#'a musician who just happens to play drums' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladykailitha · 6 months

Text

Whatever You Need I've Got It

Just a little silly thing I thought of watching The Airborne Toxic Event music videos and how it seemed like whenever they needed violin, piano, tambourine...whatever it was always Anna Bulbrook playing.

So what if we steddified it? Steve just picking up whatever instrument Corroded Coffin needs to fill out a song and suddenly he's on tour with them and Eddie still isn't sure how it happened.

****

Eddie was getting frustrated. The band had been working on this song for the last two weeks, but there was still something missing. And he only had mere minutes to finish it before Steve came to pick him up.

Not because they were dating or anything, though...Eddie mentally slapped the side of his head. He was getting off track. Steve was picking him up because his van was in the shop until Friday and Steve had offered to taxi him around.

Like the fucking saint he was.

He screamed his rage, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. But into the resulting silence, he realized it had become too quiet.

When he looked up he saw Steve standing there with a shocked expression on his face.

"You good there, man?" he asked with a grimace.

"Don't mind him," Brian huffed. "He always gets like this when we're stuck on a song."

"Can I hear it?" Steve asked.

Everyone just looked at each other, not speaking.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, not a metalhead, I know. But I am a classically trained musician, maybe I can figure out where it's gone wrong."

"Fine by me," Jeff said with a shrug. "What's it going to hurt?"

Eddie looked up at Steve's earnest face and sighed. "All right, if there are no objections. Let's start it at the top."

And the band played.

"Play it again," Steve muttered.

They looked at each other again, but Eddie just shrugged and they played it again.

Steve nodded. "Okay, I think I've got it. Can I borrow that old keyboard for a sec?"

Gareth looked behind him with a frown. "I mean I guess."

Steve set it up and plug it in. "Brian start on your cue."

The band watched as Brian laid on the base. Steve nodded in time to the music and then began to play a melody on the keyboard. He pointed to Gareth who immediately started banging away.

Eddie came in on vocals and suddenly the song was really coming together.

They practiced it a couple more times, Steve playing the melody line on the keyboard and when they were done all four of the Corroded Coffin boys stared at him in shock.

"Holy shit dude," Jeff said. "What the fuck was that?"

Gareth nodded. "Yeah, man. Eddie hear can play by ear and read music, but that was something else entirely."

"You're going to have to play it with us on Tuesday at the Hideout," Brian said.

Jeff and Gareth agreed. They all turned to Eddie, Steve included.

"I don't know why you're looking at me," Eddie huffed. "I'm down."

Steve just grinned.

****

But then it kept happening. The song was a hit with the Tuesday crowd because of course it was.

They were working on a song and again they were running up against a brick wall. They had already incorporated Steve's piano into it, but it was still missing an extra beat.

They had gotten permission to practice at local college's music room and Steve was getting bored.

He had his part down. There were only a couple of parts were the piano came in so he cast his eyes around the room looking for something mess around with.

His eyes lit up when he spotted his prize. He walked over to the table and picked it up, the clatter of the small metal jingles rattling as he did so.

The band stopped playing and glared at him.

"Don't mind me," he said smugly. "Keep playing."

They went back to starting from the top and as Gareth came in on the drums Steve hit the instrument against the side of his leg in time to the beat.

It stunned Brian so much he missed his cue, his jaw on the floor.

"Stevie..." Eddie said warningly. "What was that?"

Steve grinned. "You said you needed an extra beat. I'm providing the extra beat. Just trust me."

The other band members looked at each other, but did as he suggested.

Sure enough when the chorus came in, and Steve started playing the tambourine, it took everything ounce of professionalism the band had not ground to a complete stop. Then for the verses Steve would play his part on the piano and it just blended so well.

Eddie ran his fingers over his face. "Jesus Christ, Stevie, warn a dude, yeah? You are just sitting over there like a musical genius and it's seriously making the rest of us look bad."

Steve thew back his head and laughed.

"So it's a hit then?"

Everyone groaned.

Jeff shook his head. "Yeah, man. It was a hit."

Steve just grinned.

****

They were recording their first real album in a real studio and while the producers were a little unsure about this weirdo who dressed more like Bruce Springsteen than Kirk Hammett, they had contracted the whole band so they let it slide.

It took Steve two weeks to impress the producers.

Steve had been using the studio off hours (which he did pay them for) to record lullabies on the violin for Robin and Lucas. Violins were the only things that would soothe their anxieties and keep the nightmares at bay.

He had finished his little recording about an hour ago was merely laying down melodies and such that he would play back to see if he liked them.

If only his parents could see him now. Using all that classically trained music to guess Russian code, play lullabies for frightened kids, and preform in a metal band.

Clint Harrington would probably keel over on the spot.

He was so wrapped up in the music, just letting it flow over him that he didn't notice that he had gathered an audience.

He finally stopped and the mic from the sound booth crackled to life startling him.

"Shit, Stevie," Eddie's warm voice said from above him. "Do you think you could play that haunting melody again?"

Steve blushed and then shrugged. "I mean I guess. It was just me playing around. Why?"

"Because everyone in here thinks it's just what Blood-Red Skies needs."

Steve furrowed his brow and then nodded. "Can you pump the track in through the speakers?"

"Yeah," Eddie said breathless. "Just give me a moment to find it."

It was barely a moment or two before Steve's tape was replaced by the recording of the song.

The song was hauntingly beautiful. Eddie only singing vocals as rest of the band played.

It was raw and emotional.

Steve let the song play through before he signaled to play it again.

This time when Eddie begins to sing, Steve begins to play the violin. That beautifully sad sound he had played just to get it out of his head beginning to raise.

"Holy shit!" a new voice came through. It was their producer Kenny Fontaine. "You made that up?"

Steve shrugged. "Sometimes I get music in my head and I need to get out."

"Teach me to play the piano part!" Eddie blurts wrestling the mic away from Kenny. "So that when we play it live you can be on violin and I can sing and play."

Steve grinned. "I'd love that."

I love you.

****

They are playing it on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson to promote the release of Blood-Red Skies.

The tension between Eddie and Steve is thick that Johnny calls them out on it.

And that's when Steve leaned over and kissed Eddie right on the lips.

Johnny is absolutely freaking out and in a good way.

They spend the rest of the interview tucked into each other's sides like puzzle pieces.

Even later, ten years down the line when Corroded Coffin is selling out stadiums, Eddie and Steve always end the song with a kiss.

****

Permanent Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

@goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian

@thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars

@tinyplanet95

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes

489 notes · View notes

phoneuserhana333 · 1 year

Text

.°˖✧ neighbor!doctor!abby / neighbor!producer!reader headcanons .°˖✧

tags: enemies to friends to lovers, cocky!yn/annoyed!abby, mutual pining, dumb lesbians, unresolved tension, more to be added.

PART2 — PART3 — NSFWHC — N(SFW)HC

• after finishing med school, abby got a job at her dad’s private clinic outside of new york, which she quit after working there for a year

• during college, she was a victim of horrible gossip; everybody thought that she had it easy because of her dad being one of the best doctors in new york (to be fair, she was more privileged than other students because of this, but she would never admit it)

• and because of the desire to prove herself, she quit her “safe” job to go to work at the ER in the city to prove that she isn’t just somebody’s spoiled daughter who happened to be in the medical field

• she moved out closer to manhattan because of her new job, renting out a small brick red townhouse in a row of other copy-pasted houses, filling the shelves with books and the kitchen with spices. it was truly her home, which was something she took pride in.

• abby’s first interaction with her neighborhood critters went stellar; she met margaret, an old lady who lived across the street with her tortoiseshell cats clara and mima. margaret and abby grew close and she would go over to her house to have tea every saturday.

• abby’s second interaction with her neighbors however… didn’t go that as well as she thought it would

• she had some sense of what her next door neighbor was like- or at least she thought she did

• music would be blasting every night, approximately from 9pm to 6am- when she left for work. abby concluded that her neighbor was either a musician, a nepotism baby (pot calling the kettle black) or just insane.

• some days, her neighbor would be playing piano, guitar or banging on drums. on tuesdays, abby could hear her sing (“she’s screeching like a banshee manny, it’s like- 2:35am! wha- no, she doesn’t sound good, you’re just hearing things!”, she would complain to her friends) and on fridays, her mysterious musician neighbor held parties

• abby tired to be patient, but her abundant patience lasted her maybe one and a half month, before she found herself banging on her neighbor’s front door, dressed in a muscle tee with her hair falling out of her fishtail braid

• abby looked at her watch- 1244 steps, 4:22am, friday. she groaned and rubbed her face, realizing that she was about to meet her (probably very drunk) noisy neighbor, but to abby’s surprise- the door didn’t open

• she could hear the music turn down and a few girlish giggles behind the door, confusing her further

• right as the blonde started knocking again, the lights turned off and she could hear a familiar voice yell- “nobody’s home! go away!”, followed by muffled laughter

• this pushed abby over the edge- countless nights of sleeplessness, an irregular meal schedule and long day shifts at the ER finally caught up to her, and her annoying neighbor was about to be on the receiving end of her wraith

• “you’re troublesome, you know that?! always being so loud during the night, while some of us have work in the morning! get out here right fucking now and turn that god-awful music down!”

• abby let out a shaky, frustrated breath, suddenly being met with a tense silence, she took a step away from the door, thinking she finally got her neighbor to quiet down for once, before she hear that same agitating voice retort-

• “… whatever, grandma!”, followed by the music turning back on, laughter and chatter continuing into the night.

• by this point, abby’s chest and face were cherry red and she was stomping back to her house, trying to ignore the pang of embarrassment and frustration in her belly

• dr. anderson fell asleep with her earbuds in and woke up with a horrendous headache, only to have to get ready for her 7am shift at the hospital

• soon enough, abby was locking the door to her townhouse, double checking the contents of her lunch bag and briefcase (a gift from her dad, duh), when she noticed it, noticed her

• dressed in a kitsch black coat with fluffy white fur around the sleeves, donning gloves and a matching baby blue scarf in the middle of god forsaken october, was her favorite next door neighbor, blissfully unaware of the death stare she was receiving

• abby felt her eye twitch when she noticed her bare legs leaning against the railing that lead to her front door- the irony

• “hey! you!” abby made her way over to her neighbor’s staircase, nearly tripping over her bags and coat, before she stopped at the bottom, staring up at her with tired bloodshot eyes and a red, scrunched up face

• “um… hi? do i know you?”

• “don’t act all sweet now, you need to be put in your place. what the hell is wrong with you-“

• on the other hand, you lazily smiled, and continued staring at her. must be my lucky day, you thought, eyeing abby’s buff body and biting your lower lip, eyes sticking to her arms which were flailing around as she yelled at you for- oh, she’s the woman from last night!

• “y’know, you could’ve just joined us, right? i don’t bite”, you replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

• abby, who despite being caught off guard by your borderline flirty statement, was about to keep going off on you, suddenly got interrupted by her apple watch alarm, warning her that she’ll be late for work

• she looked back at you with storms in her eyes, her glare making you straighten up and cross your arms defensively; your neighbor wasn’t only hot, but also intimidating

• “i do. this isn’t over, you better be home later. we need to talk.”, and with that abby walked away, leaving you with the sight of her towering form disappearing in the streets of new york, prompting you to dramatically fan yourself as your body heated up from the sight

• oh, you were definitely feeling inspired now.

#abby anderson #abby #abby anderson x reader #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x y/n #abby anderson x y/n #abby angst #ellie williams #joel miller #wlw #sapphic

634 notes · View notes

bloatedandalone04 · 1 year

Text

Screaming Whispers

➪the one where anakin is a musician and you’re his muse.

Warnings: rockstar anakin, modern au, smut, fluff, swearing to the max, pda, unprotected sex, hair pulling, praise kink, small corruption kink, size sink, his bands name is 'screaming whispers' which translates to 'sw' for short...like sw for star wars??? and i didn’t even plan that, it just happened, jealousy (brief), possessive anakin, fingering, oral (f receiving), soft dom anakin, choking kink

Word Count: 6.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The lights were blinding and his ears were ringing, but Anakin wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

He couldn’t see much past the flashlights on the phones and the stage lights that flickered in time with the drums his bandmate, Vinny, was currently pounding on. Live shows were always so much better than being stuck in a recording studio all day, because at least out on stage Anakin could let out all his pent up frustration and no one would bat an eye.

Actually, the way he got so into his performance and really gave it his all had his fans absolutely losing their minds as they, too, fell under the control of the music and the lights and the lyrics.

Anakin had only been in his band, Screaming Whispers, for just over a year now, but that was apparently enough time to get his and his friends’ names out there. One low budget album later and everyone knew about them, and really, Anakin had you to thank.

You are his high school sweetheart, and have been his biggest supporter since the day he told you he wanted to do something with music and maybe try to make it his career.

After writing countless drafts of songs that were all about you and his relationship with you, Anakin asked a couple of his friends who played instruments to rent out a recording studio to record one of the drafts he had actually finished.

Anakin was the lead singer and guitarist, while his friend, Vinny, played the drums, and his other friend, Theo, played bass.

It came out sounding decent and Anakin ended up editing it himself before uploading it to his burner account on Youtube, choosing some random photo he had taken of your hand holding his as the thumbnail.

Within a few days, the video only had about thirty views, and he knew most of them were from you.

When he had first let you listen to the song with a nervous expression gracing his features, he was worried when you didn’t say anything during the whole two minutes and forty six seconds it played for.

It ended and you turned to him, an unreadable look on your face before you were throwing yourself at him. He had never seen you so needy and desperate for him (unless he counted the very first time you and he slept together), and you spent the rest of the night loving on him because he had written you a song.

Your boyfriend of over three years at that point had actually made a whole song about you. How could you not tear his clothes off right then and there?

A few more weeks had passed when Anakin randomly decided to see how the video was doing. He was bored and you were at class, and he had grown tired of walking around your shared apartment on campus by himself.

When he clicked on the video, he was sure he had accidentally clicked the wrong one when he saw that it had gone from thirty views to ninety eight thousand views. It had over forty thousand likes and just under a thousand comments, all of which were praising him and the guys for how good the song is.

You once again jumped his bones a few hours later when he showed you it, muttering something about how you knew people would like the song once it got more exposure.

A month later, it had nearly a million views and Anakin was left to assume that the song had gone viral on a different platform that resulted in people searching the song up on Youtube. He didn’t go on TikTok or Instagram as he had no desire to, but was informed by Theo that the song actually did become super popular on TikTok and that was how so many people had found the video on his Youtube.

Since it had gotten way more attention than he had ever expected it to, Anakin quickly changed the channel name from ‘Manakin 246’ to ‘Screaming Whispers’. It was the first thing he thought of and both Vinny and Theo agreed to call themselves that if they were to ever record another song together.

Well, just a few days after that, the trio was contacted by a record label and a week later, they were signed onto Dynamic Studios as an official band.

It all happened so fast. Anakin was encouraged to finish and edit his previous drafts, and that was how he found himself recording a whole album with most of the songs being about you. Vinny and Theo helped out a lot with the songs, but insisted Anakin be credited as the lead songwriter, since the whole thing was his idea.

The album was called ‘Taking Back October’, and it had been streamed over three million times over various music sites. That, of course, resulted in a tour being booked, and that was where he is now.

A full year after uploading that song and three months of being on tour, Anakin could safely say he was meant to do this.

But the best part of it all? He had you watching him from your spot backstage, the biggest smile on your lips whenever he looked over at you from his place on the center of the stage.

From where you stood, he looked to be having the time of his life. He looked so in his element, so confident and comfortable, and not to mention unbelievably attractive.

You found yourself biting your lip as you hid away from the crowd. Part of you wondered how he did it, how he was so at home in front of thousands of strangers, but you supposed some people were just meant for the spotlight, and Anakin is definitely one of those people.

You definitely were not, as just the mere thought of stepping out onto the stage would send you into a full blown panic attack. And Anakin knew that, so despite him wanting to show you off to the world and to his fans - he couldn’t believe he actually has fans - he knew better than to shove you into the limelight like that.

For now, you were comfortable backstage, two lanyards around your neck that told everyone you were a guest on the tour, and that you were allowed backstage.

As you watched your boyfriend play and sing his heart out to his song Homecoming Queen, one of the stage crew members came waltzing up to you, a kind yet flirtatious smile on his lips. “Hi,” he said over the loud live music.

“Hi,” you called back, never taking your eyes off Anakin.

The guy looked down at your tour and backstage passes, a smirk growing on his lips. “You a friend of the bands?”

That made you glance over at him, and you were immediately uncomfortable at the way he was looking at you. “Something like that,” you answer, and it was true - Vinny and Theo had also gone to high school with you, but they were closer to Anakin, obviously - but the crew member didn’t seem too convinced. “I’m dating the lead singer, this song is actually about me.” You try again and watch as his eyes grow wide before he’s looking on stage and at your boyfriend.

He meets Anakin’s blue orbs, and right away you could see a hint of possessiveness in them, similar to the look he’d give other guys when they looked at you for a little too long back in high school.

The crew guy just backs away and leaves you alone, making you grin over at your boyfriend. Anakin just smirks before he is back to singing the chorus, all while never falling out of tune with the rest of the band.

Even though you were buzzing with excitement for what’s in store for you once he’s off the stage and you’d have him all to yourself, you couldn’t deny how attractive he looks on stage.

The show had been going on for just over an hour, and they would be wrapping up soon. Anakin’s skin was coated in a light layer of sweat, and the leather jacket he had been wearing when he had first walked out on stage had long since been discarded. His muscles flexed under the flashing lights as he effortlessly played his electric guitar and sang his heart out.

You were sure his throat was raw, but he didn’t stop, and the fans were loving it. You also couldn’t take your eyes off the way the muscles in his neck strained as he reached the higher notes of the song, and you had to press your thighs together to feel some sort of relief for the pressure that had been steadily building up.

After another ten minutes or so, the band wrapped up the performance and left the stage, leaving the fans still screaming in the stands. After Anakina picked up his jacket he tossed near the drum kit, he handed his guitar to the same stage crew member who had been talking to you, before he wrapped his free arm around your waist.

Your hands were barely touching either side of his face before he was kissing you deeply, the hand that held his jacket moving to grip your waist. Anakin pulled you closer to him, his adrenaline making his body ache for yours in hopes to find some sort of relief for the energy that surged through him.

“You were amazing out there,” you praised against his mouth, wanting nothing more than to poke your tongue out and run it up the side of his damp neck. “Like always.”

“Thank you, pretty girl,” he murmured, brushing his lips against yours before dipping his head down to kiss your neck. His hands bunched up the thin fabric of your loose sundress, the flowery print making his want for you skyrocket. “You look hot.”

You laugh, glancing down at the simple dress that seemed to turn him on as if it was the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. “You look hot,” you say back and brush his slightly wet hair away from his forehead. You had to crane your neck a bit to be able to gaze up into his blue eyes, due to the sheer size difference between the two of you. The physical evidence of just how different you two are, even down to your height, had you pressing your thighs together again.

He wore dark clothes, most of which are adorned with chains, and his left arm was showing off a steadily growing sleeve of tattoos of random things - a lightsaber, a couple quotes, more than a few vulgar images, and most importantly, an outline of a heart with the initial of your first name inside it on his bicep. His wardrobe consisted of jeans, muscle tees, leather and jean jackets, and vintage - though sometimes graphic - shirts. He wore black boots or converse to tie off every outfit, completed with a couple of wristbands, rings and his signature necklace chain with your initials on the small charm.

You wore light colors, dresses and skirts that allowed you to show off the soft skin of your legs. Your body was bare of tattoos, with the exception of an ‘A’ on the side of your left wrist. Gold and silver jewelry were always on your wrist or around your neck, and you often wore flats or sneakers that went well with the rest of your look.

It was a big difference between the two of you, one that had been there since you were both seventeen, and it was what drew you into one another to begin with.

He looked intimidating, scary, even, but you found out that he had the sweetest heart, and he had given it to you.

“I am hot,” he grinned down at you, and the double meaning had you shaking your head as he stepped away from you and placed his jacket over your shoulders. He looked you up and down, biting down harshly on his bottom lip as his hands found their home on your waist again. The black leather contrasted against your light dress in such a sinful way, Anakin almost let out a groan at the sight. “Fuck, I can’t wait to take you back to the hotel after this.”

The band was playing two shows in D.C., so their manager went out of her way to book them a hotel for the night. It saved them from sleeping on the tour bus, which was surprisingly difficult to do, and Anakin could usually fall asleep anywhere.

He once fell asleep sitting down with his back pressed up against a washing machine in the laundry room at your apartment while he was waiting for the load to dry. He probably would’ve been sleeping for at least another half hour, had another resident not woken him up because he was sleeping against the only available washing machine.

But, for some reason, Anakin found that sleeping on a tour bus was next to impossible, even though he was given the only double bed because he had you with him.

So, in an attempt to get himself tired, he would spend a good hour with you in bed once he and the band got back on the bus after a show.

He could only imagine how happy Theo and Vinny are at the fact that they won’t have to listen to the two of you going at it for at least one of the two hundred and fifty nights they spent on tour.

“Yeah? You excited to spend a night with me in an actual room instead of a bus?” You teased, wrapping your arms around his shoulders when his wrapped around your waist and pulled your body right up against his.

“I’m so fucking excited,” he answered, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as the stage crew walked around the two of you to begin packing up the equipment. He leaned down so his lips were brushing against your ear as he whispered, “We can be as loud as we want. I can’t wait to make you scream.”

You refrain from moaning in a public place, ignoring how dumb that sounded when you thought about how loud you got on a tour bus that had only a single, thin door that separated yours and Anakin’s room from the other guys.

This man made you crazy in all the best possible ways. “Well,” you say back, tugging him impossibly closer by the hem of his white tee shirt. “What are you waiting for? An encore?”

Anakin groaned quietly, cursing under his breath when he felt your hand slide up the heated skin of his torso. “Fuck no,” he muttered, taking your hand in his and guiding you towards the exit door that would lead the two of you out to the parking lot. “I think if everyone in that audience could see just how good you look right now, they wouldn’t blame me for not going back out there and taking you to bed.”

You smirked a bit as he pulled you onto the bus with him and towards your room to indulge in a makeout session before he would give you the real thing once you got to the hotel.

A short ten minute drive later, and Anakin was painfully aware of just how hard he’s gotten since your quick encounter backstage, followed by your intense making out that took place on the bus.

Once his manager had given him the key to his room, Anakin pulled you along with him as he made his way to the elevator, pushing the button for the twelfth floor when he was in it.

He leaned back against the wall as the numbers above the doors increased with every passing second. His lips were on yours in messy and noisy kisses, his hands sliding down to lift the bottom of your dress up as if you weren’t still in a public place, and were probably being recorded because every elevator seemed to have cameras nowadays.

Once it stopped at the twelfth floor, Anakin easily picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, his hand placed firmly on your back to prevent your dress from slipping up and exposing you to anyone who might enter the hall while he carried you to the room.

He inserted the keycard for room 1209 with his free hand, before tossing it onto the table in the entryway. Anakin’s hands grip your waist after he sets you down and he turns your body away from him, his fingers sliding up your back and pushing your hair to the side. He unclasps the gold necklace he had bought you a few nights ago from a cute store you and he stumbled upon while you were out sightseeing.

Anakin gently sets the chain down onto the table as well and places a few kisses to the back of your neck before he guides you forward and towards the king sized bed. “Look at that, baby,” he murmurs in your ear, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Since you had discarded his jacket back on the bus, his lips had free rein over the skin of your shoulders and neck as he sucked a few light marks onto it. “It’s bigger than our bed we have at home.”

Home. It seemed like so long ago, when in reality, Screaming Whispers had only been on tour for three months now. Anakin planned on using the money he would get from the tour and the shows to officially move in with you, in your own house, not a student apartment that was on the campus of his old college.

You were still a student there, but had opted to get all your assignments done before the tour so you could save yourself from having to give up the school year.

Humming, you lean back against his body. “We still need to get our bags from the bus,”

Anakin sucked on the skin of your jaw as his hands pulled at the thin fabric of your dress. “I’ll get our stuff later,” he promised, sliding his hands up the front of your body, making chills take over you as he gripped your chest. “You look so fucking pretty, baby.”

You hum again, closing your eyes when you feel one of his hands inch lower and lower until it disappears underneath your dress. “Just for you, Ani,” you whispered as he softly rubbed your clit through the thin lace of your panties.

He kissed your shoulder in appreciation as his hand slipped past the lace, his ring-clad middle finger dipping into your heat. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he nearly moaned, his free arm wrapping around your middle when he felt your body slump back against his. “So wet for me.”

“Ani,” you gasped quietly, moaning when he began to pump his finger in and out of you. The lace restricted him from going super hard, but he much rather preferred to work you up to that, anyway. “Fuck, it’s all for you. You looked so hot tonight.”

“You look hot, too, pretty girl,” he mumbled and removed his hand from your panties as he spun your body around so your chest was pressed to his. “I saw the way that crew guy was looking at you.”

You moaned quietly when his knee separated your legs, his thigh rubbing against your core through his jeans. “I said I was with you,” you weakly say, gripping his biceps tightly when his hands found your waist and began sliding your body up and down his thigh. “Said I’m yours.”

“You are mine,” he rasped, pressing a searing kiss to your lips before he gently shoved you away. The backs of your knees hit the end of the bed and you fall back onto it, your dress slipping up past your thighs and revealing the pastel pink lace that covered your core. “You’ve been mine since we were seventeen.”

You bite down harshly on your lip when he pulls the lace down your legs and drops it to the floor. “Oh, fuck,” you mumbled when he ran his tongue up your folds, eagerly collecting your wetness.

Anakin glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing at the way you were refraining from being too loud. “No, Y/n,” he says sternly, bringing a hand up to slide his index and middle fingers into you. “We have this whole room to ourselves. I want you to be as loud as you can fucking get.”

Almost instantly a loud moan escapes you when he sucks on your clit, your back arching slightly when he began to fuck his fingers into you. Those skilled fingers, the same ones that had so effortlessly played the guitar in front of thousands of people just a half hour before. “Fuck, Ani. Fuck,” you whined.

Anakin smirked against you, curling his fingers once they are knuckle deep within you. The calloused tips brush against your walls and make you squeeze your eyes shut, finding it hard to believe that a year before all this, the skin of his fingers was smooth and gentle as he only played guitar in his free time before he made a career out of it.

Over a year of playing it non-stop had hardened his fingers and was a blessing in disguise, as they had never felt better when they were buried deep within you.

“God, it feels so good,” you whimpered as he traced the letters of his name with his tongue onto your clit. “So fucking good, Ani.”

He hummed, sending vibrations up your core and making your mind go into a frenzy. “Louder, baby,” he softly demanded, moving back up your body and hovering over you while his hand picks up the pace a bit. “I want this whole floor to complain about us tomorrow.”

You were so turned on, you couldn’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed about the sounds your core was making as his fingers plunged into it repeatedly. Not that Anakin ever let you feel embarrassed about it, seeing as he prided himself on how wet he makes you every time he goes out on stage.

“I know you want it, too,” he continues as he stared down at your fucked out expression. “Admit it.”

“I want it,” you managed to say as his thumb began rubbing circles on your clit in time with his fingers. The coolness from his ring contrasted against your searing heat, making the knot in your abdomen steadily form.

Anakin smirked down at you, leaning in to run his tongue along the skin under your ear. “Want what?”

“God,” you groaned as he pumped his fingers in and out of you at a brutal pace. “I want everyone on this floor to know who makes me feel so good, Anakin. I want them all to complain about how loud we are.”

Anakin was satisfied with your answer, “That’s my girl,” and he leaned down to begin sucking various marks onto the skin of your neck, the sounds you were emitting going straight to his dick that throbbed against his jeans. He didn’t think he could ever get tired of hearing all the sweet sounds you made just for him, and had been making for him since you were in high school.

“Anakin,” you moaned, lifting your hips in time with the movement of his hand. “Please, please, don’t stop.” Your lips brushed against his as you begged him to keep fucking you with his skilled fingers.

He hummed, kissing you deeply. “You gonna come for me?” He asked, already knowing the answer as he felt the way you clenched around his fingers every time your walls sucked him back in.

“Yes,” you nearly whispered, a crease forming in your brow as the coil in your stomach was a mere few seconds away from snapping. “Please.”

“Come for me, pretty girl,” he requested, his voice deep and sultry next to your ear. “I want it all over my hand.”

You were unable to deny him his wish as you came hard, your thighs shaking slightly and your mouth opening to let out a long and loud moan. Your head dipped back into the middle of the bed, your fingers twisting tightly in the soft comforter as he slowed down the thrusts of his hand until you were whimpering quietly.

“Just like that, baby,” he praised, kissing you once before removing his fingers from inside you. He brings his hand up to his mouth and sucks the digits clean as he moves back down your body. Anakin licked a single strip up your slick core before standing up, smirking at the way your whole body shook at the action.

You weakly propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him pull his belt from his jean loops. He drops it to the floor, the sound of the buckle hitting the hardwood making your head swim with thoughts of what’s in store for you next.

“Take that pretty dress off, baby,” he said under his breath, reaching behind him to pull off the white tee and leaving it to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You quickly lifted yourself up so you were kneeling on the bed, your hands fumbling to tug off your dress. Anakin gives you a soft smirk at how obedient you always are for him as you tossed the dress off the side of the bed, kicking his jeans down his legs and leaving him in his tight boxer briefs.

You gave him a look that nearly had him falling to the floor as he moved forward and kneeled on the bed in front of you, making you crane your neck to be able to stare up at him. Your hands reach up and tug on the hair on the back of his neck, pulling his head down so his mouth could meet yours.

Moaning quietly against his lips, you arch your back when you feel his hands slide up to unclasp your matching pink bra. He pulled it from your body, leaving you completely bare to his lust filled eyes. He let out a low growl as his hands slid back down to your hips. “Lay back, pretty girl,”

You oblige quickly, laying further up on the bed and resting against the soft pillows. “Please, Anakin,” you whined as he rubbed his still covered dick against your heat. “Fuck me.”

Anakin groaned as he shoved his boxers down, gripping your thighs and tugging them up until they were draped over his. “I’ll fuck you, baby,” he promised, running his tip over your wetness and coating himself in it. “I’ll fuck you so good, make sure everyone knows who made you come.”

“Fuck, yes,” you gasped just as he thrusted himself into you without warning, making you reach out to grip his forearms. Still on his knees, Anakin began fucking into you at a brutal pace, pouring all his leftover energy from the show into the way his hips hit yours. “God, yes.”

Anakin gripped your waist tightly, his eyes drifting from the way your breasts bounced with each thrust to your face as it twisted up in pleasure. “Say my name,” he demanded, burying himself to the brim and pausing there.

Your body tensed up, your stomach muscles flexing as he kept your hips pressed to his. “Anakin,”

“Louder,” he ordered, repeating the action.

“Anakin!” You shouted, and it was followed by a string of moans as he resumed rocking his body against your own. “God, Anakin, you’re so deep. So deep in me.”

He grunted at your filthy words, the faint sound of the headboard hitting the wall making the whole scene look like it was straight out of a porno. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well,” he praised, reaching one hand up to pinch at your sensitive nipples. He felt you clench around him as he worked on hardening your peaks, his pace faltering just slightly at the tightness of your walls. “Always take me so well.”

“I love you, Anakin,” you whimpered, arching your back and pushing your chest up against his hand.

He groaned at your sweet words, placing his hands flat against the comforter on either side of your head from where he knelt above you. “I love you so much,” he said back, speeding up his pace. “I’ve loved you for four years now, baby.”

“Nearly five,” you reminded him with a cry of pleasure. “We’ve been together for almost five years, Ani.”

“I know, princess,” he murmurs, leaning further down to press his lips to yours in a gentle kiss, a big contrast to the way his lower body was currently destroying yours. “How could I ever forget about the day you became mine?”

“Best day of my life,” you mumbled when he leaned back again, digging his knees into the bed as he all but railed into you. “Fuck, you feel so good, Anakin.”

“You’re so tight,” he responded, making your stomach twist with a need to please him forever. You were vaguely aware of the loud smacking of the headboard now, and the way the picture that hung above the bed was tapping with each thrust of his hips. It only fueled your desire for him as your hands gripped the comforter once again.

Your previous orgasm rendered you a bit more sensitive than normal, so you weren’t all that surprised to feel that knot begin to tighten once more. “Fuck, you’re going to make me come again,”

“Yeah? You’re going to come all over me again?” He mocked slightly, only making your head swim with dizziness at how dirty the whole event is. “I want it. Come all over me, pretty girl, nice and messy.”

Your eyes rolled back just a bit when he reached one hand up to press his fingers against the base of your neck. A strangled moan escaped you as you clenched helplessly around him.

You didn’t think you would ever get used to how he was in bed, versus how he was out of it. He was sweet, kind and caring with you outside the bedroom, but inside it he was rough, loud and determined to get you off in any way he possibly could. The difference was almost too much to handle.

A few more deep thrusts later and your core was flooding around him, noisily sucking him in deeper and alerting him of your second orgasm. “That’s it, baby,” he praised, watching as his dick became even more coated in your wetness. It spurred him to speed up the pace so he could reach his own release. “Good fucking girl.”

“Anakin,” you struggled to say as your body shook with overstimulation. “Ani, come, baby, please.”

It wasn’t the first time he had you begging him to come in you, but it still had his head going fuzzy for a second or two, as well as made him twitch inside you. “You want it?” He asked through a clenched jaw, his neck muscles straining as he tried to hold off for a little bit longer.

“Yes,” you answered, powerless against his sharp thrusts as you took each one. “I want it so bad.”

“Fuck, princess,” he muttered, his pace slowing down as his own release flooded through him. With a couple slow thrusts into your greedy core, he fucked his seed deep within you.

He falls onto the bed next to you a few seconds later, his chest heaving and a light layer of sweat adorning his skin, mirroring the way he looked on stage an hour or so prior to this.

Anakin was a lot more drained now than he was before, and he knew that if he were to stay in bed for much longer he would probably pass out with you wrapped in his arms.

He lifted himself up and pressed a soft kiss to your mouth, murmuring an “I’ll be right back,” against it before he dressed himself in his shirt and jeans, grabbing the keycard on his way out to retrieve both yours and his bags from the bus.

The next day, after spending most of the morning wrapped up in the sheets together, you and Anakin finally decided to get up.

Kind of.

He was currently propped against the headboard, eating a piece of toast with you on his lap. His acoustic guitar he brought with him was placed in your lap as you softly ran your fingers against the strings, leaning back against his bare chest. You were nowhere near as talented as he is with the instrument, and you knew it would sound awful if you were to try and play it without his guidance.

“Mm,” he hummed when you plucked one of the strings at his request, tossing the crust of the toast onto the plate that was next to him on the bed. He would usually be more careful so there wouldn’t be any crumbs in the sheets, but he was checking out of the hotel before tonight’s show, so he decided to leave it to the cleaning staff as he knew they would be washing the sheets anyway. “That’s the B string, baby, not the D string.”

“And I’m supposed to know that…how?” You asked as he wrapped his arms around your middle.

“Well, I’ve only been playing guitar for the entire length of our relationship,” he teased as he placed his right hand over yours. He guided your thumb to one of the middle strings and gently brushed it against it. Of course, it sounded a lot better because he was the one who controlled how much pressure and the pace of your thumb against the string. “That’s the D string.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes at the cockiness in his voice as you strummed along the string again, this time sounding a bit better than before.

“There you go,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as a reward. “That was good.”

You turn your head to give him a small glare. “You’ve never been a good liar,” you mutter. “Especially when it comes to lying to me, it’s why you could never get away with cheating.”

Anakin scoffed, “I would never,”

You shake your head with a dumb grin on your lips as he guides your fingers to strum the tune he had been going over in his head for the past few days. You let him take full control over the way he moved your fingers, noting the soft humming of an unfamiliar song leaving the back of his throat. “New song, Ani?”

He shrugged from his spot behind you, leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, your tank top doing very little to cover your skin from him. “Maybe,” he answers as he begins to kiss up your neck, not even needing to look down at the strings to be able to play them perfectly.

It made you a bit lightheaded, how hot and talented he truly is. “What’s it going to be about?” You ask, eyes glued to the way he effortlessly helped you play the guitar while also holding a conversation with you. His talent always surprised you, despite knowing early on how skilled he is with the instrument.

“You, obviously,” he replied and you rolled your eyes. “What else would I write a song about?”

“You’re too much,” you say and he laughs quietly, agreeing with you as he goes back to mumbling potential lyrics in your ear.

A few hours go by and it’s nearing the time for Anakin and the band to head onto stage. He smoothes out his graphic tee and smirks at the way you cowered behind the large speaker, eyeing him with your lip caught between your teeth.

“God, Ani, you look good,”

“Me?” He asked and reached his hand out to you, pulling you into his arms once you took it. He played with the end of your pink and white skirt, eye fucking you a mere few minutes before he had to go perform in front of thousands of people. “I bet Vin and Theo are so jealous that it was me who got to take you to bed last night, in an actual room.”

You loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders, gazing up at him. “I bet all your fans are jealous that it’s going to be me who gets you all to herself after the show,”

Anakin hummed lowly, pressing a kiss to the skin under your ear. “I’d be jealous, too, if the hottest girl took me home,” he rasped. “Or in our case, took me back to that stupid bus.”

You laughed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. Since you had applied a cute pink lip to go with your skirt, a stain was left on his skin when you pulled away. “Oh, sorry,” you say and lift your hand up, but pause when his fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Don’t you dare try to wipe that off,” he ordered with a smirk. “I think it completes my look.”

And it really did. A black snapback was placed backwards on his head, a vintage shirt covered his chest and exposed his sleeve of tattoos, dark jeans with a few chains connected to the belt loops hugged his legs, and black boots gave him the daunting appearance of someone who was born to be on stage.

The pink lipstick mark only added to the whole thing.

“Okay,” you swallow harshly, stepping away once Vinny handed him his guitar. “Have a good show.”

“I love you,” he called out as he placed the strap over his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”

When he made his grand entrance, the crowd seemed even louder than normal, and you could only hope at least some of them were able to see your mark on his cheek as you hid behind the speaker and watched your boyfriend get lost in his element.

Series based off this fic

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker #anakin star wars #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #star wars #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagines #hayden christensen #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen icons #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen imagine #screaming whispers #screaming whispers au

708 notes · View notes

nerd-artist · 16 days

Text

Horizon Rock Bands AU: Rock Breakers

The second (and maybe last?) band of the AU that’s been leaving no place for any other thoughts in my mind. Jem and the Holograms inspired. Ereloy implied 🧡✨

The band

The original leader of the group was Ersa, who started forming Rock Breakers with her brother Erend. However, after a tragedy left her unable to continue being part of the band, the Vanguard siblings decided that Erend should carry on with the group's formation. After what had happened, their mission was more critical than ever: to bring down Nemesis, its members, and their unfair musical dominance.

Avad, a wealthy representative with whom Ersa had a very close relationship, helped Erend in the search for other members who shared their common goal. That's how Varl, Kotallo, Drakka, and Nil joined the band, shaping the unique and diverse style that Rock Breakers is known for. Their blend of romantic and heavy sound has earned them a loyal fanbase, though, thanks to Nemesis' schemes, they've never managed to win The Proving. During the competition, they met Alpha Prime and came to the conclusion that both bands needed to support each other to defeat the evil group. Ersa became Alpha Prime's manager, ensuring that no one—not even they—would get in her little brother's way.

With Avad as their manager, Rock Breakers dominates their tour, which also serves as training for the competition. They don't have the help of any magical computers to make their shows unforgettable, but they pull it off with their creative use of fire and fireworks.

Character bios under the cut

Erend

A deep voice and deep feelings—no wonder Erend is the lead singer and main songwriter of Rock Breakers. He always performs accompanied by his guitar ‘Hammer’, though it’s rarely the same one at each show, as he gets so excited in playing ‘Weird Space Ball’ that he ends up smashing it against the stage. He started competing in music contests for the love of music, but a tragedy changed his purpose: his sister Ersa, with whom he was originally going to form the band, went deaf because of their former boss, Dervahl, who is now a member of the antagonist band Nemesis. Since then, he has devoted himself entirely to destroying that band, just as he smashes his guitars.

With this common goal, it’s no surprise that he’s gotten along well with Alpha Prime since meeting them, though that encounter didn’t just gain him allies—it also changed his heart forever, as he fell head over heels for Aloy the moment he saw her. Since then, nearly all his lyrics have been about her, though Aloy seems to be the only one who hasn’t noticed. He doesn’t hold out much hope that someone as capable and beautiful as her would be interested in him, even though the two minutes she promised him keep becoming longer and longer.

Varl

Varl met Erend at a comic con, and they instantly became friends. Coming from a strict upbringing where music had no place, he learned to play his bass, ‘Seeker,‘ in just a week, solely to join the band and experience the freedom of performing on stage. He’s always ready to carry out any plan that helps defeat Nemesis, even those that require sacrificing his own interests and beliefs. He fell for Zo, a member of Alpha Prime, the moment he met her, and unlike his friend, he did something about it—they´ve been together since, and they´re not subtle about it.

Kotallo

The unstoppable rhythm of his drum set, ‘Bulwark,‘ is unmistakable. Kotallo has been playing it his entire life, and not even the sudden loss of an arm has slowed him down—he continues to captivate the crowd with every beat. He was once a member of the band "The Ten," where he played alongside Regalla, until she defected to join Nemesis after getting Kotallo involved in a street fight that ultimately cost him his arm. Kotallo joined Rock Breakers to get a shot at revenge against his former bandmate and to prove that no matter how she tries to weaken him, he’ll always be a better musician and more honorable than her.

Drakka

He comes from barren lands, though that doesn’t reflect his character at all. Playful and cheeky, his personality shines through in his backing vocals and in the way he plays his ‘Yarra.‘ Every key he presses makes the crowd roar louder, and it ensures he’s never alone after a concert. But his purpose is more serious than it seems: to destroy the reputation of the companies owned by Nemesis members so they stop diverting water from his town for their own gain. Who says you can’t have fun while pursuing the greater good?

Nil

Little is known about his past, but it’s rumored that Nil is searching for redemption. His background is so enigmatic that even the other band members don’t quite remember how or when he became part of the group. Always mysterious, he used to cover his face during performances until he revealed it at the last concert, flashing that intense, mischievous gaze that drove the crowd wild. He found the perfect "Partner" in his guitar, which makes him stand out on stage with its unmistakable sound and with which he always puts on a good show.

Thank you for reading!!

If you want to know more about Alpha Prime, check this post.

Should I make one of these for Nemesis?

#horizon au #horizon rock band AU #horizon forbidden west #hfw fanart #erend #varl #kotallo #hfw drakka #hfw nil #ereloy #creating this look for men is not easy #this brain rot has come so far #what do you think they would sound like?#for me it would be something like the band Europe

79 notes · View notes

discordantwritings · 9 months

Text

Rock Hard (Rock Band!Cross Guild x Reader)

Part 1. Prelude

Prelude // The Vocalist // The Guitarist // The Drummer

Warnings: Slightly suggestive but that’s it for this first part!

WC: 2.6k

Summary: The Cross Guild is the newest rock band to hit the music scene and it’s three controversial members need a manager. That’s where you come in.

Notes: Part 1/5 of the rock band cross guild au is here. Nothing spicy in this part this is all just getting to know The Boys but do not fret, everything else will be just so much smut. This part has some similarities to my other cross guild fic but after this it’ll be a whole lot different trust me!

When The Cross Guild dropped their first single the music industry got turned upside down. A band consisting of three musicians who had been kicked out of the music label giant- Marines.

The lead singer was Buggy. Labeled an ICP wannabe by haters and the best clown ever by fans the flashy vocalist aimed to get a strong reaction- good or bad. Even if his wild style wasn’t for you no one could deny he was talented, which is what kept him with Marines for so long despite his many many controversies. Wild parties, fraternizing with fans, throwing knives at haters- if there was something crazy you could come up with Buggy probably did it. But somehow he always came out on top. You thought his string of diving consequences was over once he got kicked from Marines for good and had his band taken away but clearly you were wrong.

The second member was the world renowned guitarist, Dracule Mihawk. If you ask anyone who the best guitarist in the world was chances are the answer will be this man. Years of skill and talent pour through his long pale fingers every time he is on stage. But he’s not on stage very often. Coming in and out of retirement at the pestering of Marines- some remnants of a contract made long long ago- he graces the stage maybe once a year, shows everyone he hasn’t lost any of his skill, and retreats to his remote mansion. No one is sure why he got fired from Marines, but it was the same time that Buggy (and, significantly less importantly, you) got let go.

The last member was someone no one even knew played an instrument- Crocodile. Crocodile was infamous in the music industry. He produced the hit band Baroque Works under the Marines label until it all came crumbling down. There are thousands of rumors about what happened but all of them say that Crocodile was, in some form, stealing money out from under the label for himself. Baroque Works was broken up and Crocodile was fired but no charges were ever pressed against him. No one had thought about him for years until he appeared suddenly as the drummer for The Cross Guild.

All three of them were large personalities and with a history of not being team players the fact that their first song was actually really damn good was surprising. You didn’t consider yourself a huge rock fan but you couldn’t help but play the song on repeat. The drum beat was hypnotizing, the guitar melody filled you with energy, and Buggy’s vocals had you humming along and dancing in your room.

It helped your enjoyment of their music that The Cross Guild’s mission statement of sorts was to stick it to Marines. All three had some sort of grudge with that label and you did to. Of course you hadn’t been high up at all- just an assistant manager to one of the smaller bands- but you got fired in the same massive wave that had gotten Buggy and Mihawk. You never did anything wrong and were dumped without any warning. Living on cheap ramen for months as you scraped by on savings until you found another job filled you with an anger that gurgled up every time you heard one of Marine’s bands on the radio. But now you were given some counter to that and for that you were grateful.

All that is to say, you were a fan. So when an email pops into your inbox from Daz Bonez, the assistant to Crocodile, you nearly dropped your phone. Then as you read you’re sure you’re having some sort of vivid hallucination because it is an offer to interview for the position of manager for The Cross Guild. You never worked with any of the members when you all worked at the same label so how people like them heard of you is beyond you. After checking a dozen times that no it was not some sort of scam email you replied.

A week later you were taking an elevator up a sleek high rise to meet with The Cross Guild. It took you the whole week to pick out an outfit and the entire morning you have been willing yourself not to throw up from sheer anxiety. When the elevator doors opened you took a deep breath and centered yourself. You could do this.

You walk up to a large desk with a man you recognize- Daz, Crocodiles assistant- sitting behind it. When you walk over he stands up and greets you.

“Glad you could make it. They’re waiting for you in here.” He goes over to a door to the right of his desk and you follow a few paces behind, watching the broad man open the door and gesture for you to enter. You slide past him with a polite smile and do your best not to look star struck when you see three rock stars waiting for you.

Crocodile sits behind a large sleek desk, lit cigar in one hand while his other prosthetic hand taps on the desk. He’s dressed in the kind of outfits you always saw him wearing at the office, layers of fine fabric underneath a large fur lined coat. You wonder if he would wear the same thing on stage, or if he would strip down a few layers but you quickly cut off that line of thinking before it went too far. Three chairs are lined up across from him, two of which are occupied by his band mates. Sitting is a loose term to describe what Buggy is doing in the leftmost chair- perched would be a better term. He’s the first to acknowledge you, waving a gloved hand as you approach. He’s wearing a slightly toned down version of his stage costume, you know he always is in some sort of clown get up but it’s one thing to know and another to see a man dressed as a clown in an office building. As you approach the middle you look to your right and see Dracule Mihawk. He has on his signature long leather coat and a float white shirt underneath. You try not to stare at his slender fingers interlaced with each other in his lap as you hover behind the middle chair, slightly afraid to make eye contact with any of them.

“You can sit.” Crocodile says less as a question and more as a demand. You immediately slipped into the seat, doing your best not to shrink under his gaze.

“You worked for a few years as an assistant talent manager at Marines, yes?” Crocodile looks over a folder as he speaks to you.

“Yes I worked with The Vices for three years and floated around between bands for two years before that.” You answer, finding your rhythm and sitting up a bit straighter.

“Everyone said you did good work but you were fired. Why is that?” Crocodile finally looks you in the eyes and you feel your heart rise up to your throat.

You have a prepared answer. Creative differences, life choices, and any other neutral excuse that anyone gives as to why they got fired. But in this room, with these men, something else ends up coming out. The truth.

“I got no respect, and when I demanded it I was let go in a large wave of lay offs that they did to get rid of anyone that ever disagreed with them, even if that person was right.” You say in one breath, scared that if you stopped you’d lose your will. One of Crocodile’s eyebrows raises slightly and you can see out of the corner of your eye Mihawk sit up a bit more.

“Seems you have some opinions on Marines that we agree with.” There’s a slight tilt to his voice now, one that sheers off some of the gruffness of his tone. “I can’t say I really expected you to be so upfront but it’s a welcome surprise.”

“Did I come off as quiet?” You ask genuinely.

“A bit. But mostly people are afraid to speak ill of such a powerful company.”

“Well, I figured among the three of you with the history you all have that I didn’t have to hold back.” You’ve hit your stride now, sitting up tall and keeping eye contact with Crocodile.

“We do hate those fuckers.” Comments Buggy from your left. When you turn your head to look at him he’s staring at you, head resting on a hand propped up on the armrest. You almost lose your nerve but there’s a certain sparkle in his eye that makes you less intimidated- like you can read his temperament so readily that you would know if this was going downhill.

“Well it’s experience like yours paired with a dislike of a certain label that would make you perfect for the job.” Crocodile’s words drag your attention back to him.

“And the job being your manager.” You can’t help but confirm, a voice in the back of your head still gnawing away at your confidence.

“Yes the manager for the band. I know you don’t have direct managerial experience but you worked for a rather large band so this shouldn’t be too far of a leap outside of your knowledge.”

“And- I’m sorry can I just ask- why me? I know we all have a shared work experience but like you said, I don’t have experience managing a band on my own. I have no doubts I can do this it’s just- with star power like yours I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something here.” You certainly don’t want to end up as just a stepping stone or a fall guy, no matter how good it would look on a resume.

“To be quite honest-“ Mihawk speaks up for the first time- “Its because no high profile manager wants to work with all three of us.”

Well.

That makes sense. Considering the strong personalities and countless scandals between the three of them it’s no wonder no one wants to try and wrangle one of them- let alone all of them. You should be feeling a sense of dread over all this information, over being offered an impossible task. But instead you feel a fire inside you. You’ve been told over and over again by others (and yourself) that you couldn’t make it in the music industry and now, faced with three men who could destroy what’s left of your career or skyrocket you to the top. You’re going to take the risk.

“Alright, what are the hours and pay?” You ask with a smile. Buggy claps beside you and Crocodile gives you a wicked smile. Suddenly you get this feeling of being sized up like prey by him and while it should fill you with nervousness you can’t deny the heat that forms in your stomach at his gaze.

What follows is a few hours of paperwork and negotiation that all accumulates in more hours of work than you wanted but more pay than you could have dreamed of. A fair trade in the end, you decide as you sign off the last bits of paper making you an official employee. Trying not to feel like you just signed your soul away to the devil himself you smile wide and promise to be in bright and early the next day.

The next few weeks of your life were pure chaos. A whirlwind of learning by failing as you wrangled the three biggest personalities you had ever worked with. All of them were demanding and arrogant and frustrating that within a few days you were on the verge of quitting. But you didn’t. You buckled down, learned how each of them worked, and after a while got into a rhythm.

Make sure Buggy has enough attention and things to do so he doesn’t go searching for trouble. Make sure the music is up to Mihawk’s difficulty standards and keep the press away. And as long as all of the paperwork was turned into Crocodile on time you wouldn’t have any issues with him. It was hard work. You’d go home at crazy hours exhausted and get up way too early to start it all over again but you have to admit the work fulfilled you. You’ve been making decisions and leading in a way no job has ever let you before and you were doing a damn good job at it. And after a while those demanding, arrogant, frustrating men began to grow on you.

Buggy was fun to be around when he wasn’t whining. He helped you with press and made statements whenever you asked. Once you all got on a schedule he even stopped getting into drama, surprising everyone. Well, most drama. You didn’t miss the way his eyes would trail down your body or the way his hands would linger on you for a bit too long. A glare or two would shut him down for the moment but you found yourself not really hating it- and Buggy could probably tell. It wasn’t something you let yourself dwell on though. Buggy had quite the reputation for sleeping around so it wasn’t like you were something special.

Mihawk had been a difficult man to crack. It was hard to give him any direction at first, the man was surprisingly lazy when he wanted to be. But then you realized it was because there wasn’t anything interesting to him most days. He was a man at the top of his field so you worked hard to get producers who would give him music that at least engaged him and then he began to open up. You found out his love for old wine and even older books. You saw his soft spot for his personal assistant and wardrobe specialist, Perona. You found yourself having long, thoughtful conversations about the music industry late into the night. There was a sense of pride that you had for how close you’ve been able to get with the man- but not too close. You were a professional.

Crocodile was the most interesting one. He was the least into the music, you learned early on being a part of the band was a means to an end for him. But that didn’t stop him from being talented. You would catch him drumming on his desk while he worked, complicated rhythms mindlessly and effortlessly played. You made sure every bit of paperwork was always in order and ran every big picture idea through him. Buggy may be the vocalist- but Crocodile was the leader. It wasn’t often you got any sort of praise or even acknowledgment from the man but when you did you couldn’t help the way your stomached tumbled over itself. You’d have to stamp down those stupid feelings every once in a while, because when you’d let them linger they’d follow you home and into bed.

It was fine though, to indulge occasionally. When it was just you alone in your apartment you could fantasize that one of those men would pull you aside and take you home with them. Imagining Buggy’s mouth on you- Mihawk’s long fingers in you- or how Crocodile’s large body would feel caging you in.

It was fine because it was never going to happen. They were rockstars and you were just their manager. You would never sleep with any of them.

That is until you ended up sleeping with all of them.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #discordantwritings #crocodile x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #sir crocodile x reader #x reader #buggy x reader #the cross guild x reader #cross guild x reader

276 notes · View notes

icycoldninja · 4 months

Note

hihi!! may i pretty please request some sparda boys + v x musician reader, preferably a pianist or vocalist? would greatly appreciate it i love love love your hcs so much

Yup yup, here you go!

Sparda boys + V x Musician!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

Oh, you've hit the jackpot. Dante loves listening to and playing music; the fact that you're a musician makes it all better.

-Hopefully you play the drums, bass guitar, keyboard, or something like that because Dante rocks the electric guitar.

-If you're a singer, great, Dante will try to start up a 2-person band.

-It probably won't work, but he doesn't care, he just wants an excuse to hang out with his favorite person.

-You and Dante will have a blast jamming together in the lobby of Devil May Cry, pissing off all your neighbors, upsetting Vergil, and scaring off any potential clients.

-You two are an incredibly loud and badass duo, whose music career will probably never take off, but whatever, you only make music because it's fun.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil is a sophisticated man who appreciates the finer things in life, like classical music.

-He plays the violin himself, so if you play something equally elegant such as the piano, flute, cello, or something like that, he would love it.

-You two could also have jam sessions, except more refined and delicate.

-If you're a good singer, that would be so cool because then Vergil could hav someone sing lyrics while he plays the violin. Of course, he'll have to write the lyrics, (poetry skills finally paying off) but that's just more fun.

-If you happen to play the flute or trumpet very well, you can scare the crap out of Dante by playing mystical music in the middle of the night, making him wonder if Devil May Cry is haunted.

-Or you could serenade Vergil with magical fairytale music and possibly lull him to sleep in the process--whatever works for you.

□ Nero □

-Nero likes heavy metal music with lots of drums, so if you know how to play those, great for you.

-He actually knows a little bit about operating a synthesizer, but nothing more. If you could teach him, that'd be nice.

-He'd love to pick up guitar, but he's way too rough with it and his fingers aren't delicate enough for picking. He actually snapped a couple of strings the first time he tried.

-Nero is also a pretty decent singer. He doesn't have the vocal chords of Freddy Mercury, but he can at least hit high notes pretty well.

-If you are also blessed with awesome singing skills, expect regular karoeke dates, where you and Nero rock out to metal songs, rock songs, and occasionally love ballads.

-Honestly, you two have a better chance at succeeding in the music industry than anyone else mentioned on this list. You two just need a guitarist, maybe a bassist, and you're set.

● V ●

-V, being part of Vergil, enjoys classical music more than anything else--but that doesn't mean he dislikes other types of music.

-V has a secret fascination with pop songs that he just can't understand. Perhaps it's because he's never heard such music before, maybe it's because he just likes the bouncy beats, or maybe it's because he's just a dork.

-Since he is a competent poet, he can easily write lyrics for you, should you happen to be a singer.

-He would love to learn the piano, so if you are able to play, please teach him.

-If you play a string instrument like a violin, guitar, or something like that, V would love to just sit and watch you practice. It's oddly calming.

-If you can play the flute, tuba, or some other similar instrument, he will enjoy observing you play.

59 notes · View notes

stevethehairington · 1 year

Text

begin again au where eddie is a singer songwriter who moves to new york with his singer songwriter boyfriend, who recently got "discovered" when his song was put in a movie.

said boyfriend has an affair with someone on his team from the label, and eddie dumps him on the spot and stays with chrissy for the night because he has nowhere else to go.

chrissy drags him to a local dive bar for an open mic night, and she pushes him to get up onstage where he sings one of his newer songs.

it gets a lukewarm reaction from the crowd, barely any reaction actually, but eddie doesn't care. it's whatever.

except, as he's slumping back onto his stool, he's approached by this guy. this beautiful beautiful guy who sort of looks a little worse for wear and absolutely, definitely is drunk because he starts going on and on about how incredible eddies song was and how great his voice is and how he hears things, hears whole arrangements, and that's what he heard with eddies song. he tells eddie he's a music producer, that he wants to sign eddie.

eddie doesn't believe him. tells him he doesn't want to be signed anyways.

this guy — steve, his business card says — accepts the rejection, and leaves. but then when eddie himself finally decides to leave the bar, steve's outside, like he was waiting for him. here he admits that he couldn't actually sign eddie even if he wanted to, and explains how he basically just got fired from his label and that's how he ended up at the bar, drinking himself into a stupor.

they hit up another bar together, and get to chatting some more, about music, about their careers. and at the end of the night, steve proposes signing eddie again, tells him he can make it happen if he really wants it. eddie makes a promise that he'll call steve the next day to let him know what he decides.

the next day rolls around and eddie calls. he tells steve's he's in. so steve picks him up and steve takes him to his label and he has eddie play for his boss — who tells steve he's just not into it. steve pitches they get eddie in the studio, get him some back up instruments to really get the full vision he heard in the bar, find someone who will produce it and then give it a new listen with fresh ears. his boss tells him they don't make demos, so come back with a real one yourself and we'll talk.

steve's disappointed by that, but he's not going to let that discourage him. he and eddie get coffee after and steve's thinking a mile a minute, tells eddie fuck that they don't need a demo, they don't even need a studio. all they need is eddie, his guitar, and the city. they'll record outside, right here in the city — a whole album, every song in a new location.

and eddie — he fucking loves the idea.

they get chrissy to help with the recording, and they comb the city for musicians. they find gareth on the drums, jeff with his bass, archie with his guitar. lucas with his cello, erica with her violin. robin with her trumpet. dustin with his keyboard. one by one they fold them into this project, add them to their band.

they record in alleyways, on rooftops, in parks, in the subway, all over the city. they use the background noise to their advantage. they make fucking magic with it.

along the way, of course, eddie and steve fall in love.

when they finish the album, they meet with steve's old boss again, who loves what they've done. eddie demands he give steve his job back and for a bigger share in the deal. but steve's boss isn't down for that, as great as their album is.

when all is said and done, eddie decides he doesn't care if he's been signed or not. he decides to distribute the album online for $1. steve calls in a favor from an old friend, an old journalist friend who's known for her honest music reviews, who has a pretty big following because of it, and she — nancy — helps promote the album. she gets the word out, and they release the album.

and it does fucking incredible.

and it's all thanks to steve. and the beautiful record they created together. the beautiful journey they went on together.

in the end, eddie doesn't care that this whole thing didn't work out the way he'd hoped it would at the start of this all because, well, he's had the fucking time of his life making this album, and he's made so many friends along the way, and he — he's fallen in love. and it's the best thing thats ever happened to him. steve is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

he couldn't be happier.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #begin again au #i fucking LOVE this movie and ive been thinking about steddifying it for AGES

906 notes · View notes

magnoliahwrites · 7 months

Text

Lean On Me (Don’t Knock Me Over)

or: harry is a touring musician and you're here to interview him

feat: childhood friendship, flashbacks, friends to enemies to lovers,mention of panic attack/anxiety/puking

note: this is part one of a three-shot. Side note: I made up names for harry’s band, it’s an up and coming pop punk band so there’s that

Much like most things in life, when the paper slid through your desk, you immediately shoved it under the outgoing mail box.

anything that causes you stress immediately went there, a future problem for yourself.

It wasn't until the night before the show, when your manager turned best friend, Cindy sat in front of you tapping her new manicure on the desk in front of you that you even remembered it.

"I just don't see the big deal," she huffs, stopping the tapping of her nails long enough to push her blonde hair out of her eyes, "like, you two were kids. He probably doesn't even remember you. And besides, I have three people lined up who would literally kill you for this chance."

You groan, resisting the urge to fling your body on the floor and ahve a full body temper tantrum.

Instead, you act like an adult and throw a mini fit, throwing your head back and shoving the papers away from you.

"he'll remember me." you groan, rubbing your temples, "It was a small town."

"Good," Cindy shrugs, "Make him regret it, or whatever."

she pauses, and her voice drops, some of the hard that radiates off of her melts away for a second.

"I don't see what the big deal is still," she says quietly, "What happened?"

You remember the first time you heard him on the radio.

Driving down a crowded street in Cindy's car (the kind you could never even think of affording) the sun roof down, your hand out the window as the radio blasts, the sun beating down on your hand.

"This is 93.9 playing the hottest hits of the summer! To begin, we have a new single from Kennedy Curse, sure to get stuck in your head. They're new to the scene, but singer-"

Cindy all but squeals, leans forward to turn the dial on the radio up louder, "I love this band. l've been trying to get an interview with them for weeks.”

You snort as you drum your thumbs on the steering wheel, "Can't imagine it would be hard to get an interview with them-"

"Shh!" She hushes you, leans forward and turns the volume up until the car shakes under you.

"Chipped paint, Carol's gonna turn into dust-"

it was a reflex, a knee jerk reaction, something you couldn't stop. before you even knew what you were doing, you were leaning forward in your seat, slamming your hand against the volume button, immediately a silence falls over the two of you.

Cindy knows you've mentioned in passing an ex boyfriend, a singer, but haven't really elaborated on it. Now, it seems like you don't need to.

"So you'll do it?"

Cindy is all but squirming in her seat as she brings you back to the current.

The sigh is all the confirmation Cindy knows, letting out an ear piercing squeal again, "You won't regret it, i promise!"

She gets up to make her an escape, mentions something about transportation-

"I'll do it, but there has to be rules in place-" You're rubbing your temples, a headache already on the horizon, but Cindy isn't listening, long gone as she stops everyone in the hallway to mention the interview with the Kennedy Curse.

Backstage, harry fixes his hair in a broken mirror.

Something about ten years of bad luck, but he rations that's the problem for the person who broke it, not him-

A stage hand, over worked and underpaid, sticks his head backstage: "harry, Ten minutes.

Someone's here to see you-"

And the show is on.

The smirk finds his way to the corner of his lips, and it's game on. the harry who had a panic attack in the back room five minutes ago is long gone, definitely didn't puke into the garbage can earlier because of the nerves. Instead, it's now replaced by the harry he wants everyone to see; confident, cocky, bold-

"Fans already-"

And he rounds the corner and almost hits you with the door.

he speaks first. A reflex, like he's been searching for the name for months or years, waiitng for it to fall onto his lips again-

he speaks before he can stop himself, before he can hate himself for it he speaks before he can stop himself, before he can hate himself for it.

"Birdie."

The low whistle follows, some bird card be always associated with the nickname, for you always singing with him-even if you insisted you were bad.

it falls flat, feels wrong.

Not the cute nickname it was before, when you two would lie in the shared two sized mattress, harry’s feet falling off the edge of the bed, the sheets thrown over both of your heads for security;

“Birdie," he'd say, his voice low, eyelids heavy. even half asleep, the whistle followed, "I promise, to keep your side of the bed warm, always."

Under the sheets was vows between the two of you, the sillier the better, most of the time, but the hushed voices always told the truth.

Instead, you spoke back, his fingers over your lips, calloused from the non stop practicing, the yanking the garage door open at all hours of the night to practice: "I could find you in a crowd."

He laughs; it's lazy and low, like you both have all the time in the world, and he opens his mouth to say something about his height, but it lays heavy in the air as he kisses the crown of your head:

"And i'll always find you, Birdie."

Seeing him is jarring, to say the least.

The last visit was less than good, yelling and tears (from both of you) things said in the heat of the moment that keeps you both up and tossing and turning-

"It's just my normal name now, thanks." You say quickly, hoping it's dark enough backstage that he can't see the red spread across your face.

"Right," he nods, smirks as he leans against the wall, crosses his arms over his chest, "Well, birdie, I gotta say, you got a lot of nerve to wanna hear me sing after you tossed us into the gutter."

You snort, "Still the victim. i see nothings changed."

"Hilarious," he laughs without humor, takes a step toward you, eyes narrowed, that stupid fucking smirk still pulls at the side of his lips, "I see you're still following me around, hm?"

"God, I can't say I missed this. You're still an insufferable asshole-"

"An asshole you paid to see. So tell me, birdie, which of my songs do you like, hm? Still-"

You want to smack the smirk off his face. You dig your fingernails into your palm into you're sure they're going to bleed, leaving little half crescent moons in the middle of your palms, the same ones he use to study, trace over and commit to memory, kiss them better.

In some sick way, you were hoping you'd see each other and he'd apologize, come home-

"I'm just here for the interview," You shake the VIP lanyard around your neck in his face, "And then you never have to see me again."

His eyes dart to the lanyard and back to you, and for a second, he looks almost lost, like something hangs in the air that he wants to say-

"You have five minutes."

You snort, take the pencil from behind your ear,

"I'll make it two. We won't act like these are some deep songs of yours or anything-"

A local nobody band is opening, the drums are heavy and loud backstage, and the ponding begins the second you open your mouth, like it's planned.

harry leans in closer, grabs you by your elbow,

"Let's make a deal, birdie."

You act like you don't hear the low whistle fall out after the nickname.

"Listen-"

he cuts you off, "You listen to us and i'll do the interview, no bitching, after the show. we can go to the bus-"

the look you throw him is irritated and he huffs, holds his hands in the air, "Fine. I'll take you to a fuckin' restraaunt. I'll be on my best behavior, i'll have your manager eating out of your hand after this interview. Scouts honor."

He makes a show of crossing over his heart, holds his hand open in the air.

The smirk never leaves his face, even when your eyes narrow as he sets his hand between you two.

"Deal, birdie?"

You don't speak, eyes narrowed, but your hand slides into his like it never left.

It feels like you're making a deal with the devil.

#magnolia writes #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles one direction #one direction #one direction fic

87 notes · View notes

theunderestimator-2 · 7 months

Text

“Oh, to be young. To still be one's own hero.” (David Guterson): the late Marilyn Dean & Kathy Valentine, drummer & guitarist of The Violators, Austin's 1st (?) punk band, here at Randy's Rodeo for The Sex Pistols show in San Antonio on Jan. 8, 1978, as captured by Tom McMahon.

austinchronicle.com/ :"When The Violators and the Skunks invade Raul's, fourteen days after the Sex Pistols break up and mainstream media declares punk dead, Austin's scene begins at a Tejano bar…", [before a crowd of no more than maybe 50 or 60, since a 100 was a big crowd at Raul's at those first shows.] "The Violators were very young kids," says [The Skunks'] Blackmon. "Marilyn was like 16, Kathy was 16, Carla was probably 21. Jesse was probably the best musician in that band, off the top of my head. Carla was good. They were just kids playing fast English punk music. Those were our influences at that time." "It was mainly people who didn't seem to know what to make of cute girls playing guitars and drums," remembers Valentine. "More than the music, it was the fact that we were female that they had no reference for. The only females in Austin doing this played fiddle – Marcia Ball was the only real musician in a band. Everybody else played fiddle or sang or were folk people." "…More than anything, it was the shock of the new. The Violators were mostly young, attractive women playing loud, fast, Sex Pistols-meets-Ramones punk. And they were doing this in a Tejano bar on the Drag, in a town musically ruled by Cosmic Cowboys and white bluesmen. Everything was changing. You either changed with it, or you opposed it. There was no room for the lukewarm…."

Marilyn & Kathy met in high school & quickly became best friends, the teen kind that does everything together: as Kathy Valentine recalls, they started bands, went to clubs, met boys and dreamt of big things in life, even moved out to LA together in 1978 but as it so often happens in life, they drifted apart after a falling out. Kathy later went on to play bass in The Go-Go's and sadly Marylin Dean passed away in recent years.

Photo & info via Tim Stegall's 'Austin Punk Chronicles' at austinchronicle.com.

(via, via & via)

#kathy valentine #marilyn dean #the violators #early punk scene #1978 #austin #texas punk #sex pistols #punk #punk rock #the go go's #raul's #randy's rodeo #san antonio #people

90 notes · View notes

jonathanbiers · 2 years

Text

eddie was both the lead guitarist and vocalist in corroded coffin up until the upside down happened to him.

he healed, regained his strength, made up for the months he was in the hospital and couldn't play his guitar. he wasn't even that rusty really, just a little weak in the hands after everything. he's impatient and easily frustrated about it but looking back, it doesn't actually take too long to get back to where he was.

the problem is his voice.

the health of his vocal chords wasn't exactly the first thing on his mind when the bats were going at him and he was screaming for his life, it wasn't even on the list. and when he tried to get back into jamming with the guys and found he couldn't hit the notes he used to and it fucking hurt when he tried, he was absolutely crushed. that was an outlet for him, a way to get the complex emotions out in the form of poetry, to bare the softest parts of his soul and then shield them with killer guitar solos and brain-melting drums, now taken from him.

enter robin, who's become a close friend after everything they went through together. they bond over being queer in a small conservative town, they butt heads over eddie's smoking habit, they listen to each other's music and come to actually like it, they vent to each other about their romantic misadventures, they become best friends rather quickly.

so robin's heart breaks for eddie when he tells her about this newest thing the year of '86 took from him. she does her best to reassure him, she hugs him and lets him mope as long as he needs, they watch eddie's comfort movies together, and it helps him feel less like shit.

then one day, the two of them and steve are on a little impromptu road trip, and they're singing in the car. eddie's heard robin sing before, she likes to put on silly voices and sing along to the top-40s eddie loves to tease steve about. but he's never heard her sing before, not like this, not to a song she obviously has tremendous love for. her voice is warm and the song she's singing is a little soft and eddie is captivated in an instant. he has to stop himself from pulling over on the highway just to urge her to pursue a career as a musician.

robin tries to brush it off, jokes, "i'll do it only if you let me join corroded coffin."

"done," eddie agrees without second thought.

robin thinks he's joking too, but he's not. he's so not joking, he's too busy trying to imagine what it would sound like. he thinks it'd sound pretty fucking good, such a soft voice to balance out the harshness of their music. he knows robin's capable of other styles, too, he's heard her impressions of the screaming sometimes utilized in his preferred genre, her natural speaking voice has a nice bit of rasp to it, but something about the gentleness with which she was singing in the car just speaks to eddie. if it'd be anything like what his mind is conjuring up, he'd describe it as hauntingly beautiful, and he just has to hear it for himself. even if nothing comes of it.

robin still thinks he's joking when he sets the mic up at corroded coffin's weekly band practice, which both steve and robin had taken to attending. but he isn't, he digs his notebook out of his backpack and hands it to her, walks her through the melodies and she picks it up quick. she's been in band for years, music is something that just comes naturally to her. eddie doesn't know why the fuck he didn't think of this sooner.

it ends up sounding just as good as he imagined. her range isn't the same as eddie's used to be but it works, it morphs their music into something mesmerizing, something that bends the limits of the genre. robin sings eddie's lyrics on tuesday at the hideout mostly to entertain eddie because she loves her friend so much even though he's fucking crazy, and at least half a dozen people approach them after, tell them how different it sounds from what they're used to, how instead of being put off by it, it just works. they seem just as blown away by it as eddie was.

robin joins the band officially not long after that, and they start gaining attention locally. anyone who listened to them before would tell you they were good, but being a woman-fronted metal band wasn't all that common yet, and paired with the new elements robin's voice brought to the songs, they stood out from their peers a lot more easily. they're playing in a dive bar in indianapolis when they're approached by a scout from a record label, and they all just kind of look at each other, a mix of disbelief and happiness and seriously is this fucking happening right now?

they don't take it - eddie's heard of the record label this guy is from, and they're known for screwing over their artists and leaving them scrounging for enough to put food on the table. but it's a push for the five of them to start taking it a bit more seriously, start on an actual cohesive album instead of a bunch of songs with little relevance to each other slapped together on a cassette.

eddie and robin work together on the lyrics, and their first self-made album ends up being something that's hard to pin down to one specific genre. but it's good shit, eddie can tell, they get some tapes made and sell them when they play at bars around indiana. the offers keep coming, but they're smart, and they know their worth. they wait for the one that fits, and it's fucking perfect.

#stranger things #eddie munson #robin buckley #eddie munson headcanons #robin buckley headcanons #can you tell one of my favorite subgenres of metal is when the music heavy and the voice soft #platonic robin and eddie is everything to meeeee #*#*writing

848 notes · View notes

feraltuxedo · 3 months

Text

A Tentative WIP Wednesday

I'm in the throes of a serious bout of writer's block at the moment, but very slowly a new fic is emerging. I'm only getting a few sentences written each day, but it's better than nothing, right?

With this one, I'm sticking very firmly to my comfort zone.

Since there's been so much love for Intermezzo in the past few weeks (thank you to all of you who have read and enjoyed it), and this new fic is very much Intermezzo 2.0 in terms of tropes, vibes.... everything really... what better time to share a bit of it?

Anyway, here's a snippet of said WIP. Ex rockstar Crowley meets classical musician Aziraphale. Rock music and bickerflirting aplenty:

Aziraphale was still digging through the mess of cables on the search for one that didn’t look like it might electrocute his bass guitar, when the door opened again.

This time it really was Anthony Crowley who strode through it. In the flesh. God, he was striking. Taller than Aziraphale had imagined, and skinnier. In his Hellspawn days, he’d been dressed in heavy leather jackets and those impossibly tight jeans everyone insisted on wearing a decade ago. His hair had trailed behind him like a cloud made of pure fire when he’d strutted across the stage in snake-skin boots. Statuesque, drawn in sharp lines like a Picasso masterpiece come to life.

Present-day Crowley looked a lot more casual in a black hoodie, short hair, and, surprisingly, no sunglasses. A guitar case was slung over one shoulder, a messenger bag across the other. Like any other mortal walking the streets of London. Still outrageously good-looking, mind, middle age be damned. Aziraphale barely had time to notice the deep brown colour of his eyes, before they glared right at him.

‘Can’t get an espresso anywhere in this place. Oi Blondie, be an angel and go fetch one, would you? Double shot, no sugar.’

Aziraphale jumped to his feet. He’d never before felt quite so threatened by the words be an angel. The pathetic part of his brain that was still stuck in 2015 didn’t fail to point out that Anthony Crowley snapping at him to get coffee was the hottest thing that had happened to him all year.

Anathema stopped him with an outstretched arm before he reached the door, eyebrow raised in disapproval.

‘Don’t you fucking dare.’

He flinched at the fire in her voice before he realised it was aimed squarely at Anthony Crowley.

‘You don’t have the name, money, or credibility to boss people around these days, so shut up, sit down, and listen.’

Crowley waved his arms about to demonstrate the rehearsal room's utter lack of seating options. Even the drum stool was cluttered with assorted cardboard boxes. Anathema ignored him.

‘Aziraphale isn’t your personal coffee boy. He’s in the band, so you better treat him right or you’ll be playing without a bass, which is literally impossible.’

Crowley crossed his arms.

‘Jim Morrison managed.’

‘You’re not Jim Morrison.’

‘And the White Str—’

Anathema cut him off with a sound that could only be described as a hiss.

Anthony Crowley turned to face him again, and god-in-heaven, Aziraphale was not prepared for the effect of the man he’d spent many a lonely night fantasising about actually acknowledging his existence.

Admittedly, he didn’t look all that pleased about it.

‘So you’re actually a bass player? Like a proper one?’

Alright, that wasn’t the tone he’d hoped to hear out of Anthony Crowley’s mouth. Aziraphale picked up his bass guitar and clutched it tight, with the sinking feeling that perhaps there was truth to that saying about never meeting one’s heroes.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You look like you’ve just passed your grade four exam, paid for by mummy.’

‘Actually, I have an MMus in Performance.’

‘A what?’

‘A Master’s degree.’

Which is more than Anthony Crowley had managed. 3 GCSEs, and none of them in music, if Wikipedia was to be believed. Aziraphale held onto just enough tact not to point that out. He raised his chin a fraction and noticed a shift in Anthony Crowley’s gaze, perhaps a smidgen of respect creeping into those deep brown eyes.

‘You can get a degree in bass guitar?’

‘You can, though mine’s in cello.’

Crowley’s eyes narrowed and the trace of respect vanished, as if he had a personal vendetta against the cello. That certainly didn’t bode well for Aziraphale’s prospects in his band.

‘Yeah, well, I don’t think faffing about with an overpriced bit of wood between your legs qualifies you to play in my band. Not that I wouldn’t pay good money to see that, mind…’

The mix of embarrassment, indignation, and the hot flush of feeling star struck did strange things to Aziraphale. It made him drop his bass, which landed on his foot. This was great news for the bass, since Aziraphale’s foot was a good deal softer than the thin carpet.

Not such great news, however, for his toes.

‘Botheration,’ he yelped, grabbing the bass to lean it against one of the many amps that surrounded him.

‘Botheration?’ Crowley repeated. ‘Fucking hell, Anathema, where d’you find these people?’

Anathema’s disapproving eyebrow rose a little higher.

‘I found him at a strip club, actually.’

‘I was playing the cello!’ Aziraphale corrected hastily, as he wiggled his toes, just to make sure they were all still attached.

The G String was London’s only classical-music themed strip club. Or at least that was what the manager claimed, and Aziraphale had never bothered googling the matter. The music was easy, the audience distracted enough not to notice when he hadn’t practiced that week.

Crowley’s gaze shot back to Aziraphale, raking over him from head to throbbing toe and back. The irritation from just a moment ago made way to… admiration? Sweet Jesus, he was looking at him, and he clearly liked what he saw, judging by the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

‘With your clothes on?’

‘Of course with my clothes on,’ Aziraphale huffed, trying his hardest not to look too pleased with the once-over he was receiving.

#wip wednesday #good omens #good omens au #musician crowley #musician aziraphale #my writing

52 notes · View notes

arogustus · 5 months

Text

Splatband Analysis - ω-3

To finalize this little series (till the Side Order artbook comes out and gives us info on the new bands (please)), we end it with my favorite band, ω-3! These fishy foes are the ones providing the tunes in Salmon Run, and I’ll be real with you and say they’re one of the Splatbands that I think has a big chance of showing up in the games. The games gotta focus on the Salmonids at some point, and they’re the most well known individuals as of now, so the chances are pretty good for them to be used to expand salmonid lore.

But enough about that. Time to see just how tasty these guys are.

The Band

In Salmonid lore, musicians hold an important role in Salmon Run as morale boosters. Individuals that show off talent in performance will unite to form bands, with ω-3 here being the best among them. In fact the Omega symbol is actually a title itself that is only bestowed to said “fattiest” bands, meaning their skill is without question. I assume this title also comes with ownership of the big venue in Jammin’ Salmon Junction, since it’s decorated with their logo, what appears to be a stylized version of the ω symbol. (Since it’s stated to be a title given to the best bands, I’m assuming the same thing applies to the building.)

There isn’t anything said about their relationship with each other, at least not directly. Considering their personality quirks, it’s safe to say they butt heads a lot (one forgets to take in others feelings, one is disrespectful to everyone, and one never listens to anyone). But I think we can infer a bit out of the way they play music. Specifically, there’s a lot of Call and Response in the songs, where one member plays a tune, and then another plays it back. It happens a lot between the cellist and the timpanist, but the DJ occasionally plays a part in it too. Each member also gets a solo in a song, where their instrument gains more prominence over others. Deluge Dirge, Fishing Frenzy, Frothy Waters. I’m no music scientist, but considering their personalities, it feels like they’re constantly competing for attention, despite being able to work together otherwise. Like, one of them just randomly breaks into a solo before dialing back and rejoining the group.

The Valiant Green Flame Born in Jigokudani

The timpanist here is, uh, the timpanist.Odd fellow in his late 20’s with an eyepatch made out of a colander, no reason given, though the eye underneath does look dilated. He’s got a lot of passion for drumming, playing with all of his heart and soul, as well as being determined and always striving towards his goals. Doesn’t do well with picking up other people's feelings, but very good at inspiring other salmonids with his rhythms. Compared to the others, who are said to be intentionally rude, this one feels more well intentioned, as it just says they fail to pick up on other people's emotions. Like they aren’t deliberately rude to people, they just don’t notice.

Salmonid fact, the titles they’re referred to with are mainly earned by having done something in regards to their tribe. We can infer some things from these titles as a result. The Valiant Green Flame here is pretty clear, he did something of great bravery at some point, which tracks with him being determined and goal oriented. What that thing was, we don’t know. He’s called a Green Flame, so maybe that has something to do with it? Salmonids have green on them by default, so, that’s something? Eh, we’ll move on now.

The Faithful Servant of the True Salmon Emperor Hizunamasu

The DJ here is the youngest member of the band, young adult or teenager, with plenty of tongue piercings and a personality that reflects that. A contrarian who opposes anyone and everything, and shows no respect to their fellow members. A damn good DJ though, which is probably why they’re still on the band. Basically a rebel with zero respect for authority, and who just seems to dislike everything. Well, all but one thing, it seems.

Their title is “The Faithful Servant of the True Salmon Emperor Hizunamasu”. Now, someone stated to be disrespectful to everyone being a “faithful servant” is definitely contradictory. Who is this “True” Salmon Emperor? Why would they be loyal to them? The questions are mounting here. Maybe a future Salmonid themed story mode will explain? Who knows.

The Firstborn Child of Alkyne, the Hidden Blade of Yakiharas

The leader of the band, cellist, composer, and number one old man. 50 years old and counting, a surprising age for a species that doesn’t fear death. He’s very stubborn, with no respect for anyone or anything that isn’t the most radical of works. Incredibly high standards that, as it turns out, C-Side was able to meet. They made two covers of Clickbait, after all. I guess he’s a fan? Or at least C-Side has earned his respects.

Emotionally clumsy, he’s got a delicate site with a strong appreciation for atmosphere, but struggles to express himself outside of his music. Surprisingly awkward sounding for a salmonid, but he’s got finer tastes, for sure.

Onto his title, he’s “The Firstborn Child of Alkyne.” Alkyne is likely a tribe or settlement of sorts, probably the latter, and he was the first born there. And “Hidden Blade”. Now that’s something. I assume he’s got some fighting skill, since the blade part implies he basically acted as a secret weapon of sorts.

—

And that’s every band in Splatoon and Splatoon 2. ω-3 doesn’t have much content on them, but I love them all the same. God I hope they show up soon.

As I said, this is the end for the bands, but I am gonna do a “What I Missed” type thing later to compile any details I missed out on. Things like the Hotlantis wall of signatures, in which I’ve noticed some fun details. There’s one more thing too, but I’ll explain that in a separate post.

Also, if you guys have your own observations, share ‘em with me in the tags or a reblog, or send me an ask. I’d appreciate it.

#splatoon #splatbands #splatband analysis #ω-3 #my work

40 notes · View notes

beanghostprincess · 10 months

Text

musician!sanuso au in which usopp is a very famous singer (by 'very famous' meaning: being famous in specific, indie circles but, yeah, famous. he has a decent amount of fans) under the name of "sogeking" and sanji (who thinks, by the way, that he's extremely straight) falls in love with him and his voice. important fact: usopp wears the sogeking costume, so sanji doesn't know what he looks like.

basically, sanji is friends with robin, and franky (her boyfriend) knows a guy (brook) that can get them all (luffy and zoro too) tickets to see this sogeking guy. sanji doesn't actually want to go, if he's being honest, but it's robin's idea so of course he says yes. the thing is- she- she likes weird music, alright? her taste is a bit different from sanji's and he isn't sure about spending all night listening to some guy whispering weird stuff into a mic with a bit of an 80s energy and dark undertones. but, yeah, robin asks, so he goes.

on the other hand, usopp only wears the costume because he's always an anxious, insecure mess, and refuses to let others know he's the one singing. the only thing his father left him before going away was a guitar and the guy can't even play it now in front of others. awesome. and he never really intended to become "famous", it's just that kaya, nami and vivi (he's childhood best friends with kaya and met nami/vivi in high school) told him to participate in a music contest and one thing led to another and now he has a manager and plays for a lot of people who actually want to listen to him. he isn't complaining, but he's glad he's wearing a mask.

so, sanji goes to see sogeking.

and it kind of, sort of, definitely changes his life.

he's glad zoro is already chugging his third beer and does not care enough to look at sanji, because otherwise he would see the complete blushing mess he's been reduced to while listening to sogeking sing.

he falls in love. it can only be that. he keeps telling himself that it's just his voice. that it doesn't mean he likes men. but he knows the feeling of love all too well to ignore the way his heart is pounding against his chest with the sound of the drums.

he's fucked. he knows he's fucked. it's not just a fan thing. fuck. he wonders if this sogeking guy kisses the same way he sings.

the night goes on and he's hypnotized by sogeking, but it doesn't mean he isn't having a fucking crisis. the last song is playing when one of his friends asks him what is wrong with him (he doesn't remember who it is, maybe franky) and those simple words send him over the edge. because no, he's not fine. and no, he doesn't like a man. and god, he definitely isn't in love with a guy he doesn't even know and would never recognize without a mask.

which is a funny thought, having in mind what happens next.

sanji storms out of the concert to catch his breath because this has never, ever happened to him before. he believes in love at first sight. he's a romantic, after all. but this isn't it. this isn't about looks or fate. it's deeper than that. he can't get rid of sogeking's voice still playing in his mind. so he ends up in what seems to be an alleyway in the back of the building, and anxiously starts to smoke like the addict he is. he said he was going to quit this... he definitely isn't now.

oh, but he misses the way sogeking finishes his last song and runs away from the stage. he feels he's going to throw up. too many looks on him. too much noise. too much pressure. not even nami can stop him before he ends up in the same alleyway as sanji, leaning against the door and taking deep breaths. in and out in and out in and ou-

and well. fuck. turns out he isn't alone because now the most handsome guy he has ever laid his eyes upon is trying to guide him through his panic attack, which only causes him even more anxiety. he wants to kind of die right now, because at least he'll die staring at an angel.

sanji, on the other hand, just has the need to help him because he understands how fucked up these things are. so he helps him through it. helps the stranger calm down until they can finally speak properly together.

usopp thanks him, sanji says that it was nothing. and usopp says something like: "i'm sorry you had to, uh, help me. it's just- sometimes crowds are just too much, you know? people expect so much from you sometimes and you just can't take it. there are so many people here. why? it's not- fuck. i feel so damn isolated sometimes. i- i'm sorry. you probably don't want to hear-"

to which sanji responds with: "no. it's fine. i understand. i think i do."

"really?"

"really."

their friendship starts with relieved laughs of understanding and a panic attack in an alleyway after the concert that changed their lives.

they exchange numbers for some reason. maybe it's still the rush of the concert a few seconds ago or the sogeking inside of him, but usopp is the one to ask him. sanji seems a bit surprised, but doesn't mind in the slightest to keep seeing usopp. it might sound cheesy, but the cook seriously thinks they were meant to find each other. friendships are weird all the time and he has always been very poetic, after all.

i'm not gonna bore all of you with what happens in between because this is just a random thought i had on my way home from work, but basically:

sanji and usopp become close. almost even best friends. and usopp is completely head over heels for sanji, so of course he will never tell him about being sogeking. not only because it's an identity only his best friends know about, but because it's embarrassing, and refuses to lose what he has with sanji for this. sanji loves usopp. they're practically best friends now! and- and, well, okay. he has to admit there's something between them that he can't put a name to, but it's more than an intimate friendship. and, somehow, he seems to never be able to let go of sogeking. so he never makes a move on usopp. he's stupid for being in love with someone he doesn't even know, but sanji is a romantic, after all.

there will never be somebody else. he keeps saying that. it's sogeking for him.

usopp is glad sanji is always busy when he has concerts, so that way he doesn't need to lie to him and cancel any plans! (the truth is, sanji goes to those same concerts all the time and usopp never happens to see him because sanji is always afraid of being recognized. in theory, nobody knows about him being so head over heels for the singer. his friends don't know he's there, either).

but one day usopp recognizes him in the crows (it was just a matter of time) and instead of getting all anxious and running away like he thought he would if this happened, he just keeps singing for sanji and only sanji. and if the cook notices this, he doesn't move from where he's standing. he's hypnotized.

long story short, usopp has a crisis because he doesn't know if he should tell sanji the truth, now that he knows he's a fan of sogeking. because sogeking is this cool superhero singer and of course sanji likes him. but would he like him if he knew who he truly is? so he refuses to say anything, even if the girls keep telling him to be honest. and sanji is having a whole crisis because he's extremely in love and they haven't even fucking talked (little does he know haha). and, besides, there's usopp too. he- he really likes usopp too, he realizes. romantically. it could be love, if it wasn't for sogeking.

and i'm going to be honest with all of you, i have no idea what is going to happen. but even if i knew i wouldn't tell you because i like it enough to be a fanfic and y'all are probably going to have to wait.

#okay so the friend groups are pretty much obvious but #zoro/luffy/robin/franky/sanji with established zolu and frobin #nami/vivi/kaya/usopp #funny thing usopp gets along with perona and uta bc they're a musical duo and he actually knows zoro and luffy but not much #zolu are ofc perouta's brothers #brook is a famous singer but like actually really famous #if you're wondering what type of songs sogeking plays just think about what if the front bottoms had cavetown lyrics #this is gonna become a thing someday #maybe #i don't promise anything #sanuso #black leg sanji #usopp #one piece

97 notes · View notes

babeluvvy · 5 months

Text

PROM QUEEN

SHOTO T. X MUSICIAN!READER

¨God save the prom queen..¨

a/n: first post! This is based on the song ´prom queen’ by molly kate kestner! but basically think of the reader as Hannah Montana, the reader's mother is in fact a hero (an American hero who came to japan for school!)

Feel like this isnt my best but i can't wait to go on school break 😔✊

WARNINGS: abuse, kinda cringe(??????) & fem reader

wc: 2.2k

You had an interesting life, scratch that, it was horrible

You hated it

Your mother was a prohero in America and your father? Never knew him. Your mom was young when she had you and now she blames everything going bad on you. It's not like its her fault that she was the one who got pregnant

But according to her it was your fault

Whatever, you didn't care but you also didn't have control over your own life. Your outfits were picked by the best designers, your makeup always perfect, your hair always in a fabulous style, friends? Who needs them when you are perfect, but that would make you cold, So actor friends it was

This was your life

The perfect child. Straight A´s, handsome and rich boyfriends, the prettiest friends, and the perfect life

You hated all of this- you didn't want this!

You loved something else

Music

That was your passion, making beats, singing, just everything about music made you happy, nothing could beat the lovely feeling you got when playing your drums or singing to a new beat you created in the basement of you castle like house-

You loved it, but your mom hated it. She hated all this- for ruining her life the least you could do was be the perfect daughter she wanted!

¨Y/N!¨ your mother yelled at you, you were in the basement again playing your drums, she´ll make sure the maids threw it away today ¨Why did Elizebeth call me and tell you blew her off today?¨ she question her face red ¨I just wanted to be by myself for a while, we hang out everyday- i barely get time to myself anymo-¨ a slap echoed across the room and your cheek began to feel hot it was stinging. Your mother slapped yo– ¨The least you could do is hang out with your friends for a few hours!¨ ¨Those people are not my friends!¨ you yelled back and yelped when she grabbed you by your ear ¨I think you forgot who you are speaking to.¨ she said looking into your eyes, you forced your eyes closed.

You just wanted to find people who could relate to you

So you did

You made a band, Bear, whos real name was Tod was you drummist, May was your guitarist, Lauren you bass and Opa who was your pianist

These were your people

But when your mother informed you that when older you would go to UA, going to one of– no! The top hero school in japan

Not gonna lie, you were proud of yourself! You wanted to be a hero for those like you, a hero who can make people smile with either actions or music, but now you'll be learning how to do both! So you made a plan

Your mother normally sent you an allowance every week and you decided that you and your friends will live together– since your mother was staying in America you'd have a house to yourself!

And the first few months of UA were the best– and now you and your band are performing in japan (after learning japanese, opa still sometimes slip up) but besides that everything was great! Excellent! Grades were still up, with a disguise no one knew you were America's number 4 heroś daughter, everything was how you wanted it..!

Until you start falling for Shoto, could you blame yourself? He was charming, he was sweet and he was nice. He was a little awkward and clueless but that's just how he is, And you loved that

So you got closer to him– and closer, but nothing ever happened because he was dunce and you were to coward

¨Guys i just got some tickets for the S/N concert! I got 4 tickets!¨ Izuku said holding up the tickets, you turned to look ¨but there's 5 of us¨ Tsu said looking at the rest of us

¨Oh shoot– you're right..¨ he said looking at us ¨Well i could sit out! You guys can go i have to train anyways–¨ ¨No!¨ you said crushing his suggestion down immediately

¨I have a meeting with my mother so i'll just sit out of this one! Plus if my mom found out i went to one of her concerts id be 6ft under ground anyway¨ you murmured ¨And its final!¨ you said sternly and watched as they began to plan

You had to go to practice cause you had a concert tonight anyways, you waved your friends bye and quickly made it to the bus stop and to the traditional japanese home your mother bought for you– ¨ Y/NNN!!¨Opa yelled while running to hug you, you chuckled and hugged her back feeling that she was extremely cold

¨I learned a new trick for the concert tonight! I kinda got inspiration for your class at the school festival¨ she giggled “make sure ask Bear to warm you up before you get sick, cause i am NOT taking care of you” you spoke even though you knew you would. She groan and turned around calling out for Bear

Time to work!

You cleared your throat and fixed on the (f/c) wig you had on your hair, you turned to look at your bandmates “Boss! We’re about to go on stage!” you heard Lauren yell and taking the violin from its case

Opa having her piano on her waist and having the stand in her hand. You smiled and fixed your outfit before finally going on stage

‘’HELLO MUSUTAFU!’’ the crowd erupted in shouts of ‘’i love you’’s and ‘’omg its actually them’’s

You scanned the crowd and spot mixed hair– it was your classmates

Shit.

You thought to yourself while looking at May, she saw the worry on your face and gave you a nod, you had to do this, people came for you and paid for you

No matter what you were going to play

And hey, maybe you can show off a little too!

It was going amazing and you finally made it to the final song of the album– ‘prom queen’ you wrote it a while ago when you were in middle school– you were proud of it, it was one of your most known songs

You cleared your throat as the song began–

‘’God save the prom queen, Teenage daydream; just another dressed up heartbreak”

You sang in the mic hear the background music play in your ears

“God save the prom queen, only 16– turned her tears to diamond in her crow–wn..” you said as the back up people use their water quirks to show a girl who looks like you holding a crown and crying

You heard Bear beat on the drums as you continued to sing “she's the first in line at the party– she's the first in line at the club! And she's got that body, always gotta flaunt it, everybody’s looking up” the crowd shouting and singing with you and watched as May helped the backup dancers and made the water form the girl walking with a guy behind her

“When she walks by you wanna be her and your boyfriend not to see her! Cause she's got that fire, doesn't even try– her booty has its own zip code–”

You look in the crowd as your classmates dance– except Shoto..

You made eye contact with him and the crowd sung

“The all the peasants bow down!’’ and everyone bowed as a joke everyone but Shoto

Your eyes never leaving his, you continued to sing “God save the prom queen! Teenage daydream, just another dress up heartbreak! Only 16! Turned her tears to diamonds in her cro-own!”

You looked away from Shoto and looked at her bandmates and the water turning into a crown

You cried in your room, you again got yelled at by your mother for not getting an A + plus on your test. It was a science test but so small– why did she have to be like this! Not everything had to be perfect! She wasn't perfect! So why did you have to be perfect?

‘I wish someone could save me..’

“Diamonds in her crown!” you yelled into the mic as your eyes welled with tears. You quickly wiped them away before they could fall

You looked back at Shoto and you could swear he had a look in his eyes– he knew.. He knew this wasn't S/N it was you..

You knew– you could feel that he knew

She looked away from him feeling ashamed– “Take a look at the future, who knows what's ahead? There's a house on a hill with an indoor pool and a millionaire in her bed!” the body of water turning in a man who has a ‘charming’ smile but horns and a tail appear on him showing that he was evil

“And the years go by and she still dreams– ‘She's the hottest girl in town’”

She danced with the mic in her hand and watched as everyone shouted loudly– “And the makeup's stronger, gotta wear it longer Just to keep a man around..”

“Were over '' What? You chuckled thinking he was joking “What?” you asked and looked at him and saw how serious he was “What..?” you asked again “You just– you're just not my type and your mom is cutting my pay back..” your eyes widened as you heard you mom was PAYING him!? You couldn't believe it– why did you believe him when he asked you out–

‘I wish someone could save me..’

“God save the prom queen! Teenage daydream, just another dress up heartbreak! Only 16! Turned her tears to diamonds in her cro-own!” you said looking at Shoto again, his eyes had sympathy, his brows frown

“And she lives her dream through the magazines.. And her daddys gone and she needs someone…”

You felt the water swell in your eyes slowly creeping to fall out

“And she got the looks and the boys on hooks! But she’ll trade it all for a heart that's who–ole..!”

‘I'll make you regret being treated me like trash, mom.. Everyone will know how you really are– the true you..’

May clicked a button and behind you there was screenshots of messages between you and your mother, bruises from her and others, muted videos of your mother throwing and yelling things at you

Everyone went silent as you looked in the crowd and saw Shoto staring at you and mouth the lyrics

“God save the prom queen..”

You began to cry and ripped the wig off your heard, your grip on the mic got tighter as you held on– felt like you were gonna fall to your knees

“God save the prom que–en! Teenage day dre–eam!” You screamed in the mic, your mascara running down your face

“She turned to tears! She turned her tears to diamonds in her cro-own…” you sang softly as everything went black and you looked around. And walked back stage

You heard commotion from the back rooms you quickly went over to see Izuku, Tsu, and Ochako trying to hold back and angry Shoto while he's arguing with the guards

You quickly went over “Guys! Guys!” you say panicked and watched the guards look at you

“Ma’am– this boy was trying to come back here! He tried to burn me and Mu” your guard said grabbing Shoto by the arm

You told him to calm down and watched as Shoto quickly hugged you tightly, you stumbled back being surprised by the hug from Shoto, you hugged back while shaking slightly

He hugged tighter “i know what it's like” he whispered in your ear and you completely broke down again crying in his white shirt

Life is now better!

You cut your mother off ! She sometimes wish you happy holidays and you guys sometimes but besides that she doesn't talk to you, she is now a retired hero– well forced to retire

After your concert she was pressured to stop doing hero work and turn in her hero license

You still were getting paid from her cause she want to ‘make up’ you felt bad at times but this was her fault

She did this to herself, you did still visit from time to time, because Shoto is doing the same with his father and learning to forgive him so should you

Yes, you and Shoto were together, after the concert you two went on dates and he soon asked you the question, to be his girlfriend and ofc you said yes!

“Princess” he called out to you, you turned around and made eye contact with him with a soft smile

You quickly went up to him and gave him a hug as he chuckled– it was your second anniversary

You both were 3rd years at UA and graduation was soon

He rested his forehead on yours and closed the gap between you both and his soft lips met yours

You pulled away and smiled at him

“Hey Sho..” you said softly, you heard him let out a soft ‘hmm’ you gave a peck to his lips again and looked in his mixed eyes

“Thank you for saving me..”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #fluff #bnha fluff #mha fanfiction #shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #mha shoto #x reader #fem reader

24 notes · View notes