

He finishes with a punched out groan and he feels the way you clench around him at the sensation. A hand slips between you two and he finds your clit again with his fingers, determined to get you off again. It’s only fair. 

Your face contorts in pleasure as you finish again, and the way you bear down on him makes his head spin. He holds himself above you as you both come down, resting his forehead against yours and trying to catch his breath–certainly not from physical exertion. 

When he pulls out, when he goes to stand, to find something to clean you up, make you comfortable for sleep, you catch him by the wrist. 

“Stay.” Is all you say, smiling softly at him. It’s so much closer to how Nanami imagined you’d looked before the curse, without its weight on your shoulders that he thinks he might be sick. 

And stay he does. He cleans you up tenderly then coaxes you into the bathroom so you can wash your face and brush your teeth. He follows your instructions dutifully on where to find a clean pair of sheets and hangs your dress up back inside the first empty garment bag he spots inside your closet. 

Nanami lets you press a toothbrush into his palm, lets you peck his lips with your lip mask on, and push him toward the bathroom with a smile. He made the bed. Your dress is hanging in the closet. 

It’s painfully domestic and nurturing in a way you maybe didn’t expect from someone who bed you on the first date. But then again, you’d wanted him to. (The underwear, the perfume–men.)

When you finally watch him climb into bed next to you, you’re more than satisfied by the way he tugs you into his arms and just holds you. There’s no pretense, no motive, nothing other than wanting to hold you and feel your skin on his. You feel lighter than you have in months.

[hyuuukais]

⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404

pairing ~ yang jeongin x fem reader

synopsis ~ y/n starts getting messages from an unknown number after buying a used phone for cheap. as she finds out more about the boy she's talking to, it turns out there's much more to this than a wrong number --- he died, and she's talking to his spirit, yet he has no idea what happened to him. will y/n have what it takes to solve the mystery of his death? or will the boy's spirit remained trapped in his phone?

warnings ~ gen, drinking

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CH 4 ~ ENERGY (wc: 2.7k, 7 screenshots)

Flipping the open sign to 'closed', you wait for Minho behind the counter. There hasn't been much more communication from him since the last time you talked, only a confirmation of when you're meeting. Changbin made sure to leave before he decides to show up, feeling too uncomfortable facing an old friend. Other than the occasional check-in text from Jeongin, you haven't had much ghostly interaction either, which you think is for the best.

Each interaction so far has taken more and more energy, starting with the man on the bus and then the elderly woman. A headache, then nearly passing out? At this point, you'll end up in the hospital. A chill goes down your spine thinking of that; would it be easier for the ghost to get to you unprotected like that, lying in a hospital bed unconscious and exposed?

The sound of the bell alerts you of Minho's arrival. Adjusting yourself to lean against the counter, you watch him close the door and lock it. When he turns around, he catches your eye and gives you a light nod of acknowledgment. Slowly, he makes his way toward the counter, fingers trailing over an arrangement of pink carnations mixed with greenery. Minho stops, letting a petal fall between his fingers and onto the floor. Shaking his head, he closes the distance between himself and the counter with a couple of strides.

"I don't know if I believe you," Minho says, leaning on the counter; his face is too close to yours. "But I'm willing to try and help. I owe Changbin."

"How so?" You ask, unsure if you'll get a reply when he places his bag on the counter and takes out a sleek laptop.

"Why do you need to know? That's between me and him," Minho doesn't even spare you a glance as he opens the device and starts typing. "What's the kid's name again? Any lead suspects yet?"

"Yang Jeongin and no, not really," You answer with a shrug. "I guess the most notable person is his best friend, Hwang Hyunjin."

"Have you looked into him yet?" Minho's eyes dart up between yours, returning to the screen and starting to type. "Could be something there."

"I don't know-" You're interrupted by a buzz and look down to see a text from Jeongin.

Rolling your eyes, you place your phone face down and focus back on Minho's typing. He's not saying anything, but his eyebrows are knit together in concentration as his fingers fly over the keyboard. Other than the sound of the keys, the flower shop is eerily silent, making you slightly uncomfortable. Ever since this has started up, quiet rooms have you on edge, waiting for the next visit from another spirit.

Minho sighs heavily, stepping away from the screen and pacing in front of the counter. You let him take his time, a hand sitting in his hair showing he must be thinking hard. Hopefully. You'll see in a moment.

"Nothing is showing up," Minho stops in front of his laptop, slamming it shut with the hand not holding his head. "Absolutely nothing, just a warning- error, whatever."

"The same thing happened to me!" You stand up straight, fingertips holding the edge of the counter tightly. "When I found this blog that was talking all about his death, it wouldn't let me read the rest of it and said there was an error! It's like something is stopping us from finding out-"

"Invisible forces?" Minho raises an eyebrow.

"Isn't that the whole thing? Normally, people can't see ghosts. Why do you think probably half the world doesn't believe in them?" You say. "So, yeah, invisible forces."

"Alright, sure," Minho slips his laptop bag into his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. "I'll look into Hyunjin. Goodnight."

"Wait-" As he turns to leave, you call out; he looks back at you over his shoulder. "Would you... could you give me a ride? Being alone right now has me kind of freaked out."

"Won't you be alone at home?"

"Yeah, but it's different," You mumble, looking down at your feet. "It still feels safe there."

Minho hums in response and you don't move.

"Aren't you coming?" He asks after a moment, car keys jingling in his hand.

You lift your head and spot him holding the front door open. Grabbing your bag and jacket, you walk out after Minho and follow him to his car parked down the road. He opens the door for you politely and you step in with a small 'thank you', fiddling with your bag strap as he walks to the other side and lets himself in. The ride to your house is silent, save for the occasional direction from the GPS.

Along the way, you spot a few stragglers out on the streets, one catching your eye when you're stopped at a red light. An uncomfortable feeling washes over you as they keep staring and you shiver, breaking the eye contact and focusing on the road in front of you. When the light turns green, you take one last look and jump. They're right outside your window, the imprint of a hand left on the glass as Minho starts driving again. He gives you a weird look that you miss, too busy trying to learn how to breathe again.

Ten minutes later, you're standing outside your door picking up the keys you just dropped from your hands shaking too much. Minho is stationed outside watching you get in safely, your cheeks flushing from embarrassment when you struggle to get your key in the lock. Switching the light on, you can hear the rumble of Minho driving away and take a deep breath. You're home now, nothing can hurt you here.

Entering your bedroom, you flop face first into your plush bedding and stay like that for a moment. You feel a dip at the end of the bed, but it doesn't freak you out. By now you can tell when it's Jeongin; his presence feels familiar. The bed moves slightly as he adjusts and gets comfortable beside you and you turn your head enough to be able to peek up at him. He's staring straight ahead, hands folded in his lap, and you see he's even kicked his shoes off. Shaggy black hair falls into his eyes and he shakes his head enough to clear his sight, his eyes then falling onto yours- you've been caught.

"Like what you see?" He teases, head rolling to his shoulder to face you completely.

"No," You lie with a grin, propping yourself up on your elbow. "Not at all. Personally, I'm not a fan of having dead people in my bed."

Jeongin laughs at that, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. You watch him relax, sliding further down into your pillows with a content expression. As much as you want to join him in seemingly falling asleep, you still need to change and wash up. But-

"I gotta go," You say, rolling off the side of your bed.

"What?" Jeongin sits up, hands behind him. "Why?"

"Changbin wants to hang out."

"I thought you were in for the night?" Jeongin's voice goes higher at the end of the sentence.

"Me too! But it's been so long since we've done something fun. Now, which is better? This," You hold a plain black dress up to your body. "-or this?"

You switch the black for a dark red strapless shirt and some black pants and watch his reaction. Although he hesitates, you can already tell he's thinking the second and you toss the dress back toward your closet. After he covers his eyes, you change quickly and do some last touch-ups before leaving the room. Jeongin follows you and you both keep an eye outside for Changbin.

"Be careful, okay?" Jeongin talks low, keeping his eyes on the road when you look over at him. "Lots of energy in those kinds of places, don't need you getting hurt. Especially if you're planning on drinking."

"Are you worried about me?" You tease.

"No, I just don't want you to become one of us before my case is solved."

"Cold."

"Just like my case." This makes you laugh, a light catching the corner of your eye.

Changbin steps out of his vehicle and starts to approach, but you're already waving goodbye to Jeongin and exiting before he can get up the steps to the front door. The night air is crisp, goosebumps forming on your exposed skin, but you're quickly ushered into the warmth of the car. In the window of your house, you can still see Jeongin watching when you drive off. On the way to the bar, you and Changbin sing along to his daily playlist to bring up the mood, and it works incredibly well. By the time you're entering the building, any thoughts of ghosts and death are gone.

Ordering two of the same drink, you and Changbin sit with your backs to the bar and observe the others, making up backstories for each person who passes by you or seems interesting. About four drinks later, Changbin has convinced you to join him on the dance floor. One more drink, and you find yourself surrounded by strangers, distracted by the loud music flowing through your veins. It seeps into your skin and you can feel the beat moving inside you, letting your body take control. In front of you, Changbin shows off his moves and you can hear people cheering, but you know to him it's just the two of you here.

The music slows and so does your body, adrenaline leaving as you brush some hair out of your face. Changbin's expression is all scrunched up in a pout and you laugh at the way he appears to be going in slow motion; it's funny, that is until you notice how everyone around you is following his lead. Panic starts to settle heavy in your chest, turning every direction to try and spot what's causing this.

You sway on your feet as you see the first spirit weaving through the bodies toward you. There's a hole in the center of his head, dried blood crusted down his nose and chin. Moving back to the bar, you stop when you almost hit the chest of someone else; her eyes are dark as she towers over you and you step away. You let your body guide you away, walking turning into a frantic dance to avoid the mass amount of spirits that seem to be mixed with the crowd. The exit isn't too far now, but you seem to be getting sluggish purely from being near this many spirits. You can hear your breathing turn to wheezing as you stumble forward with a hand out, your fingers barely brushing the red handle before someone is wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you away. There's no fight left in you, your eyelids heavy and your body falling limp. Someone is calling your name as you're torn away from whoever is holding you, blurry visions of colourful figures above you being the last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut.

-

When your eyes open, you don't recognize the room you're in. Dust falls from the ceiling, visible in the moonlight coming through a window above you, white curtains pulled to the side. The bed you're in is much too small for your body, pale blue sheets twisted under your legs. Rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you sit up slowly, a wave of dizziness rocking you. Once it's over, you take in the rest of the room.

It appears to be a child's bedroom, string lights pinned corner to corner emitting a dim gold on the walls. Tucked in the corner is a small desk with art supplies messily organized in compartments, one cup of paintbrushes knocked over with dried paint water soaked into a drawing. You stand and pick up the drawing; there's two boys standing by water, but one has been smudged by the spillage. They seem to be watching something out there, but the drawing is unfinished.

Directly next to the desk is an open door leading into a short hallway. Stairs lead downward with candles melting over the railing, wax dripping onto the wooden steps. As you walk toward the stairs, you can't help but look at all the photos covering the walls. Most are artsy, decorative shots, but one in particular catches your eye. There's a family of four, but the photo is torn at the parent's middle, leaving only the children to be seen holding hands and smiling wide. It's almost unsettling.

Following the pathway, it ends at the doorway to what looks like a living room, but all the furniture is covered in white sheets. You cover your mouth to suppress a noise when you spot a man standing by a fireplace. The sound of your hand slapping over your mouth must have alerted him, his head whipping around to look at you.

"What are you...?" He's turning fully now, head tilted to the side and eyes squinting. You have to hold in another gasp when you realize it's Hyunjin you're looking at.

"I don't know," you reply quietly, bringing your hand back to your side. "I've never been here before. I don't know where I am."

"You shouldn't be able to get in here. You-" He stalks toward you and grabs your wrists, bringing you into the room with him.

You watch his eyes widen as the moonlight hits you, eyebrows knitting together and mouth falling open slightly. The grip on your wrists is bruising, and he gives no sign of letting go. There's a shift in the air and he looks away from you and past your head, eyes narrowing at something in the space behind you.

"Back off," He warns, and you're almost too scared to know what he's seeing. "Stay right there."

His voice wavers, hands finally loosening and you're able to pull away completely. This, however, is a mistake. Hyunjin is reaching for you again with a shout of your name as hands grab you from behind, tearing you away from the room, the house, this whole place.

With a gasp, you sit up in a hospital bed, lights blinding you. Someone is touching you, trying to calm you, but you fight them off; you've had enough of peoples skin on yours. Head in your hands, you take deep breathes and notice just how badly you're shaking. You hadn't even realized you were crying until now.

"Y/n! It's just me-" Changbin's voice is clear beside you now that you're a bit more adjusted. "Hey, it's just me. You passed out."

"What?" You finally let him settle you back against the stiff pillow. "I did?"

"Yeah, and I think it's ghost related, but I don't know," Changbin shifts in his chair uncomfortably. "Jeongin's been blowing up your phone."

He hands you the small device and you unlock it to see he's right, Jeongin has been blowing up your phone.

Jeongin replaces Changbin, sitting in the chair with his legs crossed at the ankles. Neither of you talk, but he does stare at you with concern visible on his face. You lay down on your side, keeping your eyes on him as you get comfortable, or at least as much as you can be. There's a moment when he opens his mouth, but a nurse comes into the room to check on you before he can say anything. She explains you'll be able to go home soon, just rest for now.

When she leaves, you sigh. "I wish I never left my bed."

"Me too," Jeongin admits quietly, a faint blush of red creeping up his neck and you giggle.

The energy with him is so different than other spirits and you can't understand why. With him, it's warm, easy; It's not draining or unwelcoming in the slightest. Being with him feels nice, like a dream you don't want to leave.

Jeongin follows you out of the hospital, into the cab they provide, and back into your home. He waits outside of your bedroom as you change, opening the door to let him back in. Crawling into bed, you catch a glimpse of Jeongin next to you. This is the first time you've seen him look so unguarded since you've met, so peaceful, and you drift into sleep thinking of him.

~

notes ~ this is unedited bc it's 2:30 am and i'm tired so pls ignore any mistakes lol

taglist ~ @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @bloomingstay @sona1800

@dollschan @defnotfertilizedtoesw @thisisnotjacinta @kayleigh-28 @kayleefriedchicken

@lailac13 @linocvp1d @ilov3jeong1n @mooseung @kkamismom12

reply or send an ask to be added (18+)^^^ green means i can't tag you

[polakina]

history lesson

pairing: steven grant x reader

rating: explicit

outline: people say not to mix your personal life with working life. The rules change when your working life is a major turn on for your personal life.

warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected sex, slightly dom steven,

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

masterlist

II

Making your way through London, you smoothed out your pants where creases has started to appear from sitting on the bus for the past twenty minutes. Holding your tray of coffees in one hand, your hands brushed over your thighs before moving up to rearrange your hair. You decided to let it down today, its usual place being tied up to stay out of your face. But you had a tour today, and wanted to look your best. You were lying to yourself, really. You didn’t want to look your best for the tour. Not when someone else was who you wanted to catch the attention of. Not that you needed to do much, the two of you were practically joined at the hip anyway. But after being apart for so long, different shifts meaning you hadn’t been able to spend a night together in the past three weeks. 

It was proving to be a lot harder than you both thought, being on one another’s mind constantly. It was hard to get him out of your head, but it wasn’t as though he was a burden living up there. The two of you lived on opposite ends of town, work really being the only time you’d ever pass one another unless you both had the same day off. Which rarely ever happened. 

As you walked to the museum, your mind drifted back to the last night you’d been with eachother. How much fun you had both had. Sure, he was a quiet, reserved character inside of work. But outside? Fuck, it was as though he was an entirely different person. The whines, the begs, the pleads for you, it clouded your thoughts and made you throb a little. God he always sounded so pretty, and you were hoping that you’d be able to hear those noises again soon.

Shaking your head, you clicked back to the present, narrowly avoiding a young couple walking your way with no intention of moving aside. Turning the corner, your eyes met with the all too familiar museum building of which you had worked at for the past few years. You were not ready to face Donna today, but you weren’t complaining, not when you’d be seeing Steven today. 

Up the stairs your feet took you, past the various people dotted around on the steps, some sitting and staring into space, others standing and having a chat about where to go next on their little outing. Manoeuvring around them with quiet “excuse me”’s, you entered the museum to be greeted with bustling crowds and the smell of freshly displayed artefacts. J.B was sat at his usual seat, not doing his job as always. You didn’t even have to look at his screen to know what he was watching. Fucking otter videos. What an incredible security detail your workplace possessed. 

“Hey, J.B,” you called out while passing him, only to hear a quiet grunt in response. Typical. Walking past him without saying anything further, you made your way through the building to the staff room. But not without making a short pit stop at a certain someone’s designated working space.

“Morning, Steven,” you said as you approached the gift shop desk where he was arranging snacks on the counter. Placing your coffee tray down, you took out the coffee you collected for him and slid it over to him.

His eyes took their time trailing up your form before eventually meeting your gaze. “Morning, sweetheart. You look nice.” The slight stammer in his voice was, had and been, present since the two of you met. Even after years, he was still so shy around you. You couldn’t lie, you loved it. The way he would stutter over his words when he noticed you, how he fumbled with his fingers in overly public settings until you took his hand in your own to calm him down. You would never grow tired of it.

“Thank you. I have another tour today, high school kids I think. Not that I think they’ll particularly care about Egyptian history,” you half joked, liking how it pulled a smile onto his lips, even just for a minute. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy themselves,” Steven responded, leaning his forearms onto the counter. “I know I would.” You smiled at that. How his eyes fought to stay on your face, even though all he wanted to do was take you all in.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Donna beat you to it. “Oi! You two, the hell are you doing? Take…whatever this is,” she gestured to the two of you with waves of her hands. “And do it after work, ‘kay? You’re not paid to ogle at one another.” You bit back an amused smile as she turned on her heel and swiftly clacked away into the main greeting hall

“She’s a bundle of fun, isn’t she?” You rolled your eyes as you heard her shout at another employee. That woman could wake the dead if she put a little more effort into her micromanaging. Turning back to Steven, you pushed yourself off the counter which you were leaning against and grabbed your coffee. “I’ll see you after my tour, yeah?” He nodded, and you winked before walking off. You just missed the way his cheeks reddened slightly as you left.

-

Three hours later, your tour was over, and ran surprisingly successfully. Packing up your materials, storing your laptop away in its respectable place in your bag, and making sure you hadn’t left anything lying around for Donna to lecture you about, you made your way over to Steven’s station. To your surprise, he wasn’t there. Very out of character for a shy and rue abiding employee. Donna was going to have his head for this. Setting your bag atop the counter, you stepped around it to look behind where Steven left his work possessions, in search of a note or something that might indicate where he had gone.

Three minutes of your searching passed, nothing to be seen. About to give up, you moved to turn around to leave, until two hands grabbed your waist, slinking around it until they rested on your stomach. You knew it was Steven, his unique touch burned into your memory, but it was strange for him to do this in such an open setting.

“Steven, what are you-”

“Shhh,” he whispered in your ear, voice dropped to a low baritone that nestled right in the space between your legs. “They’ll hear us.” There was something different about him. Darker, more intense. You loved it.

“What’s gotten into you?” You whispered back, before he spun you around for you to face him. “I’ve missed you,” he answered, eyes flitting between you and the door opposite his desk to make sure no one interrupted you. “We haven’t been able to have each other in so long, always being too busy with work. But then you come in dressed so pretty, and I can hear you in your tour, and I can’t help myself.” You liked this new side to him. More desperate, pleading, needing you now.

“So what do you want, Steven, hmm?” You wanted it in words. You knew exactly what he wanted from you. You just wanted to hear him say it. His eyes widened a little as he tried to keep his voice to a whisper.

“We- I want you. Need you. Now.” The cracks in his voice pushed you over the edge and you couldn’t deny him or yourself any longer. The second you nodded to give him what he wanted, he was pulling you into the storage room behind the gift shop. You eagerly pushed yourself through the door and as soon as you heard the door click behind you, you were being guided to the nearest unopened wooden crate. His lips pressed against yours wildly, frantically, as though he was trying to explore all of you at once. Steven’s hands roamed all over your body before settling on your waist, lifting you onto the crate. Standing between your opened legs, his hands were wandering all over again. Up your stomach, ghosting over your breasts and to the buttons of your shirt. Popping them off quickly and efficiently with deft fingertips, his lips never left yours as he pulled the shirt from your body. Your hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him impossibly closer to you. Soft whines expelled from his throat as his lips travelled south, peppering kisses along your jaw, down your neck, never leaving your skin. “Need to fuck you. Can I fuck you? Please?” His breathy moans were like ecstasy to you. You were entirely addicted to it.

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt his hands grope your breasts, thumbs brushing over pebbled nipples. “Right here? In the storage room where anyone could walk in?” You whispered back. He nodded eagerly, looking up at you with lustful, expectant eyes. “You needy thing. Of course you can, baby.” He wasted no time after hearing the words fall from your lips, fingers moving swiftly to your pants, undoing the button and zip in record time.

“Wanna taste you. Missed you so much.” Steven mumbled incoherent sentences and praises, barely heard by either of you. You wanted him. Badly. Wanted his touch, his lips, his tongue. Everything. You could barely register that he’d pulled down your pants and already dropped to his knees in front of you. He was looking up at you with puppy dog eyes, his large hands rubbing up and down your bare thighs. “Let me make you feel good. Please. I want to make you feel so good.”

Fuck it was heavenly when he begged for you like this. You grew wetter with every word he uttered. “Make me feel good, baby,” you whispered down to him, a sternness lacing your tone. An eager nod confirmed that that was exactly what Steven was about to do.

Within seconds, his head dove between your legs, tongue licking a stripe through your folds, but narrowly and intentionally avoiding your clit. He continued that a few times, his tongue working wonders on you, but your clit neglected. He was teasing you. He knew every inch of your body, spent many months committing it to memory. He knew every part of your body from head to toe, every part which made you moan, whine, cry out for more. He was doing this purposefully to you. As much as you’d want to punish him for teasing you like this, you needed him too badly.

Gripping his curls between your fingers, you tugged his head up a little so his eyes flicked up to your face. “Don’t tease me, baby. Or you won’t get what you want,” you warned, trying not to sound as fucked as you already felt. He nodded, humming quietly against your pussy before delving back in.

Sucking your clit into his mouth, he revelled in the breathy hitch in your throat as you tried to keep quiet. One hand stayed wrapped around your thigh while the other slipped between your legs, his fingertips finding your dripping hole. Pushing one finger in and curling it at a delicious angle to catch that spongey part inside you, he repeated the ministration with vigour to pull more moans from you, adding a second finger and scissoring them inside you.

He was too good at what he did. Not that you would have expected it from first glance. But he was a quick learner, and an enthusiastic one at that. There had been many nights where he had just explored you, learned your favourite places to be touched and kissed. He was your student, you his teacher, educating him on the ways of pleasure for both you and himself. By God, had it worked. He was practically skilled in the art of it.

You could feel it building fast. The pit in your stomach, coiling and churning into waves of expected pleasure that was about to crash over you. Your thighs caged his head in tighter, one hand gripping his hair to keep him in place while the other held you up, palm flat against the crate just behind you. “Oh fuck…fuck, fuck fuck. Yes right there,” you breathed out as his tongue and fingers worked in unison, faster and faster as he felt you getting closer. It crashed over you. Violently. Waves and waves of pleasure surging through your body, tensing all your muscles and clamping Steven in place as your orgasm took over you. You fought to keep quiet, your hand which previously rested atop his head, now flew to your mouth to cover your moans.

Coming down from your high, you saw Steven stand out of your peripheral vision, sucking the juices of his fingers and revelling in the taste.

“Fuck, what’s gotten into you?” You breathed out, panting a little. “I’m not mad or anything, just surprised.”

He grinned a little, standing between your legs once again, his chin glistening with your sweet release. His hands braced himself on either side of you, palms pressing into the crate as he leaned towards you. “You just looked so good, giving that tour, talking about history. I dunno, just couldn’t help it.” He had a dopey smile on his face as you pulled him in for a kiss, softly brushing your lips against his, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“Me talking history turns you on?” You kissed his cheek, hands brushing down his chest, fingernails digging into his shirt as you raked them down his body. You felt him nod against your lips, and you smiled against his cheek in return. “Naughty, in the workplace you can’t even control yourself, huh, baby?” you practically heard him whimper at the words. He lived for the way you spoke to him. Craved it like a drug. Always wanted more, and to his happiness, you were always willing to give it. “Gonna fuck me in the museum? Where any of our co-workers could hear us?”

Steven as already nodding before you’d finished asking him the question. All he wanted was you. Wherever that happened to be, he was desperate for you and your touch. You smiled at him, one of your hands trailing down past the belt on his pants to the prominent bulge in his pants. Cupping it and squeezing it gently, you were already pulling such pretty noises from him. Your lips grazed his ear before you spoke again. “Come on then, baby boy, show me just how much you want me”. It was a miracle Donna didn’t hear what came after those words.

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today - June 27th, 1970 - Queen Story!

The first Queen gig: Truro, City Hall, UK, with Mike Grose on bass

🔸What must it be like to brag that you were at rock gods Queen’s first ever performance? Well, quite a few people in Cornwall can, because on this very date – June 27 – in 1970 popular rockers-on-the-rise Smile played their first gig with a new line-up and a new name, Queen, at Truro City Hall, which later became the Hall For Cornwall.

Truro boy Roger Taylor told Cornwall Live: “That was actually arranged by my mother in aid of the Red Cross. We were paid £50, which was quite a lot of money back then. I’m not sure many people turned up though.”

Roger’s mum Win had placed two adverts in The West Briton newspaper on the run-up to the gig, still in the name of Smile. However, the band had already decided to play under the new name Queen – eyebrow-raising for the time.

She recalled Freddie explaining the new name at her Truro bungalow: "He just kept saying how regal it sounded.”

Sue Johnstone, a friend of the band from Truro, remembered: “We would hitch a lift back to Cornwall from the start of the M4, and on one of these occasions Freddie walked us to the bus stop and said ‘what do you think of the name Queen?’

"We thought it was hilarious because he was always so camp. And we just laughed and thought of the gay connotation immediately, but he tried to make it more acceptable by persuading us that it was ‘regal’.”

The first Queen gig: Truro City Hall, June 27, 1970

With Fred, still known as Bulsara, and bassist Mike Grose – a Truro regular at the Smile shows at PJ’s – on board, Queen was born.

The new band intended to concentrate on its own material. Mike recalled rehearsing tracks from the first album, as well as 'Father to Son' from 'Queen II' and 'Stone Cold Crazy' from 'Sheer Heart Attack' from day one.

In preparation for the first Queen concert, Freddie stayed at the Johnstone sisters’ house at Truro’s Rosedale.

Sue said: “He stayed in our attic room and Freddie would stand on his head with his legs crossed doing yoga against the wall. He had long hair and would use our heating tongs to curl his hair in the way he wanted. And my dad was completely taken aback and initially thought they were all a bit weird.”

However, Freddie and Sue’s father soon became the best of mates when Mr Mercury-to-be and his friends dug up the garden, filled it full of flowers and sorted out the lawn.

Sue Johnstone said of that debut concert and other early Queen shows: “Freddie would get up on the stage and strut his stuff like he’d been doing it all his life. He was well prepared. He didn’t just get up and sing, he got up and performed from day one. I loved Tim's voice, but he wasn't the same as Freddie as a performer"

By Lee Trewhela - June 27th, 2018

👉 Full Article 👇

https://www.cornwalllive.com/whats-on/music-nightlife/queen-played-first-concert-cornwall-1720494

Pic: Queen in 1970, on the left Mike Grose, Queen's first bassist (dies in 2019)

📸 Photographer © Doug Puddifoot