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celestie0 · 2 months

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choso x reader | punk rock au [18+]

in another life ch.1 cupid's arrow

ᰔ pairing. punk rock au - bass player! choso x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. you and choso were lovers in college when him and his rock band were just nobodies with nothing but a dream, but when his band strikes a deal with an up-and-coming record label in tokyo, you make the tough decision to break up with him since you couldn’t go with him to the city. flash forward seven years, his band is the biggest rock band in the world, n you move from the countryside to tokyo with your fiancé nanami to start your new life together. but in the heart of the city, home to many, there’s one person there that still has the power to turn your whole life upside down. and when you run into him again after all those years, feelings you didn’t know were still haunting you come crashing back all at once, and you’re not sure what it is you want from your life anymore.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, punk rock au, partying, drinking/alcohol, weed usage, cigarette usage, romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, second chance romance, time skips, love triangle, bad boy choso, slight age gap (five yrs), longterm pining, jealousy, messy decisions, you know the drill

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 6)

ᰔ words. 10.2k

a/n. hellooooo aaa welcome to my new choso fic :'') i'm so excited for this one! i'm just laughing at how i cannot just stick to a oneshot idea and somehow end up planning out a fullblown series instead hahah. but anyways, i hope you enjoy! thank you to everyone that wanted to be on the taglist, i'm really looking forward to diving into this story. see you at the bottom!!

alsooo my m00tie @sykosugu and i decided to post for our fics at the same time hehe she has a really spicy suguru x reader fic called 'on the run' that i highly recommend so go check that out as well if you're interestedd <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 (pending)

“and there was something about you that now, i can’t remember. it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.”

present day. summer.

“We’re gonna miss you so, so, so much, love,” Mai groans, pulling you in towards her for a hug and you reciprocate with fondness.

Another pair of arms wraps around you, grip much tighter and you protest through a difficult breath. “Do you really have to go?” Nobara asks.

You tap on the skin of her arm, urging her to ease her hold in this group hug, and she finally relents and the three of you pull apart from one another. There’s a slight gasp from your lips as you breathe in fresh summer air. “I do, Nobie, I’m sorry. Nanami said it’s the final decision.”

You’re standing on hot concrete in front of a little countryside cottage that you’ve called home for years, but will soon just be a memory. You know which light switches illuminate corners of the rooms, and which creaking wood panels on the floor to avoid when looking for a midnight snack. It’s where you spent years studying for finals, arguing with your mom, learning how to care for Ms. Roxie, and it’s where you fell in love. More than once.

Your parents gave the house to you and Nanami once the two of you became engaged, but that blessing was soon to be given away, as Nanami received news six months ago that he was being promoted and relocated to Tokyo. Now, you have two bags in your hands, your purse slung around your shoulder, and a suitcase filled to the brim with the life you’ve tried to stuff in it. Your taxi driver has the other suitcase, because there were some things you couldn’t leave behind after all, and he’s putting it in the trunk right now.

“Nanami is so rude to take you from us,” Mai sighs, “but at least you’ll be one of those cool city girls now. So scary. I heard trends change faster there than the leaves on Rowan tree during spring.”

Nobara lets out a gasp that’s only half exaggerated. “No way! It can’t be!”

The taxi driver calls after you with a quick question, to which you answer back with a shout from where you stood. A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s time to get moving, as you’ll be taking a connecting train once you reach Tokyo that you need to be on time for. And then he’ll be there. Nanami will be waiting for you there, to lead you into the life that he’s started to make for the two of you.

“I’ll call so very often,” you promise the two of them, “and I will miss you two so very often as well.” Tears prickle in your eyes, and it seems to be contagious as they shimmer in Nobara and Mai’s eyes as well. Another group hug takes place between the three of you, harsh sun beating down with birds chirping in the distance as you try to take in the last few moments you’ve been granted of this place. “Take care of Roxie for us,” you say through a sniffle, “to you, it may seem like you’re only the bearer of food for her, but I promise that little kitty will love you two like no other.”

They both nod at you as you pull away, and you swipe at a tear that rolls down your cheek as you roll your suitcase down the pebbled walkway of your now past home.

The taxi driver helps hoist your suitcase into the trunk and places your other two bags into the back seat. You take a seat at the front with him, clicking the passenger seatbelt, and you roll down the window to wave bye with blown kisses as the taxi driver pulls away from the rocky mud road with crunching under the wheels. You watch Mai and Nobara and your home in the side view mirror until they’re no longer visible, but their voices of farewell linger in the air for a moment more.

“Alright, ma’am, bound for Tokyo!” your taxi driver chirps, his rough-looking hands opening and closing a few times to stretch out the joints of his fingers before tightly gripping onto the steering wheel again.

“Yes, Tokyo,” you murmur softly, gaze set out the window of the familiar street shops and stretches of patchy trees you know you’ll miss once you’re in the city.

“What’s your name?” the man asks, a thick country accent rolling off his tongue, with a sweetness like honey.

You turn your head to look at him more closely. The hair of his eyebrows is bushy, somewhat unkempt, and he has thick lines across his cheeks and forehead that can only mean that he’s lived a lot of life.

You tell him your name and he nods slowly as the two of you stop at a through road, a few school children hurrying past before he turns right onto the main road. “That’s a nice name. Which one of your parents gave it to ya?”

“Um. Both of them?”

He lets out a noise of acknowledgement, and doesn’t ask a further question. You smooth out the fabric of your long skirt with a hand, then toy with the band of your simple watch. Just when you think a comfortable silence has fallen between the two of you, and you think you have the luxury of losing yourself in your thoughts with sights beyond the polished glass window, the man speaks up again.

“Alright then, miss, tell me a story.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Pardon?”

“We’re gonna be spendin’ three hours in this car together, darlin’. It’s either I talk your ear off or you talk mine off,” he says, broad shoulders rolling backwards once as he gets comfortable in his driving position.

“Uh…do we need to talk at all?”

He glances over at you for a moment. The car wheels grind over rocks on gravel road near an agricultural field, and his fingers flex once again on the wheel. “You younger generations are so stuck in your own worlds. Entertain some conversation with the poor old taxi driver, will ya?”

You sigh, folding your hands in your nap neatly. “Alright. I don’t really have many stories to tell, though.”

“A young lady like you, packin’ up her whole life to move to a big city? I beg to differ,” he counters.

His words have you tucking your bottom lip under your teeth, a few blinks of your eyelids to process his observation of you. Your mind searches for stories to tell. Maybe that moment last week when you watched a momma duck waddle across a bridge with all seven of her baby ducklings. Or maybe you could tell him about that time you drove your car into a ditch the night of the comet festival and you swear you saw a UFO in the sky. The story you’ve been telling a lot lately, though, was the one of how Nanami proposed.

But then there’s a different story that comes to mind. With hazy images of blinding stage lights in dim venues, cigarette smoke wafting through the air, sounds of bass and drums and cheers. Smell of dry grass, the feeling of your back against a blanket, heart beating fast underneath the stars in front of a twinkling lake. And forever in your memory, the patterns of his inked skin.

“You got a boyfriend?” the man asks, suddenly.

“Are…are you hitting on me?” you ask awkwardly.

“Oh, no, ma’am,” he shakes his head, lifting his left hand up from the steering wheel and turning the back of it to face you. A silver ring adorning his fourth finger shimmers from the reflected sunlight through the window. “Happily married. Been with my missus for 22 years.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face as you relax into your seat a little, feeling calmer. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry for assuming. And I have a fiancé, actually.”

“Oh?” he chirps, stealing a quick glance at your left hand that was still folded neatly underneath your right one in your lap. “How come I’m not seein’ a ring?”

You tug at the small chain around your neck, a chill felt as diamond stone and cold metal drags against the skin of your sternum before you pull out your own promise of marriage, dangling it in front of your chest for him to steal another glance at. “I wear it around my neck. I’m a pottery teacher, so I usually take it off when showing my students any demos. I figured if I kept taking it off like that, I might lose it, so I just wear it around my neck now.”

“That’s interesting,” he comments, “It’s a real nice ring, that’s for sure! Tell me about this man you’re marryin.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Nanami. It’s been six months since you’ve seen him, since he relocated to Tokyo first, and you’ve missed him every day since. You were in the middle of the academic year at the elementary school you taught at, so they asked you to stay back, but Nanami had already accepted the promotion, thus the two of you made the decision that he would move to Tokyo first to get situated and you’d soon follow in the summer. It was a lot of stress to handle as just one person; searching for apartments on top of managing the heightened expectations from his boss from his new role, but he did it all without a complaint. Because he loves you, and that’s who Nanami was. Someone who would move mountains for you. He’s worked hard to make a place for you in Tokyo, one to call home.

“He really loves me,” you say to the man, softly.

“And you love him?”

“So much.”

“Was he your first love?”

Your breath catches in your throat from his question, a small chill running down your spine. The silence that settles could’ve lasted two seconds or two centuries, and you never would’ve known.

You lick your lips before answering. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Hmm…” the man hums. Bumpy roads are now smooth as he turns onto properly laid roads, the exit from your town onto intercity roads. “I can tell.”

“You can tell?” you ask, skeptic in your tone as you tilt your head at him.

“I can tell from your voice that there was someone else before. Someone who meant a whole lot to you, but he went away for some reason,” he says.

You’re not sure why there’s a lump in your throat from his words, a heavy thing with so much substance that it threatens to weigh your heart as well. Your eyes study the side of his face. “You’re getting all of that from my voice?”

The man’s expression is blank as if it were tabula rasa, something so different from the way you’ve felt for so long now, like your heart has been torn in two. There was something so tempting about it; the luxury of a clean slate. Of a new beginning. A fresh start. And it’s hard not to imagine how you would’ve painted things differently.

“Tell me about him,” the man says, the story he was looking for having been found. “Your first love.”

“He…” you start, shocked that you’re actually answering, but it’s like an invitation you can’t resist, “he was my first boyfriend…my first serious boyfriend. I met him the summer after high school. During a summer like this one.”

seven years ago. summer.

chapter 1. cupid’s arrow.

“C’mon, faster!” Mai exclaims, her hand wrapped around your wrist to tug you across the dim streets of downtown.

“Just— wait— Mai, please, slow down,” you’re stumbling after her, feet failing to keep up, and you almost crash right into her when she comes to a sudden halt on the sidewalk.

“This is it,” she says, staring up at the sporadically blinking neon lights of what appears to be a small venue, black marquee letters that spell out Backseat Serenade Tonight @ 10pm stand out to you in a way that feels haunting. “We’re so late, let’s head inside.”

Mai drags you inside, and the security guy is less than thrilled by the commotion as he stands in front of closed double doors. You can feel the bass of music vibrating the walls, accompanied by loud shrill screams and chants coming from inside, and the red velvet flooring underneath your feet fuel you with static as you two approach the man dressed in full black.

Mai fumbles with her purse to pull out her phone, and the man scans the barcoded tickets on her screen before giving the two of you wristbands to wear and then he opens the door for the two of you.

The inside of the venue is small but packed, minimal lighting save for moving lights that illuminate the band on stage, but it’s even harder to see anything over the heads of people with their hands up in the air. Mai’s grip on your forearm is tight as she roughly weaves the two of you through the crowd, determined in her gait but you feel the need to apologize to the people she’s shoving in the process. You’re surprised at how fast the two of you make it to the front barricades, thanks to Mai’s nimbleness alone, and your eyes raise to the scene onstage through wafting smoke through the air.

“Alright, alright, alright,” one of the band members chimes right as the final instrumentals of the song begin to fade. His hair is a pale silver under dusty lighting, pushed up from out of his face by a black headband snapped to his forehead, and his eyes are distinctly blue. He has an electric guitar hanging from his neck by a thick black strap. He raises both of his hands up into the air, waving them down a few times to calm down the crowd, and there are scattered hushes surrounding you and Mai. “This is our last song, and we just want to thank you all so much for coming out tonight! This crowd’s the best we’ve ever had!”

The people cheer in response as a light and relaxed melody begins to tune together from the instrumentals on stage. You hear Mai groan beside you. “What the fuck?! We missed the entire set?!”

Your hands curl around the cold metal of the barricade dividers and your eyes sweep across the stage. There’s a man in the far back with short black hair, bouncing his leg up and down as he’s seated behind a drum set, fidgeting with wooden sticks in his hands, and you’re puzzled by the fact that he’s wearing a very poorly fitted suit onstage. Off to the right, a man with pink hair is messing with the headphones snapped to his ears in front of an electric keyboard, spread fingers pressing down on chords, and you can vaguely see the black nail polish at the tips of his fingers. A woman with mid length blonde hair and pink highlights stands at the front, her hand wrapped around the mic resting on top of the stand. She’s laughing, tipping her head back at something else the electric guitar player says over the mic, but you’ve drowned out the words because your eyes finally land on what’s directly in front of you.

With an almost bored expression on his face, a man stands with a matte black bass guitar hung from his neck as he has one foot up on the top of a subwoofer located flush to the edge of the stage. His hair is raven black, longer at the nape of his neck with shorter layers scattered, and tendrils fall over his face. There’s a glint to his polished black shoes off of where you’re standing, and he’s wearing tight black jeans that cling to the thick and lean muscles of his calves and thighs, with a leather belt fastened around the circumference of his hips. The shirt that’s tucked into his jeans is just as tight to his skin, and a small gasp leaves your lips when you take in the sight of his arms covered in intricate patterns of ink. His right arm is practically covered from the wrist all the way up to the cut of his short sleeve, likely beyond, and his left arm has ink traveling up to his forearm only, like he’s still working on mapping it all out. You watch the way his biceps flex as he bends his arms, bringing his hands up to his face to push his hair back, and your heart is keeping fast rhythm with the music.

“Cho!” the woman at the front speaks into the mic, turning her head to look at this man who you’re sure is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “You’ve hardly said a single word tonight, baby. Not that that’s unusual though. Why don’t you say a few words before we kick off the last song?”

A bunch of whoos!! and ahhhs!!! and yesss!!! scatter throughout the crowd in the form of cheers and you watch the man furrow his brows together, a scowl forming on his face. There’s a band of black underneath his eyes that runs across the bridge of his nose, with perpendicular lines resembling arrows running down his cheeks. Dark purple eyes that match the dark shadows around them glint under flickering stage lighting as he takes his foot off the speaker and walks a few steps backwards to position himself at his stationed mic.

“Fine,” he says, and you’re watching the way his lips barely brush against the mic as he speaks, “This is our last song. It’s called Lost Cause. Enjoy. Or don’t. It’s up to you. Who the fuck am I to tell you what to do.”

There’s only a slight beat of silence from the crowd before they’re cheering again, while his band members just stare at him stunned. The white-haired electric guitarist yells into his mic something like “THAT’S IT?!” before the drum player cuts him off with three taps of his sticks in the air, and then the song commences from them on practiced reflex.

The energy from the crowd is loud in the last few minutes of the show, smoke rising in the air from the machines spread across the raised stage, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the bass player. You rest your forearms on the cold metal in front of you, the sight of Mai jumping up and down in your periphery as she headbangs and shakes her hair.

The bass player’s eyes start to scan the venue within what seems to be the final chorus of the song, chin tipping up and fingers continuing to strum as he assesses the back of the crowd first, then gaze darting throughout the center, before he begins to study the front barricade. You watch his every movement, mapping the trail of his sight, and your heart skips a beat when those dark eyes finally fall on yours.

His eyes briefly flicker to your left, to continue his study of the crowd, but it’s as if his brain just registered something with a delay, and he quickly moves his gaze back to you in a double take. His eyes widen, bored expression quickly turned into one of surprise with a glint to his pupils, and you swear you’ve been struck by an arrow to your heart.

“Yaaaay! Thank you everyone!” the woman at the front exclaims, pulling her mic from the stand to walk around to make work of the crowd. The white-haired man approaches the edge of the stage with a pleased grin on his face, high-fiving all of the outstretched arms, and the man at the keyboard simply waves a few times before incessantly tuning buttons on his headphones. Drum boy hasn’t stopped playing some sort of loud rhythm as an encore. Your sight is set back onto the bass player, and he’s looking off somewhere else now. Somewhere backstage.

“Hey!” the white-haired man exclaims once he’s made it in front of the two of you. “Mai! You made it!”

She reaches out to grab his forearm, tugging down harshly so he’s stumbling and dropping one knee to the stage floor, kneeling. “Of course I was gonna make it! Thanks for the tickets,” she’s yelling over loud ambient cheers and music, “this is my friend y/n, by the way. Oh, and this is Gojo, he’s the guy I was telling you about.”

You nod at him, and try to accept his outstretched hand when someone bumps you from behind and your hand is in favor of stabilizing yourself over the divider instead.

You can barely hear the laugh from Gojo’s position on the raised stage. “Just meet us backstage! We can chat for a bit with proper introductions and all.”

As the crowd begins to dissipate with people moving through the sets of double doors out back, Gojo hops off stage to take you and Mai through a side door that leads into a hallway that lines the back of the stage. You look up into the high ceilings with metal structural poles banding between the walls, and the dim yellow lighting in small bulbs bolted to the walls like a runway remind you of movie theater exit routes.

“So, what’d you guys think of the show?” Gojo asks, his arms raised up and hands interlocked behind his neck in a casual-not-so-casual way as he sends the two of you a lazy look over his shoulder.

“Well, we only made it for one song since miss barista over here was running late from her shift,” she sighs, whacking your arm once with the back of her hand. You glance down and realize you didn’t even have the time to take your frilled and wrinkled apron off. “But, from what we did get to hear, AMAZING! AWESOME! SPECTACULAR!”

Gojo is grinning wide as he turns around to face the two of you, continuing to walk but backwards as he slaps the raised hand that Mai had in the air for him. “I’m so glad, I felt the pressure to please was high since I’ve been hyping up our shows to you for so long.”

“We’ve only known each other for like two weeks.”

“I know. But PSYCH 210 lecture at the ass crack of dawn really brings two people together, y’know.”

Mai and Gojo continue to laugh and talk about random things college-related, and there’s a stirring feeling in your chest that you’re surrounded by people older and much more well-lived than you. You’ve just graduated high school, barely a few months ago, but Mai was a few years older than you, so any time she tries to introduce you to her college friends, you feel the need to perform or be someone that you’re not so they’ll like you, despite the fact that you’re aware of the fallacy in that. And tonight, that responsibility feels much more daunting for some reason.

There are voices heard further down the hall, and as you approach, you notice the drum guy, keyboard guy, and devilishly handsome bass guy are all loitering around in that area, along with a few other people they seemed to have invited backstage.

Gojo walks up to them, grabbing onto the bass man’s hand firmly before patting him on the back, then slings his arms around the other two. “This is Higurama,” he says, rubbing the top of the black-haired guy’s head with the knuckles of his fist, “he does drums for us. And this is Sukuna,” he says, about to repeat the same gesture to the top of his head but his wrist is grabbed and twisted, “ow, fuck, fuck, fuck– sorry.” Sukuna lets go of his wrist, scowl dissipating into sadistic amusement, and Gojo’s holding his wrist, now slightly red from the burn, with a pout on his face. “He does the keyboard. And all the techno sounds. And some other stuff I’ve frankly no fucking clue about.”

The two of them acknowledge you and Mai, along with the few other people who Gojo seems to know as well, and then Gojo’s approaching the bass player again before resting his elbow up on his shoulder, leaning his weight onto him and the man just crosses his arms across his chest, sending Gojo a side-eye. “Mai, I think you two have met before, but this is Choso. Choso Kamo, our bass player. Best bass player I’ve ever known to be honest. Be careful though, he might bite you.”

Choso scowls, rolling his shoulder back once to get rid of Gojo’s resting elbow. His eyes are on yours, boring into you deep, and when he darts his tongue out briefly to wet his bottom lip, you finally notice the silver lip ring near the corner of his mouth. “Hi. Nice to meet you,” he says, hand outstretched and you shake it with a mention of your name to him. The skin on his fingers feel rough from play, a small sacrifice to pay for the talent he’s harnessed over the years from plucking at strings. His eyes sweep down you once. “Why are you dressed like Strawberry Shortcake?”

“I–” you start, glancing down at your attire and feeling the heat pool in your cheeks, “I just got off a work shift. I work at a cafe.”

“Oh,” he responds, and you notice his hand is still holding onto yours, Your eyes trail the patterns on his skin, visible in more detail up close, and you find yourself lost in every line and swirl and scale and skull and cross, the only thing breaking you out of your trance being Mai’s jab of her elbow to your ribcage.

You gasp, snatching your hand away from Choso, and when you look up at his face, there’s a hint of amusement on it.

“Babes, he was asking you a question,” Mai says, looking between you and the man in front of you.

“Huh?” you ask, suddenly flustered and you swipe your palm down your work apron to wipe the sweat that begins to perspire at your palm from the lingering heat of his hand.

“I was asking if you liked the show,” Choso says, tilting his head to the side and now he’s allowing his eyes to travel all across you in any way he wants.

“I loved it,” you respond, almost breathlessly, “it was great. I mean– we only saw, like, one song. But still, really amazing.”

“Only one song?” Choso asks, his eyebrow raising, “that’s a shame. You’ve gotta come to more shows then.”

Before you can respond, there’s a feminine voice heard down the hallway, sounding an awful lot like the one echoing off the speakers inside the concert venue, and then the blond woman who was the lead singer of the band skips right up to the group formulating in this hallway before wrapping her arms around Choso’s neck and pulling him down towards her in a kiss.

You’re standing there stunned, eyes immediately averting from the scene of the two of them in front of you, but in the corner of your eye you can see his arm wrap around her waist briefly before he pulls her away from him, and the release of her lips from his makes a sound that for some reason creates a pit in your stomach.

“Cho, baby, I just had an insane conversation,” she says, still practically hanging from his neck as she stands on tiptoes, “with this record label guy. He’s apparently hot shit in Tokyo, and he wants to offer us this city gig ‘cause he thinks we’re a potential sign-on, and–”

Choso’s hand reaches to the back of his neck, gripping around her wrist to pull it apart from her other one, and then her arms fall to her sides and her heels flatten to the ground as she blinks up at him. “That’s cool, Sana, but can we talk about that later?”

Gojo’s arms cross his chest as he leans forward, glaring at the woman. “Yeah. And as a band, not just with your lover.”

Sana rolls her eyes and scoffs, placing curled hands low on her hips. “He’s not my lover, bitch. Unless he’s my lover like you’re lovers with a blunt on a sunday– sucked off in a car ‘cause you’ve got nothing better to do.”

“That’s offensive to both of us,” Gojo grumbles but Choso just sighs, unbothered, as he rubs at the back of his neck. He makes eye contact with you again, and his expression sobers as though he forgot for a second that you were still standing there.

Sana turns to you and Mai. “Hi, I’m Sana, nice to meet you guys. Sorry, I thought you two were some of our other friends, otherwise I wouldn’t have kissed Cho in front of you. I hate PDA, trust me.”

Mai lets out an awkward laugh as she shakes her hand, and you almost don’t want to shake her hand, but you do just to be polite.

“You didn’t hate PDA that one time I was about to bag the girl I’d been talking to for weeks and you decided to grind your sorry excuse of an ass right up against me in front of her,” Gojo grumbles.

She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Whatever, she thought you were gay anyways. Would’ve done yourself a favor if you actually grabbed my ass.”

She ignores the insulted gesture Gojo makes, cutting off whatever words he was about to spew with words of her own. “What are you girls doing after this? We’re having a post-show party, you two should come.” She glances at you. “Uh, love, I’d ditch the apron though. Unless it’s, like, some sort of fetish for you.”

You’re defeated as your arms cross your torso to grip the hem of your apron and pull it up over your head, shaking your head a bit to allow your hair to fall back into place, and then you fold the frilly article of clothing neatly before hanging it over your arm. “It’s not,” you sigh, too exhausted to be subject to the title of your occupation anymore. A small flicker of your eyes to Choso tells you he’s staring at you.

Sana shrugs. “So you pretty ladies wanna come?”

Mai shakes her head. “No, sorry, my baby here,” she says, wrapping her arm around yours tightly, “just graduated high school recently, so she’s too young for a party. I’ve got a responsibility to look after her. And throwing her into a room full of sleazy drunk punk college dudes is the opposite of looking after her.”

Sukuna comes around, leaning his arm against the wall, smirk on his face, as he eyes you like you’re something to steal. “Just graduated high school? So you just turned eighteen, sweetheart?”

Mai glares daggers at him. “Get the fuck away from her, Super Senior. You’re icky. Also, case in point proven.”

Sana whacks the back of Sukuna’s head, and he all but growls at her. “Stop being creepy,” she reprimands him before turning to Mai again. “No, I swear, it’s not like that. It’s chill, minimal alcohol. No drugs. Just a small get-together with a few of our fellow friends, and friends of fellow friends, from the music scene.” She leans against Choso’s arm, wide eyes looking up at him, but he doesn’t lean into her. “Right, Cho? No scary guys for her to worry about?”

His eyes narrow at you, raking down your figure again, and his chest moves a little faster with his breath. “I’m against it. It’s no place for an eighteen-year-old. You’re a fucking idiot for trying to invite a girl who just recently graduated from highschool to a house party. She’s practically a kid.”

Your heart sinks from his words, and you feel juvenile standing in front of him, in a way that makes you angry and embarrassed at the same time, and you can’t bite back the words in time, “Whatever, at least I haven’t been on crack since the day I was born like you probably were.”

Almost all heads in this small hallway snap to you, if they weren’t already there before, wide eyes blinking before Gojo bursts out into a laugh, which dominoes into Mai’s laughter, and you barely register the way Sana looks you up and down once before forcing a smile. Choso’s surprised expression turns into a disgruntled one as he crosses his arms across his chest, and you can’t help but watch the stretch of his inked skin over his muscles as they flex.

“I’ve never done crack, shortcake, and your lame insult only proves my point on your immaturity,” he scowls, leaning his upper body forward towards you, and his gaze briefly drops to your lips.

Sana comes in between the two of you, pressing herself up against him to get him away, and he takes an involuntary step back and now he’s scowling at her too. She turns around to face you, and there’s that forced smile again. “Uh, y’know what, sweets? Cho is sooo totally right, no place at all for a—I’m sorry, how old did you say you were?”

“Eighteen,” you say with a slight grit to your teeth.

“Oh! Yeah, no place for you, sorry,” she says, with a small jut of her bottom lip to signal a pout.

You roll your eyes at her, then glance past her at Choso who’s looking at you like he’s still got a few retaliating words for you on his tongue, but then he’s dropping his gaze to the neckline of your shirt, eyeing the shape of your breasts, even dipping further down your legs and you let out a scoff.

“You sure enjoy checking me out for someone you think is practically a kid,” you spit back.

He’s not angry this time, the corner of his mouth simply tipping up slightly into a smirk. “I meant you’re too young to drink, but you’re old enough to fuck, so spare me the attitude.”

Your cheeks flush at his comment, nonetheless made in front of a group of people who were practically strangers to you, and you’re about to give him a piece of your mind when Mai grabs your forearm and Gojo places himself between you and jerkface.

“Woah! Look at the time,” Gojo chirps, glancing at his wrist that was absent of any time-telling device but he rolls with it anyway, “should probably head out now, since the venue’s closing soon. Y’know, grab our stuff.”

Mai nods her head at you in response to his words, sending a single glare Choso’s way before exchanging some pleasantries with Gojo and then dragging you down the hallway with her towards the exit.

“Hey–” you begin to complain, her grip on you starting to hurt, and you eventually yank your arm away from her before she opens the backdoor exit. “Let’s go to that party.”

Mai sighs, leaning her back against the door and crosses her arms. “No way. Your mom wanted me to get you home before midnight,” she says as she glances at the time on her phone, “and it’s close to midnight.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m an adult now, I don’t have to adhere to a midnight curfew, like I’m fucking Cindarella.”

Mai raises an eyebrow at you from the profanity, recognizing the fact that it’s something you just forced into your vocabulary in a way that doesn’t suit you. “I already said no.”

“Take me or else I’m going to tell your mom about the nipple piercings you got last week.”

Mai hisses a sharp breath through her teeth. “You’re a bitch.”

“Take me,” you deadpan.

She tilts her head back so that it hits the metal of the door, and then she’s pushing her back against it to open it, the rush of cold wind from outside brushing past the two of you as she steps into the night and you follow her. “Oh my god, fine. But only for a little bit, and let’s get the lie straight right now–you had explosive diarrhea at the concert so I couldn’t take you home right away since you were incapacitated in the restrooms.”

“What? Why do I have to be the one with explosive diarrhea?” you ask, frown on your face but there’s a skip to your step as you follow her down the street to where she very poorly parallel parked and you open the passenger side door. She doesn’t bother answering you as she settles into the driver’s seat and her car roars to life with a few struggling turns of the key in ignition.

“No drinking,” Mai says, voice strict with eyes locked on yours, and it’s the last thing she says before she starts driving.

The house is just a few miles from the venue location, and Mai seems to have been there before since she turns the navigation off once she turns onto a street that has her driving switch to from perusal to more casual.

Gojo is the one to greet you two at the door with wide eyes and a drink in his hand. You notice he’s changed out of his stage attire into something more casual, and likely in a rush too since his hair is disheveled, and you figured that you and Mai barely got here after they did. The surprised look on his face is quick to turn into a pleased one at the sight of the two of you. “Oh sweet you two actually came,” he comments, waving a hand for you two to come inside, “figured Kamo would’ve scared you off.”

You roll your eyes, “where is that jerk? I still have a few choice words for him.”

“Babes, let it go,” Mai sighs, “Not worth your time.”

“I concur,” Gojo says, “but, if you really want, he’s upstairs putting some of my stuff he borrowed for tonight’s show back into my room. You can…” he glances down at you once, “uh. Cuss him to death? Or whatever you can manage, I guess. But just don’t fuck on my bed, please. That’s my only rule.”

“Why do you sound like that’s a rule you’ve had to make often?” Mai scoffs, amused, while your cheeks feel hot.

Gojo slumps his shoulders in some type of comical defeat. “I don’t wanna talk about it…” he mumbles, voice trailing off and turning on his heel to walk away while Mai follows him off with more follow-up questions he doesn’t seem receptive to answering.

Your eyes glance over to the staircase, studying for a moment as loud party music fills your ears before making your way over and up the steps. As you head down the hallway leading into bedrooms, the floorboards creak until your sneakers even over soft carpet, and you hear soft sounds of clattering off to the left. There’s a door that’s half ajar leading into a warmly lit room, and you deftly peek your head through the opening.

Choso stands near the foot of the bed inside a messy room, black boxes and cases and wires surrounding him as he fumbles with unplugging some sort of audio station pad from another piece of hardware. His hand grips tightly around the thick black rubber coating of the wire, and you watch the flex of his knuckles that tense the veins running up his arm, sleeve of the shirt he’s worn all night stretching to accommodate the roll of muscle at his upper arm. With a solid yank, the chord releases itself before the wire whacks him straight in the face and he grumbles a fuck under his breath and he rubs the skin of his cheek, to which you can’t help but let out a small laugh at the sight of.

His furrowed and frustrated expression turns into surprise as his eyes flicker to the entrance of the room. He stands up straight, and then there’s that bored expression again. “Oh. Shortcake. I thought I said you’ve got no business being here.”

“Yeah, about that, I’m waiting for you to apologize to me,” you say, leaning sideways against the doorframe as you cross your arms over your chest.

He sighs, eyes moving away from yours to busy himself with the jungle of equipment he’s practically drowning in, as if he couldn’t be bothered by your presence right now. “Apologize for what?”

You make your way inside the room, foot pushing aside anything sprawled on the floor that’s in your way so you can continue to approach him, and you stop just when you’re just a step away. His gaze is still set to the ground as he’s crouched over slightly, but it shifts from the speaker he was toying with to the shape of your shoes instead.

“Apologize to me for being so crass,” you say, “after we had just met.”

He slowly straightens his spine, and you’re a little shocked to find the height that he has on you. His expression is curious, eyes narrowing slightly like he has you all figured out already, and it pisses you off. “Crass is such a prissy word to use, princess. Try ‘apologize to me for being a massive dick’ or something, and I’ll start to take you more seriously.”

“Why are you so rude?” you ask, anger building up inside of you all of a sudden. “I’ve barely met you, I don’t see how I could’ve upset you in any way. Yet you’ve already insulted me in multiple ways tonight, and it’s not a cool look for you. Trust me.”

“You’re the one that basically called me a crackhead,” he counters, but there’s no real offense behind it.

“Yeah, because you called me a kid,” you say, face tightening even further with anger, “even though I’m an adult.”

He sighs, closing his eyes in irritation, and tilts his head up to look at the ceiling briefly as his mouth hangs slightly open, all as if he’s running thin of the capacity to deal with this conversation, and then he looks back down at you again. “Shortcake, I didn’t call you a kid ‘cause of your age. I called you a kid ‘cause you’re just so–” he starts, eyes traveling down your body paired with a vague gesture of his hand towards all of you, and you find yourself shifting on your feet to stand a little more poised, “you just seem so innocent and clueless and, uh, forgive me, naive.”

“You’re the clueless one here if you still think negging a girl will get you anywhere with her,” you say, hands clenched in fists at your side now.

There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he tilts his head at you, some of his dark hair falling over his forehead from the motion and a few strands weave with his eyelashes. “I’m not trying to get anywhere with you here, sweetheart, unless you’re wanting that,” he says, voice almost purred at the end as he steps over a guitar case on the floor to get closer to you.

You’re unable to make eye contact with him when he’s close and you can smell the earthy notes of his cologne, mixed with another scent that seems more distinctly him that makes your head spin. Your gaze takes in the sight of his forearm, the one with scattered tattoos trailing up his arm but not yet fully inked in. You wonder what he’s saving the space for, and what he’s willing to let in.

When your gaze flickers up to his face again, you’re a little surprised to see his expression is softer. He suddenly holds his forearm up in front of you. Your eyes signal confusion to him, but he just keeps his arm up the same.

“You’ve been ogling my tattoos since we met,” he says, voice low, “if you’re curious, then just have a closer look.”

Your breath picks up in speed, and you hesitate for a moment but it’s true. You were curious. Your hands shakily hold onto his forearm to keep it still as you study the ink on his skin. You twist his arm as much as his joint allows, and he lets you handle him in any way you want, and you swear the snake tattooed on his skin moves as if it were alive. A dark blossoming rose with highlights of burgundy red catches your eye near his elbow, and you brush the back of your hand against it. Your fingers accidentally find his pulse at his wrist, and you find his heart is beating fast.

You run a flat palm up his arm, the skin to skin contact feeling intimate, and your fingers stop when they tuck under the fabric of his sleeve. You feel the warmth and curve of his bicep, lightly wrapping your hand around it, and you blush at the sight of how small your hand looks on him.

“What does this one mean?” you ask, not meaning for it to come out as a whisper, but you feel like his answer is meant to be kept a secret. Your thumb swipes over small roman numerals permanently etched into him over muscle.

“It’s my dad’s military tag,” he responds, voice quiet like yours.

You tear your gaze away from his skin to look up at him, and you realize he’s closed enough distance between the two of you to where his face is just inches away. From the moment you looked up, his eyes have been on your lips, and his brow furrows as if he’s fighting some voice in his head that’s testing this harmony between the two of you in this moment.

You swear he’s about to kiss you, since there could be no other explanation for the way he was looking at you, but instead he clears his throat and his face is first to distance from you before he pulls his arm back as well, and then a small step backwards. “Sorry,” he says, and he almost sounds awkward. It startles you, because it’s the first time he doesn’t sound cool or calm or collected.

“That-” you start, “...wait, what are you sorry for?”

His eyes widen, and you see the heaviness under them for a moment, “uhh…I’m actually not too sure.”

Your head feels clear now that he’s not close enough to breathe in, and you blink a few times as your annoyance from earlier resurfaces amidst the lingering energy he just broke between you two. “Start with ‘I’m sorry for calling you a kid, and then also just now calling you naive and clueless,’” you say, foot tapping impatiently, “and then, in front of all your bandmates, mocking the fact I’m not old enough to drink, and shamelessly traveling your eyes over me, and then–” your breath catches slightly as the words fail to leave your tongue, cheeks feeling hot, “and then saying–” you try again, but the thought only falls flat, and he’s taking a step closer to you again.

“And then saying that you’re old enough to fuck?” he asks, finishing your sentence for you, but there’s no remorse in his tone at all.

His hand suddenly finds the small of your back and he pushes gently so you take a stumbled step towards him, like he needed to have you close to him again. His lips brush against the top of your head, and the sensation sends a hot feeling through your chest. “Choso,” you reprimand him.

“Fuck,” he exhales, like in cynical disbelief, “my name sounds so sweet coming from you.”

It makes no sense, but you grip his shirt at his chest just to make contact with him, and you brave yourself to look up at him, wondering if he can see the hint of worry in your eyes, because he already feels like something you can’t resist.

His eyes are dark now, different from the tenderness in them before, and he’s freely studying the features of your face. “I don’t want to fuck you, Shortcake, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re a little too good for me to do something like that.”

His words say one thing while his eyes say another, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close, and you’re astonished at how little he cares about the clear contradiction in his words from the way he holds you. His gaze slowly travels down from your eyes to your lips.

“What about–” you start, heart beating fast in your chest as you see the glimmer of the silver ring pierced through his lip. You bite back the words.

But he reads your mind, because his head dips down towards yours and he captures your lips in his, slow and sweet at first before pressing more firmly, more decisively with both hands flying to hold your waist. A moan muffles in your throat at the sensation of his bare fingers coyly traveling under the hem of your shirt, and you can’t help but slide your arms up over his shoulders, locking them behind his neck to pull him down closer to you, and he sighs in response as he presses your hips flush against him. The chill metal of his lip ring has the plush of your bottom lip tingling cold, and when his tongue swipes across to warm it for you, your mouth opens with ease. You taste spearmint on his tongue, and his lips curve against yours in what feels like an amused smile, large hands now slid so far up your shirt that his fingers reach the band of your bra.

“Hey, Cho, do you know where–”

The trill of a feminine voice in the air cuts through harshly, and he pulls his lips from yours but not without a moment of reluctance. You two turn your head to the door, and you see Sana standing there, eyes wide and blinking as she takes in the sight of the two of you standing in what feels like a guilty proximity from how her eyes silently curse you.

You can only manage an awkward laugh, fist shoving against Choso’s shoulder but his hands are still placed firmly on the curve over your lower back, dangerously close to the plush of your ass, and your hips are practically pinned to him while you do all you can to lean your upper body away. “Oh–sorry, this…is not what it looks like–”

“I…” Sana starts, and you can see the hurt in her expression, but she quickly corrects it, “Oh! Ah, was just lookin’ for Cho here,” she says, making her way into the room, and a harsh shove of your fist against Choso’s chest finally has him relenting to let you go. Your posture immediately stiffens when she approaches Choso’s side, and she playfully pushes his arm but the effort is weak. “Kissing girls in Satoru’s room is seriously not a good idea, Cho. That freak probably has cameras in here to make sure people don’t bump uglies in his room again after that New Year’s party.”

Choso gives her a pointed look, like he wasn’t caught up on that drama, but you’re just standing there with your eyes flicking between the familiarity of the two people standing in front of you. Why wasn’t Sana jealous? She was looking at you ten seconds ago like she was a whole lot of jealous.

“What are you looking for?” Choso asks her, and she holds her red plastic solo cup with her drink in it out for him to hold as she crouches down to the floor to sift through the equipment now surrounding the three of you.

“My lucky mic,” she says, “Gojo said it’d be here.” There’s a hint of something in her voice, something that mirrors betrayal if you’re perceptive enough.

You watch Choso lick his lips once, eyes darting to you, before he’s crouching down too to help her look. “For something that allegedly means a lot to you, you sure do a shit job at looking out for it,” he comments with a sigh before pulling out a black case from under three other ones and handing it to her. “It’s here.”

“I’m–” you say, taking a step back and almost tripping over a guitar case, “I’m, um, going to head downstairs. Mai is probably looking for me.”

Choso raises an eyebrow at you from where he’s still crouched down next to Sana, and he’s about to speak when Sana cuts him off.

“Okay. Bye,” she says, still rummaging through things mindlessly even though she had already been given what she was looking for.

Choso makes a move to stand up, like he wants to see you out the door, but Sana’s hand grabs him by his forearm, eyes still not meeting his, and there’s a beat of confusion in his eyes as he studies the side of her face. But you know what sort of look she probably has in her eyes right now, and you know only because you’re also a girl, and all girls know what it’s like when a guy you love doesn’t want you in the way that you want him. All you can do at this moment is feel sorry for her.

The atmosphere in the room begins to suffocate, and you head out of the door in a rush.

present day. summer.

“He kissed ya the day he met ya? Hmph! That wouldn’t fly with me,” the man seated beside you says, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he shifts slightly in his seat to puff his chest out.

“Hmm,” you hum as you look out the window wistfully, memories that you had locked up for so many years opened like a pandora box that fills your chest with warmth but has your fingers trembling with anxiety because you know how it all ends. “You wouldn’t…let a man kiss you on the first day he met you?”

The driver humors you with a hearty laugh from his chest, at least. “Not talkin’ about it that way, darlin’. I’m talkin’ about my daughters. I’ve got two girls of my own. A man should keep his hands to himself the first time he meets a lady. At least that’s what I’ve taught ‘em.”

There’s a small smile that tugs at your lips at his words, the love he has for his daughters heard clearly through his strict tone. You left out a lot of the details that probably would’ve angered him on your behalf even more, so the fact he still ended up getting worked up about it has you a little amused and reflective at the same time. “How old are your daughters?” you ask, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear, watching the wind-rustled plains of grass that you two have been driving by for a while now.

“They’re a little younger than you,” he comments, his expression now a bit more serious, “one just graduated from college, she’s startin’ more school in the city soon, and the other’s still in highschool. She’s turning sixteen next week.”

“Ah, sixteen,” you muse, “that’s a confusing age.”

“You got that right,” he gruffs, “the other day, she called me on my way home from work to bring some drink called a boba. Fifty-two years of life and I never even knew there was a damn thing called a boba! Why would anyone want swirlin’ stuff in their drink?! Anyways, the shop got her order wrong, and when I brought it home, she refused to drink it, called me the worst dad ever, then stormed upstairs to slam the door on her room. I turn to my wife, and she’s shakin’ her head at me like I’m the one that did something wrong!”

You laugh, then press your lips into a smile. “I’d have to agree with her on that,” you joke, and he lets out another disgruntled noise that has you laughing again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve lived with my wife and those two girls for over two decades,” he sighs. “I’m used to it by now. All three are equally pains in my ass, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your smile drops a little as you look at him more contemplatively. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as he speaks, and you realize it’s familiar, but the answer of where you’ve seen it before fails to arrive.

“My youngest,” he starts again, “she’s been listenin’ to really loud music lately.” He presses one of the buttons underneath the AC vents, static noises coming to life before he changes the output to bluetooth. “My wife says it’s some sort of phase, but I’m not likin’ the music. Always sounding tempered and inappropriate.” He plays a song from his phone paired to the car, speakers flowing with music, and a chill runs down your spine the moment the first few notes fill your ears. A song so painfully familiar, so connected to your soul it’s as if your heart still keeps time with it to this day.

“See what I’m talkin’ about?” the man says, “Lots of words about skin and cigarettes.” With a shake of his head, he lowers the volume. “She’s obsessed with this band, it’s probably a band similar to your old lover’s from the sound of it. She’s got posters of ‘em up on the wall, and she took the picture of us on our first fishing trip together out of the picture frame on her desk and replaced it with this man. This silly-lookin’ white-haired man that always looks like he’s just pretending he knows how to play a guitar. Hmph! She keeps saying ‘dad, I wanna go to their concert!’ There’s no way in hell I’m allowing that.”

You stare down at your lap, brow furrowed from the realization flashing through your head, and your thumb nervously passes over the skin of your other hand. In your periphery, you see him glance over at you once, and he sighs before stopping the music and speaking up again.

“It’s fine,” he says, “my youngest got her sister into the same band, and she likes one of the other ones. Plays bass. He’s too rough-lookin’ for my daughter. Arms covered in tattoos, he’s even got some on his face! She keeps dreamin’ about havin’ him for a boyfriend, but if she brought that home, there’s no way I’d approve. I’d scare him off with my rifle.”

Your heart is beating fast in your chest, and you realize what a small world it is. Or, you realize just how big Choso’s world must be now. So much bigger than he or any of the other members of his band could’ve ever imagined. For once in a lifetime, so rare and pure, are dreams that are fully realized.

“Gosh,” you respond when you realize you’ve been lost in your own revelations for too long, “that’s an…extreme response. You sound like my father, though.”

“Hm,” he responds, “I’m sure. Did your father approve of this lover of yours? The one that’s makin’ moves on you so fast and too soon?”

You lean back in your seat with your head hitting the headrest. It’s been years since you’ve felt like you’re being lectured or reprimanded for anything, but the feeling comes back to you at this moment as if no time had passed at all. No matter how old you get, you’ll never forget how humbling the feeling was when you thought you knew everything at eighteen, just to look back and realize you didn’t have a single clue.

You sigh. “No. He didn’t approve. Far from it.”

seven years ago. autumn.

chapter 2. the juvenile & the delinquent.

[to be continued]

a/n. eeeeeppp thank you very much for reading n supporting my new fic!! i hope you enjoyed :') still a lot more to uncover n unpack hahah i'm so nervous to start a new fic but i'm also very excited!!! i love choso sm but i also love nanami so this is gonna be interesting to write. also TYSM to everyone that wanted to be on taglist for this omg your support means the world to meeee. love you all sm.

taglist: @joemama-2 @sweetpo1son @lilluna12 @polarbvnny @4y3sh4 @sedona-the-l0bster @horisdope @ilovenana88 @thexmistress @atsushirolll @flvrrg0d @strawnanamilk @nighttwingg @indieotterxoxo @pirana10 @bakuhoethotski @tvdumarvelhpsimp @lavender-hvze @whereflowerswenttodie @alwaysfreakingout @kaitoluver @3xv5s @wrenabbadon @erwinslut @winsga18 @ynishalee @yungbloode

love u all so much!!

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thisapplepielife · 6 months

Text

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Same Time, Same Place

Prompt Day 16: Modern AU | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Modern AU, Rideshare Driver Eddie, Slightly Injured Steve, Meet-Cute, Eddie POV

Eddie pulls up to the curb of the nice-looking house, and waits.

And waits, and waits.

He considers canceling. He looks at his app again, and his passenger is supposed to be a guy named Steve. Finally, the front door swings open, and a guy in a suit, on crutches, struggles to get himself out of his house and down the sidewalk.

Well, that explains the delay, at least.

Reluctantly, Eddie gets out and opens the car door for him, "Hi, I'm Eddie."

"Sorry, I'm Steve, thank you," Steve says, sliding into the back of the SUV, and Eddie takes his crutches from his hands.

"Front seat okay for these?" Eddie asks.

"Yes, thank you," Steve says, smiling at him, pulling his seatbelt over his shoulder. Then Steve looks down at his phone, and starts tapping away.

"Just you?" Eddie asks, because this guy booked the SUV-XL option.

"Just me," Steve says, "I just thought there might be more room for my crutches and cast."

"That's definitely true," Eddie answers, he will give him that. And this guy doesn't look like he probably cares about the extra cost. Fine by Eddie. He'll take the larger fare. The band bought this big boat to haul around the equipment, and Eddie's been using it to pick up rideshare passengers lately, just to make a little extra cash so they can pay it off quicker.

Eddie hauls Steve downtown, and fifteen minutes later, stops in front of an office building. He hops out to help Steve out of the car.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, and he hobbles away towards the wall of glass doors.

Eddie completes the trip, gives Steve his five stars, and pulls away.

He gets his notification of his tip a few minutes later, and it's nearly the cost of the trip. He's definitely glad he didn't get impatient this morning.

At about six o'clock, he gets another fare, and he realizes it's for the same building, and sure enough, out comes Steve. Eddie gets out again, and does it all in reverse.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, and Eddie isn't sure if he remembers him from this morning, or just checked his name before he got in. He's going to go with the former, because unless he got a head injury with that broken leg, surely Steve can remember what happened eight hours ago.

"You're welcome, Steve," Eddie says, and takes him back home.

Eddie winds up getting the same fare, three days in a row, both ways, and it's one of the best parts of his day. Steve's easygoing, and he tips like a motherfucker. But on Friday morning, there's no ride request for Steve. Eddie even put himself in range of Steve's neighborhood to maybe help the matching process along, but he knew it was never a guarantee.

Well, it was good while it lasted. Steve might be a little slow moving on his crutches, but he was always polite, and his tips were above and beyond.

Eddie's never had that kind of streak of getting the same passenger before. Sure, he's driven a few familiar repeat passengers, but not for several days in a row. Eddie wonders if the pool of new SUVs is just lower in the area.

That evening, he gets the ride for Steve again, and he's really happy as he heads towards Steve's office building.

"I'm so happy it's you again," Steve says as Eddie meets him on the sidewalk, "This morning was rough."

"Sorry to hear that," Eddie answers.

"I favorited you and everything, but apparently that's not foolproof?" Steve questions out loud.

Eddie didn't even know favoriting a driver was a thing a passenger could do.

"I requested the big SUV, but that's not what he showed up in, which didn't go great with my crutches."

"What happened to your leg, anyway?" Eddie asks, because he's definitely been curious.

Steve laughs, "Well, I went skiing with my best friend, and she's clumsy, and ran me over. She's fine, but my leg, not so much."

Eddie smiles at him, "That sucks."

"Definitely. I can't drive for six weeks."

"Well, I'm happy to be your chauffeur whenever we're paired up, man," Eddie says.

And they chat more than they had on the previous days, and it's fun. Some passengers are rude, others are just quiet, but Steve's talking to him like they're just hanging out.

When he pulls over at Steve's address, Eddie looks back at him.

"Feel free to say no," Eddie starts, "but if you're interested, I could just give you my card. Then you could just contact me directly when you want a ride."

"Really?" Steve asks, his eyes lighting up.

"Sure, if you want to. We can try to request the ride once I'm right there, or we can do it under the table for way cheaper."

"That sounds great, Eddie. Thank you. Monday morning? Same time, same place?"

"Absolutely. I'll see you then, Steve."

And it goes on for weeks, five more of them, until Steve comes out of the doctor's office Eddie had driven him to, and Eddie sees he's cast free.

He's happy for him, he is, but he feels a little sad that this arrangement has come to an end. He's had fun. Really, truly, had fun. He's happy Steve's free of the cast, but Eddie still feels a twinge of sadness. He's enjoyed spending thirty minutes of his day with Steve Harrington.

"Look at you!" Eddie says, acting more excited than he feels.

"I know! All better," Steve says, sliding into the front seat next to Eddie.

And Eddie drives Steve home, dropping him off for the last time.

Eddie's waiting for another fare, when his phone dings.

[4:15PM] How 'bout I pick you up in my car for a change. Dinner tonight?

Eddie smiles, re-reading the words a second time, just to make sure he isn't dreaming this up. When he's sure he's not, he says yes, and sends Steve his address.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #modern au #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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steddieas-shegoes · 6 months

Text

stumbling into you

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'meet-cute at work' rated: M wc: 999 cw: sexual innuendo, semi-public handsy making out tags: making out, getting together, rock star Eddie Munson, modern au

a/n: let me just say getting this under 1000 words took longer than it took to write the original 1484 words it was 🙁

🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢

Steve's first day was going better than expected.

He'd admittedly lied about his skills to get this job, but how hard could it be to run errands?

A metal band in need of throat lozenges and hot tea was in the studio now.

Easy enough task to do.

When he walked into the control room, it seemed empty.

He looked back and checked the room number on the door.

"Let me help."

Steve turned to see the hottest guy he'd ever seen standing by the mixing board starting to walk over to him.

"Oh. Okay," Steve stuttered out.

"Let me grab the teas," the man said, his hand brushing against Steve's.

"I can just-" Steve let him, flushing when he smiled at him. "I could have set them on the table."

"It's okay, you've got your hands full..." he looked at the badge hanging off his lanyard. "Steve?"

"Yeah, sorry. First day."

"Really?" The man took the pack of throat lozenges from him, opening the bag and popping one in his mouth. "Welcome then. I'm sure we'll see a lot of each other over the next month or so."

"Do you record here a lot?"

"Yeah. We've got this studio booked solid for the next three weeks. Album needs to be perfect and we always get the best quality here."

"So do you sing?"

"I sing. Lead guitar, too."

"Is it a band I know?"

The man looked him over, taking in his business casual appearance, glasses slipping down his nose.

"I don't think we play anything you've listened to. Corroded Coffin?"

"My little brother listens to you! His mom never let him go to a concert though, said it would be too rough on him. He's kinda small for his age and she worries." Steve bit his lip. "Sorry, rambling."

"Cute, Stevie."

Steve blushed.

"I'm Eddie."

"Steve."

"Yeah, Stevie, I got that. You like any metal?" Eddie was clearly trying to have a real conversation with him, but Steve was drawing a blank on what the English language was.

"Never listened to any."

"You wanna listen? Something's off, but I can't put my finger on what. Maybe you could give me an idea."

"M-me?" Steve's eyes went wide.

"Yes, you," Eddie nudged him and tipped his head towards the mixing board. "C'mon, honest opinion."

"I-"

"Pleeeease?" Eddie pouted.

"Okay, but I don't really know what good is supposed to sound like," Steve agreed, walking to the board.

"Good is relative. If you think it sounds like metal music should, that's at least on the right track," Eddie pushed a couple of buttons and flipped a switch.

A surprisingly soft guitar melody filled the room, followed by a husky voice singing.

"This sounds..."

"Sounds?"

"You sound sad."

"Well, that's kind of what I was going for, so I guess that's a good thing."

The music cut off and Steve immediately wished he could hear more.

"Do you have other stuff recorded?" Steve suddenly needed to hear more of Eddie's voice.

"You wanna hear more?"

"If you want?"

Eddie flipped another switch, pressed a button, and a much faster guitar started playing, followed by heavy drums.

"This one doesn't have vocals."

Steve wouldn't listen to this regularly, but he could admit when people were talented, and it was very clear that Eddie and his band were talented.

"You're really good," Steve smiled at him.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Eddie shut off the music and stood up.

He leaned closer to Steve, playful smirk on his face.

"You wanna go in the booth?"

"I'm not allowed."

"I'm allowed and I'm asking, so." Eddie wiggled his eyebrows, making Steve giggle.

"Okay, sure."

Once in the small booth, Steve felt overwhelmed with Eddie's presence.

His body heat was enough to make Steve sweat.

"You do all the lead vocals?" Steve asked.

"Yeah. Since day one," Eddie said from right behind him, so close his breath hit the back of Steve's neck.

Steve shivered, closing his eyes as he felt Eddie's hand rest on his lower back.

"Tell me to stop if you want me to," Eddie whispered against his shoulder.

"I don't," Steve gasped.

Eddie turned him, pushing him against the wall behind him.

"Can I kiss you?" Eddie breathed against his lips.

Steve nodded, a whimper escaping his mouth as Eddie's lips touched his.

Eddie was a soft chorus, a soft kiss.

A soft moan when Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie's neck.

Eddie's fingers gripped Steve's hips, tugging him forward so their hips met, both already half hard.

"Wait," Steve said when Eddie started kissing down his neck. "When will they be back?"

"Don't know." Eddie nipped at one of Steve's freckles. "Don't care."

Steve moaned again when Eddie's hand found the front of his pants.

"What if-"

"Don't know. Don't care."

Steve threw his head back as Eddie's hand cupped him over his pants.

"Fuck, feels good."

"How fast can you come?" Eddie's hand squeezed, almost making Steve's legs buckle.

"I-"

"Eddie! Thought you were joining us!" A voice yelled.

"Be there in a few! Just wanted to check something!" Eddie yelled back.

"You're a workaholic!"

Eddie checked through the crack in the door to make sure the person left before he turned back to Steve with a sad smile.

"I probably should join them." Eddie cupped the side of Steve's face in his hand. "Maybe after your shift we can meet up?"

"Really?"

"Really, sweetheart."

"Oh. Um, I guess. I mean, it's probably against the rules, but I can give you my number?"

"I won't let them fire you. I made the move, right?" Eddie dipped his thumb into Steve's mouth for just a second, teasing.

Eddie may have made the first move, but Steve was quick to make the next one that night, not giving Eddie a second to say hi before he was in his lap in the backseat of a hired car.

Steve's job had a lot of perks, but gaining a boyfriend was definitely the best one.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #meet cute

300 notes · View notes

circle-with-me · 1 month

Text

in this light, you are mine - jolly karlsson x nick ruffilo

collaboration with @deathblacksmoke

pairing: jolly karlsson x nicholas ruffilo

tags/content warning: ⚠️ 18+MDNI!! au of sorts // tattooer nick/non-bad omens band jolly,roommates to lovers, pining, rough oral sex (male receiving), handjobs, anal fingering, anal sex, overstimulation, cum eating.

tag list: @concretenoah @malice-ov-mercy @sitkowski @somebodyels3 @baddestomens @cookiesupplier @collective-heartbreak @tearfallpixie @broken0mens @collapsedglasshouses @lma1986 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @meekahy @to-be-written @sammyjoeee @catharsis-in-darkness @unicornfairytail @itsafullmoon @slutfornoahsebastian @cheyyyyr @agravemisstake

word count: 4.2k

author’s note: this fic has been teased for quite some time now and i appreciate everyone’s patience and support as we’ve shared snippets and hyped it up. working with my bestie @deathblacksmoke has been incredible. i think we’ve created something wonderful and hope to share more with y’all in the future. thank you to our lovely @darksigns-exe for the beta 🩷

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🩷

“Where is it?!” Jolly grumbles, angrily sifting through his clothes hamper for the third time. He has checked his closet, under his bed, his drawers, the laundry room, everywhere for his favorite hoodie but it was nowhere to be found. The hoodie was a bright yellow and navy thing, very hard to miss. It was merchandise from a hockey team in his hometown in Sweden, even if they weren’t that great, it was still comfortable.

He racks his brain thinking of where it could be when he remembers his roommates' propensity to steal his clothes. Normally, Jolly wouldn’t mind sharing. The issue is that Nick takes his possessions without permission. His favorite snacks frequently disappear from the pantry; his shirts are stolen without being returned.

Jolly even found he had used the last bit of his very expensive shampoo when he was in the shower. He became so enraged that he jumped out of the shower in only a towel, covered in soap. The moment he located Nick he began shouting at him in Swedish, pointing the empty shampoo bottle at him. Nick just stood there, red-faced and flustered.

Jolly’s shampoo was left alone after that.

He surmises he’s discovered the culprit of the missing hoodie, instantly stalking down the hallway to Nick’s room. Jolly bursts through the door without knocking, annoyance plastered all over his face. The look swiftly fades as soon as he lays eyes on the younger man.

His roommate was indeed wearing his hoodie and while Jolly expected to be perturbed he instead found himself entranced. It wasn’t the hoodie itself so much but that he was only wearing the hoodie along with some white crew socks. It was so large on him that Jolly wasn’t even sure if he was wearing boxers underneath. He definitely looked, however, unable to take his eyes off how it had ridden up Nick’s thighs in the position he was sitting.

Nick says his name but it’s more of a question – an inquiry as to why Jolly just angrily stomped into his room. Jolly doesn’t answer, however, slowly backing out of the room and walking back to his own. He lies back on his bed huffing, attempting to make sense of what just happened.

They haven’t been roommates for long — maybe six months at the most. Jolly was left alone in the house after his last relationship ended. His band wasn’t big yet, but they went on small tours throughout the year. He didn’t want the house to sit by itself while he was gone so he placed an ad for a roommate.

Nick was the only person who replied that was even remotely suitable to live with. He had a job at a local tattoo shop and a good head on his shoulders. He even liked some of the same music as Jolly. Nick assured him that he was quiet and would barely know he was there, so he took a chance.

Their schedules being what they were, it was rare they saw each other during the day. Nick always stayed late at the shop and Jolly either was out of town or playing local shows late into the night. Both of them slept well into the afternoon if they didn’t have plans and kept to themselves.

One night, Jolly returned home to find Nick cooking, almost every dish in the kitchen was sitting dirty in the sink. Jolly had no idea how it took that many dishes just to make spaghetti, but he overlooked it. He teased Nick about what could possibly possess him to cook a whole meal at two in the morning and he shrugged as he handed Jolly a plate.

“My mama always told me that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Jolly remembers how he had to fight away the butterflies in his stomach that night. The sweet smile Nick gave him didn’t help. The tightness in his throat made it difficult to swallow down the feelings he wasn’t ready to deal with yet.

After that, their late-night kitchen meetings became more frequent. They weren’t always over a huge meal. Most of the time they had stove top ramen or ice cream. Jolly finally felt like he was starting to get to know his roommate more, but the more comfortable they became the more he felt the need to pull away.

Jolly found himself staring at him longer than he should. He’d walk around in nothing but thin pajama pants, his soft belly slightly protruding over the waistband. Often he would catch himself wondering how it would feel to run his hands down the sides of Nick’s torso. Was he ticklish there? What kind of soft pretty noises would he make when he nipped at the flesh by his hip bo-

Jolly shakes his head, clearing the thought out of his brain. Just the memory of his filthy ideas were enough to get him worked up. He pinches the bridge of his nose, willing the stiffening in his pants to go away.

But he does feel something — a giddy sort of nervous energy when he arrives home to find Nick’s car in the driveway, wondering what he’s up to and hoping for another chat in the kitchen. A longing for Nick not to steal his hoodies, but to give them to him to wear when they’re apart. It’s a feeling he wasn’t expecting, hasn’t known quite this well before, but it’s enough.

It’s enough to have him moving back towards Nick’s door, knocking lightly before twisting the doorknob once more.

Nick sits perched comfortably atop his bed with one knee bent up against his chest and the other looped around the front of him. His arms are wrapped around his leg, head gently laid on top of his knee. The black-rimmed glasses he wears are screwed up on his face from the angle but he doesn’t seem phased by it. His black hair is tied into a bun that shakes slightly when he laughs at whatever he’s watching on tv. Jolly can’t seem to muster the strength to look away.

Nick glances over at him, propping his chin on his knee. He speaks but Jolly can’t hear him from all of the blood rushing through his ears. He’s far too preoccupied with the way Nick’s hand is now drifting against his thigh. Jolly swallows harshly, pushing his tongue out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

Nick smirks, patting the space in front of him. Somehow Jolly manages to push himself forward to sit on the bed with him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times to speak but finds he can’t articulate his thoughts. If he’s being honest, he’s unsure if anything going through his mind should be spoken out loud.

Jolly has a hunch that Nick knows what he’s thinking about though. He doesn’t miss the way Nick’s eyes wander, from his eyes, down to his lips and back up again.

Without thinking, Jolly takes Nick’s face in his hands and kisses him firmly on the lips. There’s no discussion, no exchange of words between them, but something about the look on Nick’s face told him it was okay.

Nick fumbles with the bottom of Jolly’s shirt to tug it over his head. Jolly complains to no one in particular about the inconvenience of clothes. Nick smiles against his mouth, nipping hesitantly at Jolly’s bottom lip. He breaks the kiss, to Jolly’s protest, lying back against his pillows in an invitation for him to follow.

Using both hands to spread Nick’s legs, Jolly kneels between them. He taps a finger on Nick’s knee as he contemplates where he wants to start first. He detects a hint of self-doubt on the younger man’s face and rushes to set his mind at ease.

Their lips collide with each other, to his surprise Nick is the first to request access with his tongue and Jolly gladly allows him. He moves his hands to the hem of his hoodie, gliding them up Nick’s thighs. He jumps at the contact and gasps into Jolly’s mouth. He chuckles, continuing his exploration.

Jolly wraps his fingers around his hips squeezing at the flesh. Nick makes another sound akin to a whimper. He squeezes again, another whimper.

“Mmm.. So responsive.” Jolly says, nibbling at Nick’s lower lip. “I haven’t even made it to my favorite parts of you, yet.”

Both hands slide up Nick’s belly, pushing the hoodie up as they move. His muscles twitch when Jolly’s fingers brush at the top of his waistline and he forces himself to hide a smile. Nick is ticklish. The flesh of his stomach is just as soft on his lips as he had imagined. The noises he makes when he sinks his teeth into him are even better.

Nick’s fingers dig into Jolly’s shoulders. Jolly bites down a little harder and he hisses, earning a quiet apology and his tongue soothing the area. Nick rolls his hips but Jolly presses him back down into the mattress.

“Patience, raring,” Jolly says, dragging his tongue over the patch of hair at the bottom of his stomach. “I’m still playing.”

Jolly feels his cock twitching against his chest. It takes every ounce of restraint not to pull him out of his boxers and suck him off. He hasn’t done that in a long time, though. Probably since his mid-twenties. His skills have gone to shit.

Nick interrupts his thoughts when he wiggles beneath him, a demanding whimper commanding his attention. Jolly cocks an eyebrow, waiting for him to use his words.

“Why’d you stop?”

Jolly crawls up his body, their faces now parallel to each other. Their lips graze, and Jolly pulls away playfully when Nick tries to kiss him.

“Sorry, love.” He pins him down with the weight of his hips, grinding Nick’s hard length against his own. “Bit distracted by everything I want to do to you.”

Nick wraps his hand around the back of Jolly’s head and crashes their lips together. The surprised noise he makes at his sudden surge of confidence turns into a strangled moan as Nick pushes his hand into Jolly’s sweatpants, closing his hand around his cock.

The expertise of Nick’s hand working him over has Jolly seeing stars. His touch is just on the right side of too rough. Reluctantly, he pulls Nick’s hand from his pants. Nick makes it clear he’s not pleased, however Jolly never lets go of his wrist—spitting in his palm and returning it, moving his hand for him to spread the saliva over his cock.

He stifles his moans against Nick’s mouth, and he swallows everything Jolly offers him. It doesn’t take long before he’s buried in the crook of his neck, hips desperately jutting into Nick’s fist. He nips at every centimeter of skin he can reach, uttering praises after each one. Nick’s hand moves faster in time with his thrusts, filthy gasps flooding his ears.

His orgasm builds quickly and he wants to succumb so badly, but he pulls Nick’s hand away again. He doesn’t complain this time, a smirk playing on his lips. Jolly sits up to catch his breath, passing a hand through his hair. Nick follows, seizing the opportunity to mark up his stomach.

Jolly can’t resist admiring him as he methodically nibbles his skin and soothes the area with his tongue. His thick eyelashes flutter so prettily as he blinks. The full lips that press against his body are soft, his top lip bearing a perfectly accentuated cupid’s bow.

His nose, Jolly thinks, is his favorite part. It grazes against him and he briefly wonders what it would be like to feel it pressed into his stomach while he’s deep in Nick’s throat. A shiver runs down his spine at the thought and he absentmindedly squeezes the back of Nick’s neck. His eyelashes flutter again; blue eyes moving upward to meet Jolly’s.

“Was starting to think you would never catch the hint,” He mumbles against his stomach, sucking another bruise into the flesh. “I’ve been waiting for a long time for you to make a move.” He slides his hands down Jolly’s sides, flexing his fingers around his hips.

“As you can see, I had to take matters into my own hands,” He pulls away slightly and Jolly’s grip on his neck tightens. It eases when he sees Nick’s fingers dipping into the band of his pants pulling them down enough to release his aching cock. The way that Nick licks his lips at the sight of him is dizzying.

“You mentioned one night how it drove you crazy to see your partners wearing your clothes. So I decided I’d give it a shot.” Nick takes him in hand, collecting the mess that had gathered at his tip. Jolly bucks into his hand and he smirks. “I guess it worked, huh, baby?”

Jolly removes his hand from Nick’s neck and places both hands on his shoulders, his hold now bruising. He’s putty in his hands and Nick knows it. A cocky smile spreads across his face as he slowly jerks him, occasionally placing soft kisses and licks on the head but nothing more.

“N-Nick…” He whines.

“Do you ever think of me?” Jolly groans at the question, his mind racing through all of the times he’s come over his fist thinking about the beautiful boy beneath him. He manages out a pathetic yes, eliciting a quiet laugh from Nick.

“I’ll tell you about a time I thought of you and then you can tell me one, how about that?”

Jolly doesn’t answer, he just stares down at him in anticipation.

“That day you got mad about your shampoo,” Nick giggles. “You came out of the shower dripping wet. Face all red. Yelling at me. So angry.” He wraps his lips around him and Jolly gasps. He pulls away as soon as he feels Jolly start to push into his mouth.

“It was so hot seeing you mad, hearing you yell in Swedish. You were so upset I bet you didn’t even notice how hard I was.” He reaches his hand underneath and massages him, a quiet “fuck” falling from his lips.

“You know, we should really invest in better towels, Jolls.” Nick says, wrapping his tongue around the velvety head. “I could see the outline of your dick through that paper-thin towel you had on. I came so fucking hard touching myself that ni-”

Nick’s sentence is interrupted by Jolly’s thick cock being shoved in his mouth. He waited as long as he could, but when a pretty boy is bragging about touching himself to the thought of his cock — why shouldn’t he give him what he wants?

Nick struggles to adjust to the girth in his mouth. Jolly grips his messy bun, his other hand grabbing his chin. He soothes his jaw, encouraging him to relax. With each thrust into Nick’s mouth, his eyes fill up with tears. The way he looks up at him as he swirls his tongue around him has Jolly feeling feral.

“That’s it, Nicky. Take it all. Cocky boys get their mouths stuffed.”

Muffled gagging noises send vibrations straight through him as he hits the back of his throat. A tear rolls down Nick’s cheek and he’s quick to wipe it away with his thumb, rubbing lightly over the cheekbone as a silent check in. Nick taps his thigh once in reassurance. Jolly smiles and praises him, his fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You wanna know if I ever think about you, huh?” He grunts, rutting into Nick’s mouth. Nick hums in response, eyes fixed on Jolly.

“That night — God, that night you came to my show. We got really drunk afterward. You were bending over the pool table at the bar lining up your shot.”

“Had on those skin tight black jeans, fuck, when you looked back and winked at me. Knew you had caught me.” Jolly swears he can see Nick smiling around him. The glint in his eyes gives away that he remembers exactly what night he’s referring to.

“Couldn’t decide if I wanted to drag you into the bathroom or take you home and shove that pretty face of yours into the mattress.” Jolly pushes Nick’s head down further onto him and he gags. Tears fall freely from his eyes but he makes sure to give Jolly another tap to keep going.

“Instead I just fucked my fist in the shower when we got home. Moaning your name and hoping you couldn’t hear me.”

Nick moans at his confession, swallowing around him. Jolly throws his head back, pulling his hair by the roots. He slows down, drawing himself down his tongue until he pops out of Nick’s mouth. Gasping for air, he immediately grabs Jolly’s shaft to place him between his lips. Jolly laughs, pulling him off of him by his hair.

“Is my pretty boy drunk on my cock?” He breathes. Nick nods almost too eagerly, saliva falling from his open mouth. Jolly licks his lips, dragging them between his teeth. “Do you want me to fuck you like I’ve wanted to all this time? Fuck you in my hoodie and make you mine?”

Nick scrambles up Jolly’s torso to beg against his lips. Jolly lets him plead, plant kiss after kiss against him, relishing in the moment he’s wanted for so long. He gently pushes him back onto the bed, leaving Nick looking bewildered. He discards his sweatpants on the side of the bed, never breaking eye contact.

At the sight of Nick on his back for him, wide-eyed and eager but so very shy, his brain empties. This beautiful boy, putting all his trust in him, so pretty and pliable—he has to give himself a moment to enjoy it, to find his center.

Slowly, he lowers himself to cover Nick’s body with his own. As he kisses him, he savors the way Nick sighs into his mouth, threading his fingers through Jolly’s hair and relaxing further into the mattress.

He suddenly finds himself underdressed, completely bare above a mostly-clothed Nick, and he needs it to change immediately. Nick lets out the prettiest little whine when his boxers are slid down his legs. It’s music to his ears.

“Do you have—” he starts to say, burying his face in Nick’s neck, exasperated. Almost all of his confidence from moments ago has dissipated. It’s been a long time, is the thing. Without putting much thought into it, he couldn’t say when he last did this. He came in here so unprepared. But he has to get inside him. “Do you have lube, Nicky?”

Nick nods urgently. Jolly swears he can feel him vibrating beneath him.

“Bedside table,” he says. “Top drawer.”

He feels out of his element, shaky and unsure as he pours some lube out onto his fingers. He’s not exactly a novice, he has experience, but something about Nick and this entire situation makes him feel like a blushing virgin again. He has to make this good for him. He has to make it perfect so he can have it again.

Lying on his tummy with Nick’s legs slung over his shoulders, it all feels so real. Nick is the one presenting himself, vulnerable and bare for Jolly for the first time, but it’s Jolly who feels on display. It’s Jolly who feels like he has a hell of a lot to prove.

He gets his bearings with an experimental little swipe of his index finger around the tight ring of muscle. Nick moans so sweetly at the first push in, relaxing for him impressively, and Jolly finds his confidence coming back to him.

“Jolls,” Nick whines, already bearing down impatiently on his finger. The squirming has him wondering if he should press a hand to his hip, hold him down, but he decides against it. He’ll let the boy have his fun. “Jolls, please, more. I need it, baby, please.”

Never one to say no to such a pretty boy, especially when he begs like that, so polite, so sweet, he adds another finger. The relaxation, once again, is immediate. Nick accepts him so readily, almost like he was prepared for this but—no, he won’t think about that. Even as he pulls his fingers back out, going back in with a third just to see.

It’s a stretch, but barely. It’s suspiciously easy.

“You’re already open, aren’t you, love?” Jolly asks. Though the angle isn’t perfect to see Nick’s expression, he can see the way Nick lifts his hand and covers his face, so fucking shy. “Taking my fingers so easily, Nicky. You’ve been playing with this pretty little hole, haven’t you?”

God, he wishes he could see his face. He wishes he could have a hand on his soft skin as it heats with embarrassment like he knows it is right now. It’s enough, though, to see the way Nick nods so urgently. He knew it.

“Please, Joakim,” Nick gasps. He’s so desperate for it. Jolly thinks he feels pretty similar. “I need you to fuck me.”

How could he ever say no to that?

For all of the urgency he felt previously, suddenly he finds himself no longer needing to rush. The man who is so beautifully wrapped around him breathes into him like he’s his only source of oxygen. He continues to meet Jolly’s thrusts even as they slow into a languid pace.

The slower Jolly moves inside of him, the more anguished Nick’s whimpers become. He presses his head against the pillow, moaning Joakim repeatedly and he isn’t sure he can go back to hearing him call him Jolly ever again.

He kisses the tears streaming down Nick’s face, whispering quiet praises. Alternating between his neck and clavicle, he leaves soft bites marking his territory. They’re mostly for him. A reminder to himself that this moment is real. For once, he’s not going to open his eyes and it all be a fantasy.

Jolly grabs the headboard for leverage; pushing long and deep strokes into him. His other hand holds onto his waist, pinning him down to keep him in place. He feels Nick squirm beneath him, desperate for more.

“J-Joakim.. Ahh.. Please..”

“Shh. It’s okay, love.” Jolly whispers into his skin. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Nick threads his hands into his hair, pulling him in for a needy, wet kiss. His efforts to plead for more again fail as Jolly grinds deep into him. He feels Nick’s legs tremble around him and he doesn’t mind when they loosen a little. He runs his hand up his thigh, back to his hip, and underneath his hoodie to Nick’s dripping cock.

He cries out, arching his chest into Jolly’s as he begins to jerk him just as slowly as he rocks into him. Nick whimpers something unintelligible, squeezing his eyes shut. Jolly observes him as he falls apart beneath him, never imagining anything or anyone could be this perfect.

“I-I.. F- Oh-oh my god.” Nick stutters, dragging his lips between his teeth.

“I know, baby. It’s a lot isn’t it?”

Jolly’s question is answered when he feels Nick clench around him. He loses his grip on the headboard nearly falling on top of him but manages to recover in time. His resolve breaks, snapping his hips and moving his fist over Nick faster. He gasps then whines and Jolly fucks him harder, desperate for him to make that sound again. Nick’s cock twitches in his hand, and he feels him tighten once again.

“You’re so close, raring. I can feel it. Let go for me, I’ve got you.”

Nick chokes out a sob; white hot ropes of cum pulse over Jolly’s hand and onto Nick’s belly. Nick watches as he works him through it, panting, fingers clutching the sheets. Jolly presses their foreheads together and their eyes meet. Nick pushes his hair out of his face, pressing their lips together. Jolly sighs against his mouth, kissing him harder, lips curling into a smile before he’s gasping and releasing inside of him.

He’s barely caught his breath before he releases his hold on Nick, pushing his semen coated fingers into his mouth. Jolly hums, savoring the flavor - he tastes just as good as he imagined. Nick wraps his hand around his wrist, tugging his hand towards his own mouth. Jolly smirks, allowing him to taste what remained of him. It’s a filthy yet beautifully intimate moment between them, and he can’t look away.

They settle into each other's arms, sinking as far into the mattress as possible. The silence between them is comfortable. He listens as Nick’s pulse slows down; the rise and fall of his chest lulling him into a sense of security. He wants to tell him everything, every single thought and feeling roaming inside of his head. For the moment, he’s perfectly content laying here with his beautiful boy, softening inside of him.

Jolly’s fingers twist around the hoodie strings. It’s almost funny how upset he was such a short while ago. He can’t imagine it belonging to anyone but Nick now.

#jolly karlsson fanfiction #joakim jolly karlsson fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #jolly karlsson x nicholas ruffilo #jolly karlsson smut #nicholas ruffilo smut

63 notes · View notes

formosusiniquis · 8 months

Text

today is a new day to find you

Eddie is having the worst day known to man. It might qualify as a catastrophic event. Missing homework, lunch spilled on the cafeteria floor, broken strings at band practice, and that's not even touching Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington who keeps talking to him like they're friends. Steve Harrington who has become a new person overnight. Steve Harrington who keeps making hypotheticals about time loops. Steve Harrington who is somehow the best and worst part of his day.

AKA my @steddiebang fic!!

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan & Steve Harrington & Carol Perkins; Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler; Corroded Coffin & Eddie Munson WC: 57K | Rated M | Tags/Themes: Time Loop, Sort of No Upside Down AU, Angst w/Happy Ending, King Steve Growth Arc

Check out my fantastic artists who brought this fic to life, I've been so blessed to have them pick out my fic to make art for! You can find @sammichtastic on twitter at sammichesnstuff and her piece here! You can find @milkychai on twitter too at at milkychai and their piece here!

And a special thank you to my Beta @rainingingeorgia who really helped whip what you're seeing into shape!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five (FINISHED)

It was, in a word, fucked that he had to take gym a second time along with the rest of senior year. It was, in several words, absolutely fucking bullshit because he had actually passed gym the first time. Surely, his senior gym credit should still count, even if he’d treated it like office hours to set up deals with meatheads in a venue that didn’t actively put him in harm's way. Well, mostly out of harm’s way, as the blood spotting his uniform shirt can attest.

Hell, there were some days his last block gym class was the only one he’d attend. Slipping in with the bell at 2:15 in time to be the last one in the locker room and out on the line for attendance. Now he’s being forced back through it for what? No seriously, for what? Surely there was some other elective that could fit in this block, shouldn’t the second year senior get first dibs at study hall or something.

Maybe if he complains enough about the loss of his civil liberties. His freedom of expression is being taken from him by forcing him into this shit uniform. Maybe if he’s a big enough headache they’ll just let him leave. He’s learned the rules to enough of these little sports, there had to be a test he could take to prove that he doesn’t need to be a walking target on a volleyball court.

Not that he thinks Jenny Marshall meant to peg him in the face and give him a bloody nose, but the sentiment stands. Between the shorts and the blood he looks like a sad shaky shelter dog or something.

There are, of course, some fringe benefits. Eddie may have to wear the signature Tiger green, but so does Steve Harrington, who definitely has the legs for the outrageously short gym uniform they’re forced to dress out in. And if he’s going to keep looking for that silver fucking lining like he promised Uncle Wayne he would; thanks to Jenny Marshall he gets to ride the bleachers and watch pretty, pretty Steve Harrington bounce around in those shorts for the rest of class. Maybe a more bronzed lining than silver, Harrington hangs onto the sun warmed summer glow even with the October chill creeping in. Freckled thighs with nary a tan line in sight Eddie lets himself wonder if the rumors that had circled the big 18th birthday bash are true: when Harrington’s not in the swim team speedo he doesn’t swim in anything at all.

The volleyball net that Steve is playing at, floppy and torn, is more of a suggestion than a barrier. Now that Eddie is benched, it’s Harrington’s five against Hargrove’s four. The tides haven’t changed in anyone’s favor.

Billy had placed himself across from Harrington at the start of the game, his patience rewarded now as they rotate positions and the King is once again opposite him in the front row. That not-barrier doing all it can to keep the two a foot apart, Hargrove pacing in the eighteen inches of space his position in front of Steve allows. Jenny and her nose killer serve send the ball over to Hargrove’s side of the net. They get it up in the air again and Hargrove smacks the ball down hard between Steve and Sarah Smith.

It hits the floor with a thwack that makes Eddie wince. Almost drowning out Billy’s mean little laugh, but there’s no missing the smug look on his face. The far too proud of himself smirk he sends somewhere to the left of Steve.

It’s for Steve though. Definitely for Steve.

The usurper to the throne, Hargrove has been sniffing for weakness that Eddie was pretty sure wasn’t there. The closest Harrington has ever come to failure was last year’s attempts at Nancy Wheeler, one he seemed to give up as soon as it started.

Tommy H. would be the reason, if Eddie had any guesses. He tried to base an NPC group around the Harrington court once. Tommy a loyal knight to a mostly inept king. Tommy who sidles up close to Sarah, despite his own maiden the Lady Carol playing one net over, smirking the same smug smile as Hargrove -- maybe another weak spot in the Harrington reign -- he says something loud enough to embarrass Sarah if the way she flushes and scurries closer to Harrington’s side is any indication but not enough for Eddie to make out.

He never did get the character balances to work in the game. He scripted and broke down motivation and drive but every time he just couldn’t figure out what Hagan did for Steve. Couldn’t figure out why Harrington kept his so-called friends around.

Gym takes too damn long to end. Or maybe it ends too soon. The final bell that releases him from his prison like Cthulu from the deep is buried quickly under the ringing in his ears as Steve Harrington is calling his name. Resignation fills his spirit, but when the King beckons you wait.

#my fic #steddie #steddie fic #steddie big bang #steddiebang23 #time loop #this will be the fic masterpost so get ready to see it so much #screaming forever #so excited you all are going to see this thing ive been working on for the last forever #and even more excited for you to see the dope art!!!

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gorgonwrites · 10 months

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still loving you, part 1

geto suguru x fem!reader

in which your best friend shoko takes you to the bar your ex-boyfriend is performing at tonight.

wc: 2.3k-ish

author's note: i wrote a geto fic- someone fucking sedate me. i love that man w my whole heart. ps, i swear i will learn how to write a one shot one day. i am nothing if not a slut for the buildup. this is inspired by the song still loving you by the scorpions bc it's a GOOD FUCKIN SONG

tags/ CW: sfw but will be nsfw eventually, fem!reader, second chance romance, modern AU, bassist!geto, reader broke getos heart but we'll make it right don't worry, reader/ shoko/ geto/ gojo are bffs duh, slowburn bc i can't fucking help myself, reader smokes a cigarette or two bc i like the effect SMOKING IS BAD 4 U ok??

“Was it really necessary to bring me along for this? I could be home with my cat right now.” your best friend pulled you to her favorite bar, laughing as you continued to grumble.

“You never leave your apartment, y/n. Have some fun for once!” Shoko continued to tug you along until you were at the door of The Sorcerer’s Lounge. If you were completely honest you didn’t hate this place- it was more speakeasy than dive bar, and it was one of the more peaceful places Shoko liked to bring you.

“I do leave my apartment. I work, I go grocery shopping, and I sit and read in the park across town. So there.” You stuck your tongue out at her. She was your opposite but you adored her all the same. While she liked to party and drink herself into oblivion, you liked to stay in and enjoy your own company. You finished your party phase while you were in college- thinking about it made your chest twinge. “You know this isn’t really my thing anymore. I just made an exception tonight because I like it here.” Shoko had mentioned a show happening tonight, and you generally enjoyed the entertainment that the lounge offered.

“Well you look fucking devastating, y/n, maybe we should make this your thing again?” Shoko was too hopeful, though her effort made you giggle. She took your hand and had you twirl in front of her, making the thigh-high slit of your dress threaten to show just too much. You did miss late nights like this, but it simultaneously felt foreign to you. There was something- someone- missing. You shook the thought away. As you both made your way through the crowd to the bar you saw a familiar head of white hair, and you stopped in your tracks. Shoko still had a firm grasp on your wrist, and your sudden halt nearly had her fall over.

“Shoko, who’s playing tonight? I didn’t have the time to check.” actually you hadn’t cared to check, but you didn’t think it would’ve been your ex-boyfriend’s band. You looked at her sharply and she grimaced. Please, no.

“Oh, I ah, I don’t remember!” She smiled sheepishly and tried to laugh the question off. Just as you were about to turn around and march out of the bar, you were engulfed in a tight hug.

“Y/N! No way! Shoko you didn’t say she was coming too! Fuck dude, it’s been way too long. How are you?” You were smashed into Gojo’s chest, unable to respond. He held you tightly and laughed, a familiar and bright sound that always made you smile in the past. Right now, though, you wanted to hurtle yourself into the sun. Of all the nights you agreed to join Shoko, why did it have to be tonight? You managed to wiggle your way out of Gojo’s grip and huffed in response, trying not to take your agitation out on the man. After a breath, you were able to respond.

“Gojo, it’s so good to see you.” you smiled gently and you meant it. He looked good. You weren’t sure if it was possible but he seemed even taller than when you’d seen him last, and he still had the same stupid sunglasses that he used to wear. “It’s been five years, I think? I won’t lie, I haven't really had the time to keep track.” A lie. Yes you were busy, but you knew exactly how long it had been since you had seen him and his best friend. The four of you had been inseparable during your college years, a rag-tag quartet against the rest of the world. You did everything together, until suddenly you didn’t. It hurt. It still hurts.

“Oh, shit, I have to tell Suguru you came!” Gojo spun on his heel and ran across the bar and out of sight.

“Fuck, Gojo, don’t!” you yelled after him and tried to make your way in the same direction, but it was useless. He had a habit of appearing and disappearing, and you knew you wouldn’t find him. You slowly turned to your best friend, your eyes blazing. “Care to explain this shit to me?” Shoko shrank under your gaze but seemed to recover quickly.

“Gojo reached out to me a few days ago to tell me they’d be in town and to tell me about their gig tonight. I thought it would be nice for the four of us to catch up.” you could hear the pain in her voice. “I thought you were over everything by now, y/n. You never bring Geto up anymore. I don’t even remember the last time you said his name.” you groaned at your ex-boyfriend being mentioned, and pinched the bridge of your nose to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

“You know I adore you, Shoko.” you breathed, “But why did you think this was a good idea? My breakup with Geto shattered our friend group. I’m not sure if it really will be a nice thing for us to catch up.” though you had been surprised by Gojo’s response to seeing you. “We’ve all gone our separate ways in life. I’m not sure we really need to dwell on the past.” you had built a life for yourself, and you were proud of that fact. Yes, there were lonely nights and moments that you craved a closeness that you’d only ever experienced with Geto. But you made a life nonetheless, and you weren’t willing to mess it up because Shoko wanted to live in the past. “He broke my heart, Shoko. I think a part of me is still recovering.”

“You broke his too, you know.” Shoko said firmly. “If you weren’t so fucking stubborn you would’ve seen that. Leave if you want to. I’m going to support our boys.” Our boys. She stalked off, leaving you breathless. You slumped into a chair at the bar and ordered a shot. If you were going to stay, you needed something to take the edge off.

. . .

“She’s here with Shoko! I saw! She looks fucking incredible, by the way. Damn, it was good to see her face. There’s something different about her, but she’s still y/n. I can tell.” Gojo continued to ramble on about you, giving Geto a massive fucking headache. He didn’t expect Shoko to make it, and he definitely hadn’t expected to hear that you were with her. His heart leapt in his chest, agitating him even further.

“Satoru, I swear to god if you don’t shut the fuck up I’m going to wring your neck.” he slumped back onto the sofa in their small changing room and scrubbed his hands over his face. “This has you and Shoko written all over it.” Shoko and Gojo loved plotting together, whether it was going to be messy or not. They just seemed to enjoy the ride.

“Suguru, come on. You don’t fucking shut up about her. In all the years it's been, I know you’re still crazy about her. And I know you want to see her, so get over yourself. She showed up, whether you like it or not. I don’t think she’d just abandon Shoko because you’re here.” Geto knew you wouldn’t leave her, so he was going to have to suck it up. “We’re on in thirty. Get your shit together.” Geto stared up at the ceiling and tried to remember your face. You never posted on social media, and Shoko rarely had photos of you up anymore. You had basically just disappeared one day, and it made the ache in his chest get worse.

. . .

“Two espresso martinis, please.” You had taken two shots, and after letting them take effect you were finally ready to face Shoko again. You carefully carried the drinks through the crowd and into the lounge area, carefully searching through the tables and booths to find your best friend. You found her in the front row, stress smoking her cigarettes. “Those’ll kill you, you know.” you smirked, and she angrily looked up at you.

“Hmph. The stress from how stubborn you are already has me halfway there.” she eyed the drinks in your hand. “Though, a drink might add a few more years back to my lifespan.” You placed your drinks on the table and sat down beside her, wondering when the show would start.

“I really don’t know if I can do this.” you did your best to hide the tremor in your voice but Shoko noticed, like she always did. She pushed your hair behind your ear and smiled.

“You can, though. We’re just supporting our boys. No harm in that, right?” There really was no harm in it, but it made you nervous all the same. Your breakup with Geto had been entirely underwhelming, at best. You knew you had been growing apart for some time, and your parents never approved of him to begin with. He wanted to travel and make music, free as a bird. You wanted to stay and work in the city, carving out your own little slice of paradise where you were. He wanted you to come with him, you wanted him to stay. It would never, ever work. So you called it quits one day, plain and simple. He didn’t put up a fight though, and it had solidified your suspicions of him getting bored with you. You left and had tried your best not to look back after that.

“Earth to y/n, can you hear me?” Shoko waved her hand in your face. “I said they’ll be on soon. Are you even listening to me?” you had to give yourself a shake to snap out of it. This was about to be a long fucking night if you couldn’t get a grip.

“Give me one of those.” you snatched the pack of cigarettes from Shoko and lit one, taking a long drag before you exhaled in her face. You continued to take long drags until you finished and grabbed another.

“What the fuck happened to these will kill you?” Shoko snatched the pack out of your hands and stuffed it into her purse out of reach.

“The stress from how stubborn I am already has me halfway there.” you parroted back to her and lit the second one, winking. “It’s fine, I won’t have another. I have some semblance of self control, unlike someone I know.” Shoko rolled her eyes and grumbled, but immediately perked up when the lights began to dim. You had the opposite reaction, tensing up and shrinking into your seat as you smoked. Your best friend noticed though, as always, and looped her arm through yours.

“We’re just supporting them, like I said a little while ago. No harm, no foul. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.” She gave you a reassuring smile, and you couldn’t help but lean into her touch. Shoko had been your rock through the breakup, and continued to support you even now. You could feel how excited she was, and admittedly her excitement was always contagious. You relaxed and watched as everyone came out on stage.

Gojo of course came out first, that damn show pony. His boisterous attitude and loud mouth always annoyed you, and he always did the most to get the attention he wanted. You love him half to death though, and he knows it. He got all of you into trouble so many times you had lost count. A blonde with glasses came out next, a new addition to the band it seemed. You had never seen him before. A short man with cropped black hair and a huge grin came out next, and you recognized him from school though you couldn’t remember his name. Haibara? Something like that. That left Geto for last, as usual.

You had forgotten just how beautiful he was. He walked out with a small smile on his face and waved to the crowd, and you couldn’t help the annoyance bubbling in your chest as the screaming got louder when he took his spot onstage. He had more tattoos than you remembered, and his hair was much longer. He wasn’t wearing it up in a bun, which felt unusual to you. Instead his black hair cascaded down his back and over his shoulders, framing his face. Was his bottom lip pierced now? He was too far away for you to be sure. You studied him carefully, drinking in the image in front of you. While everyone else got settled you watched as he began to scan the crowd for someone. You took another drag from your cigarette, wondering who he was so intent on finding. His eyes continued to wander until they found you. You locked eyes with him and tried not to choke as you exhaled, and leaned farther into Shoko’s embrace. He looked as shocked as you felt- your heart was about to jump up and out of your fucking throat. You could barely see the corners of his mouth turn up, and he raised his eyebrows before he finally looked away. You knew that stupid look. That was the ‘and what do we have here?’ look he always had on when he relentlessly teased you. The look was enough to make you scowl and huff, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Geto spared you another glance, and seeing you in such a state made him break out in a ridiculous grin before he laughed to himself. He loved teasing you.

“He seems really happy to see you.” Shoko whispered in your ear. She huddled close to you, letting you lean into her as much as you needed.

“Yeah, well, no one said I was happy to see him.” your best friend let out a huff, letting you know you weren’t fooling her. You were hardly fooling yourself. Truthfully, seeing him after all this time made you feel like you were floating. You could only remember his face glassed over and uninterested, so seeing him happy made your heart leap. He loved being on stage and performing, and you loved watching him do it. The show began and, as always, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #satosugu #getou suguru x reader #jjk x reader #geto x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #geto drabble #jjk geto

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liquorisce · 1 month

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Do you have any eremika age gap au recs?? It’s my favorite trope and there’s nearly not enough fics out there😭😭😭

*rubs hands* I took my time with this because I am not the most avid fic reader unfortunately, but I do have a few recs and some more on my tbr. I think what you're looking for is not just an age difference but where the age gap is the focus? i've marked those in pink. definitely check the tags on these before proceeding!!

gonna start with mine just for completeness, and also because i love it *blush*

boy next door: For sixteen years, Mikasa has watched the boy next door. First: through the eyes of a child, hand in his during family trips, his hand on her first bike when she learned how to ride. Then: through the eyes of a teenager, peeking behind her blinds into his room on hot summer months when he didn't wear a shirt, eyes lingering on his lips when he pulled away his cigarette. Now, she is so much older, but he is older still, and the gap between them feels ever widening. But her desire to close it only feels more desperate.

i'm certain you've checked out @herblacktights 's ao3, but here are my favs of hers with that age gap sauce:

degausser: After a deadly flu pandemic that devastates Paradis Island and the rest of the world, Eren is all Mikasa has. After she turns sixteen, that gets complicated. -> the plot is entirely the age gap, lol!

comfort me: “Mikasa,” Eren drawled, fake scolding edging into his voice as he held the basement door open and led her outside. “Does Aunt Carla know what a bad girl you are?” For a moment, she looked stunned. A sliver of a second, a wink of an eye. Looking every inch the little girl he watched grow up, who he knew deserved better than him. But before it could take root in her and make him regret what he said, Mikasa gave him a terrible, sweet smile. “Aunt Carla says I deserve to do whatever I want after the year I’ve had,” she said and from the way that she was looking at him, he should’ve known it was a threat. cw: mild daddy kink!

love dog : this one is a bit different! teacher mikasa x student eren, and mikasa is the older one. cw: it doesn't exactly have a super happy ending. but it is one of my favs from hannah!!

Butterfly effect by @sunlightandsuffering : Sugar baby AU - older hobo eren x younger mikasa. how can i say this... it's the OG, the most delicious, lys-brand chaotic eremika but age gap flavour! i love it, i'm sure if you've been around this block you've read it lol, but it's simply amazing, read it again!!

You, me and our sins by @loneghostss : Eren is married and Mikasa has a boyfriend. But the fact that they both have someone doesn't stop them from sinfully falling in love with each other. (it is about eremika having an affair with each other and it is so sensual and hot, age gap is not central here but it definitely brings heat!!) you could also check out lost saints by the same author, there's also some age difference and great smut.

@dead-dolphins is a connoisseur of the age gap trope, defs check out all the aus on her pinned post!! ro is a master of drama and worldbuilding so her fics are always a treat. she's got some on ao3 that are all about that sweet age gap <3

chemical hype boy : idol mikasa x actor eren!! and eren is definitely playing into the older established actor mold!

i apologise if you feel something: Goth mikasa gets involved with older Eren, lead vocalist of a metal band.

the promised princess: a medieval fantasy au inspired by got. age difference is not the central theme, but it's a stellar fic regardless.

straight/edge by @sinigangsta-ao3: Mikasa Ackerman is prim, proper, and perfect. As the golden child of the Ackerman family, her academic achievements set her up for a bright future and atone for her older brother’s past mistakes. When the spring semester of her junior year arrives, she crosses paths with a local boy toward whom she’d typically never give the time of day — and they begin a whirlwind relationship that unlocks parts of herself that she didn’t know she kept hidden. this fic is more about the good girl x bad boy trope but with that delicious 3-4 year age gap sauce!! cw: NOT a hea

devilish lovers by softwinter: “I wanna be your friend, Mikasa,” he told her one day when she got home from school not able to feign a less distressed expression on her face, too many sixteen-year-old problems going on in her life. He had the habit of commenting that she was always sad, that he didn’t like how that transpired on her gray eyes.

“I thought you wanted to be my daddy,” something flashed in his eyes right then, like she’d said something forbidden, a kind of thing that could make her a bad girl in his eyes. cw: step dad kink!! definitely check the tags before proceeding.

heaven knows by @joannaofarkham: priest au where priest eren is mikasa's teacher in a catholic school. it is unfinished but the first chapter reads pretty well standalone!

eternally yours by @cxcassii: reincarnation au + age gap. It's been 2,000 years since Eren Jaeger was a titan shifter and unleashed the blood drenched madness of the rumbling upon the world. Now, in the year 2023, he's a twenty-four year old who lives with his best friend Armin. He goes about his days working as a pharmacy technician all while attempting to cope and come to terms with the loss of the loved ones he still remembers with clarity from his previous life. The atrocious sins of his past life he can never ever truly atone for. But most of all, there's one person he simply can't forget: His former love of his life, Mikasa. It's when he's not actively searching for her that they cross paths once again, and their love will once again be on trial when Eren learns that Mikasa not only doesn't remember their past life together, but is also seventeen years old. this one is still on my tbr but whatever i've read so far looks extremely delicious!!!

enjoy!! if anyone wants to add more please feel free to reblog and improve this list!! <3

#eremika #fanfic rec #age gap trope

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sorikkung · 5 months

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what goes on in neverland. ⇝ ch. 7: fighting, flighting, and so many feelings

word count: 16k

pairings: transmasc!reader x Everyone, everyone x everyone (skz, tbz and atz, check masterlist for more details)

genre: e2l, f2l, smut, fluff and lots of assorted shenanigans. hijinks, if you will

au: battle of the bands!au but make it gay and horny

warnings: extremely dubiously consensual voyeurism, humiliation kink, very brief hyung/oppa kink, feminisation kink, breeding kink but probably not in the way that you think.

a/n: just a reminder that these characters aren't meant to be super great people. they're a little fucked on purpose. also, not proofread at all, not even once, just needed it done. full a/n at the end. glad to be back! c:

tags: @honeybyunnies @syunderful @absentcaryatid @mingirn (lmk if you want to be added/removed!)

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“Do it again.”

This is starting to feel a little like déjà vu.

“I did it perfectly that time, what are you talking about—”

“Just do it again!” Eric snaps, pressing play on the music and not giving you much of a choice. As you go through the complex part of the routine he had given you, he barks orders to your other bandmates getting distracted behind you. “You guys should be practicing too! You have all of night time and every other day to make out, can you not focus on practice now that it matters more than ever?”

The air inside feels stuffy with all the sweat and exertion, but god forbid this man gives anyone a break. How his own body managed to keep up with the strain he’s putting it and all of yours through is far beyond your comprehension. You contemplate if he’d be able to keep going after you throw a large rock at him.

“Eric,” Kevin whines, leaning on his knees to catch his breath and wiping the sweat from his brow as Eric tries to pull the two boyfriends off each other. “Can’t you take it a little easy on us? Not all of us are used to dancing for hours and hours on end, or even dancing at all. At least let us have breaks when you’re focusing on someone else. Which you’re not even doing! Look, he just did it again!”

You ponder the type of rock you should throw at him. Maybe pelting him with tiny pebbles would be even more of an annoyance. Maybe you should stick to a big one and go straight for the bruises on his legs that still linger from how hard he went and continues to go on the pole.

Eric whips around to look at you in your ending pose, and twirls his finger at you in a motion to repeat. “Do it again, I didn’t see it.”

Or, maybe you’ll just find the heaviest rock you can find and drop it on his head. Hopefully the worst it’ll do is a mild concussion.

“Yeah, cause you’re too busy being a dick to everyone!” you quip at him, eyes flaring. “Eric, we gave you this position because we wanted to show you we’re still taking the competition seriously and that we still value your opinion and trust in your leadership, not for you to walk all over us and push us too hard because you’re still salty that we fucked the guys making you insecure! Get over yourself! If you want to take this stage sooo seriously, maybe take into consideration the physical state of your team! We’re all about to collapse!”

“For someone who trusts in my leadership, you sure aren’t following it all that well,” he grumbles in response, rewinding the track. “One more time, just you. Or do they not train you hard enough at the Prism?”

You roll your eyes at the fucking audacity, because that is not even remotely the same and he knows it. “No, because they’re more concerned about our sex appeal than our pole technique, Wooyoung and I train ourselves to have fun — you should try it sometime!”

He doesn’t grace that with a response, turning the song on again, and you decide to cooperate only to throw all your remaining energy into the routine, making it as extra as you can muster — facial expressions, powerful moves, dramatically thrusting your whole body into it like it was the actual stage, so there’d be absolutely no way Eric could nitpick on you any more.

Or so you thought.

“You overdid it.”

“Get fucked, Eric!”

You straight up scream in his face, pushed far past your limit and sick of his shit. You have been trying so hard for him. All for him. You made sure he was okay with it before even signing up for the competition, you trained him in pole and choreographed him a role routine and night at your job just so he could impress them, you fucked his ex with him just so he could prove a point, you got thrown over a table for it and continued defending his honour and all you get in repayment is him being a total asswipe because he can’t handle what you do with your spare time.

“Are you fucking serious right now—“

“Alright, enough!” Sunwoo bellows, loud enough to make poor San flinch, stepping between you and grabbing each of you by the collar. “Either make out and make up, or fuck off till you calm down. I’ve just about had it with all the arguing and bossing around. We’re all taking a break and I am not taking no for an answer!”

Sunwoo is the type to get fired up just as easily as Eric is, if not more, so you all know how to handle him when he gets set off; but there’s something different this time. His tone cements the decision as final, and Eric must feel it too because he finally stops arguing and storms off.

The rest of you watch him leave, and as soon as he’s out the door, you all slump in relief to the floor. It’s done. Day one of Eric’s Nightmare Bootcamp is finally done.

“Fucking finally,” Sunwoo mutters, lying still for a moment before being the first to get up and start collecting his things. “My entire body aches. Apparently this place has hot springs? I think I’ll go check them out.”

“I’m way too hot and sweaty for that,” you sigh as the others start getting up to join him, “Lowkey tempted to take an ice bath instead. Or go chill in the lake, or something.”

“I’ll join you,” San pipes up, hanging the sweaty towel he was using to wipe his face around the back of his neck. “The lake sounds great right now.”

Sunwoo shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

It was Eric’ idea to put the camp in boot camp, bringing up his extended family's holiday house in the woods that only ever gets used twice a year. It’s a ridiculous waste of money and housing as far as any of you are concerned, but at least Eric was smart enough to mould himself a spare key before he went no-contact with them. Granted, he then immediately lost said key while moving apartments, but as soon as you brought up the idea of a boot camp he turned the whole damn apartment upside down searching for it, only to realise it had been hot-glued to his battle jacket this whole time as a decoration along with other spare keys you had gathered for diy purposes.

The place is nice, awfully scenic – not quite mountainous, but hilly enough for the cliff the lodge is on to make for a gorgeous view overlooking the lake, estuary and ocean — secluded, and cosy. Now that Eric actually has a key to the place, next time you come here you hope it’s on calmer terms, with more time to check out all the hike trails and rock pools by the beach, but for today, aimlessly floating in a lake to sooth your sore muscles sounds perfectly ideal.

San’s bare ass is a pretty welcome sight, too.

“A cheeky skinny dip, huh?” you muse aloud, “Have fun getting whatever bacteria this lake has to offer, I’m keeping my jocks on.”

“Oh please, like that’d help that much.”

“It literally would though, that’s a whole additional barrier!”

“It’s still gonna soak through though, so if it’s in the water, you’re fucked.”

“Is that why you want me naked so bad? So I can be fucked?” you tease, wading into the water with him – still slightly warm from the daylight, but no doubt quickly cooling with the setting of the sun in the horizon.

San shrugs cheekily, submerged up to his shoulders in the murky depths, ducking under the water to drench himself entirely then dramatically flip his hair back upon breaching the surface. “Maybe.”

“Horny bastard,” you huff, splashing him in the face and making him cough and splutter, only for him to splash you back twice as hard. “Pffuah— stop, stop! I’ll stop, I’m too tired for a splash fight.”

“Okay, okay,” San hums, relenting his assault to come up behind you and wrap his arms around you instead. You sigh and lean into his gentle embrace. “I was joking, anyway. I’m way too tired and sore to be doing any fucking right now.”

So are you. The more you think about it, the less the thought of getting it on seemed appealing, the ache in your muscles dragging you down like lead. The cold water was nice, though, and the reprieve of San’s warm body amongst it even nicer, so you just stay there for a whole, tucked under his chin and listening to the steady beating of his heart.

It’s exactly what you needed after such a long day. Probably what San needed too, if the way he sighs in relief into your hair is any indicator, then presses a kiss atop your head. “This is kinda romantic, isn’t it?”

“Romantic?” His tone is playful, but the conversation you had with Sunwoo still lingers on your mind. You find yourself at a loss for words. “What about it?”

San leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder and press a kiss there, invoking a shiver. It has little to do with the temperature. “The scenery, for one. This lake is beautiful. The sunset. Holding you like this. Is it not nice?”

You blink twice, trying to process what this man is saying to you. Does he mean romantic as in nice? An interesting choice of wording, that’s for sure – but maybe you’re overthinking it. You’re probably overthinking it. You’re definitely overthinking it. Had Sunwoo not said anything, you probably wouldn’t have thought twice about him saying that. Saying it so seriously, even. Though the initial question did sound like a bit of a joke, so he’s probably joking. Or something.

“No?”

You snap out of your thoughts to reply to him. “No, it is nice— it’s really nice. Just what I needed after all of... y’know.”

“After all of Eric’s bullshit?” he suggests helpfully, and you don’t need to see his little cat-like grin to know it’s there.

“You said it, not me.”

He laughs, placing his hands on your shoulders and twisting you around to face him. You don’t know how he manages to smile so blindingly after the hell he has been through today, especially as one of the few band members who had no background dancing, but he gave it his all. You admire that about him, how he’s so hard-working and so soft-hearted but in a way that he needs to be tough to be; the fact that he always remains soft under the pressure of the world trying to harden him, is toughness in its own right. A fuzzy feeling sprouts in your chest, such deep fondness, and it’s enough to ease a bit of the lingering tension. He leans in for a kiss, not quite a quick peck but nothing deeper; just a kiss for the sake of a kiss, one that lingers, then he pulls you back into his arms and pushes your face into his neck.

San’s always been like this, so it really shouldn’t be as flustering as it is. After all, he’s the reason your band started being as touchy with each other as they are now – from kissing the homies goodnight. He’s just overly affectionate like that. Has his heart always beat this fast when you did, though?

Has yours?

You wonder if he can hear it.

You think about how easy it would be to tell him you love him right now. The words could just roll off your tongue; I love you. Things wouldn’t have to change. San would probably just be happy to hear it, say it back, and kiss you breathless. Yet, something about that thought makes your words get caught in your throat. It would be so simple. Too simple, even, because what would he mean, when he says it back? What would you mean?

“Do you want us to be more than friends?”

San’s skin feels even hotter to touch, or maybe that’s just you. He quirks a brow at you when you pull away from him, lips drawn into a slight pout, and it makes you feel like eating sandpaper, so you pull him back in and bury your face in his broad chest once more. You have always been weak for San’s pout, even if you’re the one making him do it on purpose because it’s just so cute. You know Wooyoung does it for the same reason, he’s said so, and you never miss the way his eyes crinkle with glee when it works. For Wooyoung, bothering his loved ones is his life’s greatest joy, and there’s nothing quite like the glow of a man in his element. You can picture him smiling at San like that right now, calling him a baby and calling you whipped.

“Do you want to date us? Be romantic with us, tell us those three words you’ve been too scared to say for too long, take us on dates that are explicitly dates, call us yours? Is that what you want?”

You kiss him, and nothing more, over and over again, until you finally stop thinking. He picks you up for your legs to wrap around his waist, weight supported by the water around you. He doesn’t ask questions nor complain, only pulling you in closer, and when you feel him harden against you, there’s no pressure to address it.

When that only makes each kiss feel even more intimate somehow, it starts to dawn on the edges of your mind that you may be well and truly fucked.

After three days of more torture, you have just about reached your limit. You thought Eric would have calmed down after the initial fight, but it seemed to instead just put him on edge the whole time – you and the others quickly realise he is not about to pull that stick out of his ass until you get that win against Stray Kids, and if the next round is still in another three days, then to hell with all of you in the meantime.

Usually, you would just fuck it out. Shockingly, having an outlet for all the pent-up frustration does wonders for trying to sort out problems, but you can tell it’s different this time; even if Eric did let you sleep with him, you aren’t entirely sure he would calm down completely. Still, selfishly enough, you could do with it for the release on your end, as your other physical outlet being dance is no longer cathartic when it’s the cause of half your frustration.

At this point you would have just grabbed one of the other members after practice, but morale is at an all-time low and everyone just seems tired. Eric has always been the energizer of the group, and you realise just how much you all relied on him now that he’s no longer filling that role. Even Wooyoung and Sunwoo’s attempts at joking around and lightening the mood have been falling a little flat, and you can see the toll it’s taking on them too. Tension lingers in the air even when you are not fighting, and as nice as the view of the Sohn’s lakeview lodge is, all you’ve wanted to do since you’ve arrived is get out.

The reception isn’t the best out in the woods, so you find yourself climbing one of the tall, sturdy trees by the lodge to see who you can call. Not necessarily for a booty call, maybe sort of a booty call, but more importantly just someone to talk to who isn’t your band; though you quickly realise how few people you actually talk to outside of your band. Most are friends or acquaintances from within the industry, and the last thing you need right now is to spread gossip about your own band to the event organisers, or worse, your competitors – but as you scroll through your messages, something about the latter sticks out to you.

You call Lino.

The idea is not your best one, you have to admit, but you’re definitely intrigued to find out what kind of metaphorical ditch you will wind up waking up in by doing this. Your last interactions with Lino made it very clear the way he operates – it’s a trade-off. He is not beyond gossiping about his own team, so if you pry well enough, you can get something juicy – the caveat being, he remembers everything you say as well, and will use it against you. Which only makes this idea even worse the more you think about it, since it would not take much for him to smell blood in the water and something like a fight among your band would be far too easy to prey on, but you already pressed call.

You are not exactly known for your good life decisions.

“Hello?”

The voice that picks up is already a lot warmer and richer than Lino’s light and airy voice, which raises every alarm all at once, but it’s definitely not a recognisable enough voice to match a face to. One of the other lost kids, that much you can tell, but that’s it.

“He…llo? This isn’t Lino.”

A laugh filters through the receiver. “No, it’s not. I stole his phone and he still hasn’t noticed yet.”

Whoever this is, you like him already, you decide. That’s the kind of mischief you can get behind.

“Wow. And who might this be? Another stray kid?”

A tongue click. “That’s right. Makes me wonder why my beloved hyung is getting a call from the enemy.”

The reference to you as an enemy has you not knowing how to feel about it. The same term has left your lips about them on more than one occasion, but perhaps part of you has always been aware of how one-sided your feud with them really is, though, you suppose with your tendency to meddle and pick fights, that’s been quickly fixing itself. You can acknowledge you have been creating drama, but to hell with it, you think. You’ve meant every damn word you’ve said this whole time.

“Heh. Well that’s for me to know and you to wonder, hmm? What makes you think I’d tell you? I don’t even know who you are.”

You hear the ping of him turning his camera on, and pull your phone back from your ear to see a familiar enough face staring back at you. Now the fact that you didn’t recognise him from his voice alone is almost embarrassing – that rich baritone carries their songs, and you’ve done enough internet stalking all of them to know the rest by face now.

“Ah. You’re Seungmin, right?” You switch on your own camera and fix your hair in a way you hope seems nonchalant, but you know it’s a poor attempt to hide the absolute wreck you must look like right now, covered in sweat and hair sticking out in every which direction. “I don’t think we’ve ever actually talked.”

“No, you’ve been a bit too busy digging into my bandmates– are you in a fucking tree?”

You instinctively glance behind you, as if not expecting a tree to be there, when you are, in fact, quite literally, sitting in a tree. The movement is so fast you wobble a bit on the branch you perched on, but it holds steady, and you regain your balance quick enough.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m in a tree. Long story.”

“I got time.” Seungmin’s expression remains unreadable as he pulls the strings of his hoodie and flops backward onto presumably his bed, possibly Lino’s or god knows who else’s, and gets comfortable. “Why you in a tree?”

“Why do you care? I called Lino, not you.”

He rolls his eyes, then flicks the phone camera loud enough to make an audible thwack as if he just flicked your forehead. “No shit you called Lino, this is his phone. But I’m bored, a little nosy, and a shockingly good listener, so I’ve been told, so indulge me a little. If you’re not going to tell me why you called Lino, at least tell me why you’re in a tree, I’m curious now.”

“You’re more interested as to why I’m in a tree than to why I called Lino?”

“Mmm, maybe equally as interested. I just figure you wouldn’t tell me why you called Lino even if I did pry, but I’m gonna just assume it’s a booty call.”

You snort. He’s a little more right than you want him to be, but you don’t know if you want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that yet.

“Well, the short version is that the reception out here is dogshit, so I climbed a tree.” You flip the camera and show him how high up you are, and nearly drop the damn thing however many feet below to a tragic death among the pinecones.

“Woah, nice view!” You flip the camera back around to your face to grin a little smugly. “Surely you don’t live out there in the woods, do you?”

“Ah, no, just out here for, uh… boot camp. Decided we needed to start taking practice more seriously since we have some actual competition this year, so we took the week off work and fucked off to one of the guys’ holiday homes.” You deliberately leave out the part where it’s kind of sort of technically trespassing, despite how curious you are to hear his reaction to it. “Hence. Tree.”

Seungmin nods along, cutely playing with the hoodie drawstrings and pulling them up past his chin with the hand not holding his phone. You’d think he was on FaceTime with someone a lot closer than a near stranger, but you suppose his cute charms just come naturally to him. “Damn, respect. We’ve more or less been doing the same this whole time, but more of us are unemployed than not, so, at least we don’t need to worry too much about taking time off work. Well, in Innie and I’s cases it’s taking time off classes, but, he barely shows up to classes anymore anyway.”

“Y’all studying?” Now that you think about it, you don’t know much about the group’s personal lives beyond Felix and Chan – Felix, obviously from knowing him through Eric since he was still doing his tattoo apprenticeship, and Chan’s digital presence informed you he did music full-time, selling the beats he doesn’t use himself. You remember their friend Jisung being a DJ at parties, and saw him doing music online as well, Changbin too but with less of a presence – but none of them were big enough to explain the ridiculous budget Stray Kids stages have been having. Either the few employed members are raking in dough, or someone comes from money, and you bet your meagre savings on the latter.

“Yeah, I’m studying music, vocals mostly. Also composing, music industry, music history, photography and videography, and Japanese as an elective ‘cause it’s fun.”

“Jesus,” you exhale, “That’s… a lot.”

He chuckles, pulling his hoodie back down to hide his face less. Even in its entirety, you can’t read any of it. “Yeah, it’s good fun.”

You expect him to elaborate on that more, but he doesn’t, making you crinkle your nose. “What about the others? You all students or?”

Seungmin shakes his head. “Nah, just me and Innie, he’s also studying music performance. The rachas – our production line, that is, Chan, Changbin, and Hannie – they all do music pretty much full-time, except Changbin who is also a part-timer at a gym. Personal trainer. Lino’s a viral sensation on YouTube for making cat videos, it’s shockingly enough to pay rent. I’m sure you already know what Lix does, and Hyunjin, well, apparently you know about that too.”

You snicker. “Funnily enough, we found out that one completely on accident.”

“You’d have had to,” Seungmin says slowly with a knowing grin, “We make sure to keep those profiles completely separate.”

Whatever other sentences your mind tried to come up with quickly fizzle out as you process his choice of wording.

“We?”

He laughs, light and melodic, and his face shines with such cutesy innocence you are shocked to hear him allude to engaging in creating such content. “Yeah, we. How do you think he sets up the camera and everything while tied up like that?”

Your eyebrows shoot up at the realisation that Seungmin was the rigger from the one stream you caught, and remembering how intricate the ropework was, you find a sudden deep respect for him blooming as a craftsman.

“Wait, you’re his rigger?”

“I’m his boyfriend, but yeah, his rigger too. So, sorry if I piss you off at the competition and you can’t suck my dick about it, it’s a real tragedy.”

He practically just handed you a formal invitation to think about his dick, so you rip it out of his hands with a sly smirk. “Aw, why not? That’s never stopped Mingi or Wooyoung. You could tie me up all pretty, too.”

Not that it’s a particularly good idea to let a practical stranger tie you up in a full-body rope harness, but you don’t expect him to actually get to that point, more so just teasing the idea. While you definitely expected some sort of reaction, the quirk of his brow and beat of silence is certainly more than you bargained for.

“Y’know, I’m starting to wonder if at this point you just want the whole band as notches on your belt.”

Were you anyone else, that might have even stung, but you shrug it off in earnest.

“Maybe I do. But truthfully, it’s like, ninety-percent more to do with the fact that each and every one of you are smoking hot. Like, I may be cocky and hypersexual, but even I have standards, and you all more than exceed them, so sue me for shooting my shot.”

His eyes widen slightly at that, and you wonder if he doesn’t get told how good looking he is that often. Granted, his face is a lot softer and sweeter compared to the more visually striking faces of his bandmates, but he’s still incredibly handsome by every means of the word. The likelihood of your assumption quickly decreases when he follows it up.

“I can respect that. I am quite a catch, aren’t I?”

You snort, not prepared for his response. “Yeah, I’d say so. So, if you and your prettyboy boyfriend are ever looking to spice things up, feel free to call. On or off camera.”

“Damn, you’re bold.” He chuckles again in what seems to be mild disbelief, to which, he really should have known better, but you suppose you can let it slide on the account that he’s never interacted with you personally until now. “I’ve haven’t had that conversation with him yet, but don’t get your hopes up. He’s quite the possessive type.”

The dopey smile and fond tilt of his head when he says that tells you that he doesn’t really mind that one bit.

“Aw, shame. I was already thinking about all the fun we could get up to together!”

It’s not as sarcastic as you make it sound with your sing-song tone; having already wanted to give Hyunjin hell since that first stream, and almost but not quite regrettably, more after, the thought of teaming up with someone as seemingly sly as Seungmin, to do a number on him was beyond appealing, but you suppose you can’t always win them all. It’s only then what a relevant thought hits you.

“Wait, but what about him and San?”

“Ah.” He at least doesn’t seem surprised to hear about it, so you’re glad you at least didn’t just throw San under the bus with that one. “Hence the yet on the conversation. I don’t know. We were all arguing, tensions were high, he and San grabbed each other by the shirt, he looked at me before he kissed San and right after, too. It felt like he was asking for permission, so I just… I don’t know. It’s not something I’d really thought much about till then, but I was curious. I can’t say it felt right, but I kind of just wanted to watch and see what happened anyway? I probably should have said something to stop them, but I just shrugged and nodded at him, let him decide if he wants to do that. Think I was angrier about it than I thought I was, but with everything going on I couldn’t really isolate that feeling yet. So I just kept arguing.”

At the mention of all the arguing, you’re coldly reminded that the very man you are talking to, probably said some really nasty things about you and the people you care most about, but you shove that aside for now. As aggressive as you tend to be, the long week prior just has you tired of arguing with just about fucking everyone, and you don’t know if you like that that says about you.

As if the situation between the bands couldn’t get any messier, yet more relationships get tangled in the web of drama. You always wonder why people cling so hard to the concept of monogamy when another alternative presents itself, but you suppose it’s easier to avoid the work it takes to communicate with people that much when you can just expect someone to avoid making you feel bad by default. At least this time you aren’t the one at the centre of it, but either way you can’t take all the blame when it takes two to tango in the first place.

“Oh jeez, that’s messy. And you haven’t talked about it at all? It’s been days, dude, why not?”

“Why do you care?” he huffs with a laugh, dryly throwing your own words back at you.

“I’m bored, nosy, and a shockingly good listener,” you retort right back at him. “Indulge me a little, sticking my nose into other people’s drama is a great distraction from my own. Plus, an outsider’s perspective might even be useful, who knows?”

Seungmin’s lips flatten into a line, staring up at the ceiling past the camera and debating it internally before rolling onto his side with a sigh. He looks so cozy, wrapped up in his hoodie and now snuggled up to a big fluffy pillow he rests on, his other hand propping up his phone to give you the perspective of two close friends talking at a sleepover, and not rival strangers, just one of which sitting atop a random ass tree.

“I feel like I’ll regret this, but, well, suppose you’re the only one I can talk to who doesn’t know either of us well enough to be biased, so… sure. Though there’s not much to be biased about actually. I don’t think. Basically he just… I thought he was gonna talk about it afterward, but instead he just ended up getting noticeably more possessive… like, needs to be clinging to me at all times, glaring at everyone else who tries, referring to me as his boyfriend more than usual. I’m not sure what’s up with that, since he’s the one who slept with San, but we’ve been too busy and stressed with practice to really have a chance to talk about it yet.”

“Ah.” You nod along, figuring that they must be taking the competition just as serious as your band is to come up with such show-stopping stages, so you relate to the stress that would probably make it a bad time to have such a conversation. “That’s rough. How do you feel about it all, though?”

Seungmin has to stop and think about it for a moment, shoving his face deeper into his fluffy pillow and looking down at the sheets instead of his phone screen. “I… I think I’m more upset that he’s acting so strangely about it than the fact that he did it in the first place. Makes it look like he feels guilty about doing it and is tryna be extra possessive to make up for it, or something, which… means he must’ve felt like he was doing something wrong when he did it. I don’t think it’s technically cheating, because he did pause to check in with me and he wasn’t trying to hide anything, but… we probably should’ve actually talked about it first.”

“Yeah, you can say that part again,” you huff. “Shockingly, sitting down and talking about your issues tends to solve them. Most of the time.”

He seems to be able to read through your tight-lipped expression, looking back up at the camera again.

“Something tells me the drama you’re distracting yourself from with mine, wasn’t solved that easily.”

“Yeah, well.” You pause, trying to think of how much you would be willing to share with the other team, considering you have no idea if Seungmin is the type to run his mouth or not. “It… yeah. Not that easy this time, unfortunately. Our plan B – or, plan A, sometimes, honestly – is usually to just. Fuck out all our emotions then talk about it calmly. But this time the hurt person decided to revoke that, well, technically he said he wouldn’t bottom for us anymore so maybe that still is on the table, but it just feels different. I don’t think he wants to go about it like that this time, and our other attempt didn’t work either and just made us even more tired and wired and I’m reaching my limit with these guys. Probably would do me some good to take a drive back into town, but I’m not sure what I’d do there. Work a shift at the Prism, maybe try go home with a stranger? I dunno. I’m not as keen on hooking up with strangers anymore, they don’t always like the same things I like and usually aren’t as down to sit down and talk about it beforehand so its just mid. But my other physical outlet has always been dancing, which, is all I’ve been doing lately and half of why I’m so frustrated.”

He nods along much like you did, humming at certain points to indicate his attention. “Right. So you just want an outlet for all that frustration, huh?”

“Basically. Or maybe just a break. Who knows.”

“I like boxing as an outlet,” he suggests helpfully, “Helps to print out the face of whoever you’re pissed at on a punching bag.”

“Ooh, that sounds good,” you hum, already thinking of which photo of Eric you should print out. You aren’t sure if Seungmin is extending an invitation or not, but either way it’s a good suggestion. You decide to throw out a line, just in case, and see what he does. “Doesn’t punching something over and over get kinda boring, though? Suppose that’s what you get a sparring partner for though.”

“Does fucking someone over and over get boring?” He asks cheekily, and you certainly were not ready for that response, so you splutter.

“Does- no, of course it doesn’t get boring. Not when your partners are hot and good at what they’re doing and – lets just say, we spice things up enough to keep things exciting.”

“Like what, jacking off to Hyunjin’s streams?”

“I guess, yeah. Among more exciting things. You’re not the only rigger around, y’know.”

Seungmin smiles and runs a hand through his hair, exposing his forehead more, which frames his features a lot differently; you start to get a glimpse of what you think Hyunjin sees before his streams in the was he grins so deviously at you. “Are you trying to one-up me?”

“In what, being a kinky freak?” you snort, not really seeing how even this is meant to be a competition, even if it did, admittedly, kind of feel like it. Just talking to any of the Stray Kids at all seems to draw out your competitive streak. “I mean, I reckon I’d have a fair run at topping it, but I’m not gonna pretend I’m the kinkiest degenerate in town. That’s Wooyoung for sure.”

He laughs and it’s shockingly melodic, which is a little unfair to all the people who laugh like they’re dying. “Really? Now that’s be interesting, who has the more questionable Pornhub search history, Wooyoung or Hannie…”

“Wow, way to rat out your own,” you chuckle, and you find yourself really enjoying your interactions with this Seungmin guy. He seems pretty alright so far. “Found him stumbling out of my apartment last week when I got home after the last round. Sunwoo sure did a number on him.”

“Yup, and he hasn’t shut up about it since,” Seungmin drawls with what seems like a rather fond eyeroll. “I think he saw God that night. Changbin is pissed about it. Thinks he’s stooping too low, or something. I wonder what he’ll think about you and Chan?”

Static sounds play in your brain until you can catch up with him. “He doesn’t know about me and Chan? You know about me and Chan?”

“Uh, yeah, genius, you were both at each other’s throats last we saw you and then you were both gone. Not rocket science. Chan isn’t blabbing, if that’s what you’re worried about. Though I kind of wish he would. How was it? I hear he’s a real romantic, but I have my bets on him being quite the tease.”

“You spend this much time thinking about what your homies are like in bed?”

The no-hesitation response sends Seungmin’s eyebrows shooting upward for a split-second, and a slightly twisted sense of satisfaction fills you at being the one to have a gotcha moment with that one, rather than being on the other end. You don’t like the realisation that more than one person has tried to call you out for that. You try not to think about it.

“Just… curious, I guess. It just comes up in conversation sometimes! It’s not that weird. You can tell me. I’m sure I can nag it out of him later, anyway.”

“Last time I shared anything juicy with a stray kid, he used it against me,” you hum, sounding less hurt and more amused at whatever he’s playing at. “Surely I get something just as interesting in return, as a guarantee, of sorts?”

Seungmin thinks about it, stroking his chin through a comically big sweater paw. “Not sure what kind of dirt I could give you. My boyfriend’s cock and hole is on the internet for everyone to see, you can gage a pretty good guess of what we get up to behind the screen based on what he does on the screen. I don’t really have much to hide.”

“Dirt on the others, then? You mentioned Han’s search history…”

“Ah, our Jisungie,” Seungmin coos, a smile taking over his face again at the mention of his bandmate. “Suppose I could throw him under the bus a little more. I think he’d like it if I did, honestly. Humiliation kink n’all that. Not that he’d admit it. But he doesn’t have to, it’s written all over him and the guys he likes. Hell, the girls too. If you teased him about it, it’d probably make his dick hard.”

“Really now? Oh, now that is so enticing… how bad is he gonna kill you for that one?”

“Really bad,” Seungmin chortles, muffling his laugh behind his sweater paw. “He gets worked up pretty easily, but cools down just as quick, only to fire up again as soon as you prod him. We used to fight a lot, when the band first got together, but I think we’re past that now. Since meeting you guys, though, it’s like his diss track era all over again… it’s been fun how angry he’s gotten over it all, and now he’s just angry at how good Sunwoo was in bed. It’s so cute. Seeing him get all competitive is also cute. He gets flustered easily, but then he’s surprisingly witty. Cocky, too. Haven’t seen that side of him offstage since he was still beefing with Hyunjin.”

He clearly has no idea how much material he is giving you to work with, probably thinking the humiliation kink was the meat of the information, but you absolutely soak up the details on how this man reacts to things. You won’t be caught off guard, not by him or anyone else on that team, and you are increasingly confident that the next round will absolutely rip them a new one.

“Is that so… alright, I’ll bite. Chan… is a lot crueller than he seems. But I can see how he’d be the romantic type in any other situation… I think I bring out his mean side, though. It’s pretty fun,” you muse, to avoid saying it’s pretty hot instead. “He’s very… patient. Frustratingly so. Not as much of a pushover as I thought he’d be.”

“You’re being awfully vague on purpose,” Seungmin points out blankly, “so I’m going to assume it was hot as fuck and he fucked you so good you’re ashamed to admit it.”

You really don’t like how fucking perceptive he is, you decide.

“Well, I’d definitely go with him another round.” You try to sound nonchalant as you shrug and act unbothered, because if your assumptions are right, he will go running to Chan as soon as you hang up the phone. “Next time though, it’ll be at my place on my terms. We’ll see how long he lasts.”

You hear the filtered sound of the door opening, and Seungmin stiffens, but grins. “I’ve heard all I need to hear. Lino just got home though, so I gotta dip– DM me if you wanna spar sometime. I think it’ll be fun to punch you.”

“Hey!”

He hangs up, and you’re left sitting in a tree with more questions than you have answers for. Your body aches as you make your way down the tree to head back for dinner, then practice, then sleep, then even more practice, and you wonder if you’ll have time to drive back into the city to try boxing somewhere in between. Probably not.

You get the feeling this won’t be the last of your interactions with Seungmin regardless.

Arms wrap around your waist from behind, suddenly finding yourself pressed back against someone’s firm chest. You look down at his hands, listen for the scuffles of the others’ feet on the dance floor of the practice room and voices talking, then chuck out a guess without turning to look at the mirror.

“Sunwoo?”

“Gotcha.” He pulls you back, out of the room into the sunlight and the refreshingly cool breeze of the woods. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you. We literally live together!”

“Yeah, that makes it really fucking easy to tell when someone’s avoiding you.”

Have you been avoiding him? It definitely has not been a conscious attempt to do so, but you suppose the urge to avoid his intense gaze has probably resulted in you avoiding him somewhat altogether. You aren’t sure what to tell him.

“I haven’t been trying to avoid you,” you mumble, slumping back into his embrace so he has to practically hold your entire body weight, leaning back on the outside wall of the rec room. “But I guess I’ve been doing it unintentionally. I’m sorry. I’ll stop now.”

“It’s okay,” Sunwoo hums, resting his chin on your head. “You gonna tell me why, or nah?”

“I think you know why,” you mutter, glad for how he holds you from behind so you can stare out at the scenery around you rather than have to meet his eye.

“Humour me.”

“I don’t think I will, Sunwoo,” you sigh, exhausted from this game of cat and mouse you’ve been playing. “There’s just. A lot going on, right now. I’m tired. Stressed and tired.”

He accepts your subject change gracefully, hugging you tighter and humming in agreement. “I could tell. We all are, but you seem to be taking this all the worst after Eric.”

You snort. “Really? So why aren’t you comforting Eric about it, then?”

“You saw how he is. I don’t think he wants comfort from any of us except Kevin until we bring home another win.”

“I really thought this would help him,” you confess, voice small. It makes you ache a little. “It seemed like the perfect idea. Give him a sense of control and respect and trust in us again, focus on our art, kick some ass. I just didn’t expect him to kick ours.”

He chuckles, and you feel it rumble in his chest against your back. Grounding. “Yeah, me neither. That’s why I’m leaving that one to Kevin and coming to you instead.”

“Well, thanks.” You twist around in his arms to give him an appreciative peck to the lips, then immediately twist back around towards the scenery at how just seeing his face up that close again made your heartbeat faster. His presence feels so much more intense since that conversation, which is likely why you ended up being so avoidant.

“Turn around and look at me.”

“Huh?” You do, withholding the urge to visibly gulp at the way he smirks down at you and cups your cheek.

“You’re really cute when you’re too flustered to look me in the eye. Have you been having feeeelings about me?” he teases, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and fizzling out the last coherent thought you had in your brain.

“It’s– It’s a feeling alright,” you stammer, trying so hard not to shy away from his gaze. “One of them, for sure.”

“Mm, I wonder which one,” he presses further, leaning in to dust kisses along your jawline, stopping at your neck just to breathe over it. “But you don’t even know that for yourself yet, do you?”

You shiver, clutching tightly at his hips. “I– I don’t know. Everything has been so insane lately and I don’t wanna add to all that at such a stressful time for everyone, y’know?”

He pulls back with a sympathetic smile and strokes your hair. “This is the most stressed I’ve seen you in a while. Been waiting for you to ask me or the others to help you do something about it, but you haven’t. Why?”

Perceptive as ever, Sunwoo sees right through you like fucking glass. To a point where it would be almost humiliating if it weren’t exactly what you needed a lot of the time. “Because everyone is tired and sore and needing to be in tip-top shape if we’re gonna endure any more of Eric’s boot camp hell. This is the kind of frustration I’d take out on Wooyoung that’d have him sitting on a bag of frozen peas and calling out of work for the night.”

“Ooh,” Sunwoo chuckles with a smirk, “that frustrated, huh? Well, I don’t enjoy pain that much, but I can fuck the frustration out of you if you want—”

“Tempting as that sounds,” you muse aloud with a click of your tongue, “I don’t wanna put your body through any more stress than Eric already is. You’re not a dancer, you must be sore all over.”

“I am,” Sunwoo confesses, “But I don’t need to exert myself. C’mon, you needa de-stess.”

“Sunwoo…” A smile is already tugging at your lips however, and you both know you don’t have it in you to deny him.

“C’mon.” He has a cheeky grin as he waddles you down the hill with him back towards the lodge, ushering you to his room. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

He’s confident. He always is, never failing to lure you in and get you where he wants. If that happens to be his bed, then in his bed you will be, trapped in his embrace on the edge of the bed, right in front of a full-length mirror. Sunwoo is a bit vain like that, or perhaps just voyeuristic. Probably just voyeuristic, if the way he left the bedroom door wide open is any indicator, but such isn’t uncommon when it’s only the band around. This time, at least, the lodge seems empty.

Sunwoo takes his time kissing along your neck and trailing his hands along your body, under your clothes, and you sigh and lean back against him, letting your eyes flutter shut and focus on the feeling of his plush lips and calloused guitarist’s fingers. There’s no rush. You know he could do this all day, and it has you relaxing into it so much you jolt and gasp when he bites down on your neck just as hard as you like it. The dark chuckle he lets out at your whine is telling; he has you right where he wants you, playing your body like a fiddle.

He turns your head towards him and pulls you into a heated kiss, slow yet eager, savouring every brush of lips and taste of tongue. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world and he wants to spend all of it just feeling you against him, your lips on his lips and your skin under his palms and his hardness against your back when he pulls you closer.

A hand slips down your pants but not past your underwear, simply cupping you there, idly teasing as he proceeds to kiss you, and you find yourself subtly shifting your hips up into his touch for more pressure. You know if you tried to egg him on any further he’d pull away immediately, so your keep your hands firmly planted on his thighs encasing yours, giving them an encouraging squeeze.

“Want more, baby?” he breathes into your ear, the air making you shiver.

“Please.” You don’t have the energy for his teasing, or any of the usual back and forth. You’ve had enough of that lately, and at least with Sunwoo, you don’t feel too embarrassed to beg. “Just touch me.”

“Your wish is my command, prince.”

His hand finally slips into your underwear and touches you where you need him most, gathering your wetness on his fingers and slowly circling your clit. Too slow. It does it’s intended purpose of riling you up, but you don’t need to be even more riled up right now, you need to let off steam—

“Relax,” he murmurs when your hips buck up more into him. “Just focus on feeling all of it, okay? You’re gonna tire yourself out quickly if you’re that eager.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, slipping a finger into you and replacing its spot on your clit with his thumb.

“Sunwoo, please,” you beg again, and you see him smirk down at himself in the mirror. That little shit. He’s enjoying your desperation a little too much for someone who claims he just wants you to relax. “I need more.”

“Well, shit,” Sunwoo hisses, slipping a second finger in and finally quickening the pace and pressure of his fingers, your body singing under his onslaught. “When you ask that prettily, how am I supposed to deny you, mm?”

Your head falls onto his shoulder, just in perfect range for him to start sucking on it again, no doubt on his way to leave a very visible mark behind. “Y-You don’t,” you manage to gasp out, and he smirks against your skin.

“Don’t get too used to it, prince. You might find me feeling a lot more cruel another day.”

You want to groan out, I know, but his fingers working their magic don’t let you, and you honestly welcome the way it makes your mind go blank, watching him through the mirror looking so focused and so into making you feel good, completely ignoring himself. Your eyes flutter shut just as you are interrupted by his phone ringing.

“Motherfucker—”

“Shhh.”

He doesn’t remove his hand from between your legs as he uses his other one to grab his phone from his pocket and answer it, lazily drawing circles on you with his thumb while grinning at you in the mirror. You know you’re trapped now, because you can’t quite recognise the muffled voice on the other line, and if it’s someone important, possibly even related to the band, you can’t risk ruining it for him by making a sound.

“Oh? No, I’m not busy,” he lies smugly, making direct eye contact with you while he says it and slipping in another finger. “Why, I didn’t expect you to call so soon. Missing me already?”

Your eyebrows raise at that comment, noticing the flirty lilt in his voice and trying to figure out who the fuck he would be talking to like that. It doesn’t sound like any of your bandmates, giving he wasn’t expecting the call, unless it was maybe Eric? You mouth him the question, but he pointedly ignores you and resumes curling his fingers in you so deliciously you have to bite your lip to stay quiet.

“That’s so pathetic it’s cute,” he giggles, and now you’re even more curious. There’s no way it would be Eric, not in the mood he’s been in, you think he would punch something if anyone tried to call him pathetic right now. “Oh, you poor little thing. I’m out of town right now, so you’re stuck there on your own.” He clicks his tongue at the other person’s reply. “I meant I wasn’t too busy to hear how you’re touching yourself for me and the things you’re thinking about me in explicit detail, so do go on.”

You widen your eyes again, pulse thrumming with the excitement of how dirty it all is, and with Sunwoo’s movements quickening you only hope that whoever’s on the other end of the line can’t hear your breathing quicken with it. Or maybe you hope they do.

He suddenly stops as the other person keeps talking, and next thing you know he’s propping his phone up between his face and shoulder and pulling at your pants. When you start to shimmy them off, he reaches for his own, pulling them down just enough to let his cock spring free, already dribbling precum.

“What am I doing? What do you think I’m doing, cutie? I’m taking my cock out. You sound so fucking delicious for me, baby.”

You don’t need to be told what to do, shifting back to meet him and hovering over his length, earning a hiss from him as he leans back and lets you rub the tip against your entrance. “Yeah? You gonna take me?” he pants into the phone, meeting your eye in the mirror as he says it. You sink down on him all at once and the moan he lets out is a guttural one. “Fuck, good boy.”

You hear a whine on the other end and it’s so tempting to just snatch the phone out of his hand and put it on speaker, let you in on the action too, but it doesn’t take long for him to practically read your mind and do it himself.

“Oh? You want to show me? Let me see your cute little cock then, princess.”

“Fuck,” the voice on the other end whimpers, broken and airy, and it becomes a video call request that he accepts with only audio on his end first. You aren’t sure who you were expecting to see, but when the screen comes up with the same man who you met stumbling out of your apartment last week, leaning back on the bed with cock in hand, ass plugged with a pretty pink gem, and a thin sheen of sweat sticking a few strands of his long, silky hair to his face.

“Mmm, so pretty for me, Jisung-ah,” he coos, voice shaky from how you slowly move up and down on him – or try to, but he stops you with his free hand and gives you a stern look you know is because he wanted you not to do any of the work. “You like showing off for me?”

He nods profusely, fucking his fist and scrambling down to reach for the plug to fuck it into his hole too. “Love it, love your eyes on me, fuck, wanna see you too, please, I bet you look so hot right now hyung…”

As far as you know, the two of them are the same age, and you suppose that’s why the honourific brings such a smug look to Sunwoo’s face. “’Hyung’? Not wanting to be my pretty little princess anymore, hmm?”

Jisung whines again even more needily, the lighting in his room is dim through the closed curtains but just enough evening sunlight peeks through to reflect off the wetness oozing from his tip as he lazily strokes it. “A-Ah, c’mon, please…”

“Please what?”

He shifts around on the bed a bit with his eyes squeezed shut, pulling an arm over his face to hide in his elbow while he mumbles, “Please, oppa.”

“That’s a good little girl,” Sunwoo rasps lowly, the praise making Jisung’s ministrations quicker, and you have to bite your hand to muffle a laugh at the sheer humiliation of it all, and just how easy it was. How perfectly pathetic. “Want me to put on a show for you?”

You know the real question he’s asking and to whom; do you want him to see us like this? You nod at him through the mirror and tap the camera icon for him, pointing the camera ahead so you he could see you both.

“Good thing you caught me at such a good time, then. You have such a good show to enjoy.”

Jisung freezes up, eye blowing wide at where his phone is propped up on something in front of him, and for a second you think he’s going to dive for it to hang up but instead he throws his head back so hard against the headboard you think it would have hurt, gasping and whimpering as he comes all over his fist, hips thrashing wildly and thick ropes of white painting his slutty little muscle tee, even from where it’s pulled up over his abs.

“What the– what the– what the fuck, Sunwoo!” he whines, still frantically jerking his cock and twitching violently at the overstim, burying his cute little face in his arm again, too embarrassed to face you himself but not too embarrassed to cum to it. Or maybe it was the embarrassment that made him cum in the first place. “You– you said you weren’t busy–“

“I never said I was alone, baby. Besides, we weren’t busy. Were we, prince? Just hangin’ out, right?”

“No, not busy. Just relaxing.” You flash a smarmy grin right back at him, grinding down on his cock with an over-exaggerated sigh, throwing your head back onto his shoulder again and spreading your legs to make sure Jisung was getting a nice view. After all, he deserves a treat for the humiliation the two of you just put him through.

“You– You’re a dick,” Jisung pants out, slowly pulling his arm away to pull his boxers back on. “Can’t believe you made me say that in front of him–“

“You love my dick,” Sunwoo sassed him back, passing you the phone so he could grab your hips and take over, pulling you up and thrusting up into you slowly. “Needa split you open on it again. Maybe they can watch. Don’t worry, they didn’t hear our whole conversation, only the video call – I’m sure he’d love to see it for himself instead, though.”

You moan, rubbing yourself as Sunwoo bounces you up and down and trying to keep the camera steady, “Oh, fuck I sure would. Would you be my good little girl, too?”

“You’re both so mean,” he complains again, and you find yourself quite liking the little pout on his face when he does it. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away, however, reaching forward to grab his phone from whatever it was propped up on his bed to get a better look. “Fuck… you look so hot like that though…”

Showing off a little more, you pull yourself off Sunwoo so Jisung could see his cock in all it’s glory, thick and veiny and oh-so-picturesque, and simply rub your pussy against it, both gasping when your clit and his head collide.

“Fuck, hold on,” Sunwoo mutters, reaching down to his luggage on the floor and rummaging for a bit before pulling out a sleek bullet vibe and turning it on, pressing it to your dick and slipping back inside. You both groan, as Sunwoo angles the vibe so he could feel its vibrations against his shaft too, and starts fucking into you with reckless abandon. “Shit, baby, so good–“

“Hah– thought you said you wouldn’t exert yourself– woah, slow down, I can’t keep the camera steady,” you huff, Sunwoo reluctantly obliging and taking the phone away to prop it up on the dresser and change it to the front facing camera towards the bed, pulling you back down with him and bending you over.

“Fuck that,” he growls, all his patience from before melted away with every rough snap of his hips, “I’m gonna fuck all that stress outta you, I’m gonna fuck you into this mattress even if it fucking kills me tomorrow.”

You are reduces to cries instead of words as he does exactly that – frankly you have no idea where all this energy comes from after a long day of dancing, but you figure he won’t have his usual stamina this time – craning your head over your should to peek at his phone on the dresser, where Jisung watches with his lip pulled between his teeth and an obvious shaking from below the screen.

“Let us see,” you gasp out, eyes rolling back into your head as Sunwoo angles his hips just right and makes you see stars, but you force yourself to focus on the screen just enough to see him lift his phone higher and reveal him stroking his cock again, still covered in cum, cutely small in his hand.

“Y-You guys are so fucking hot it’s unfair,” he sighs, body twitching hard enough to shake the camera with every other movement. “Can’t believe you fuck raw too. Do you cum inside? Can I see it? Please, wanna see him dripping, fuck, wish that was me.”

“Yeah? Wish this was you, huh?” Sunwoo pulls you up on your knees with a firm yank on your hair, pulling a moan from you, and you don’t have much of a choice but to let him use you as he wants as he fills you up so fucking good. “Want me to cum in your ass and knock you up, huh? Want me to breed your cute little hole? Ooh, he clenched around me at that, I didn’t know you liked that one, prince.”

You whine a little in embarrassment, but mostly hold it together. “Y-Yeah well, it’s a new one,” you mutter, grasping for anything to ground you as Sunwoo keeps you propped up, but as soon as he lets you back down to lean on the mattress again, the vibe is back between your legs and you whimper.

“Cuuute, see, you’re not the only one who has embarrassing kinks, Jisung, looks like both of you wanna be all knocked up, hm? Want me to put a baby in you, baby?”

“No,” you rasp, ignoring the way his words send a wave of heat down south anyway. “Wanna put a baby in him.” You point towards the camera, and Jisung whines so erotically you think he would do just as well on cam as Hyunjin or San would.

“That’s so fucking hot fuck– please, please, please, breed me, knock me up, both of you, fuck…” He’s fucking the a dildo in his ass now, so frantically it keeps slipping out, “Need you both inside me, fuck, get me pregnant…”

The two of you chuckle at how far gone he is, willing to say all these embarrassing things so openly to the same people he spent so long arguing with the other week, that bitter resentment warped into something else entirely and were you not getting your brains fucked out you would want to ask Sunwoo how the fuck he did it, but he seems intent on not giving you the chance to form a proper sentence.

“Fuck– yes– shit I think I’m gonna–“ your breathing quickens, your core tightens, and one strangled groan from Sunwoo behind you and another few perfectly angled snaps of his hips sends you falling over the edge, the high pulsing through you like electricity.

“That’s it baby, thaaat’s it, fuck you’re so pretty when you cum for me,” Sunwoo mutters, bending over you and tilting your head to steal a kiss as he follows you over, moaning against your lips as he paints your walls white.

Jisung is still panting and fucking himself with his toy while the two of you catch your breath, and the sheer agony on his face is so fucking delightful you find yourself wanting to be so much meaner to him if given the chance.

“No, no, please,” he begs, “don’t stop yet, ahh, I’m close, please.”

He sure seems to love the show, so it’s a good thing you and Sunwoo both love to perform.

“Babe, move with me, lemme get the camera–“

You and Sunwoo both awkwardly shuffle to the edge of the bed where Sunwoo can reach his phone again, taking it off the dresser and flipping the camera back to the front so he can give your little voyeur on the phone a close-up view of where your bodies meet.

“Oh, fuck–“

“Don’t look away for even a second, baby. You don’t wanna miss a second of this.”

Sunwoo slowly pulls himself out, shiny and wet and covered in you, and when you clench down around nothing, he has a perfect shot of his cum dripping from your hole. The sounds Jisung is making on the other end of the line are beyond gone, fucked out and on the brink, and when Sunwoo collects his dripping cum on his fingers and pushes them back inside you, you hear his voice crack.

“Fuck–! Cum- Cumming- fuck…!”

“That’s a good girl.” He puts the phone back in front of you so you both can enjoy the sight of Jisung spilling another load all over his chest, not even touching his cock as he simply milks his prostate with the toy inside him. Sunwoo is even mean enough to take screenshots, and you grin at him, “Send those to me.”

It takes him a long moment to recover from the intensity of his orgasm, chest heaving, covered in sweat and his own mess, but the most dazed smile takes over his features as he covers half his face in disbelief.

“Fuck,” he exhales, picking the camera back up to hover above his face, “You guys are the hottest fucking… most insufferably horrible people I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah?” You raise a brow at him playfully, “Sounds like you like it, though.”

“Yeah, well,” he rolls his eyes, “Unfortunately for me that’s kinda my type. Dick hard one moment, wanting to punch you through a wall the next.”

“Don’t worry, I think Changbin already did the latter part for you!” Sunwoo chips in helpfully, so you elbow him in the shoulder. “See you on the battlefield next time, cutie.”

Jisung snorts, and you see him slipping out of his dick-drunk trance. “Is it really a battle or is it a slaughter?” He catches his tongue between cheekily at that, and you feel heat flare up of a familiarly ambiguous kind.

“We’ll make it a slaughter by the time we’re done with you,” you vow, and Sunwoo has to put a hand on your shoulder to remind you to save it and not get too heated. “You aren’t ready for what we have in store for the next round.”

“More provoking lyrics and slutty outfits? I think I can take it. Yes, innuendo intended, I could and would take you both – now I gotta get cleaned up, so. See ya later.”

It takes a second for you to recover from the whiplash of him bouncing between cocky and confident, and needy and pathetic, back and forth between only a few sentences, but you are quickly starting to understand what Seungmin meant about him. You exchange glances with Sunwoo and shrug.

“Still stressed out?”

“His switch-up at the end wasn’t that good for my stress levels, but I think I’m mostly alright,” you laugh, and Sunwoo laughs with you, then raises a suggestive brow.

“Sit on my face about it?”

“God, you’re the best. I’m gonna suck your soul out your dick about it.”

Eric looks up and all he can see is Felix looking down at him.

He wants to punch a fucking hole in the wall, shatter glass, snap something in half. He does not delude himself into thinking he is not an angry kind of person; he is, and he knows it. Still, lately he finds his nerves have been grated even more than usual, and he’d be a fool to not know why – it’s Felix. Of course it’s Felix. He just didn’t think it’d get him like this.

They broke up on good terms. That’s what he keeps drilling into his own head, over and over like he would forget otherwise. It was a mutual agreement; they weren’t working out. Eric wanted to see Felix a lot more than Felix could see him, and Felix didn’t want Eric to feel like he was constantly being put on the backburner, so they broke up. Figured that it just was the right person, wrong time.

Right person, wrong time.

He keeps telling himself that, over and over, as he goes through the choreography again, and again, and again, long after the rest of the band got sick of his shit and left him in the makeshift studio. He wants to punch the mirror hard enough to shatter it.

Right person, wrong time.

He regrets how much he held onto the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he could wait for him. Maybe there could be a right time, if he was patient. Like a fucking fool, he hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time he held him, kissed him, or touched him again. And it wasn’t – so why does it feel like it only made it worse? Felix was exactly like he remembered, only with more tattoos and piercings, dark hair, a sharper jawline, broader shoulders, and a bit more attitude. But he was still Felix, he was still his Felix, still the Felix who crumbles for someone with lots of confidence, who can’t lie, still the Felix who pokes his tongue in his cheek when he’s riled up, his Felix who’s breath hitches when someone leans in close, who gulps when he’s nervous, who’s voice jumps up in pitch when he gets filled up-

“Missed me that much?”

He keeps playing that night over and over. The song plays again, he twists and turns and jumps and hits, but all he can see is Felix and you all over him. He missed him. He missed him so fucking badly, when he really did think he had moved on. He has you now, he has the band, and that was more than enough for him – he even stopped dating because whatever it is you guys have going on was always just so much better. Hell, even if Felix came crawling back to him on his hands and knees to apologise and asked to get back together again, Eric doesn’t even think he would say yes. Not if it meant giving up what you guys have.

He still fucking misses him.

The choreography is intense. He pops, locks, perfects his body line, practices his flip, lands on one knee just a bit too wobbly for comfort; but while the music still plays, the energetic and intense trap beat Kevin made just for him, he doesn’t get back up. He falls forward, hands on the polished wooden floors, and cringes as it comes back wet – it’s only then when he realises he’s crying. He’s crying onto the floor of his dance studio while his kick-ass battle song plays and he just feels so fucking pathetic, because why is he even crying over this? Why is he crying over someone who was never truly his? Why is he even crying over someone who didn’t even really wrong him?

Not until now, at least. Not in their relationship. Unless the reason he was so busy back then was because he was making another dance crew with his other friends and he decided he would rather give up Force and Eric along with it, like Eric suspects, when if he wanted to sing and rap that badly he knows Eric would have let him join the runaways. He’d even fit with their namesake too, having ditched his family home in the middle of the night as soon as he turned eighteen; he knew Eric would have loved to have him here.

But of course, he was too busy. Not too busy for Stray Kids, just too busy for Force, and too busy for him. As they always were. As everyone always fucking is. History has a habit of repeating itself until you learn your lesson but he just does not understand the lesson needing to be learnt – what does he need to do to make them stay? What does he need to do to be someone’s first priority, to not be constantly brushed aside? What does he need to do to be worthy of the kind of intense devotion he gives everyone he cares about? Eric supposes that was always his weakness; loving more than he was ever loved back. Everyone would love him, but not nearly as much as he loved them, when push came to shove. Everyone except you and the band.

What he just doesn’t get, is why you guys just can’t get that. You seemed to understand enough that coming to participate in a band contest as a glorified dance crew – a dance crew, like the one he left – with his cool new friends when he knew how important the competition was to you guys, was a cold fucking move at worst and a nonsensical one at best. They insulted you, punched you in the fucking face, insulted your work, and you just go and suck their dicks about it? Go and suck Felix’s dick about it? You know what he means to him. You know he isn’t over him. But it seems like just about fucking everybody is willing to bend over backwards for the golden boy and his pretty freckles and award-winning smile that Eric fell for so long ago.

“Fuck. Fucking fuck!”

Eric knows exactly why you like him so much. He knows because he still fucking likes him. He knows because when he smirks at you like that, and he still wants to kiss him too. He still remembers how soft his lips are, and that they taste like caramel because he’s always drinking those sickeningly sweet excuses for coffees that might as well be milkshakes. But he just can’t do it. He can’t just kiss him like they’re still in love when he is coming and taking over everything that was ever fucking important to him. Everything he still cares about. Dance, music, you, his friends. But it doesn’t include him anymore, it never was fucking about him. Not anymore, it’s never about him anymore. Even now, at his family’s holiday house, leading his supposed dance boot camp, the rest of you are in the lodge playing board games without him because you said you needed a break and he’s been pushing you too hard.

If he can keep going, why can’t you? Why is he the only one taking this seriously? What happened to trusting him? You said you let him lead this week so he can see that you trust and value his input, but you guys just aren’t listening.

More than anything, he just wants to go home. He’s tired, mentally and physically, and he just wants things to go back to the way things were before the battle. Home, not the apartment, but in a cuddle puddle with the six of you when none of you are mad at each other, staring at the ceiling while the starry sky projector you bought lights up the room with colour.

But he knows better than to think you will agree to back out now. Hell, as much as he wants to, he wouldn’t let you, either; the controversy has put both you and your rival band in the spotlight like never before, and if you all want to achieve your dreams of being able to do music as a career and tour the world, you need this. He needs this. He’ll be damned if his shady ex-boyfriend gets in the way of that.

No more distractions, he decides, getting up and wiping away his tears. One more time, from the top.

“Eric?”

When he looks toward the doorway and sees the solemn expression Kevin gives him, holding a plate of freshly cooked food in hand, he feels whatever wall he just built up come crumbling down instantly. “Kevin…”

Kevin must be able to tell that he was just crying, because he sets down tonight’s meal on the pool table pushed aside to make room, and sweeps Eric into a crushing hug, which, for Kevin, isn’t the most common of gestures. Eric hugs him back and buries his face in his neck, not wanting to look at him. Not wanting to say anything. Not even wanting to hear anything. Kevin speaks anyway.

“We’re all really worried about you, y’know?”

“Not really,” Eric sniffles, and he hates how pathetic it sounds. “No one’s listening to me.”

Kevin tuts and pulls back slightly to frown at him, but Eric doesn’t look up. He can’t bear to meet his eyes. “Eric, we’re not listening because you’re being unreasonable. The week’s deadline doesn’t suddenly give our bodies any more endurance than they already have. We’re not all built like you!”

“I’m sick of fighting, Kev,” Eric sighs, and Kevin runs a hand through his hair soothingly.

“Then don’t fight. How about we go eat and head to bed early? It’s been a long day.”

Eric wants to argue again, despite just saying he is sick of arguing. He does not want to be coddled like an angry toddler throwing a tantrum, but that’s exactly how he feels; unheard, begrudgingly comforted just so he can calm down and go back to normal. He thinks he wants things to go back to normal more than the rest of you combined. Normal, back when it didn’t feel like all his bandmates were looking so far down at him like everyone else.

He bites his tongue and redirects it.

“How about I eat you instead? To de-stress, of course.”

Please let me have this, Eric pleads silently, hidden poorly behind a weak smirk. He grabs Kevin’s hips and starts tugging him towards the couch pushed up to the side of the room. Let me have you, let me feel you.

Kevin sees his request for what it is; a plea for intimacy, more than sex. A plea for trust, connection.

He sees it for what it is, and with a small sigh, grabs his face and connects their lips.

By the time you and Sunwoo finish cleaning up and re-gaining the feeling in your legs, a bonfire is crackling outside, while Wooyoung and Mingi are manning a fragrant barbecue. Eric being there is a welcome sight – just the fact that he is no longer cooping himself up inside the practice room or his room is already promising, but him being around the rest of the band willingly is even better. You turn to smile at Sunwoo and he’s already smiling back at you – he’s probably thinking the same thing.

“Well look who finally–“ You are cut off by Sunwoo stepping past you and shoving you roughly in the side to sit down next to Eric on a log and clap a hand on his shoulder.

“Glad to see you back, bro.”

Eric smiles.

You can’t even complain at the shove as it was completely called for; Sunwoo is right, what Eric needs now is probably not your usual attitude and instead more gentle appreciation, so you follow his lead and sit on his other side, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Sorry. Missed you.”

He doesn’t seem to need the clarification on what you meant, giving that you have been seeing each other most of every day the whole week, but he returns your peck with a quiet thanks and goes back to staring into the dancing flames.

You have half the mind to leave him alone, since he clearly does not feel like talking, but you figured that if he really wanted to be left alone, he would be in his room or the makeshift studio again, so his decision to be here around you all was deliberate. So you stay next to him, pressed shoulder to shoulder just to give him that grounding point of contact – you’re there. You’re with him, next to him. If he wants to speak, he can, but if he doesn’t, you’ll still be there anyway.

He leans his head on your shoulder, and you feel your heart soar. He’s leaning on you. Both figuratively and literally, he’s leaning on you, he’s allowing himself to be soft with you even if he might still be mad at you. You wrap an arm around his shoulders and press another kiss to the top of his head, to let him know you heard him, even if he didn’t say anything. You hear him.

Sunwoo gets up to grab his food when Wooyoung calls that dinner’s ready, but Eric doesn’t move, and you won’t either until he does, but you give his shoulder a little squeeze.

“You gonna eat anything?”

“Not hungry.”

“Eric…”

“I’ll eat later, I promise,” he insists, taking your free hand in his and playing with it gently, intertwining your fingers. “Just… not right now.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, not wanting to find any more reasons to disagree with him for now. “What do you want to do right now, then?”

He has to think about it, still playing with your hands as he does, and it’s cute how it seems to soothe him somewhat. “I want… to talk this out, or whatever. I’m tired of being angry. I just. Don’t really know how to start.”

You look over his shoulder to gesture to the others to come in, and you all find yourselves seated on the log by the bonfire or the dirt in front of it, not wanting to be any further from Eric than necessary. “Start wherever you feel like, baby. We’re listening.”

He sighs, then tries to gather the words to start, then sighs again even louder. He lets go of your hand to drop his head into his own.

“I don’t know. I’m just, I’m tired, I’m upset, I miss Felix, I don’t want to miss Felix, I’m angry at him for doing this to me, I’m angry that you’re taking such an interest in him, I’m scared of being replaced, and I feel so fucking inferior about everything I ever had any confidence in and I just want it all to stop.”

“Okay, that’s a good start,” you encourage him, stroking his back rhythmically while he let it all out. “I had a feeling it was something along those lines.”

“It’s alright to be scared and angry,” Mingi pipes up helpfully, leaning over to give Eric a reassuring head pat.

“Felix did do you pretty dirty,” Wooyoung adds, to which the others nod.

Eric sighs again, running his hands through his hair. “I’m scared,” he repeats. “I’m scared we’ll lose. And I don’t know how I’ll handle that if we do. Because that’d be… feels almost fucking symbolic, in a way, of him just. Ruining everything I worked towards. That’s why I keep drilling you guys and being even more of a perfectionist than usual and – god, they’re fucking perfect. They’re incredible performers. I still don’t think their act should be allowed as a band but they’re so fucking good at what they do I can’t help but think we can’t really compete.”

“But we can!” San chimes in, shifting closer to make sure Eric is looking at him. “Prior to this week I didn’t even know how to dance beyond a few TikTok challenges, now I’m doing choreography you made for a dance crew! Half of you guys are practically professionals, and this might be one of the best songs Kevin’s produced yet, and the lyrics–“

“Have some more faith in us,” you interrupt, a little too enthusiastic, “we’re fucking good at what we do, too. We won last year for a reason, remember? This stage is absolutely gonna blow their socks off.”

“It’s not you guys I’m really worried about,” Eric admits quietly, still refusing to look any of you in the eye. He doesn’t need to. You already see his real feelings written all over him.

“You’re worried you might fuck up the whole thing.”

His silence is the only confirmation you need.

“Oh, Eric.” You pull him in for a tighter hug, which everyone else joins in until you are all awkwardly hunched over on the log and almost fall over, making you all giggle. “You’re not going to fuck up anything, okay? You’re going to be the star of the show.”

“I don’t know… I don’t think my choreography can match theirs. I’m mostly trained in hip-hop, but Hyunjin adds a contemporary twist to theirs, and Lino has such insane body control and–“

“And you have a swagger onstage that they could only dream of,” Kevin finishes, leaning over to put a finger to Eric’s lips, and he finally looks up from the ground to meet him. “Do you really think band judges are going to be looking for mixtures of dance genres and technical precision? They’re here for the music and they’re here for the spectacle. I’m pretty sure the reason why Stray Kids are getting as far as they are, is more to do with their production quality, live vocals, and stage presence. Are you really gonna doubt us on those fronts? This isn’t a dance tournament.”

Eric doesn’t have a response for that, playing with his own hands as he processes it all, so you take one into your own so he could go back to fidgeting with yours if he so desired.

“You’re right, I can’t doubt your guys’ songs and vocals like that. That wouldn’t be fair. Suppose it also wasn’t fair how hard I pushed your bodies, too.”

“Or your own,” Wooyoung reminds him, getting up to grab a now-cool plate of food to bring back to him and plop it in his lap. “You don’t need to be so hard on yourself, either. Whether or not we win the next round, which I have in good confidence that we will, we are still incredible fucking performers. Stray cats can’t take that from us. It’s not like we can really lose – everyone else in the competition has been an absolute non-event, dude. No one’s talking about them. We’re basically guaranteed second place at the very least, and that’s still a win.”

Eric pokes at the meat on his plate with his fork, trying to muster up the appetite. “I don’t want to be second place to anyone. Not anymore.”

You realise what he really means by that, and he doesn’t mean the competition at all. It was never about the battle, it was about the war – the ongoing war raging in his head of his own self-worth and the way his past threatens it. How he can never be certain that he won’t have to fight for his right to exist, his right to be loved – and you get it. You really do. So deeply, even, that you have bonded over it in the past, and that is exactly how you know that he will stick by you till the bitter end, and you just wish he could feel the same. You sigh and massage the back of his neck.

“Eric, sweetheart, you could never be replaced. Not by Felix, not by the homeless children, not by anyone. We wouldn’t be here right now if you could!”

He seems to only shrink in size as he curls up and munches on his food. “Why are you so obsessed with Felix, then?”

He turns to you.

“Obsessed? With Felix?” It strikes you as a little odd. “What do you mean obsessed with him? He hurt you, Eric. I can’t forgive him for that. You know how ride or die I am for the people I care about and the six of you are at the absolute top of that list. I’m fucking around with him because I want him to feel as small and pathetic as he’s made you feel, and I want it to fucking haunt him how he can’t help but think of it when it’s just him and his right hand. I want to drive him insane until he realises he fumbled the best thing to ever happen to him.”

“And Chan? You seem awfully interested in him too. And how interested he is in Felix.”

You are not sure whether to feel hurt or understanding at Eric’s accusations. You know he’s insecure and you know he needs your reassurance, but you don’t like the way he’s painting you in this whole situation. “Chan has a weak spot for Felix and it’s so easy to prey on. Why wouldn’t I? He’s the core of their group. He calls the shots and it seems like to some degree, everyone relies on him. You destabilise him, you destabilise all of them. Besides, we just have beef from leader to leader, creative to creative. I know we got invested in this whole rivalry for your sake at first, Eric, but it’s gotten pretty personal now. That doesn’t mean we’re moving past you now. It means we’re all taking them on together.”

“You make the battle of the bands sound like some huge psyop mission,” Kevin snorts, finishing off his plate. “We should just not worry about them and focus on making our performance the best we can be. I’m sure Chan and Felix and all of them will leave us alone if we just leave them be.”

“No way!”

You, Eric, Wooyoung, and Sunwoo, all pipe up at the same time, looking at Kevin incredulously.

“I don’t want to leave them alone, I want them to wish they could be us so bad,” Wooyoung huffs, crossing his arms. “C’mon, even you enjoyed putting Jupiter in their places last year. It’s fun to stick it to some bitches who deserve it!”

Kevin goes quiet, then waves his arm dismissively. “Yeah alright, whatever. Have your fun with it then, I guess.”

“Maybe I need to be having more fun with it,” Eric chuckles, poking at his dinner some more. “I mean, tag teaming him at the Prism was pretty fun. I guess I just got… really into my own head about it.”

“Attaboy,” you cheer, giving him an encouraging slap on the back, “that’s the spirit! Obviously you don’t have to fuck around with them if you don’t want to. But y’know. You can always annoy them more.”

“I think I’d rather fuck you in front of them and have them watch,” Eric throws out casually, making your eyebrows shoot up and your still aching core throb. “That’d be pretty hot. Wonder if they’d agree to it, though.”

You shrug. “I dunno Eric, we can be pretty damn convincing, I think. Maybe we should invite them to our dressing room next round. Or something. We’ll work it out. But before we get to any more plotting and scheming… how do you feel? Are you like… okay? Or at least better?”

“Better,” he nods, and you feel reassured in that he didn’t have to stop to think about it. “I don’t know. I know I was projecting my own insecurities onto you guys. And I know I was pushing you guys too far. I just needed to feel… like I held any weight here. Like I was still important to you guys.”

“Of course you’re still important to us,” Mingi breathes out, visibly saddened at the thought that Eric even had to doubt it. “I’m sorry you couldn’t feel it enough.”

“I do now, at least.” He cracks a small smile, and exchanges a knowing look with Kevin that makes you think Sunwoo was onto something when he said he’d let the keyboardist handle him. “I know that was the point of this entire trip. And I’m sorry all I used it for was to try and find ways to prove that you guys didn’t care as much as I did. I’ll stop projecting. At least, I’ll try.”

“That’s all we can ask for, Eric,” San reminds him, getting up to give him another hug. Sunwoo has to stabilise his plate so it doesn’t get shoved off his lap. “You can tell us if you’re feeling bad or insecure about things, y’know? Just please don’t get angry with us. You know we can talk things out calmly and you’re scary when you yell.”

Eric laughs at the audible pout in San’s voice without needing to see it over his shoulder. He pats him on the back affectionately. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll try not to. I’m sorry again. We can take tomorrow off, I think. Enjoy the holiday house while we’re here, spend the day by the lake, maybe. It’ll be fun.”

“Sounds like exactly what we all need!” Kevin agrees, clapping his hands together. “I unironically think that our practice will be even better if we don’t practice for a day. Let our bodies catch up with it all.”

“For sure,” Wooyoung agrees, “it’s always like that. In the meantime, I think we should all take turns schlobbing your knob for being such a great dance teacher.”

That makes everyone burst out laughing, but Wooyoung simply doubles down. “What? I mean it! I’ll give you the sloppiest toppy bro, the Gluck Gluck Triple Twist–“

“I get it, I get it,” Eric howls, trying to recover from the sudden humorous outburst. “God, that gave me whiplash. Yeah, sure, if you’re offering, I won’t say no.”

“It’s whatever you want, Eric,” you tell him, leaning on his shoulder this time, “after all, this is still meant to be your trip.”

The smallest but most genuine of smiles pulls at the corners of his lips, and he presses them to your crown appreciatively. “Thanks. All of you. You guys… mean a lot to me.”

Sunwoo notices the tears glistening on his cheeks before you do, and instantly leans in to kiss them off, and before you know it, everyone is swarming him to try and express their own forms of affection to a point that’s downright comical in it’s impracticality, knocking him off the log in your onslaught of touch and kisses.

“Ahaha, alright, alright! I get it, you guys too– ahahaha, fuckin hell, you guys are too much.”

Once again you hear what he really says, and it’s loud and clear;

I love you all so much.

a/n: i feel like the apologies for the wait get more and more ironic the longer i go between updates, but i really am sorry! 2023 was a year of all time for me and i was just speedrunning life events but it's okay i think im normal now. ish. im writing again at least! i slaved over this chapter for MONTHS because i kept changing it and hating parts of it no matter what i did so i just sat down and finished it and decided i would not proofread or reread at all and just go with whatever i come up with so i can finally get this chapter DONE or else it might have just sat in my wips rotting for another year. so apologies if you notice the dip in quality, but hopefully you wont LMFAOOoo

anyway the questionnaire is still open and even more relevant than ever so any responses are so so so appreciated and help me write future chapters! feel free to fill it out more than once if you have already a while back. LMFAO. anyway. enjoy! happy new year! jskdgfkskdh

#what goes on in neverland #poly stray kids x reader #poly the boyz x reader #poly ateez x reader #stray kids smut #the boyz smut #stray kids x male reader #male reader #transmasc reader #nonbinary reader #kim sunwoo x reader #han jisung x reader #the boyz x male reader #stray kids series #the boyz series #ateez series #diverseinsertsknet #yeah im so fuckin sick of tagging honestly pls just rb i beg

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liiilyevans · 1 year

Text

Singer/Band AU

Part 3.

#hinny #harry potter #ginny weasley #hp #harry potter au #band au #make sure to check out my band au tag #to get the full story

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kimmiessimmies · 5 months

Text

Back to Reality

A subway station in Bridgeport, January 1st

Oof, that's rough. We've all been able to see how these two made the night count, but check-out was at 10, so they're feeling it this morning. That, and, of course, they're returning to their reality, which is a cruel trick I'm playing on them.

Now that this little festive AU thing I did is ending, there's a few things I think I need to say about it all. Especially since I gained a few followers because of my seasonal AU posts (Hi! So happy to see you!) and I guess it's good to point out who these two characters are in the real story.

So, here's James and Sadie, friends and both leads in their band The Hot Wings. They're music students at Honeycomb University and there's... something... between them. There was a lot of built-up tension and eventually they slept together. Once. A lot of emotion followed and while they both claim it's not romantic, I'm not too sure. If you want a quick update on recent events, read Release and Consequences on my WordPress blog by clicking these links. All other past story updates are on my blog too.

In the actual story we're going back to, it's getting close to Spring of 08 (I'll do a post on years and time and all that at some point) and there's a lot to come. For James and Sadie, and for my other characters as well. We have Rachel's Dating Adventure waiting in the wings and we'll be going back to "The Valley" to see how Joshua is doing, among others.

I loved doing this festive AU side story. To escape the writer's block I am currently dealing with and to give "Jadie" a chance to be together for a while. I added in the "I love yous", because they never get to say that in the actual story, other than in a friendly way, and it sort of floats in the air as unspoken words. Them saying it, at the point they did, was something I really wanted to do. To stress that in this AU, they really are both in love and committed to that love.

I was upset the spicy post got flagged though and hope it was just the prude Tumblr bots and it didn't get reported by someone. After all, it was both labelled and tagged appropriately, so if pixel nudity is not your thing, you could have easily avoided it. Also, if I do ever post something that offends someone, please let me know. I'd like to think I'm generally a nice person and quite easy to talk to, so drop me a line.

Anyway, I think the train is coming, so I have to go and make sure James and Sadie get on it. Time to go back to where they need to be. I'm sorry, my lovelies, I'll try to be nicer to you in future. I promise. Maybe.

#Back to reality #atoh au #random rambles #ts3 #the sims 3 #sims 3 #sims story #sadie stevens #james wyler #about the process

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cosmicanamnesis · 1 year

Text

everybody loves a(n as yet untitled) coffeshop au pt. 2

[part 1] [part 3] [part 4] [read on ao3]

“You’re late,” Keith said as Steve came in.

“What? No I’m not,” he said, confused, and pulled out his phone to check the time for good measure. “Yeah, I’ve got like, two minutes.”

“Yeah, I know. Hurry up, though, I need to take my break.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

He quickly hung up his coat in the break room and pulled his apron on so he could take over for Keith before he got yelled at some more. The second he was at the register, the door chimed.

“Hi, welcome in- Oh, hey Eddie. You… Hang on, don’t you normally come in, like, three hours ago?”

“I did, you just weren’t here to see me,” Eddie smiled, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Oh, um. Alright. What can I get you, then?”

“Just a small hot chocolate. Um… Did you know you’re wearing the wrong name tag?” He tapped his chest a couple times in the same spot Steve’s name tag hung on his apron.

“Huh? Oh, yeah!” Steve laughed, grabbing a cup to make Eddie’s drink. “I’m covering for Robin right now. We started doing this thing, ages ago, where if one of us covered for the other, we’d uh… We’d swap name tags. It’s kinda stupid.”

“That’s hilarious, actually,” Eddie chuckled.

“Yeah, we have fun with it. It’s funnier on her than it is on me though.”

“Oh, cause Robin is a kind of androgynous name,” Eddie guessed.

“Yeah, and Steve really isn’t. So, hot chocolate, huh?” Steve asked, changing the subject. “Didn’t expect that one to be yours.” He passed the drink to Eddie at the end of the counter. Eddie smiled, almost laughing as he took it.

“Yeah, I’m not really a coffee guy. Shocking, I know, based on the,” he gestured up and down at himself. He always dressed more or less the same, with big heavy boots and ripped jeans and an old leather jacket with a denim vest on top, covered in pins and patches advertising bands that Steve had never listened to. “Y’know, all of this.”

“Yeah, you don’t really look like a hot chocolate guy. So the whole huge order, that’s for everybody else in the tattoo shop, yeah?”

“Ah huh. I just started apprenticing there, which means I’m the store gopher.”

“The store what?” Steve laughed. Eddie smiled and sipped his drink, still standing at the pick up counter. Fortunately, there was no one else in the cafe.

“Gopher. Like an errand boy. Y’know, hey Eddie, go for coffee, hey Eddie could you go for lunch, stuff like that. Gopher.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever heard that before. That sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“Eh, it’s not so bad. I should probably get back, though,” Eddie said, tapping the counter. “It was good to see you, Steve. Got kinda worried when you weren’t here earlier.”

“What? Why?”

Eddie turned back to him, walking backwards, and shrugged. “You’re my coffee guy,” he said simply.

“Well, just a heads up then, I won’t be here at all tomorrow either,” Steve smiled.

“Alright, good to know. See you around, Stevie.”

Stevie?

“So did you get his number yet, or what?” Keith asked, coming back up to the front.

“Shut up.”

“So, no?”

“Isn’t it, like, unprofessional for you as my boss to be asking me that?”

Keith just shrugged and started wiping down the counters. The bell on the door rang again, drawing both of their attention as Eddie ran back in, drink still in hand.

“Wait, if you’re free tomorrow-” Eddie slammed his hand down on the counter to stop his momentum as he caught his breath. “Do you want to come to a party tomorrow night? It’s not a huge thing, but my band is playing and it’s like, a bunch of their friends, so it’d be cool to have somebody else I know there.”

“Oh! Um. Sure?” Steve said, trying to ignore Keith staring at him. “I didn’t know you were in a band, that’s really cool.”

“Thanks," Eddie smiled like he wasn't actually expecting a yes. "Here, can I put my number in your phone?”

“Yeah, of course!” Steve opened his phone and passed it over the counter.

“Phones are supposed to stay in the break room, Harrington,” Keith deadpanned. Eddie, apparently only just noticing Keith, giggled quietly as he added himself as a contact and handed the phone back to Steve.

“Okay, for real this time, I gotta get back to work. Just text me so I’ll have your number!” Eddie called, again walking backwards out of the cafe. As soon as he was gone, Steve immediately headed back to the break room to text him. He burst out laughing halfway there.

“What’s so funny?” Keith asked.

“Look what he saved himself as,” Steve passed Keith his phone to look at the new contact.

hot chocolate guy

“You want to kiss him so bad, it makes you look stupid,” Keith said, ever unimpressed.

“Appreciate the support, Keith,” Steve said sarcastically, ducking into the back.

He shot a quick text to Eddie as promised and immediately texted Robin after. He didn't expect a reply, assuming she was on her date, but she answered within seconds.

Got his #

who

Eddie, the guy none of you like.

WGAT

WHAT*

FR???

Yeah, he invited me to a party. Apparently he's in a band.

oooo sounds like a date ;)

Stop it. It's not a date.

could be a date ;) ;) ;)

Stop.

"Steve!" Keith yelled from the front. "Quit texting your boyfriend and get back out here! And leave your phone in the break room this time, please?"

Steve huffed and slipped his phone back into his coat pocket so he wouldn't have to listen to it buzz on the table his whole shift.

"I was texting Robin, actually," he said, coming back up to the front. "Dude. There's no one here, why the rush?"

"I like making your life hard," Keith shrugged.

The next time Steve got a chance to look at his phone, he had a text back from Eddie, two from Robin, seven from Chrissy and one from Dustin for some reason.

hot chocolate guy:

Hey, it's Steve!

hey there coffee guy

Robs:

Stop.

you love me

warning: i told chris so she might blow up ur phone

Chrissy (work):

Oh my god Robin said you got whats-his-face’s number??

And he asked you out?

And he's in a band? That’s so cool!!

I take back what I said about not knowing what you see in him.

I do NOT take back what I said about him being weird though.

Oh Keith made you put your phone away didn't he?

I ask as if you could respond if the answer is yes.

Lil Buddy:

hey Steve, what are you doing tomorrow night?

He decided to respond to Dustin's message first.

I'm going to a party. Why?

oh, that's cool. we're throwing a party at the house too, I was going to ask if you wanted to come but if you're busy then don't worry about it.

Let me find out what time the party is, I'll see if I can swing by your place too!

Honestly I'm not sure how long I'll be at the other party, I'm only gonna know the guy who invited me.

who invited you?

Just a regular at work.

the one you have a crush on?

Oh, fuck off. But yes.

;)

Stop. God, you've been spending too much time with Robin.

sounds like a you problem.

Steve rolled his eyes. He loved the kid but god damn was he a handful. He decided to move on before he got sucked into the text-based slapstick comedy that was a drawn out conversation with Dustin Henderson.

He moved on to Chrissy's messages.

Haha, yeah, I did. Don't listen to Robin, he didn't ask me out. He invited me to a NYE party.

How is that not him asking you out?

Because it's not a date!

;)

Jesus Christ, is Robin paying all of you to do that?

Do what?

Nevermind.

He'd see Robin later so he didn't overly feel the need to text her back, instead opting to stare at Eddie's text trying to think of something to say that didn't make him sound desperate or insane. It wasn't going well. Every time he got a free minute, he would type something, stare at it for a while, and backspace the whole thing. By the end of his shift, he still hadn't texted him back.

He and Keith had managed to get the whole cafe clean and ready to close without anyone coming in right after they finished cleaning the espresso machine, which felt like a miracle, and they actually got out on time. As he walked back to his apartment, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out to check quickly as if it were an emergency. It was from Eddie. A somewhat blurry photo of Steve, taken from inside the tattoo shop. Another message popped up as he looked at the image.

saw you :)

Haha, hey. Yeah, I just got off work. Sorry I didn't reply earlier, my boss made me put my phone away.

rude ass

Tell me about it.

so the partys tomorrow at 7. no dress code so just come as you are. i can come pick you up

If anyone asked, Steve wasn't blushing, it was just cold.

You don't have to, I do own a car. I just live so close to work it's not worth it to drive.

good to know. but apparently the neighbors get mad when theres too many people parked on the street so were trying to carpool as much as we can

also its gareths turn to drive the band van and his driving scares the shit out of me

Steve laughed to himself as he climbed the stairs to his third floor walk-up. He didn't know who Gareth was, one of Eddie's bandmates he imagined, but he had friends like that too so he understood. He let Max drive his car one time and one time only, and in her defense they did all get home in one piece, but never again.

Haha, alright, you can pick me up then.

He dug his keys out of his pocket and let himself into the empty apartment. It was a tiny little two bedroom thing, but it was just him and Robin living here, so they didn't need that much space. And despite being a walk-up, it was actually pretty nice. The living room had big windows, they had a balcony, they couldn't hear their neighbor's every move through the walls, it was great.

He tossed his coat over the back of the armchair in the living room, which was the chair's sole purpose, and flopped down on the couch. His phone buzzed in his hand. Text from Robin.

omw home, bringing a friend

if you don't want to hear anything you can't unhear then leave

Gross.

you've been warned. eta 15

Steve didn't really have anywhere to go on short notice. He had half a thought to text Eddie to see if he would be off work soon, but thought better of it. He didn't want to freak the guy out. His phone buzzed again. Speak of the devil and all that.

wyd

Trying to figure out something to do to get me out of the house in the next 15 minutes. You?

getting off work

why do you need to be out of the house in 15 minutes lol

Robin's bringing her date home. I don't want to listen to… Whatever they end up doing.

i thought you were dating robin?

Nah, we’re super platonic. We just live together.

wanna hang out?

Apparently Eddie didn't have the same reservations that Steve did.

-------

Well. That blew up.

Howdy? I'm Lichen. I shipped Steddie so hard it brought me out of a several-year-long writing dry spell. I have this fic in progress and a oneshot series that's like. Halfway done? But I am on AO3 as Lichen_Not_Moss and I've got a few complete fics up right now, so far all for Stranger Things

Ode to the Dungeon Master - <1k words, angst, not Steddie

I'll Come If You Call - 4k, angst, Steddie-adjacent

Brown Eyes, I'll Hold You Near - 132k, all over the place, longform Steddie fic

Tagging (everyone who replied to part one, whatever you asked to be tagged or not:)

@original-cypher @avacrebs @dangdirtydemons @rainydays35 @changenamelater @phantypurple @alienace @renaissan-vvitch @krazyperson @dreammetheworld08

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #text

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liknws · 10 months

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[ 001 ] it's all felix's fault.

⎯⎯ PAIRING: han jisung x reader/oc ⎯⎯ TAGS: rockstar!3racha plus jeongin, non!idol au, lovers to exes to enemies, one tour bus instead of one bed trope, subtweeting but in songs dropped during concerts, right person wrong time, whole lotta angst, lots of anger, mutual pining ⎯⎯ RATING: 18+, mature ⎯⎯ WARNINGS: none this chapter! let me know if i missed any ⎯⎯ WORD COUNT: 3k (3,683)

⎯⎯ SUMMARY: it’s been three years since the break up, three years since leaving the band you helped start, three years since you’ve even talked about your ex. not only have you been able to avoid talking about him, but you’ve been able to avoid him all together. until that same band you helped start decides to change labels and not a single person warned you that your safe place was about to be invaded by three men you’d do anything to avoid.

[ masterlist ]

“It’s not like we’re going to see them all the time.” The words are a mimic of Felix from months ago. Admittedly, he was trying his best to cheer you up and offer some sort of reassurance that just because 3RACHA was joining Shadow Side Records, doesn’t mean that Jisung and the others were going to immediately be forced into your life again.

“This is all your fault.” Seungmin speaks up from the back of the room, zipping up his suitcase for the fifth time. Minho had absolutely insisted on double checking what he’d packed- according to Minho the youngest in the band had a habit of packing no socks but overpacks on shirts. The argument that followed had brought a smile to your face for the first time in days.

“It’s not Felix’s fault. He didn’t use his magic powers to force us to tour with 3RACHA,” Lily interjects. She’s quick to come to his defense, reaching out to hold his hand. “Don’t worry Lixie, no one really blames you.” The softness in which Lily handles them all makes you melt every time and you’re grabbing his other hand. Putting it on your heart, you smile at him fondly.

“I promise, Lix. I’m not mad at you at all. The universe is just a cruel bitch sometimes.” Your reassurance does the trick it seems, the smile that brightens his face and makes the freckles on his skin contrast beautifully against the light flush in his cheeks. “You’re precious and I could never ever be mad at my Sunshine.”

“Instagram Live coming through!” Hyunjin shouts through the door, giving all of you less than a few seconds to scramble to make sure nothing incriminating or spoiler–wise is laying around the room before he’s walking in backwards with the camera pointing at himself. You and Felix are the first one’s in the frame and light up.

“Hi Hues!”Felix greets the viewers with a wave. He was the one to come up with the fan base’s name and you had found it too cute to argue. You and Hyunjin were quick to adopt the name but Minho had taken some convincing. Seungmin had only caved thanks to the peer pressure of the rest of the band. You’re sure he secretly loves it though.

The comments in the video scroll past so quickly that you’re unable to keep up. Hyunjin had taken to livestreaming as often as he could with fans, even if it was just small check-ins and quick conversations. It’s done well for the fanbase, you realize, having them feel more engaged with the band members. You’re almost always in the streams with him, even if you just sit and annoy him while he tries to talk to the fans.

“Who’s ready for the tour? Everyone got their show tickets?” You poke over Hyunjin’s shoulder with a grin, arm looped across his back to cuddle into him. A wave to the camera, you’re laughing at the influx of excitement you can see in the chatters. “We can’t wait to see you guys out there with us.” The excitement of the fans only elevates your own until you’ve forgotten the whole reason for this tour in the first place. For the Hues you could do anything, you would do anything for them. Without them you wouldn’t be given any of the opportunities you had and their continual support is what lets you do what you love everyday.

“Sorry guys, we have to go. Time to hit the road in a bit and I should save Cherry from Lino before he’s stuffed into his own suitcase.” Hyunjin makes a quick sign off before doing just as he said, running to Seungmin’s aid to shield him from an annoyed Minho. You catch the word underwear and immediately decide it’s not something to concern yourself with.

・❥・

Okay, so there is one thing you can’t do for Hues. “I cannot share one bus with them.” Hands slam on the table top, those closest to you flinching a little at the sound of palms slapping as you stand up. You point to the four on the other side of the table. “I agreed to the tour but I refuse to share a space with them.” Eyes cut to your old band, people you once called friends, maybe even family. “Sorry, Jeongin was it? I’m sure you’re lovely and all.” He gives you a sad smile and wow you almost feel bad for lumping him in with the other three. None of it was his fault at all, you didn’t even know him. “But our,” you gesture to your band. “Last two albums went platinum and you’re saying we can’t afford a separate bus?”

“It’s just a few months. It’s not like we’re telling you to move house together.” Lily’s ever patient nature was wearing thin and you could tell by the slight narrowing of her eyes. You’re pushing it by arguing this and there wasn’t a way around it. “The label just agrees that one bus is best right now between the equipment being transported in the other vehicles and the cost of rental and paying a driver plus full time security for the road and any flights.” She puts up a hand to stop your continual arguing, shaking her head. “Trust me, I tried. I really did okay. They’re set on this. Unless you want to sleep with the drums in the truck, you’ll just have to deal. The bright side is that when we stop at hotels they are spending the money on suites for each band so you’ll have that to look forward to.”

“Fine. I’m getting the back room and not the bunks.” Your agreement makes her smile but your declaration of the only bedroom has a few people around the table jumping in to argue. “With Lily! Her and I are the only non-men on the bus and we get the only bedroom with a real door and if you want to argue about it, argue with the fucking wall.” You drop into your seat with a huff, arms crossed as you glare at anyone that might look like they want to argue the point but it’s hard to when the logic is there. The rest of the bus will be full of men, you and Lily deserve at least a little privacy from them.

“With that out of the way- On to the rest of the details. The trucks are being loaded right now. We have all the gear you guys went over with the crew, wardrobe will be at the venues but you’re mostly in charge of whatever you want to wear. You should have all been fitted for your new earpieces.” She looks down at the paper in front of her and checks off things as she goes over them. “So I will be the general tour manager as well as the personal manager for Ultra Violet. Until we can get a manager settled for you guys long term, just come to me for anything you’ll need okay?” She glances between Jeongin, Chan, Changbin, and finally settles on Jisung for a little bit too long before moving on. “Are there any pre-performance or show rituals I should prepare for? Or let the venues know of it?”

“Jisung gets really nervous and needs a group hug right before going on.” You speak up without even realizing it, like an old habit coming back. Nine pairs of eyes turn to stare at you in varying degrees of surprise and confusion. “Unless that’s changed.”

“N-no. I, yeah, I still do that.” He stumbles over his words a bit, blinking in surprise still before looking at Lily with an apologetic smile. “But we have that handled, don’t worry about that.”

“No, it’s okay. If you need anything just let me know. It’s my job, it’s what I’m here for. Anything else?”

“We have a war cry or chant we do.” Chan speaks up, taking the lead of the conversation while Changbin and Jisung huddle back together, sharing whispers. You don’t miss the glances your way from the pair but you pretend not to notice or care, instead just watching Lily and Chan talk about what 3RACHA would need for this tour. Smaller details like diet requirements, allergines, and other arrangements before the checklist is complete.

“Well we have about an hour before we have to hit the road so just be at the busses in the next forty five minutes, okay?” She dismisses you guys and you’re the first to stand and bolt from the room, leaving your conference room chair spinning in the haste of your exit.

・❥・

“Want to talk about that earlier?” Felix lays next to you, arms wrapped around your waist as he cuddles you closer on the bed. It’s been a few hours on the road already, the quiet of the bus is tense and uncomfortable. Your band is mostly unwilling to mingle with the other four just out of solidarity to you, even though you can tell it’s painful for Felix to not be welcoming to the others. Hyunjin too, he’s looked over at the four more than a few times wanting to join in their games.

“I’ve known him since we were in high school, Lix. Some things just stick around, you know? Like his favorite snack is cheesecake, he laughs with his whole soul, and when he’s super anxious he bounces his leg.”

“Those are very specific things to know.” The new voice speaks up, sticking his head in the door of your room. Minho smiles teasingly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “You two aren’t as quiet as you think. We can hear you in the bunks, just so you know. The walls are very thin on this bus.”

Mortified, your face flushes deep red before you’re hiding in Felix’s chest with a groan. Minho laughs and sits on the edge of the bed, hand rubbing on your back as he continues to giggle. “Shut up, Min. I’ve managed to make a fool of myself twice already. This is fucking stupid.”

“I don’t think the others heard you. They’re in the front swapping embarrassing stage stories. I heard something about ripped pants and left.” Both you and Felix erupt in laughs over this, his body shaking yours while he holds you. “Seungmin was roasting Changbin about some voice crack on stage and that’s how it started.” There’s a bit of pride in your chest at that.

“Lily just texted and wanted to talk about dinner plans.” He holds a hand out to you both and hauls you off the bed with a dramatic grunt. The back of your hand meets his chest in a playful hit while laughing. You’re thankful for his steady presence, he’s been there for you since you two had met. His love was a bit different than Hyunjin and Felix but you knew it was there nonetheless. Seungmin, you still questioned every once in a while.

“Thanks for joining us. Changbin was starting to whine about being hungry.” Hyunjin is sitting next to the mentioned man on one of the couches, turning to look at you when the three stepped into the small living room space at the front of the bus. You glance around and notice the only empty seat is next to Chan or Jisung so instead you drop to sit on the floor, back leaning against one of the half walls sectioning off the kitchen.

“Do you guys have any first night traditions for tour?” Hyunjin asks excitedly, leaning forward a little to glance around at 3RACHA. You open your mouth but close it quickly, realizing that it’s not for you to answer and lots of things have likely changed in the three years since you were on tour with them.

“We budget for a huge dinner with the whole crew, any opener that might be with us. Everyone that worked to get the tour started and make it happen.” Chan offers in answer, making her head snap up and eyes go wide. You hadn’t expected that answer at all- you’d been the one to start that. Your first ever tour with 3RACHA years ago, back when the music was still considered underground or indie, when the tour was the four of you in a van and two or three friends in another van with all the instruments.

“Really? We do that too.” Felix is all smiles and sunshine, happy to hear that they have the same tradition. Three sets of once familiar eyes look in your direction, one of them coming with an inquisitive eyebrow raise before looking back to Felix. “They were so insistent on it, saying that the label could take the cost out of their personal earnings but it was their way of thanking everyone they could that supports them behind the curtain.”

“It’s cool to hear that you kept up with that,” Jisung says. He smiles at you, that disarming smile that makes his already round cheeks puffier and you just want to pinch them off his face. You can barely meet his eye and give him the stiffest of nods before looking pointedly anywhere but at him.

“What about getting a few pizzas and we all hang out together? If we’re going to be in a bus together for months without much space, we might want to get to know each other and set up some rules.” Minho is quick to offer, cutting the awkward silence before it could settle over everyone. You’re thankful, shooting him a smile and he just gives you a wink. He can read you like a book, often calls you so easy to read it’s like a picture book.

・❥・

“I’m so serious, Jinnie! If I see one more pair of your underwear on the bathroom floor I will choke you with it.” You’re leaned over, on your knees reaching for him to prove your threat. After getting all the pizzas everyone wanted, you had all agreed to sit on the floor so that everyone could sit to see everyone else. There are elbows and knees invading personal spaces but once the tension was broken with the first joke it all seemed okay for the most part.

“Hues will be devastated to hear the most handsome member died!” He dramatically protests, laughing as he falls backwards to get away from your reach.

You pause, suddenly serious. “I didn’t threaten Minho.” The devious smirk curls up your lips gives away the teasing as you settle back in between Felix and Jeongin, smug at the incredulous look on Hyunjin’s face. Everyone broke into laughter then, the sound loud and full of warmth in the small space.

Lily returns from the driver’s cab of the bus, smiling at all the laughter. “I know everyone’s having fun but there is one serious rule we should go over. Normally this is a private conversation between talents and their managers but since I’m both we’re just going to do it here and rip off the bandaid.”

A few of you groan and fall back, making various half-assed arguments about how she didn’t need to speak it outloud. “We’re all adults and the label understands that things happen. Still, the executives wanted me to make it clear that there can’t be dating or sex between you guys while on tour. Given the,” she hesitates before sighing. “Given the history of the bands, they think it’s best that things are kept strictly platonic.”

You tense at the mention and the laughter dies in your chest. Suddenly the tears in the corners of your eyes aren’t from laughter and they burn more than they did a second ago.

“What you decided to do outside of that, is your decision. Please use discretion and for security it’s not to be brought to the bus. As you know each venue we’re playing more than one night so you’ll have a hotel suite in every city to do what you want, that’s a conversation between you and your bandmates.” Without waiting for a reply, Lily heads back to the driver’s cab of the bus and closes the door so the two bands are left alone. Work mode Lily is a person made of no nonsense but also the most level headed and trustworthy as well. She’ll joke and laugh with you guys through the tour but she won’t let being friends get in the way of her doing her job. You respect the hell out of her for that.

“So that means no trying to kiss Chan, Hyunjin,” Seungmin breaks the silence in the best way he knows how: roasting his best friends. Hyunjin sits up and throws what you assume is a pepperoni at him, shouting about how he absolutely does not want to kiss Chan of all people. “Well don’t kiss me either.” Cue more laughter, though it feels a little empty in your chest. Forced.

Clearly you’re not the only one who thinks so, Felix looking over at you with concern. You shrug, answering his unvoiced question. Looking away from him you finally let your gaze wander to Jisung who seems to have had the same idea. You two catch eyes and you swear your traitorous heart beats a little faster looking into his eyes. He looks like he wants to say something, so you just shake your head ever so slightly to dissuade him to do so.

“I’m going to head to bed.” You want to make a quick exit, get out from under his stare as fast as possible. You can feel it, each time you two meet eyes, the cracks in your heart threatening to grow. You had barely put yourself together the first time, you were still healing from it. To know that he can have you weak kneed with a look and have your heart racing with a smile shakes you, throwing you off kilter. You just needed to sleep, to put space between you two and remind yourself why you left three years ago.

“Actually that’s a great idea. I think we should all go to bed, there’s a lot of work to do in the morning when we get to the first stadium.” Chan is the natural leader, always has been. You remember when it was him directing around your ragtag team and now he seems even more mature.

By the time everyone has settled in their bunks, you in your bedroom, the bus is quiet. The only sounds are the hums of the road, the small fans set in the bunks, and the soft whispers of different conversations. It’s comforting to hear the familiar sounds, to be back on the road doing exactly what you always dreamed of.

There’s a soft knock at your door and you assume it’s Lily checking that you’re still up so she can come get ready for bed herself. “I’m up.” You sit up in bed, flicking on the small lap next to you as Jisung walks through the door slowly. He’s barefaced with glasses on, looking just the right amount of comfortable and beautiful.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“About what?” You're pulling your legs up, gesturing at the foot of the bed if he wants to sit. He declines with a shake of his head.

“I assume that your friends know everything about us-” You cut him off with an affirmation, stating that they do in fact know every detail of you and Jisung’s history. “That explains why Minho looks like he wants to kill me.”

“That’s just his face.” The quip is so natural you don’t realize you’re being comfortable with him until he laughs. “What did you want to talk about? Please, I want to get some sleep before tomorrow.”

“Just- thanks. Thanks for giving us a chance.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking down as he talks.

“Let me be very clear here, Ji. I am not giving you any kind of chance. This tour is good for my band’s career, this situation has nothing to do with you or Chan or Changbin.” You’re trying not to raise your voice. “I was perfectly happy to never have you around again, to never have to speak your name or see you ever again. When I left and closed that door, it was meant to stay shut forever. You hurt me, in ways that I am still healing from and probably will be for the rest of my life. You broke my heart and my trust.”

“I’m so sorry. I never- I didn’t mean to. I promised you I would never hurt you and I still did. I hate myself all the time, every day, for what I did. You deserved so much better than what I did.”

“I do, you’re right. I don’t care about your apology. This isn’t anger, Jisung. This is indifference. You no longer matter in my life. You, 3RACHA, all of it is the past. I’ve moved on.” You don’t realize how raised your voice has become until a few bodies are shoving their way into the bedroom. Hyunjin is immediately at your side, Felix crawling in on the other side of the bed. The two sandwich you in a hug and you relax.

“Come on, Ji. Leave them alone.” Changbin is soft, reaching for his friend’s arm to guide him from the room. He catches your eyes and you know that he sees it, that every word you just said is a lie. You will never be able to stop loving Jisung. You will never move on from the love of your life. The one you were meant to spend forever with. Sealed with a ring and a kiss and your best friends as the only witnesses.

“Angel, why did you lie?” Felix brushes your cheeks, wiping at the tears you hadn’t realized were spilling over your lashes.

“Because if he stops looking at me like he still loves me, then maybe I can convince myself I don’t love him too.”

taglist!

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