Yeonjun ✙ Mama 2021 ‘opening Performance’ Intro

BTS (방탄소년단) @ Permission to Dance: On Stage Concert performed ‘Black Swan’ at Seoul Olympic Stadium on October 24th, 2021 in Seoul, South Korea

✧✧Wandering Eyes✧✧

MIN YOONGI X READER

A night at the frat house leaves you wanting more from the mysterious man who somehow has a way with words. From tequila shooters to shooting stars, Min Yoongi has all the knowledge... and the charm.

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs and alcohol, sexual innuendos, basically anything that you would see at a college frat party ⚠️

The speakers were blaring that all too familiar but never comforting music that you'd grown so used to being in and out of frat parties. Knowing the guys came with its perks; occasional free alcohol and admittance to private parties. However, this Euphoria themed event was not sitting right with you. Sure, you had dressed up with your blue lace romper and glitter under the eyes to match, but you still felt solemn inside. Unfulfilled. Taking another shooter off the counter, you hurriedly downed the taste of tequila and prepared to lose yourself in the music that you didn't listen to.

Reaching the middle of the floor, you bump into someone who had been dancing with their friends. Tall, honey-skinned, and dark hair, his look was complete with his taste of fashion. The shirt he chose to leave whichever dorm he was staying in was very mesh and very see through. His chest has been glitterfied just as everything else at the party and his eyeliner perfectly shaped his almond eyes.

"Hey," he said, voice deep and concerned, "You okay?"

However, the music was still too loud to make out anything this man before you was saying. Everything was starting to become a blur you realized as the alcohol finally hit and made its way through your system, intoxicating your body and your mind. This wasn’t your first drink of the night, that was for sure as you were trying your hardest not to pay attention to the wandering thoughts in the back of your mind. Trauma from your past had started to resurface and it felt as though the night sky fell on your chest, collapsing your lungs between the Earth and infinity. It was all too much for you to handle, a song timed just perfectly in the shower to make you remember those nights spent alone in your room and the smell of your blankets bringing back the nostalgia of it all. Being a freshman was still new and the invigorating feeling of being on your own was something you had grown to love. However, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back down the path to the way things used to be and the troubles you had. 

It wasn’t something that could fully be expressed which was the worst part. It was those little things that led to a 10:00pm breakdown, sure, but it would sound unimportant if phrased to someone as you dopped all your feelings. They would see it as nothing more than on overreaction on your part and would shame you for not being stronger in their heads even if they weren’t brave enough to say it out loud. So, the solution to everyone’s problem was for you to leave the uncomfortable dorm you resided in and do what you do best. Cope.

“I’m fine.” You slurred out, still aware of your surroundings although they had taken on a hazier feel. Your limbs started to feel heavy but you continued to lose yourself in the beat of what you assumed was The Spins by Mac Miller. Frat Boy Favorite. 

“Are you sure? You look a little tired.” The guy said, voice laced with concern. It was almost aggravating how eager he was to seem like your Prince Charming.

“I don’t want to sleep with you.” You said bluntly, as you moved away from him, taking another swig of a beer you don’t remember paying for at the bar table. You don’t even like beer. 

The lights started to change color and you assumed that meant Jungkook was messing with the remote again. A tall and somewhat lanky guy, he was one that you didn’t expect to join the frat as quickly as he did. He seemed more like the nerdy gamer type and that’s exactly what he was until he had worn a sweatshirt which read “Take Yo’ Panties Off” and the guys asked him to join the next day. His story of pledging was the funniest to you out of the rest of the guys and he was the newest recruit as well as one other whom you had yet to meet.

The other guys within the frat, Namjoon and Seokjin were the oldest. They were both seniors and had a very particular way of doing things. Namjoon was tough on the other guys as he wanted them to embrace traditional procedures and to respect one another. Seokjin was less traditional and more modern. He knew people didn’t join frats for the brotherhood, they joined to drink and he made sure that fun was always #1 priority of the guys. As one could see, they butted heads quite often but everyone had fun in the end. 

Jimin and Taehyung were Juniors. Jimin was the absolute fuckboy and he prided himself on that fact. Bright pink hair and studded jackets, he drove the girls (and the guys) absolutely wild, each one of their crushes on him somehow continuing to exist knowing they were only a one-night stand. He was seductive with his entrancing eyes and he could persuade any random person off the street into bed with him if he so desired. 

Taehyung wasn’t as crazy as his counterpart, but he was also on the fuckboy scale. Big puppy dog eyes and the sluttiest outfits a man could wear (and he wore them to class, they were not exclusive to parties) he also knew how to use his good looks to his advantage. He and Jimin would write lists for the week to see how many notches they could get under their belt and would compete against each other for the highest. It disgusted you, yes, but they were your friends. 

Hoseok was the happy drunk. The brother that was always at parties to drink and to have the best time imaginable. He was usually the one that worked the DJ and would play his favorite tunes as he stood atop one of the chairs in the corner of the room and pointed at the mob of dancing people below, trying to encourage them to sing along with him. Hobi was your favorite. Definitely. He also gave the best hugs. 

Sitting at the minibar, you toy around with your red solo cup, dragging your finger along the indentations and counting the individual dots. When you lost count, you would start from one again and would quietly scold yourself for not remembering if you were on twenty-eight or twenty-nine. You were thankful that the Euphoria party allowed for you to cry and it would be on theme and not an actual issue. The glitter tears were complimented by wandering eyes and not addressed as a problem to the people who approached you about it.

“I love your makeup.’” Great, another guy who can’t take the hint. The seat next to you filled with an average sized male in a blue button-up and platinum blonde hair. It was definitely dyed but it was a good look for him, you thought. His smile was gummy and sweet and had a summery vibe to it, like it was a smile only few people got to witness at a time and he was sharing it with you, a stranger who was unbeknownst to anything of his lifestyle. His eyes crinkled at the corners and you could see his attempt at guyliner and a little glitter; he was definitely not the experienced with makeup type. He held a Vodka Cranberry in his left hand and a phone in his right with black nails painted so perfectly you could see your reflection in them. Something about him struck you as the type of person who was actually quite interested in what it was you had to say, and not someone who was desperate to get laid this October evening. 

“Thanks, I’m glad I could show off my skills with the same makeup everyone else is wearing.” You said sarcastically, hoping he was the joking type so this upcoming conversation wouldn’t be too painful to have. 

“It definitely looks better on you than it does on me, I think.” He said, asking one of the guys for another beer. Namjoon was on bar duty tonight and he gave you a knowing glance as if to say, “I know this guy is your type, but if something happens let me know.” 

“Nonsense. I like it.” You said, sending Namjoon the “I’m okay” eyes. 

After a couple of moments, it seemed as though your compliment would be the end of the conversation. Blondie had his drink and the music started playing another upbeat tune from Hobi’s interesting collection of songs. The bass could be felt through the floorboards as you stood up to go to dance again. But, as you were about to head out, you were tapped on the shoulder by the boy from before who was now standing up and motioning towards the speakers. 

“My name is Yoongi, by the way. I would love to dance with you if that’s okay?” He phrased it as a question so as not to make you feel cornered into a decision you didn’t want to make. This one was definitely a keeper. 

“(Y/N). Try to keep up.” 

The lights then changed to red and the song’s pace quickened. The dance floor became rabid with Hobi’s choice of playlist and as the tempo became faster, the drinks were downed in the same manner. You were feeling really good now as you let the blackness swallow you whole and allow you to feel free. No worries. No assignments. No drama. Nothing. 

Nothing but you and Yoongi. 

It was almost astonishing how terrible he was at dancing. You weren’t too great yourself, but you were able to sway to some rhythm whereas Yoongi looked like a baby deer caught in the headlights. He gave it his all though and that’s what counted in your mind. Besides, it was kinda cute. 

Your eyes flitted to every area of the room, making sure you were aware of your surroundings in case this conversation went south. Jimin was body rolling next to the same guy who you’d talk to earlier and you figured it would be the better choice for him since you weren’t really interested in one-night stands. Hobi was still dancing and upon noticing your gaze starts to point at you and drunkenly mouth the lyrics to Midnight City by M83. He sent you a smile and crouched down to the table below him, reaching for the infamous Pickle Borg (a pickle jar filled with vodka). Jungkook was over by the beer pong table playing flipcup and trying not to let his bucket hat fall off while he took shot after shot with Seokjin. Namjoon was still at the bar watching over everything but side eyeing the drinks he wasn’t allowed to have being the bartender. Taehyung was probably in the smoke room. 

Just then, Jungkook walked over to the two of you in his drunken state with that stupidly overpriced pink sweatshirt with the panties saying. He had spilled beer all down the front of it and his shoes were sticky with the residue of whatever concoction he had out of the funnel the guys bring out for the newcomers. Seokjin was bringing out said funnel once more which conveniently was a traffic cone they stole off the side of the street. Grimacing, you wondered what the inside of it looked like considering the boys hardly ever cleaned the Frat House. 

Jungkook put his arm around Yoongi and laughed as he stumbled towards the wall, leaning on the platinum-haired boy for support. “You drinking from the funnel, man?” He asked.

“Jungkook,” you said, curious as to why he would offer since you both know the rules, “that’s exclusive to frat members?”

“It is,” Seokjin piped in with the funnel in hand and a bottle of Cracken stuffed in his back jeans pocket, “Yoongi is one of the new recruits.”

And then it hit you as to why he was so nice. Why he hadn’t tried to make a move on you when you were in front of Namjoon. He was friends with the guys. Or would be, anyways.

“Oh.” Was all you said before the funnel was placed above Yoongi’s head while he crouched down to his knees to make it easier for Seokjin to hold it. Jungkook was tasked with pouring since he was too drunk to hold anything and he took the Cracken out from his friend’s back pocket and unscrewed the top off, taking a swig himself before he poured it. He held the side of it with his pinky finger and balanced the glass on his arm as he drank the proper way before he took the rest of it and dumped in into the cone.

Yoongi’s mouth wrapped around the bottom part of the funnel as his adam’s apple bobbed up and down with every swig he took. Even while drinking he looked beautiful and you didn’t know if you thought that because you had a genuine interest in the guy or if it was because you hung out at the frat every night. He didn’t spill a drop as the funnel slowly emptied and before any time had passed, he was up in the air back on his feet with arms outstretched in victory, Jungkook hugging him at his side and laughing with him.

Yoongi stumbled a bit over to you as he leaned and whispered in your ear; alcohol coating his breath and making his words sound sickly sweet. 

“That skill of mine carries over to the bedroom, you know.”

Your knees felt weak as you took in the weight of his words. He winked before turning back to Jungkook who was offering him another shooter. You told yourself that the kind of forgetting you needed to do tonight would be fixed by the alcohol and nothing more; you would not allow yourself to sleep with any guy no matter how drunk you were. But he was really pretty. And he did insinuate romantic attraction first. 

You were eighteen. Who gives a shit anyways?

“Prove it.” You said as you watched him smile, grabbing his wrist and leading him up the dark stairs towards an unoccupied bedroom. 

OMG wait this is so cute thank you for tagging me!

Last movie I watched: The Neverending Story but specifically the second one because my boyfriend needs noise to sleep and that's the disc we had.

Last book I read: Call Me By Your Name. I was going through another wave of Timothée Chalamet adoration and I thought that it would be cool to finally read the book!

Last song I listened to: 21 C/Delta by Jack Harlow 😭 he's my guilty pleasure artist definitely.

Currently watching: Nothing. I don't usually have the time to sit through TV shows but every now and then I complete one. I was excited for the second season of Alice in Borderland, but I wasn't too pleased with the outcome of season two :(

Currently eating: Pickles and ranch, the best food combo ever on my opinion.

Currently craving: Pickles and ranch which makes sense because I'm eating them.

This was fun! Thanks again for tagging me!

I'm tagging:

@andrewgarfield2022 @blu-ray-ok @leggomylino

💛🦐

tag 9 people you wanna get to know more!

i can't believe that 3 ppl (who i also really wanted to know about and was so interested in reading their takes on this tag) tagged me, i am shocked XDD

thank you so much @thedudewithfivenames , @wantsword , @norttinson <333

ok here we go

three ships: Soapshipping + Narrator/Marla, AngelRicky

favorite ship ever: probably AmberPrice from Life is Strange :")

last song: skeletons by snake eyes

last movie: can't remember 😭 probably was rewatching fight club (for the plot of course)

currently reading: american psycho!

currently watching: you on netflix. great show, s1 joe won my heart

currently consuming: nothing but i plan on making morning coffee lol

currently craving: some flaming hot chips rrrrrrrr need those like right in this moment

feel free to ignore! i'm tagging @shynarrator , @hobisfavoritespritecan , @blondedmuse , @narraticn aaaand i think that will be all since i'm kinda scared to bother people x))

aaaaAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

warning: yandere | not requested

memory

it's laughable, truly.

beomgyu stands up, his hands snug in the pockets of his dress pants confidently, commanding all the wait staff to look at him. he doesn't say anything, letting the silence speak for itself as he saunters over to the bar counter, hitting the marble surface with the palm of his hand. "give me a bottle of my favorite wine, please," he says curtly, and the bartender nervously grabs the bottle and places it alongside a glass, swallowing hard.

he nods to the lady before taking the bottle and glass back to his seat, his footsteps the only sound amidst the empty restaurant that he rented out just for his date with you, just to be alone with you. his expression is solemn, but his inner thoughts scream amusement as he watches them cower, still frozen in place, as they should be.

"let me ask again, who fucking said it?"

nobody says a word. they're all afraid, alright, shaking like leaves that could fly away easily in the wind. it's rather annoying how the person who insulted his beloved isn't speaking up, but it's understandable. he's a pretty scary man, but apparently, not scary enough to make that person come forward, whoever it was.

he methodically opens the bottle with ease, slowly, elegantly pouring the contents in the glass before setting both down with an unmatched composure, looking around once more with narrowed eyes. "i'm not going to ask again—"

"...i'm back, hubby! why did you open a bottle without me? you know i didn't mean to take too long..."

his attention is torn away from the crowd to you instantly like a magnet at the sound of your beautiful voice, his eyes twinkling in adoration and warmth as you walk over to him, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek in greeting before sliding into the seat next to him. he proudly returns it, glowering at the uncomfortable expressions of the wait staff behind you as he slings an arm around your waist, pulling you closer still.

you're his now, and that's all that matters. he can take care of the trash later, but for now, he turns to you, a smug smile playing at his lips, offering the glass to you as well.

as you take the glass and raise it to your lips, he peers past you, past you at the manager, eyes wide with doom and fear when he does, locking the male's gaze with his. the corners of beomgyu's mouth stretching into a confident smirk as he speaks darkly in response to your question, never looking away once, never letting the pitiful guy pull away for even a single second.

"just wanted to pour a little bit out in memory of someone, that's all."

note: hey everyone, it's been a while! finally i got back to writing another yandere txt work, or rather, any work at all, haha. there's not much to say but things have been busy, taxing, mentally draining, and my creativity kind of ran out thanks to all that. i also just wasn't satisfied with whatever i wrote, so i have been writing still but in small bursts, and i have tons of drafts that i've stopped halfway or something lol. i really do love to write and i want to do it more often, but it's not always easy. surprisingly though, i wrote this all in one sitting rather than editing one of my drafts lol. i hope you all like it. thank you for reading! my idea for this came out of melanie martinez's 'dead to me' song, i believe it's one of her older, unofficial songs? not sure.

txt masterlist | main masterlist | by @sunflwryu

The amount of people I've met that said this was Moonjo's best line...

FIGHT CLUB

Johnny Seo X Y/N X Yuta Nakamoto

Just a piece of advice!! This fanfic probably won't make any sense unless you've seen the 1999 movie, Fight Club written by David Fincher. This revolves around the storyline for said movie and previous knowledge of it needs to be present for it to make sense! In that case, read on! :) 💜💜

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, mentions of gore, mentions of nsfw, talk of weapons and violence as well as drugs⚠️

People were always asking me, did I know Johnny Seo?

"We won't really die, we'll be immortal."

"You're thinking of vampires."

"oh-...ra..aH-...oo"

With a gun barrel between your teeth, you only speak in vowels.

With my tongue, I can feel the silencer holes drilled into the barrel of the gun. Most of the noise a gunshot makes is expanding gases. I totally forgot about Johnny's whole murder-suicide thing for a second and I wondered how clean the gun barrel was.

Johnny checked his watch. "Three minutes."

The building we're standing in won't be here in three minutes. You take a 98-percent concentration of fuming nitric acid and add three times as much sulfuric in a bathtub full of ice. Then, glycerin drop-by-drop. I know this because Johnny knows this.

The demolitions committee of Project Mayhem wrapped the foundation columns of this building with blasting gelatin. The primary charge will blow the base charge, and this spot Johnny and I are standing on will be a point in the sky.

"This is our world now. Two minutes."

Two minutes to go and I'm wondering how I got here.

...

Part One:

"I want you to hit me." Johnny said, fixing his posture and squaring up to Yuta trying to get a better position for a fight. They were outside of Joon's on a cold night after Yuta lost his apartment and his job. Both of which exploded in his face. His apartment a bit too literally. He wondered if any of his Ikea furniture survived the blast.

"I- What?" Yuta was confused now. First, Johnny had stolen a bunch of ketchup packets from the inside of the restaurant, stuffed them in his pockets, and walked out with a cigarette dangling between his teeth. Now, he was asking Yuta to knee him in the gut or swat him on the nose.

"You heard me. I know you want to."

Truth is, Yuta did want to hit him. And to be fair, Johnny deserved it. I mean, the guy blew up his apartment with homemade dynamite for Christ's sake.

Yuta reeled his arm back and hit Johnny the best he could. Johnny looked taken aback as he stumbled to regain his footing. Through a bloody nose and determined eyes he replied, "My turn."

And thus, Fight Club commenced.

...

"The rules of Fight Club are as follows:

One, you do not talk about Fight Club.

Two, you DO NOT talk about Fight Club.

Three, someone yells stop, goes limp, taps out, the fight is over.

Four, only two guys to a fight.

Five, one fight at a time.

Six, no shirts, no shoes.

Seven, fights will go on for as long as they have to.

Eight, if this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight."

Johnny walked around the circle of men who had gathered before him as he explained the rules of the club; a club which was held in Joon's basement- a restaurant with very few customers. Originally, Fight Club had been something between Johnny and Yuta, something small that would pass the time when they wanted to relieve some stress. It was merely playtime for the two and now it had branched into what it was today.

Yuta continued wrapping his hands in gauze from his last fight. Taeil from one of his previous support groups beat him nasty; blood dripping from the top of the Japanese boy's head as well as a giant cut along the underside of his wrist. It wasn't anything unusual, he had won of course, sending Taeil straight for the floor and knocking out a couple of his teeth. It wasn't the wound that stung, no. It was the jealousy that bubbled in his chest and made way for his throat. Fight Club was never supposed to be this. It should've been just him and Johnny.

"Man. I see in Fight Club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. Goddamn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose, or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war...our great depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires and movie gods and rockstars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very very pissed off."

Johnny looked at each man once and then swiveled around and looked at them again. He held eye contact with each and every person so that his words were reaching them on every level possible. He wanted them to feel. To feel the pain of the unforgiving world and the passion for Fight Club. He wanted everyone to praise his words like the Bible and for them to go home later that night with a sense of enlightenment. He wanted Fight Club to be burned into the brains and the skin of these men.

But I am Jack's inflamed sense of rejection.

Yuta barred his teeth from where he was sitting. Johnny had a way with words. Even if he was pissed from their earlier conversation with you in the house, he wasn't showing it. Johnny had stripped him of anger towards himself and provided him with anger towards the movement. Yuta was going to make the best of this club- watching humanity's downfall while he sat from his throne looking out towards everyone's anguish. That was where he belonged, Yuta thought. Not in some corporate office building fetching papers for his boss.

He thought back to his life before Johnny. How he would work his 5-9 job in some shitty little office building with shitty little people with shitty little egos. He remembered what a horrible insomniac he was, sleeping a total of one hour a night- if he was lucky. He remembered going to his support groups just to feel something. To cry on the shoulders of others who were going through unimaginable pain as he cried from his position of perfect health. It was all an effort to sleep at night until he realized that he was spending his days in pain and inflicting pain on others. And he was addicted to it.

You had walked into one of his regular support groups on a Saturday; one of the founders of said group griping about the fact he'd lost his balls to testicular cancer and sobbing up on the rickety podium. You had caught his eye that day- and not just because you were a woman walking into a support group for men with non-functional penises. It was because of the first words to come out of your mouth:

"This is cancer, right?"

You were his downfall. You ruined everything at first. Because you had shown up to his daily pain sessions, he was no longer the black sheep of the group- the only one who was healthy out of a room of dying people. Sure, you were dying, but that was because of the shitty drugs you put into your body and the cigarette that was always hanging out of your mouth. But Yuta realized that his feelings of hatred were actually ones of intense sexual desire.

He'd fucked you later that night anyways.

Or at least, he dreamt about it.

"Who's first?" Johnny asked to no one in particular, awaiting a response from one of the eager men around. This snapped Yuta out of his daze as he looked down at his hands. The gauze was wrapped too tight (probably a direct result of his previous thoughts) and the blood was seeping through the makeshift bandage. Oh well, at least he'd shown Taeil who's club it really was.

The first to agree on fighting was a scrawny looking boy with red and white hair. An odd color combination, but Yuta guessed it framed his face nicely. He had a bunch of piercings along his ear and a determined look on his face. A slight grin showed his confidence as the boy took his shirt off and loosened up his belt.

On the other side of the "ring," there was another boy that radiated an equal amount of confidence but looked a bit skeptical as his eyes landed on the others around the dank basement. He too, removed pieces of his clothing and slicked his blonde hair back from his face.

"Alright, first victims are Taeyong and Hendery. Knock yourselves out.....literally."

Johnny stepped away from them as they collided with one another, blood already dripping from the eyebrow piercing on Hendery's face and a crack coming from Taeyong's finger. Despite this, the boys looked more fiery than ever before as they tackled one another to the ground, ripping out each other's hair and punching each other wherever they could reach. A quick sharp kick to Hendery's groin left him falling to the ground where the other boy found his footing and beat him to a pulp. Not the first fight that ended up in two broken noses, but definitely the first fight to bring this many people together.

And with Taeyong's win, Yuta followed Johnny back home to the abandoned neighborhood they stayed in.

...

Again, it was another night of Yuta lying restless as he listened to your moans coming through the wall separating him and Johnny. Once you had met Johnny all it took was a promise of a new carton of cigarettes to go up to the bedroom with him. This wasn't anything new to Yuta (who did have a crush on you, he was just too afraid to admit it) who heard it every hour of every day; he wondered if you two ever grew bored of slamming the headboard against the wall.

Yuta figured the only thing he could really do in this situation was to go downstairs to the rotting kitchen and make himself a sandwich out of condiments stolen from Joon's and a couple leftover banana peppers from the night before. He pulled his robe over his shoulders and made his way down the decaying hardwood stairs of the mildewed house, making sure not to step on the soggiest part of the floor.

It was cold, but it felt nice after sweating in his blanket just a few minutes before. He opened the door to the fridge and found the pickles as well as the condiments, but his eyes stopped when he spotted some of Johnny's "lab equipment" which consisted of homemade explosives and torture mechanisms. Why they were in the fridge, Yuta didn't know, but he presumed Johnny had a reason. Just as long as he didn't find any Lye in his sandwich.

After making the shittiest thing Yuta had ever eaten in his life (which is saying a lot because he's accidentally eaten literal shit) he made his way upstairs, past the banister and the bathroom with the lonesome bathtub. He was just about to pass Johnny's room when he realized that it had been quiet. For a minute and a half.

Slowly, he opened the door and BANG Johnny walked straight into him wearing nothing but a robe.

"The fuck you doing man? Hey- is that the ketchup I stole from Joon's?"

"Ah shit! Uh I was just making a sandwich is all," he stammered out as he just about dropped the plate. He wasn't going to admit to Johnny that he was looking to see what had gone on with their sexcapade since he'd had a pleasant couple of seconds to himself for the first time since your and Johnny's introduction.

"Hey! I found the cigarettes."

You were high off your ass as you rolled around in Johnny's horribly stained bedsheets, waiting for whatever the holdup was at the door. "Y'all want some?"

"No thanks, Sylvia Plath."

...

Day two of Fight Club commenced in Joon's basement on a spectacularly cold Thursday, when Yuta was supposed to be at work. Instead, he was sitting on one of the empty barrels by the back of the room, watching everything happen before him. Fight Club wasn't just Fight Club anymore. This pain was all normal. It was expected. It wasn't anything different or new like the support groups Yuta had found solace in when he was an insomniac. He could feel the night of restlessness before him.

"Alright men, get your shit together. Today we have someone new joining our group. And, as the rules state, if it's your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight."

Johnny paced the circle of men, gripping onto the loops of his belt to make him look like more of the leader and less of a member. His shoulder length black hair was tied into a ponytail and his muscles were on full display; curtesy of his white slim-fit tee. Yuta would have to agree with you on one thing- Johnny was sexy as fuck. He was a confident bastard, but he understood why you liked someone like him. He was more than Yuta ever could be.

"On one side we have Jaehyun, an undefeated member of our group- not counting me of course."

This granted a couple of chuckles from the back as Yuta waited in anticipation for the newest member to be announced.

"Welcome, Xiaojun. Hope you find happiness getting your brains knocked out in a basement this small."

And standing before Yuta was Xiaojun, a former applicant of the testicular cancer support group, someone whom he had cried on as he wistfully remembered the days before meeting Johnny on a plane (That was a lot to cover into one fanfiction, but if you've seen the movie you'd know what I'm talking about). The days where pain wasn't measured by the amount of people feeling it, and instead was something to pass the time.

The blonde haired boy walked up to Jaehyun and smiled. It wasn't a 'Oh it's so nice to be here I can't wait to fight!' type smile. No, this smile was nothing more than pure malice.

Xiaojun was taking Jaehyun down. Yuta knew it for fact.

"Alright, have at it."

With Johnny's approval, Jaehyun launched for the boy, one arm balled into a fist and the other ready to strike a blow to the stomach. However, Xiaojun cut right across his ribcage and managed to dodge the blow, that shit-eating grin never once leaving his face.

"Ah fuck," Jaehyun clutched his chest as he doubled over in pain. Not allowing for the opponent to get too far though, he got back up on his feet and positioned himself so that he would be ready for another punch.

Jaehyun went in again, this time he was aiming lower to serve as an uppercut, payback for what the fast guy he went against did on his last move. He just about hit Xiaojun when Xiao ducked and rolled along the floor knocking Jaehyun from his position. Jaehyun was on the ground and was pinned there. Now all that was left was the final blow.

Yuta could hear one of the people in the circle mumble "fatality" in reference to Mortal Kombat as Xiaojun beat the shit out of this guy. Blood was going everywhere, nose was most definitely broken, his seemingly perfect face was now most definitely bruised. Hell, this guy would be lucky to even have a few teeth left from what Yuta could gather as he was positioned farther outside of the circle.

"Hey. HEY! RULE THREE BITCHASS!" Johnny's voice brought everyone back down to earth as they realized 'holy shit, Jaehyun is on his way out,' and they scrambled to help him off the floor. Knocked unconscious and bleeding from almost every orifice (except his ass), laid Jaehyun, once a fearless champion amongst the crowd now a bird with clipped wings.

I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

Yuta caught a glimpse of Xiaojun, seemingly in perfect condition and a clam expression on his face. His eyes were the same though, the same as Johnny's. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

...

You couldn't say you were surprised in the least amount with Johnny's sudden outburst. All you had done was talk to him about his selfish ways; and he most definitely was being selfish- one minute he'd be sweet talking you and explaining how you mean the world to him, to changing every topic you brought up and acting like a cocky arrogant asshole. You figured it had something to do with his new "support group" and that Fight Club had left him bipolar. Even the nights you spent fucking him to no end had no resolve on his character and you were starting to grow annoyed with his sudden change of demeanor.

You rolled out of Johnny's bed and made way for the kitchen downstairs. At least most of the men were at Joon's, so you have the house to yourself and Johnny. That's how it usually was anyways. And that's when it hit you: the dress you'd bought a while ago was still upstairs! Maybe you could use it to sway Johnny into a better mood?

Running back to Johnny's room, you slipped on the semi-pink, alcohol stained wedding dress (or what was left of it) over your body frame and took a look in the mirror.

"Huh, not bad."

You had bought the dress because you liked it, of course, not because you originally had the intentions you do now. You didn't usually give a fuck when it came to the opinions of men, so why did his matter so much to you? You frizzled up your hair and rain your hands through the mess and popped an Adderall in your mouth. Hey, you needed something to get by for the day.

You found yourself downstairs, another cigarette in your mouth and a jacket around the exposed sections of your collarbone. Your feet still bare, you entered the dining room that was full of "Johnny's experiments" and you twirled a bit upon finding Johnny sitting in the chair by the table.

"Well," you said, "Do you like it?"

"What am I looking at?"

"The dress, idiot. Do you like the dress?"

He sat there in confusion for minute before he responded with a simple "It's okay."

Why does he always do this? You wondered. He would show you a sweet and loving side to him and then he'd act all coy and nonchalant as if nothing you said had any impact on him. Did he pretend to love you just to fuck you? Did he care about you just so he could have his way with you in bed?

"I got it for a dollar. Imagine- someone bought this dress with the intention that it would be worn on the most important day of their lives. And now, I'm wearing it as business casual."

He ignored you again, sipping on that blasted cup of coffee and looking through ads in the news. His hair was pushed back from his eyes and his brows were furrowed. He had no interest in anything you said.

"Goodbye," you said, and walked out.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Fuck him

...

(Part Two coming soon!!!!)

May I request an imagine with Steve/Eddie where they visit girlfriend (reader) and see that shes using there shirt/jacket as a pillow case?🥺

this is the sweetest idea ever and i thought steve would find it so cute thank you for requesting! 1k fem reader :3

Steve hasn't seen you in four days and six hours when he knocks your door, incompatible schedules solely to blame. He's sick as a dog on your stoop waiting for you to answer, a bouquet of flowers hidden behind his back. 

You open the door and he watches with an aching chest as your lips turn up into a beaming smile. "Steve!" you say, almost tripping over the threshold in your rush to get arms around him. 

He chuckles and hugs you back with one arm holding the flowers away from you, the closeness of your body an instant relief. He takes in all your smells and softness, your shampoo and body lotion, the heady scent of perfume as he pushes his nose into the space behind your ear. 

You make a small breathless sound as he squeezes you and try to squeeze him tighter, an evil giggle bubbling out of you as your arms become a vice. 

"Ouch," he pretends, patting your back. "Alright, enough with the squeezing, popeye." 

"You started it," you say cheerily. 

He pulls you away from his neck. "Lemme look at you." 

You oblige, chin jutting up, eyes half lidded as you pose for him. He eats up the details of your pretty face hungrily, wondering if it's possible for someone to get more attractive in a hundred and two hours. It's definitely likely. 

"You're still pretty?" he asks. "I thought we agreed you were gonna stop." 

"I didn't agree to anything of the sort. What's behind your back?" you ask, practically glowing. 

He presents the flowers gladly, his arm aching from being all pretzeled up. You gasp loudly though he knew you'd felt them during your aggressive hugging. 

"These are for me?" you ask, taking them into your hands. 

"Nah, my other girlfriend." 

You glare at him for about two seconds and then you're smiling so hard he thinks your cheeks must ache with it, grabbing for his hand to pull him inside.

"I've missed your sarcasm," you say, and it's a discredit to Steve that he has no clue if you're being sincere or otherwise. 

You pull him straight to the kitchen and pull a vase down from atop one of the cabinets. 

"We're gonna be late for the movie," Steve says. 

"Sorry, I just have to get these in water. Actually, I'm rescinding my apology. It's your fault for buying flowers." 

"And I never will again," he threatens with little heat and even less honesty. 

"Uh-huh," you say, arranging the flowers nicely in the small glass vase. "Oh, I don't have my purse." 

"I'll get it." 

"Would you?" you ask, relieved, fully focused on the bouquet, moving flowers around to make them look best. 

He's fast up the stairs and into your bedroom, a familiar place that smells like all his best memories. Your sheets are rumpled and there are clothes everywhere, perfumes and deodorants and skincare strewn over your vanity. Steve doesn't know where to look, eyes panning over the room twice before he spots your discarded purse on the floor by the side of your bed. 

He bends down to grab it and his eyes zero in on your pillow. He reaches out, rubs his hand over material that he knows well. 

You've tucked your pillow inside one of his t-shirts. He feels glued in place, feet refusing to move as he takes it in, as he imagines your sleeping face pressed against it. 

He feels an incredible and heart aching rush of affection for you, and then an overwhelming swell of joy. He's loved. He's very, very loved. He thinks of your hair tie on his wrist even now, how his eyes dart to it over and over and over while he's working and how he refuses to take it off, even though each reminder of you is a melancholy stab to the chest when he can't see you. 

Your footsteps up the stairs. "Did you find it? I finished all the flowers. Thank you, Steve, really, they're so beautiful, I-" 

You're cut off by his arms around you again, your feet lifting off of the ground as he pulls you up and in, his arms under yours, his hands gripping your shoulders likely too tight. You cup his head with your forearms. 

"This is nice," you murmur, rubbing your cheek against his temple. He takes a handful of deep breaths.

When he sets you down he doesn't let you go – he chases you, your back bending as he tries to pull you impossibly closer. 

You're quiet for a little while, the two of you standing and hugging, breathing in the other. Then, "Steve? Is everything okay?" 

He pulls away, hands on either side of your throat to hold you still, knowing what he's gonna ask will have you averting your eyes. 

"You're using my shirt as a pillow case?" he asks. 

Like he'd assume your eyes widen and then close almost all the way. You turn your face from him. "Uh, maybe?" 

"Y/N," he says. 

"I know it was only a few days but I missed you so much, and it smelled like you, and I was supposed to take it off, I swear I was going to…" you ramble. 

Steve takes your warmed cheek into his hand. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip. There needs to be a word, he thinks, to describe this feeling. To want to give her anything she asks for. 

He drops his forehead gently into yours, his eyes closing, indulging in you. He doesn't need to see to know where your mouth is and after some racing thoughts about your general loveliness he pushes into it firmly with his own. You return his kiss, your gloss sticky lips parting eagerly as you bring your hand to his chest, your palm over his heart. 

He leans in hard for one desperate second, exhaling what feels like a year's worth of tension against your skin before pulling back. 

"I missed you," he says, head bobbing vehemently for emphasis.

"I missed you more," you say, hand roving up his collar, fingertips brushing lightly over his neck. 

"Not likely," Steve says, moving in for another quick kiss. 

"Were you sleeping with my clothes?" you ask him pointedly.

"Not your shirt," he says in a smug tone, joking, anything to make you laugh or embarrassed or both. 

There's something about the press of your lips when he teases you that drives him crazy. You burst into scandalised laughter like he'd hoped. Steve feels even more love sick than he had earlier.

NIGHTCALL

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Here's a visualizer for the fanfiction I posted!! 💚💚

•LADY LUCK•

LADYBUG X READER X TANGERINE

Having to work with the most annoying person on the planet, your feelings for Mr. Bucket Hat definitely change the longer you're forced to be around him. But what happens when you end up in a killing spree free-for-all and the British guy from the next compartment over decides he has the hots for you too?

⚠️ Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of blood and gore, Sexual Innuendos, Mentions of weapons, Mentions of death ⚠️

Part One!!!

"You're in, Mantis."

The deep voice over your earpiece came through clear and curt as you made your way over to the train car you'd be stationed in until the mission was completed. Leaving the station, the bullet train made its way out of Tokyo and you could see the bright lights starting to dim as it pushed on towards the less populated portions of the city. You weren't phased by the sudden acceleration of the train as you had been on one of these a few years back when you'd been scouted for the team.

Thinking back to the night you were scouted to work under The White Death, you smiled at the memory. A train moving so fast that one would expect it to be safe from gunmen and their attempts at running a Cartel. Your family had watched in horror as the men infiltrated the train and held a couple people hostage, ready to use their lives for their own personal benefit. You were so stupid back then; a naivety that of which only comes with the contemptness of lifestyle. A younger version of yourself with less experience with this whole secret agent thing. You ended up saving your brother, three at the time, by turning the gun back onto the first person you’d ever killed. The White Death had been on that train and offered to free you from any charges you would face for murder if you had agreed to work under him. So, without much of a choice, you swore yourself to secrecy and began your work, never making it back home to spend time with the family members you had saved. You thought of them from time to time and how the news of your disappearance would have affected them. Not knowing if you made it out of that shitshow alive, that sort of thing. If only they hadn’t been captured by the same gunmen you joined The White Death to kill.  

The man’s face still haunted your dreams. A gruesome imagination and a harsh grin plastered over his older face. A giant scar ran across the bottom of his chin and made its way up to his nose, stopping directly under his tired but blood-thirsty eyes. 

"How much money is in the briefcase?" You asked Wyatt, the person who had been speaking to you over the small intercom. He had been assigned as your Handler from the White Death himself and he very much hated this position. It was your first day back on the job after helping to clean up the Bolivia incident.  

"Enough to pay ransom for that idiotic stupid family of yours." He said, becoming cross with you within a matter of seconds it seemed. You wished it was easier to connect with your partner, but he had made it very clear from the get-go that there wasn't going to be any friendly aspects of the job.

“Ironic how you say ‘idiotic’ and ‘stupid’ in the same sentence considering how redundant that is.” You snapped back, sliding into one of the empty seats that were furthest away from everyone else. A window seat in the back provided you with the perfect view of a few of the platforms you'd be hitting and the places you'd encounter on your trip. The seats were an uncomfortable upholstery and were colored a terrible blue which you assumed was to be calming but it was far from it. The rest of the fucking compartment was that hideous color that one only looks at with fondness once they reach their last stop of the night. The time when one would part ways with the train and all of the single-serving people they were forced to interact with while they waited to finally make it to wherever they needed to go. Leaving the train and knowing you wouldn't have to see that god-awful color again until your next boarding.

Taking a quick glance around your compartment, you take out your computer and paperwork to make it seem as though you were on a business trip. In a way, you were, but people wouldn't think anything of you talking into an earpiece if there looked to be a reason someone was calling. Sticking the gun from the corner of your pocket into the crevice between the wall of the train and the seat, you try your absolute hardest to get comfortable until the next stop, when you knew you would have to act fast and run to the baggage area without suspicion. Assuming that’s where the case would be. You hoped you would be able to take it without much of a fight... you were tired of cleaning up the aftermath of people not giving you your way. Blood stains don’t come out easily. 

Suddenly the seat in front of you was occupied. It startled you a bit at first since you were supposed to be alone, but you quickly recollected yourself and took note of the person before you. Longer blonde hair, thick rimmed glasses and a stupid bucket hat topped of this mystery man's look as he stared out into the walkway as if he was looking for someone or something. It seemed that he hadn't noticed you yet.

"Ahem." You said, clearing your throat to try and get the man to leave as this section of the train was clearly occupied.

“Mantis? Something wrong?” Wyatt answered from the earpiece, trying to make sure that the mission had started out going directly as planned. Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to have a chitchat with him while this stranger was in the vicinity, you switched it off and directed your attention at the person before you.

"Oh hey." The man said, turning around and staring you in the eyes. You could see him look you up and down before directing his gaze back to yours with an apologetic smile on his face. A strand of his bleached blonde hair fell from the hat atop his head and placed itself right in front of his eyes.

"This seat's taken."

He made an "oh" shape with his mouth as he nodded and smiled. Thanking the universe that that was all it took to get him to leave, you turn back to the window to wait for him to get up and go somewhere else. When that didn't happen, you turned back to the man only to see that he had moved a seat over instead of sitting in the one across from you by the window.

"Uh? Hello?" You said, shifting some of your stuff over to opposite side of the table so he wouldn't realize the papers weren’t written on. 

"Oh hey again." He said once more, smiling at you and taking off his hat. His demeanor was giving “sexy professor” and you hated to admit it, but he was damn fine. You wondered how old he was but soon decided it didn't matter. This wasn't a social trip.

"Hey, yeah. I thought I mentioned that this seat was taken?" You said in a calm but firm tone, trying to ward him off from your mission. You weren't going to be able to talk to Wyatt about anything with this dumbass bucket hat dude eyeing you up every now and then.

Running his hands through his hair to restore some of its volume, he looked back up at you. "Yeah, you mentioned that. That's why I'm over here now." He said. So he was the asshole flirtatious type. Perfect.

"A seat over?"

"Well you said that one was taken."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. What was with this guy? You thought American tourists at least knew that the trains in Japan were supposed to be quiet as a sign of respect to the other passengers. Guess not with this guy.

"You can't go sit in another compartment? Really?" You said, now letting some of your annoyance shine through.

"Are there any other hot people in those cars?" He asked with an aura of innocence despite the words that were leaving his mouth.

"Not any who'd be willing to talk to you."

"Feisty. That's how I like them."

You rolled your eyes in his direction and started to gather your things. If he was going to insist on sitting there, you would move yourself. You just had about everything packed up while he complained about you not wanting to sit next to him until you remembered the gun you had stuffed into the seat earlier. There was no way you'd be able to get it out now that this man was over here, trying his hardest to flirt his way into a better viewpoint of him. You put your things down and sat in your seat from before, hating that you had to give in to his pleas since you wouldn't be able to remove your weapon.

"Ah! You changed your mind." He said, a grin on his face and a confident tone now replacing his one from earlier.

"Whatever. When's your next stop?" You asked, trying to see how long you would have to deal with this moron for. An hour you could take, but if he was going all the way to Kyoto then this might possibly be the worst mission you've been given.

He smiled. "Whenever I can get out. Might take me until Kyoto, who knows."

Great. Just fucking great.

...

Tangerine held his hands in his suit pockets, feeling around for the familiarity of his pocket watch. He needed to know when phase two of their plan would commence and when he would be able to make his escape with his brother in tow, safe and sound. He hated having to be in this business but he would do whatever it took to keep Lemon safe and sound.

Walking into the train car with the hideous blue accent, he held a peculiar silver case in his hand with a sticker that looked as though it came out of a kid's coloring book. This sticker was a ploy to keep any wandering eyes out as they would assume it belonged to a five-year old or someone one that age. The blue train sticker beamed up at him as though it were urging him forward towards the luggage compartment ahead only for him to place it above him and Lemon's seats.

"I can take it." Lemon said, pressing for the case in Tangerine's hand. There was something magnificent about the case itself, as though it held a power that would trap everyone's fixation and would possess even the strongest of morals. It gleamed under the soft lighting and for a moment Tangerine recoiled. If he allowed Lemon to take the case and it be misplaced, their whole mission could be askew. But, he trusted his brother. Which is what led him to handing over the shiny object with a slight hesitation.

"Be careful with it, please." He said, worry prevalent in his eyes. He was tired from last night's event in Soho.

"I'm a secret agent. Of course I'm bloody careful." Lemon replied as he took the baggage and went to another compartment while Tangerine looked for a seat. Seeing one open in the back, he moved towards it with a calm expression on his face only to find that it was already occupied by a man in a stupid bucket hat and-

One of the most beautiful human beings he had ever set eyes on.

Her eyes were a beautiful color, a contrast from the hideousness of the train compartment before him. The way she held herself as though she knew her self worth, but was still modest and humble. Her hair which fell just slightly above her eyes as she moved about the compartment, gathering the miscellaneous papers and electronics. As soon as everything was gathered up, she froze in place and stared at her now empty seat before sitting back down again. There was something about that stare; a hidden fear.

He needed to know what it was. Whatever force compelled him to make his way to her direction pulled at his shoes and drove him to her seat where they locked eyes. Her mouth muttering in annoyance at the fact that there were now two pretty men screwing up her mission and not leaving her alone.

"Is-is he bothering you?" Tangerine managed to get out an entire sentence to his surprise with pertinence to the situation. He had thought all he was capable of would be a hello or a simple nod. He surprised himself quite a bit today.

Your eyes widened in sudden admiration for the man in the blue suit. "Oh yes. Please tell him to go away." You said, hoping that this British man would be your savior against Mr. Bucket Hat who was trying so hard to insist that his name was Ladybug.

Ladybug followed your eyes to Tangerine and he smiled. "I can appreciate a fine ass man when I see one." He said, leaning back against the seat and making himself more and more comfortable as the train rolled off into the distance.

"You-you-" Tangerine started but whatever confidence he had upon starting this conversation left him entirely as he tried to tell off this "Ladybug" guy. Embarrassed, he quickly composed himself and looked at the man. "I would leave this woman alone if I were you. It's not polite."

Tangerine then went further towards the front of the compartment with his hands back in his pockets as he twiddled his thumbs and thought over the encounter while he was with Lemon.

"Something happen?" He asked, concerned as to why his usually stoic brother had taken a turn down Anxiety Lane. With his eyes wide and jaw clenched Tangerine looked as though he had an encounter with a ghost shortly before sitting down with Lemon to have this conversation. 

“I think-” He began, before he looked back over at the person a couple seats ahead of him. She was still sitting by the doofus with the hat but seemed to be quite interested in whatever the man had to say all of a sudden. Almost as soon as he was distracted by her once more, he noticed something off about his brother which sent him into a bit of a British frenzy.

“What the fuck are you doing!? Trying to show off your blood-stained shirt to everyone in Tokyo?” Tangerine whisper shouted and motioned towards his brother’s coat which was propped open, blood from last night’s events in Soho dried onto his white button-down. 

“Well, yeah. I want people to see my new tie.”

...

The gun that was stashed away by your side begged you to grab it and threaten Ladybug to leave you alone. He was really starting to get on your nerves (attractive as he may be) and you had hoped that British guy would’ve come to your rescue only for him to fail at that. Today was not a good day for keeping your hopes up, that’s for sure. 

“Hey, what kind of name is Mantis anyways?” The man before you questioned upon noticing the inscription of a name on your luggage overhead. He looked smug, in a way, as if he knew you were being glued to the spot due to your hidden weapon. 

“What kind of name is Ladybug?” You asked in retort, trying to get under this guy’s skin like he was getting under yours. 

“It’s a codename. Ever heard of those before, Miss Pretentious?”

You stopped your bickering and looked at him- really looked at him. The glasses, the hat, the bleached hair that looked like it was horribly done over the kitchen sink. It was a disguise. And a horrible one at that. 

You leaned over the table and he followed suit, the two of you being so close you could feel each other’s breaths over the cheap train seating. You switched from your usually calm attitude to a more serious and intentional tone as you wanted to figure out just what exactly this Ladybug wanted with you. It wasn’t to pointlessly flirt with you, no. It was to feel you out. 

“First day on the job, newbie?” You asked, now finally understanding what he was truly doing here. And by the sound of the codename, it was assigned to him, not something he chose for himself.

“Oh so you’re an agent too?” he said, pulling out a Fiji water bottle and removing the cap with a knowing smile, “figures the sexy lady might be an enemy of mine.”

Your hand clenched at your side as you realized the weight of your words, becoming even more irritated than you already were. What did this guy want? What business did he have being on this train or Japan in general? Was he after the case too?

“I can see the little gears spinning in your mind,” he said, taking a drink from his water bottle and placing it down on the table, “It’s alright, I won’t say anything to anyone else.”

“Who do you think you are?” You asked, now fully invested with what the man was saying but also pissed off that he had come over and somewhat blown your cover within minutes of you being on the train.

“I’ve tried to tell you already. The name’s Ladybug. I’m filling in for Carver.”

“Why would you tell me that? You do realize that being undercover means that you’re undercover?”

Ladybug played with the cap of his water bottle and flicked it off the top so it flew towards your seat. He was all kinds of childish, this guy.

“Between us is a wall,” he began, checking his watch to see the time as he continued to explain his reasoning, “and within every wall is a window. Er, shit- I mean a door..”

...

Tangerine felt himself focus back to the mission at hand. He quickly scolded himself for being tired enough for his mind to drift in every direction other than the right one, letting himself become distracted by a girl nonetheless. He straightened out his tie and placed his hands on the table, his hair slicked back and the watch on his wrist gave others the illusion of his put-togetherness. Inside, however, he was an absolute mess as he ran over every intrusive thought stationed in his brain. The White Death, his son, the case. It was all a lot for one individual to ponder.

He did have his brother by his side though, and that made things more worthwhile. Lemon always made the job easier as he was someone Tangerine could truly confide in. The two had definitely seen the weight of the world and surrounded themselves with the death that came with work. It meant something to be able to come home to someone who at least knew of the things he had to deal with and could sympathize with his negativity. 

Those were the moments he loved his brother. When he was rambling on about Thomas the Tank Engine, though, he did not. 

“Gordon. Gordon is the strongest and the bravest of the group. Like Tangerine, for example.” Lemon huffed out with a dopey smile and placed the train sticker onto the deadliest man alive’s son’s forehead. The Russian boy did not look pleased with Lemon’s antics as he shrugged off the situation entirely and removed the sticker, placing it onto the sleeve of Lemon’s coat. 

“Tangerine? Like the fruit?” The boy said, glancing at the two men whom he woke up to next. His face was covered with those kitchy do-it-yourself tattoos which read various phrases, most of which were just “fuck you” in different languages. His hair was disheveled and curly to the point where it looked too unkempt to possibly be on one’s head. To be fair though, he hadn’t showered for at least three days before Tangerine and his brother had to force him on this train back to his unloving father. 

“Like the blessings.” Lemon rolled his eyes as they had been asked that question one too many times that day. 

“I’m supposed to put my trust into people named after fruits?”

“They’re codenames. A delinquent like you should know a thing or two about that. And no, you shouldn’t put your trust into us since we’re taking you back to your father.” Tangerine said, matter-of-fact. This trust fund baby needed a kick in the balls. 

This made the delinquent get immediately frustrated as he realized where he was now. He had worked diligently to remove himself from familial affairs and now he had a one-way ticket back to the man he hated the most. He tried to get up from his seat, but Lemon was quick to draw the gun from his coat pocket, revealing the blood spatters from before. Hesitantly, the White Death’s son sat back down and placed his hands on the table in a manner similar to Tangerine. 

“Good, good. That’s how I figured this conversation would be going.” Lemon sighed and turned to his brother who wore a matching expression of exhaustion. 

“Now, we’re going to deliver you to your father and bring him that briefcase. Then, your rich little family will pay us as we deserve,” Tangerine began, unfolding his hands and using them to gesture what he was saying, “and because your father hired the best assassins in the world, we’ll be able to keep our arms.” 

“Indeed, we will.” Lemon said, grinning ever so slightly at how uncomfortable the atmosphere around their victim was getting. He definitely enjoyed the interrogation portions of his job. 

Suddenly, the tattooed boy grinned even more maliciously than Lemon as he leaned over the table to enunciate his next sentence, “What makes you think my father will let you keep your arms?” 

Tangerine spoke next, “Because he knows of our skill. He hired us for a reason, dipshit,” his British accent poked through his words, “And if either of us is to lose our limbs, it’ll be Lemon, not me.” 

“Why do I have to lose my arms? You know how much I like them.” Lemon whined. 

“Because I need mine.”

“Who’s to say I don’t need mine?”

Tangerine sighed once more and turned to his brother who looked so innocent holding a gun. 

“Because I get more kills than you do.” So what if it was a petty argument? Tangerine was quite tired of hearing Thomas the Tank Engine references and if this would shut his brother up, then so be it. However, Lemon retaliated. 

“What about the job in Bolivia?”

“What about it?” 

“Well, you know. We work best together. Our seventeen kills just trying to get this guy on a train with us.” Lemon raised the gun up a little higher to spark some sort of fierceness within the boy sitting next to him. The Russian seemed to have stopped listening in on the conversation and was more intently focused on what was happening directly outside of the train window.

“Sixteen. Sixteen kills.” Tangerine corrected, blinking his eyes in fake astonishment towards Lemon’s false counting.

“Seventeen, actually.”

This was going to be a long ride to Morioka.  

...

The train accelerated even faster as it traveled throughout the entirety of Tokyo, wind whipping around the sides of the steel structure and piercing through the wind. It was going so fast that even the windows were hard to see out of; occasionally one would see a building here and there but everything else was hard to make out. 

Tapping her nails against her book which read “The Communist Manifesto,” Prince waited for the man she had stunned to wake up and allow her to talk of her plans. Her outfit worked in the way that she had hoped it would, as she was trying to come off as an innocent schoolgirl. It was such a ridiculous concept in the secret agent world for her to not be taken seriously considering the fact that she was born a woman. Well, how she would change that perception when she finally got her way.

Gasping for air upon awakening, the man whom had searched the train with a gun to kill Prince (and had bumped into Ladybug moments before boarding) took immediate notice of his surroundings, looking for his attacker. Upon seeing the young girl dressed in bright pink, he frowned and the lines around his eyes followed suit, wrinkles on his face despite only being thirty-seven. Prince was supposed to be a man he had presumed, as his son Wataru had been pushed off of a building in spite of his involvement with The White Death.

“Who are you?” Yuichi, the man, spat out in the best English he could muster. His confident and mysterious demeanor left him once he realized that the woman was holding a gun under her table, directly pointed at him with the intent of firing if he misbehaved. Yuichi took the best course of action and decided to shrink away into his chair with the red upholstery, trying his best to be swallowed whole by the velvety fabric. 

“I,” the girl began, looking down at her finger which was placed on the trigger, “am The Prince.” 

Yuichi glared at her and thought back to his son who was currently in the hands of the hospital that took him in after the fall. His mind ran through images of Wataru, small and frail in the confines of the bed, hooked up to miscellaneous machines and tubes. 

“And you, Yuichi, are going to help me.”

“How do you figure?” He said, knowing that she had the high ground due to the weapon she had stolen from him moments after striking him with a taser. 

She took the gun and wrapped a pink hairtie around the handle; the beads on it were shining as the lights beamed down overhead. Prince then placed it on the table with the body of the gun facing Yuichi himself. She glanced to the binding around his wrists, and reached over to free him before resuming her position in her chair, just about to reach for the gun when-

-Yuichi made a leap for it and grabbed it, facing it towards The Prince who was now smiling.

“I wonder how my hitman is doing, watching over your son. Let’s call him, shall we?”

...

A/N: Thank you so much for reading the first installment of my Bullet Train series! I want this to be fast-paced and scattered like the movie, and I tried my best to make all of the plotlines match up while also including another character. I think this is the first fanfiction I’ve written where I’ve taken out a notebook and pen to make this go as smoothly without issues as possible. I hope to see more Tangerine and Ladybug fanfics as I am in love with this movie. Enjoy!

💛🦐

BTS Reaction to you telling them you're pregnant except it's entirely satirical and there's absolutely no plot

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, mentions of the Devil's Tango ™, and extreme crack. This whole Headcannon is absolutely ridiculous, so I apologize for how wacky it gets as you continue reading ⚠️

Kim Seokjin

You've been trying to tell him all week

But this boy is stubborn as hell and he's been so busy with everything so his time for you has been less and less

Which slightly stresses you out knowing that he would have to be a father soon and he couldn't be out all the time

So you decided on Seokjin's day off that you were going to tell him

You took him to his favorite café in the morning and you bought him a coffee in a pink cup

"Oh! Y/N, this cup is so cute and it's my favorite color, you're such a good little egg"

Seokjin patted your head

Meanwhile you're like wtf did my bf just call me

So that didn't work but then you took him shopping for clothes

And after he bought a sparkly jacket (of course he did, it's Seokjin) he saw you looking over towards a family that was in the same aisle

"Awww Jinnie aren't babies just the cutest?"

"Not really"

W H A T

Y'all go home

You're kinda about to give up

But then

BUT THEN

"Yeah now that I'm thinking about it, that little kid was super cute. I'll bet our baby will be even cuter since their dad will be Worldwide Handsome" ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧

YOU ALMOST THROW UP

"JINNIE I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU I'M PREGNANT ALL DAY"

"oh."

Long moment of silence before he speaks again:

"Let's just hope the baby has my face."

"SEOKJIN YOU MOTHERFUC-"

Kim Namjoon

You're riding on the back of his bike because this boy does not know how to drive

And then you remember: oh yeah, I should probably tell him he's gonna be a dad soon

You've known for a week, you just haven't found the right time

So maybe once you get to the picnic spot, everything will work out that way!

You lay down the blanket and bring out the food (You packed a bottle of Champagne for the event)

And just as Namjoon finished taking a bite of his sandwich you said "Joonie, how would you like to be a dad?"

He choked

And choked some more

Like his face is turning purple

"OH MY GOD JOON ARE YOU DYING?"

You call an ambulance and someone performs CPR, successfully removing the pickle stuck in your boyfriend's throat

And they wrapped him in a blanket

Amongst all the craziness he finally musters out a "I'm gonna be a dad?"

"Yes Joonie"

"They gave me a shock blanket, I'm in shock"

"Yes Joonie"

"I'm gonna be a good dad"

You're gonna end up having to parent two children

Min Yoongi

You and Yoongi have always been open about everything

You both prided yourselves on never keeping any secrets because you both knew good relationships allowed for conversation

Well..... This was a bit different

You just found out you were pregnant

And now you had to tell him

But you just couldn't

Every time you saw him and said today is the day, it never ended up being the day

But you had just gone out for a date to a karaoke place and Yoongi was having a blast

Singing, dancing, you name it the kid was having a great time

So you decided now was the time

And you wanted to do a sappy duet and tell him as the song ended

But uh

Yoongi decided you were gonna sing Industry Baby by Lil Nas X

You were trying your hardest to keep up, but Yoongi was already on the floor twerking and there was nothing you could do

"Yoongles I'm having a baby!"

"Yeah I love this song!"

"No, not an Industry Baby I'm talking about your child!"

"Technically my child would be one of the industry since I'm a Kpop star!"

More twerking

"YOONGI YOU'RE GONNA BE A DAD"

Twerking pauses

"A what now?"

Jung Hoseok

So. Y'all were not planning on having a kid

It just uh happened due to y'alls bedroom interests (keeping it PG-13 here)

And so when you were getting out of the bath and you saw your stomach looking extra bloated than usual you decided to take a test because why not?

And you screamed because there was no way in hell you were gonna allow something like the Alien movies to happen to you

You didn't even waste any time telling your boyfriend, who was currently sipping a Piña Colada on the couch

"Wassup babe?"

"I'M GONNA DIE"

"Why this time?"

"YOUR STUPID [redacted] GOT ME PREGNANT AND NOW THEY'RE GONNA CUT IT OUT OF ME AND FEED ME MY INSIDES"

Hobi just about spilled his drink everywhere as he got up and ran to the restroom

You couldn't see what he was up to but you could hear him puking from the next room over

After twenty minutes he came out

"So uh, are why are you gonna eat our baby?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You said they would feed you your insides?"

"I was being overdramatic about my placenta you idiot"

He sits down next to you

"So you're not gonna eat the baby?"

Park Jimin

He already knew, he was just waiting for you to tell him

He saw the test in the trash, you really should know to hide things better

So when you finally sat him down for "the talk" he knew what you were going to say

"Jiminie, I'm pregnant"

"Oh really?"

He got up to congratulate you with a big hug and an excited smile but then-

"Do you think we could trade it for a dog?"

W H A T

A D O G ?

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN TRADE IT IN FOR A DOG?"

"Like- I want a dog more than a baby, do you think maybe I could trade for one?"

Jimin fainted

You already had three dogs

When he woke up he found himself lying in your shared bed and he was very confused

The only thing he remembered last was the kitchen

"Y/N, so uh, are you uh, pregnant?"

"Huh, what about oregano?"

"No, No are we having a baby?"

"I told you that last week Jiminie are you okay?"

Jimin went back to sleep

Kim Taehyung

You had just gone to the doctor after taking your pregnancy test and had confirmed that you were, indeed, pregnant

And so you decided to pick up some balloons and streamers while you were out to decorate your shared apartment with Tae in celebration

Once you had everything ready, all that was left for you to do was wait

And so you did

And you waited

And waited

And waited some more

When finally Taehyung opened up the door and walked inside around 11:00pm

But uh

He was wearing a fursuit

"GODDAMN IT TAE! WHERE WERE YOU? I TOLD YOU YOU HAD TO BE HOME EARLY BECAUSE I WANTED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING IMPORTANT"

"I was at furry con"

"FURRY CON?"

You watched as your boyfriend walked to the fridge and took off his wolf head

"You know, Y/N, you should always knock on the fridge before you open it"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Because there might be a salad dressing inside"

In a fit of rage you threw his dumb mask into the fridge

"I'm pregnant."

You scowled at him but he smiled

"Me too"

Jeon Jeongguk

"Hey, Jeongguk? How come you're not at work?"

Your boyfriend was currently situated on the living room couch with his favorite Jacob Sartorius hoodie and a a singular tear rolling down his cheek

"I had used up all of my sick leave, so I called in dead"

"What's wrong, Kook?"

Your boyfriend slowly arose from the couch, his hand in a fist and and a scowl on his face

"You wouldn't understand, Y/N"

"Wouldn't understand what?"

Your boyfriend inched towards your apartment window and bonked his head against that glass due to his internal agony

"We're all out of apple juice"

"Okay..... So then I can go to the store and pick up some more for you-"

"NO!" JK throws himself against the door and starts sobbing

"IT WON'T BE THE SAME!"

"Why not?"

Your boyfriend goes silent and then he pulls out a clipboard from between his ass cheeks

"MY apple juice has to be hand-squeezed"

He shows you the statistics on his clipboard which is just a drawing of Snoop Dogg

So you end up going to get JK his 'Mystic Apple juice'

And he uh gets really uh excited uh and uh yeah so you know what happens when a mommy loves a daddy

BUT ANYWAYS

So y'all do some stuff whatever the point is bada bing bada boom you got yourself a fetus

And now you would have to tell Jungkook

But how?

So you came up with a really cute idea to write him a sweet little note telling him everything

And when he got home he excitedly tore open the little envelope and read the message

"So uh, is that it?"

HUH

"What do you mean, 'Is that it?'"

"I mean, are you just pregnant or whatever?"

You blinked your eyes in dumbfoundedness

"Uh yeah JK you're going to be a father"

JK fixed his hoodie. "Tsk tsk. You really shouldn't be so overdramatic about little stuff like this"

"JUNGKOOK I LITERALLY HAND SQUEEZED JUICE FOR YOU YESTERDAY"

"THAT WAS DIFFERENT"