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anonymousicecream · 11 days

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Mutual Understanding (Giselle x M Reader)

"HARRISON YOU FUCKING BITCH!" You smirked, hearing the voice of your mortal enemy, Aeri Uchinaga. You resumed your activities of putting your book in your locker, before she pulled you by your tie to the side, and then slamming your locker shut.

*BAM

You gulped, seeing the uniform Aeri's in right now. You're used to see her in tight uniforms, but you've never saw her in uniforms this revealing.

"WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING? PREPARING WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT IS IN MY LOCKER." Giselle burst out onto you, while you act as if you're scared of her, before maintaining your poker face. "What are you talking about?" You ask her, because genuinely, you're not up for her games today and didn't want to bother or interact with her today.

"THE FUCKING FLOUR, EXPLODING ONTO MY FACE. HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN THAT SHIT YOU MOTHERFUCKER???" She ragefully asks you. You then opened an app on your phone, showing a video before you then show it to Aeri. In the video, it clearly shows who the perpetrator is for Aeri's unfortunate incidents, and how she might be wrong.

"See. I'm not in the wrong. I actually helped you." You said calmly to her. "Alright. BUT WHY AND HOW THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE A CAMERA IN MY FUCKING LOCKER?" "Hey you're the one who stole my glasses." You said, making her jaw drop in surprise.

"A-Alright, fine, I'm sorry, I should've not done that." Aeri apologized. "That's not enough." You told her, making Aeri whine. "WHAT??? What do you want then?" Aeri asked, making you think for a while before finding the perfect answer, smirking at her as you told her the answer. "Be my girlfriend." "WHAT? NO CHANCE!" Aeri said, huffing before she pushed you away. Before she got away, you held her and grab her onto the locker. "Just for a month. Plus, it's on public only, when we're at our homes or not in public, we don't need to act. The most I'll go is hugging or wrapping my arms around your hips or shoulders. No kissing unless you give me consent." You told her, making her consider. "One more rule. No falling in love." She said. "Of course, what do you think I am to fall in love with you?" You ask her. "Fuck you." She said, pushing you away before walking off. "Love you too baby!" You shout, making everyone gasp and look at the two of you, whispering amongst each other.

(Timeskip)

It has been a week since you've been "dating" Giselle and there hasn't been much PDA you showed, besides eating out together at lunch. Today however is a different day, as it's Friday night. It's game night, and you and Aeri aren't participating, just watching, as you two are part of the drama club. Still, since the two of you are one of, if not the most popular couple at school, it really gives the two of you spotlight.

As the game progresses, you saw Aeri becoming more unsettled and annoyed at something. You looked over to where she's staring, and you saw a guy kissing and definitely displaying PDA, smirking towards Aeri, making her annoyed. "Ex boyfriend?" You fired a question, making her surprised, but managing to compose herself quickly. "No. First fuck." She said, making you chuckle. "May I?" You ask for her permission, earning a hesitated nod from her.

You moved your palms onto her, grasping them tight, but softly, before standing up and walking towards the lowest possible stands, standing against the railing. You then set Giselle onto the railing before standing behind her. "May I?" You ask, earning a nod from her.

You moved your hands onto her palm, holding it softly as she held your palm too, before resting them on her stomach. You hugged her from behind and put your head on her shoulder, maintaining this position for a while as you two watch the game.

It came as a surprise when her grip on your hands tighten, earning a shocked gasp from you. You composed yourself before asking her "What's wrong?" "The bitch is kissing the guy." She said, making you look over, and you saw the event happening in front of your eyes, exactly as she described.

"I uh, I wanna offer you a chance to do the same as what he did, but I don't think...." You said, before she interrupts. "Kiss me." She said. You turned her around immediately and leaned in to cup her cheeks, caressing them softly before leaning in for a kiss. She replied with the same pace, following your slow, soft, kisses. Your kisses got deeper as she wraps her hands around your neck while your hands move down on her back. Eventually, the two of you pulled back and rest on each other's foreheads, taking deep breaths. "Fucking does not break the rule right?" Giselle asks you. "No, unless we fell in love." You said, making her nod.

This time, Giselle surprised you by clasping your hands together, guiding you out of the stands and onto the carpark. She guided you to your car. You grabbed your keys and unlock them, before she got in the car. You followed, getting in the car. "Drive." You drove away from the carpark onto the exit.

As you drive, you suddenly felt a hand on your crotch. You looked and saw Aeri's hands on your crotch, palming them through your jeans. "Focus." She said. You tried so hard to focus but in the end, you relented. You pulled over to the side of the road aggressively, putting the car into park before leaning in to kiss Aeri aggressively.

"Mmmhhhh Mmmmhhhh" Aeri groaned, feeling the aggressive kiss you gave her. It didn't take long before the two of you pulled back from a lack of air. "On me. Now." You instructed, sitting back down. Aeri unbuckled her belt before hopping onto you, sitting down on your lap as the two of you continued your make out session. You moved your hands downwards from her face onto her collarbone and tits, caressing them softly, cupping them through her top.

On the other hand, Aeri wasted no time, moving straightly onto your jeans, unbuckling and unbuttoning them, lowering them down before doing the same to your boxers, exposing your hard cock. Your cock twitched and laid on her thighs, making her smirk. Aeri started to lift herself up but before she could align herself with your cock, you stopped her.

"Let's try something, for our first time." You told her, making her scrunch her face. "Mutual masturbation. Whoever comes last, gets to have their way the next time we have sex." You said, offering a bet, which impacts your pride more. She nodded, smirking before saying "I'm sure you'll cum before me, remembering how hot I am." Aeri then let some of her saliva drop onto your cock, hitting bullseye, before she starts stroking your cock aggressively, using her saliva as lubricant. "Ahhh fuck..." You groaned, throwing your head back as you felt Aeri's warm hands.

It didn't take long before you returned to consciousness as you start moving your fingers onto her crotch under her dress, setting her panties aside before you insert a finger into her. "Mmhh fuck!" Aeri moaned, throwing herself forward at the shock, laying her forehead on yours. She was about to pull back, but you held her. "Let's stay like this for a while." She nods, while starting to stroke you even faster. Your pace also got faster, and as you inserted another finger, you felt her pussy clench, before her juices started leaking onto your fingers.

"You're about to cum huh? Cum. Just cum. Cum on my fingers. Reach that orgasm you so desperately want." You tried your best to dirty-talk her, and it worked, as she clenched her pussy hard, before she reached her orgasm.

"NNNGGHHH FUCKKKK FUCKKK FUCKKKK!!!!" She groaned, while cumming, no, squirting HARD onto your lap. You increase your fingering pace while also starting to rub her clit faster, helping her orgasm got more intense, while also prolonging them. Her juices continue leaking even after she came down from her high, which she did in quite a while.

Aeri took a few deep breaths before returning her attention on your cock. "I know I lost, but for once, may I do whatever I want?" Aeri ask. "Sure." You allowed her. She then smirked, before aligning herself with your cock. "Whoa whoa Aeri are you sure?" You ask her for assurance, and she nodded. "Alright then." You said. She starts rubbing your cock on her clit front and back, before lowering herself onto your cock as you enter her. "Mmmmhhhh fuck you're so big." Aeri complimented you, making you throb, earning a grin from her. "And you're so warm." You said.

Once she got adjusted to the size, she starts riding you up and down at a slow pace, enjoying each second of it, while also lowering herself even more after each ride. She starts to get the hang of it, and starts riding you faster. "GOd you're so big. How the fuck are you packing this much?" Aeri questioned while riding and enjoying how your dick filled her insides. "I don't know and I don't care. Just make me cum." You said. Aeri then stopped riding you and smirked.

She raised herself to the point where your tip is at the edge of her pussy, before lowering herself aggressively, bottoming out on your cock. "NNNGHHH FUCKKK THAT'S SO BIG." Aeri moaned. She waited for a few moments, adjusting to your size, before she starts grinding front and back on your cock, deep inside her. You moved to lower her top, exposing her strapless bra, which you unhook and throw to the side.

You leaned in to suck and fondle her tits and nipples as she continues grinding on you, which definitely helped in getting you closer to your orgasm. This was further proven as you start throbbing inside her pussy. "You can cum in me, but I won't let you suck my tits when you do." She said, earning a muffled yes from you as your activities got faster and more intense. Eventually, you lost, as you reached your orgasm first.

"NNGGHH FUCKKK!!!" You groaned, thrusting up one last time before you came into her womb. Aeri rushed to your face, grabbing it to kiss you on the lips, which you replied with the same pressure, as you enjoyed the feeling of filling her up, the feeling of the orgasm you've longed for the whole night.

"So uh, sick day tomorrow?" You offer, making her smirk. "Sure. I won't let you sleep." Aeri said, which was true, as the two of you continued fucking throughout the night, the next morning and even the afternoon, before crashing on each other's arms during sunset, sleeping for another 18 HOURS, this time in each other's arms.

#kpop #kpop gg #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #kpop imagines #aespa giselle #aespa smut #aeri uchinaga #giselle #giselle smut

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shitapril · 12 days

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very often see posts about how the one direction fans grew up to be formula one fans, and the more I think of it, the more it makes sense. putting aside the fact that almost all my f1 friends were 1d fans (were ? are lol), it makes sense that a fandom who's fuel was hyperfixating on boys living out their dreams shifted from one form of it to another.

tha being said, it got me thinking - how do the girlies translate to f1 ? and by girlies i mean what your kpop fan would call a "bias". for example, if i was a niall girl - who's my favourite now ?

so here's a silly little non-sensical analysis and comparison that should not be taken seriously at all :

firstly, the zayn malik girlies are definitely lewis hamilton girlies. both zayn and lewis come from humble backgrounds, were subject to vile, inhumane racial discrimination and hate - all while being arguably the most talented in their respective fields (I mean, you've heard zayn's high note in you & I, and seen lewis' 7 world championships). they're hardworking, pet-loving, very fashionable men who stay out of unnecessary spotlight for the most part, and step out once in a while to remind the world they're drop-dead gorgeous. the zayn girls are safe with lewis.

next comes liam payne - and here on you'll have to hear me out with my comparison of every racer and bandmate. liam and george russell are both aggressively british, unapologetically goofy and true to themselves (and i'm talking about liam in 1d not the one on logan paul's podcast). they're both very talented, highly regarded in their boss' eyes (toto wolff and simon cowell - this post is going to be interesting wow) and still somehow not an immediate fan favourite. this comparison also goes wonderfully well with the whole ziam and britcedes parallels.

thirdly, louis tomlinson. easy peasy. max verstappen. both incredibly blunt, dry humour, pr nightmares, do not give two single hecks. people either love them, or hate them - no in between. both incredibly talented individuals (louis wrote majority of 1d's discography, max has 3 world championships under his belt) and yet are discredited ("louis is only famous cuz of his bandmates and the band itself" and "max just had a good car"). the zayn and louis fued also parallels abu dhabi 2021 quite well aye ? (i'm going insane)

harry styles, no debate. charles leclerc - regarded as the pretty boys (the prettiest, their fans would insist i'm sure) and the most popular, the well-liked. both extremely talented without a doubt, but a little bit overrated, and victimised to glorify and support fan narratives. i know i sound like a hater - forgive me, not my intention. i like them both as individuals - their fans on the other hand (and no, not all, i know) are so blind-sided, so insane and cause so much unpleasantness on the internet. almost ironic, how the most amicable ones have the least liked fans lol. that aside though, if you were a harry girl, chances are you went from one fan-favourite to the other. i also just realised - this supports the larry and lestappen narratives - am i genuinely, honestly onto something here ? (i absolutely am not)

lastly, niall horan. now this one i'm sure will divide you all, but here you go anyway. lando norris. both babied immensely by their fans and bandmates/teammates alike - churchboy persona. the moment they shed the insecurity, suddenly bam everyone hates them (niall's mofo t-shirts, lando's frat boy tendencies, and saying things that the internet will not find funny), promising at a young age, yet somehow grew up to be called overrated. their fans are stubbornly loyal to them, defending them through all their rights, and wrongs. it makes sense to me. one smiley boy to another.

this probably makes no sense - but feel free to add your own comparisons, theories, and notes ! there's 5 of them and 20 on the grid, obviosuly disparity for me to go on and on and on about (for example, I see a little zayn girls to carlos girls pipeline, louis to fernando - oldest boy syndrome and all that) so let me know ! let's yap :)

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warabidakihime · 2 months

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Rules and Roses Chapter 6

★ characters: kibutsuji muzan x reader x akaza

★ plot summary: Kibutsuji Muzan has finally decided to expand his empire, and the way he intends to do so is by running for the highest political position. With you, his darling wife, at his side, he believes he can achieve and have everything the world has to offer. He is, after all, the Phoenix of Phario.

★ fic playlist: sometimes, same day, as time stops, wolf’s song (this is also the vision board for the fic).

★ content warnings : implied violence, self-harm and abuse, profanities, toxic relationships, smut.

★ Previous Chapter

a/n: heya! things are finally picking up and it will only go up from here and then BAM! i wasn't able to update last weekend because i wasn't doing great mentally and i was also pretty tired because of work, and so i just focused on resting last weekend. but voila! a new chapter for y'all! i've not proofread this yet, so apologies if there are any typos or parts that confuses you. will fix those tomorrow morning.

i sincerely hope you've been enjoying this fic and i really would like to hear your thoughts so don't be shy and leave a comment or two! you have no idea how much your comments inspire me to write.

anyway! enjoy reading!

Year 2016

A vast, icy expanse stretches before the camera. The crowd's excited murmurs gradually build into a roaring applause as a spotlight illuminates the center of the ice.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are on the edge of our seats as we welcome back the phenomenal Y/N! The reigning champion, the undisputed queen of the ice, is about to grace us with her artistry once more,” the commentator exclaimed to the mic.

You glide onto the ice; your every movement, fluid and effortless, as if you're dancing on air. Your breath, visible in the cold, adds a touch of ethereal beauty to your performance.

“There she is! The moment we've all been waiting for! The crowd is on their feet, their eyes glued to every twist and turn. Her posture is impeccable, and her lines are clean and sharp. This is what true elegance looks like!”

The commentator continued, his voice filled with excitement and passion.

As you progress through your routine, the music swells, mirroring the intensity of your performance. You execute a series of complex jumps with astonishing ease, landing each one with precision and grace.

“And there it is! A triple axel, executed to perfection! The crowd is in awe. This woman is on a different level. Her speed, her power, her control—it's simply breathtaking. Watch as she transitions into a spin; look at that speed and the way she controls her body. It's like she's defying gravity itself!"

You transition into a series of spins, giving your body a blur of color and movement. The commentator’s voice becomes more animated.

“Unbelievable! She's a ballerina on ice! The way she blends strength and delicacy is simply mesmerizing. And did you catch that change of direction? From a Biellmann spin to a layback spin in mere seconds? It's like she's speaking a different language on the ice. A language only the greatest can understand.”

As you approach the end of your routine, the music crescendos, and you unleash a final burst of energy. Your emotions are raw, and your movements are filled with passion.

“She's pouring her heart and soul into this performance! The crowd is on its feet, cheering and applauding. This is a moment that will be remembered for years to come. And can we talk about the flexibility? Those splits, those extensions! She's not just an ice skater; she's a gymnast on ice! A complete show stopper!”

The commentator exclaimed, his voice filled with awe.

A tear escapes your eye as you finish your routine, and you drop to the ice in a deep bow.

The crowd erupts in a standing ovation.

“A performance that transcends the boundaries of sport. Ice Queen Y/N has once again proven why she is the greatest ice skater of her generation. And speaking of greatness, this woman has it all. Talent, beauty, grace, and, let's not forget, a heart of gold. They say behind every successful woman is a great man, and this woman's boyfriend is definitely one to watch. Though we can't confirm anything, rumors have it that he's a rising star in the business world,” the commentator said, adding a touch of intrigue to his commentary.

You skate slowly towards the edge of the ice, your breath coming in short gasps. The crowd’s cheers and applause gradually subside as you approach your coach.

“And there she goes, skating towards her coach. A moment of pure relief and exhaustion. The pressure is off, and she can finally let go. This is a moment of truth, a moment of waiting. The scores will determine her fate. Let’s hope she’s brought her A-game today, but this is Y/N we're talking about; she's always on her A-game!”

The camera cuts to the judges’ table as they begin their deliberation. The crowd holds their breath, their eyes glued to the screen.

After what feels like an eternity, the announcer steps up to the microphone.

“And the gold medal goes to... Y/N with a final score of 250.34 , a whopping 12.78 points ahead of her closest competitor! This not only secures her gold medal but also breaks her own world record, a record she has held for years! This is a historic moment, ladies and gentlemen!”

The announcer proclaimed, as the crowd erupts into a frenzy of cheers and applause.

The camera returns to you as you cover your face with your hands, tears of joy streaming down your cheeks. Your coach gave you a fatherly hug, obviously proud of the feat you have achieved. Your family and friends were screaming at the top of their lungs, trying their best to convey their support for you. Meanwhile, the crowd continues to cheer as confetti falls from the ceiling.

You raise your arms in victory, a radiant smile on your face.

The physical therapy room was a familiar purgatory. The sterile white walls and the metallic gleam of the equipment were a constant reminder of your limitations. Once a sanctuary of grace and athleticism, it had become a battleground for recovery.

You moved through the routine with mechanical precision, your movements devoid of the once-fluid grace. Your breath came in short, labored gasps as you pushed your body to its limits. The pain was a constant companion, a dull ache that pulsed through your leg. Yet you persevered, driven by a stubborn determination.

Akaza watched from the corner, his eyes following your every move. His expression was a mask of indifference, but his posture spoke a different story. Tension rippled through his muscles as he observed your struggle.

Finally, exhausted but determined, you collapsed onto the mat, sweat beading on your forehead. Your body ached, but there was a sense of satisfaction in pushing through the pain.

The doctor entered, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. He carried a clipboard, and his expression was serious.

"How are you feeling today, Y/N?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You managed a weak smile. "Tired, but okay."

The doctor nodded, his eyes scanning your form. "The progress is steady. Your strength is improving, and the range of motion in your leg is expanding."

A flicker of hope ignited in your chest. "Does that mean I can start... doing more?"

The doctor hesitated, his expression turning somber.

"There is good news and bad news."

Your heart sank. "Tell me the bad news first."

"The bad news is, the full range of motion you once had is unlikely to return. The scar tissue and the nature of your injury have created limitations. While you can walk and perform daily activities without significant discomfort, activities that require sudden bursts of speed, agility, or excessive weight-bearing are still risky."

A wave of disappointment washed over you. You had never entertained the thought of returning to competitive skating. That chapter of your life was firmly closed. But the idea of never being able to skate again, even for leisure, was definitely a bitter pill to swallow.

"I understand," you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper.

"But," the doctor continued, his voice softening, "the good news is that you've exceeded expectations in your recovery. You're stronger than most people in your situation. With continued therapy and careful management, you can lead a normal, active life."

A normal life.

The word echoed in your mind.

A far cry from the extraordinary life you once lived.

"But remember, and I mean this in all seriousness, there are certain activities you should avoid," the doctor warned. "High-impact sports, for instance, are out of the question, and you need to be cautious about putting too much pressure on your leg."

You nodded, trying to absorb the information. The weight of disappointment was heavy on your shoulders.

"But I also want you to remember," the doctor added, "every day is a step forward, and you've come such a long way, Y/N. So you should be proud of your progress."

You forced a smile. "I am."

As the doctor left the room, you turned to Akaza. His eyes met yours, and in that brief moment, you saw a flicker of something in his gaze—a mixture of pity and something else, something you can quite pinpoint. You decided to dismiss it, attributing it to your overactive imagination.

Akaza approached you, his hand reaching out to offer support. "You're stronger than you think," he said, his voice low and comforting.

You took his hand, grateful for his presence. "I know," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

Akaza studied your face; his eyes were filled with a strange intensity. "I've seen stronger people break," he said, his voice barely audible. "But you... you're different."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his rather cryptic statement. "Oh?"

Akaza hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. "Some people," he began, his voice low, "are defined by limitations. Others... they find a way to transcend them."

You didn't know what to make of his cryptic statement.

You simply nodded, grateful for his support.

Akaza chuckled, breaking the tension. “You’re too serious,” he teased. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. You look like you could use a break.”

You smiled, and the weight of the world momentarily lifted.

“Alright, let’s go.”

As he helped you up, he studied your face, his expression turning serious again. “You’re doing well,” he said softly. “Like what the doctor told you, you’re way stronger than you think.”

You nodded, grateful for his support. As you walked out of the physical therapy room, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. The road to recovery was indeed long, but you persevered and made incredible progress.

And as long as you have your friends and family, Muzan, and, believe it or not, people like Akaza by your side, you knew you would eventually find your way back.

Several Years Ago at the Winter Olympics 2018

The ice was your stage, a crystalline expanse where you could lose yourself. Muzan, your fiancé, watched from the stands, his eyes filled with adoration. The crowd roared as you took your final bow, the applause a symphony of admiration. You were in your element, a whirlwind of grace and power.

But then disaster struck.

It happened in an instant—a cruel twist of fate.

As you landed a triple lutz, your skate blade, despite multiple quality checks, betrayed you. It snapped, sending you into an uncontrolled spin. Your body, once so graceful, became a helpless projectile. You felt the ice scrape against your skin as you tumbled, the world a blur of pain and fear.

Muzan watched in horror as you fell. Time seemed to freeze as your body crashed into the ice. A sharp intake of breath escaped his lips. His world narrowed down to you, a blur of white on the unforgiving ice.

Fear, cold and sharp, clawed at his insides.

He leaped over the barrier, his movements a blur. Kneeling beside you, he assessed the damage. Your face was pale, and your eyes closed. A deep gash marred your leg, with blood seeping through the fabric of your costume. His hands trembled as he cradled your head. His voice, usually so calm and commanding, was now a frantic whisper.

"Darling, please wake up," he begged, his voice filled with terror.

"Open your eyes, please, Y/N!"

Panic surged through him as he realized the severity of your injury. The once pristine white of his suit was now marred by the crimson stain of your blood, a stark contrast to the pristine white of the ice.

His voice rose, filled with a desperate urgency.

"Someone help! Get an ambulance! Fucking do something, now!" he shouted, his eyes wide with fear and seething anger.

He frantically searched for a button or a lever—anything to call for help. The crowd's noise seemed to muffle, as if he were underwater.

He scooped you up into his arms, your weight heavy in his arms. The crowd's gasps and cries were a distant echo as he carried you off the ice. His mind raced, a whirlwind of fear and desperation. He had to get you help, and he had to get you help now.

In the ambulance, Muzan held you close, his touch a desperate attempt to reassure you and to reassure himself that this too shall pass, but the metallic smell of your blood, your pale skin, and the way your body trembled in his arms filled him with a cold dread, as did the horrific way you would slip in and out of consciousness.

The days that followed were a blur of pain, surgeries, and endless nights in the hospital. You woke up to find yourself encased in a plaster cast, the once lithe body you knew confined to a hospital bed. The news of your injury sent shockwaves through the world, leaving your fans devastated by the abrupt end to your glittering career.

The doctors were blunt in their assessment. Your career as an ice skater was over. The extent of your injuries, combined with the long recovery process, meant that you would never be able to return to the ice. The news was a devastating blow, and it took a long time to come to terms with it.

Muzan was by your side through it all; his unrelenting and passionate support was a constant in your life. He held your hand through the painful procedures, his presence a comforting anchor.

But the emotional turmoil was immense. The loss of your identity as a skater was a profound shock. The physical pain was a constant reminder of what you had lost, but the emotional pain was even more debilitating. You questioned your worth and your identity.

There were even moments when the darkness consumed you, when the thought of ending it all seemed like the only escape.

But despite everything, you managed to hold on and cling to the hope that things would get better.

And frankly speaking, Muzan didn't let you succumb to despair. He did his very best to show his support for you and his faith in you, and with the help of dedicated therapists, you slowly began to rebuild your life.

It was a long and arduous journey, filled with SO many setbacks and triumphs, but you were able to emerge from the shadows stronger and more resilient than ever before.

The car ride home was heavy with silence. You stared out the window, lost in thought. The physical therapy session had been grueling, but it was also a stark reminder of what you had lost. A sudden impulse surged through you.

"Akaza, make a detour," you ordered, your voice firm.

Akaza was startled by your sudden demand. “Where to?” he asked, his voice laced with caution.

“The ice rink,” you replied, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Akaza hesitated, his mind racing. He knew better than anyone the risks involved. The doctor's warnings echoed in his mind. Yet, he couldn't ignore the determination in your eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "The doctor said..."

You cut him off.

"I know, Akaza. And I don't care, so please."

He sighed. He knew arguing with you was futile. With a heavy heart, he turned the steering wheel.

The ice rink was eerily quiet.

The once-vibrant atmosphere was replaced by an eerie stillness. You slipped into your skates, a familiar weight returning to your feet. As you stepped onto the ice, a wave of nostalgia washed over you.

It was here that you had spent countless hours honing your craft, dreaming of standing on the Olympic podium.

Akaza watched from the sidelines, his heart pounding in his chest. He was a mixture of worry and admiration. You were a force of nature, but he couldn’t shake the fear that lurked in the back of his mind.

You began to glide, your movements tentative at first. But as you gained confidence, your body seemed to remember the familiar motions. You started to hum the melody of your short program, your movements following the rhythm. It was as if you were reliving a distant memory—a ghost of your former self.

Akaza watched in awe as you executed a series of spins and jumps with surprising ease. It was as if the years of physical therapy had erased the trauma of the accident. But as you attempted a particularly challenging move, your body betrayed you. Fear crept in, and your balance faltered.

You landed with a painful thud, your knees buckling.

Tears streamed down your face as the pain shot through your leg. The physical agony was a stark reminder of your limitations, but it was the emotional pain that truly consumed you. The floodgates of memories opened, overwhelming you. The taste of victory, the roar of the crowd, the thrill of competition—all of it came rushing back, only to be replaced by the bitter reality of your present situation.

You curled up into a ball, your body trembling.

Struggling to tune out the pounding of his heart, Akaza hesitated to rush to your side, and when he was about to, Muzan's voice echoed across the empty ice rink, firm yet still laced with concern.

"What do you think you're doing?"

You looked up; pain and confusion were painted on your face. Muzan knelt beside you, his eyes filled with worry.

"I thought I could do it," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Muzan’s expression hardened. "You could've seriously gotten hurt! And you!" Your husband shot Akaza a glare, his temper flaring uncontrollably.

"What were you thinking, letting this happen? Your job is to keep her safe, and you failed miserably! Do you have any idea how irresponsible this was?!"

Akaza bowed in apology, his face pale. "I'm sorry, sir. I did everything I could—"

Before Akaza could finish, Muzan took a step forward, his fist clenched. "Everything you could? Everything you could?! You're supposed to be her bodyguard, not some useless bystander! Do you even care about her safety? Or are you just pretending to do your job?!"

Akaza flinched, taking a step back. "Sir, please, I—"

Muzan raised his hand as if to strike, his face contorted with rage. "Don't you 'sir' me! If anything happens to her, it's on you! Do you understand that? It's on your head, you worthless—"

"Muzan, stop!" you interjected, your voice firm despite the pain.

"Don't blame Akaza. He did the best he could. I was the one who was stubborn."

Muzan paused, his raised hand trembling, before he slowly lowered it, his eyes still burning with anger. He turned back to you, his frustration now mixed with deep concern.

"All those months of therapy, Y/N. All the pain you’ve endured, thrown out the window just like that? What were you thinking?"

You lowered your gaze, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. Muzan’s words cut deep, but you knew he was right.

Upon seeing you shrink when he raised his voice at you, Muzan’s expression softened immediately.

He sighed heavily.

"You do understand where I am coming from right?" he said as gently as he could. "I completely empathize with you, Y/N; and just like you, I also miss you performing on ice, but you can’t ignore the doctor’s orders. You know how fragile your recovery is. What if you got seriously hurt again?"

You looked away, your heart aching.

"I just miss it," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "I thought I should give it a try, then maybe... I could get a feel of it again. Maybe a miracle would happen." You trailed off, unsure of where the thought was leading you.

Muzan’s eyes softened as he watched your tears fall. He reached out, gently lifting your chin so your eyes met his. "Love, I understand the longing; I really do. But we can't rush these things. Your body still needs time to heal."

And then Muzan’s grip tightened around your hand. His voice, stained with pain and frustration.

"Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I saw you lying there on the ice? How many sleepless nights I've endured, haunted by the image of your lifeless body? You risked everything just now—your life, your future, and for what? For a fleeting moment of glory? For old times sake? For a stupid, careless stunt? Do you understand the gravity of your actions?"

Your heart pounded in your chest.

Guilt eating at you by the second.

Muzan rarely raised his voice at you, but when he did, it sent shivers down your spine. At this very moment, you knew he was angry, but you also knew he was speaking from a place of deep love and concern.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Muzan’s expression shifted from frustration to sorrow, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You don't need to apologize, love. I'm just... I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Suddenly, the memory of that dreadful day started playing in his head like a slideshow—the sight of you lying motionless on the ice, the panic in the ambulance, the sleepless nights by your hospital bed. He groaned, his grip on your hand tightening involuntarily as the trauma washed over him again. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the haunting images.

"Seeing you in pain, feeling helpless... it tore me apart," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "I remember every second of that day, and it still feels like a nightmare I can't wake up from."

Drowning in shame and guilt, all you could ever say at that moment was, "I'm sorry."

He opened his eyes and looked at you, his expression softening as he saw the concern in your eyes. "I know, love. But please, let's not do this again." He paused, his gaze unrelenting.

"I know how much skating means to you, and I promise we'll find a way to bring back the joy of skating into your life. But for now, let's focus on healing."

Akaza nodded in agreement. You looked at them both, feeling a mix of disappointment and understanding. "But the doctor said..."

Muzan interrupted gently, "I know what the doctor said, my love. And I respect his opinion. But I won't let that be the final word. We'll explore every option, every specialist, every clinic. We won't stop until we find a way for you to skate again."

Hope flickered in your eyes. "You mean it?"

Muzan nodded resolutely.

"I mean it with all my heart, love. You've dedicated so many years to this already, and I know how much it means to you. But for now, let's focus on healing your body and your spirit. We'll find a way to bring back the joy of skating into your life, I promise. But let's not rush it, okay? Your well-being is my top priority. It should be your priority too."

Eventually, you yielded, but before you could get a word out in response to what your husband just said, tears came falling down your face profusely, and the sight pained both Muzan and Akaza so much.

It was so hard seeing you like this.

Muzan gently pulled you into his arms, his embrace warm and protective. He whispered soothing words into your ear, his voice a calming balm to your frayed nerves. "Shhh, it's okay, my love. Let it all out. I'm here for you."

Akaza, who was standing nearby, looked away, giving you and Muzan a moment of privacy. He clenched his fists, his own emotions—a tumultuous mix of anger at the situation and a deep, abiding concern for you.

Muzan brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender.

"You've been so strong, Y/N. It's okay to feel what you're feeling. It's okay to grieve and to be angry. Feel free to use me as a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to, or even your personal punching bag when you need to let off steam. I'm here for you, always."

You clung to him, the weight of your emotions finally finding an outlet. The tears seemed endless—a torrent of grief and frustration. Your husband held you tighter, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"We will get through this," he murmured. "One step at a time."

After what felt like an eternity, the tears began to subside, leaving you feeling drained but slightly lighter. Muzan pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. "Feeling better?"

You nodded, unable to find the words to express your gratitude and love for him. Muzan kissed your forehead gently, his lips lingering as if to impart some of his strength to you.

Muzan then took a deep breath and turned to Akaza, his anger still simmering but under control. "Akaza," he began, his voice tight, "I apologize for lashing out at you earlier. My temper got the best of me, and that was uncalled for."

Akaza bowed slightly, his expression unreadable. "No, sir. It's alright. I deserved to be called out like that."

Muzan clenched his jaw, feeling the lingering frustration. He took a moment to calm himself further before continuing. "However, let me be clear. If something like this happens again, there will be consequences. Your primary duty is to ensure her safety. Don't you ever forget that."

Akaza nodded solemnly. "I understand, sir. It won't happen again."

Muzan's gaze softened slightly as he regarded Akaza. "Thank you," then he turned to you again and helped you to your feet.

"Let's get you home," he said, wrapping an arm around your waist.

In the car, the quiet hum of the engine filled the space between you and Muzan. After a few moments of contemplation, you turned to him and broke the silence.

“How did you know I was at the ice rink?”

Akaza cleared his throat, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. “I called him,” he confessed, his eyes avoiding yours.

You turned your gaze to Akaza, surprised by his uncharacteristic admission. "You did?"

He nodded, his expression serious. "Yes, madam. I figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Apologies for taking action without consulting you first."

Understanding the weight of his actions and the potential danger Muzan might have faced because of you, guilt washed over you. You turned back to Muzan, remorse clear in your eyes. “Muzan, I’m so sorry. You must have been very busy today, and I even put you in potential danger by rushing to my aid without Kokushibo with you.”

Muzan shook his head, his expression softening as he reached out to take your hand. “Nothing and no one is more important or more special to me in this world than you, Y/N. I would leave everything behind to ensure you’re safe and well, so don’t ever feel guilty for needing me. Besides, I can’t call myself the president of a nation if I can't protect or be there for the people who are closest to me.”

You felt tears welling up again, but this time, they were tears of gratitude. “Muzan…”

Muzan gently wiped away your tears with his thumb, then pulled you into a warm embrace, his touch tender and reassuring.

The car settled into a comfortable silence once again, and after a few seconds, you glanced at Akaza, who was focused intently on the road.

“Hakuji, thanks again for today.”

“Hakuji?” Muzan asked, confusion lacing his voice. “Who’s Hakuji?”

In the driver’s seat, Akaza froze, his heart skipping a beat. The sudden use of his real name caught him off guard, and he quickly regained his composure, masking his panic with a carefully controlled expression.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, a hint of unease creeping into his voice.

How did you...?

Wait.

Have you perhaps, by any chance, finally–

“That’s me, sir. Hakuji is my real name; Akaza is just a nickname a relative gave me when I was a kid.”

“I see,” Muzan said, his tone shifting to a more measured curiosity. “You refer to yourself as Akaza to everyone? I don’t recall this being disclosed during your application.”

Akaza flashed a sheepish smile, though it did little to hide the tension in his eyes. “Yes, sir. I’ve used Akaza for most of my life, but I’m fine with Hakuji as well.”

Muzan studied Akaza with a penetrating gaze, sensing the subtle shift in the atmosphere.

“Very well,” he said finally, his voice a mix of intrigue and skepticism.

The drive continued in relative silence, the weight of the recent events settling around the car like a tangible fog. You leaned against Muzan, comforted by his presence, while Akaza focused on the road, his mind racing with the implications of his slip.

When the car finally arrived at your home, Muzan helped you out with a gentle hand, his concern still evident in his eyes. While you were still traveling back, you asked your husband how he got to the ice rink, and apparently he drove there by himself, and because he accompanied you in your car with Akaza, his car was left at the ice rink parking lot. Muzan assured you that he would have Gyokko retrieve it first thing in the morning.

As you walked towards the entrance, you glanced back at Akaza, who had a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You can rest now, Hakuji. Thank you, and I'm sorry too."

Akaza shook his head and smiled gently before bowing. "Don't worry about me, madam. Please rest well."

Muzan took the liberty to officially dismiss Akaza for the night and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his gaze softening. “Let’s get you settled. We’ve had a long day.”

Akaza slammed his bedroom door shut, his mind racing. He had been waiting for this moment—a sign, a confirmation. He leaned against the door, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins was intoxicating.

This was it.

The opportunity he had been waiting for.

A chance to rewrite his destiny and prove his worth.

But he had to be careful and meticulous. One wrong move could jeopardize everything. He took a deep breath, calming his racing heart.

It was time to put his plan into action.

He pulled out a drawer and retrieved a small, leather-bound notebook. It was a relic from his past, a journal filled with cryptic codes and half-formed plans. He opened it to a blank page and began to write. The pen moved swiftly across the paper, his thoughts flowing onto the page.

A plan was forming—a dangerous and intricate one, but it was a plan nonetheless.

taglist: @bffrrufr @unadulteratedhandsbanditdreamer @unlikelybananawerewolf

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 9 months

Note

Hey! Could I request a fic with Bam where the reader is a female skater?

Maggot’s Kiss

Being apart of Tony Hawk’s skate team sounded like a dream to Y/N- that is, until she met Bam, and an innocent thing turns into something darker.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, Angst)

2.6k Words

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, jealousy, crude language, very suggestive content, bullying, hate makeouts, nudity, fake dating, flirting, accidental vouyerisim, injury, blood

An: Thank you so much for your request and happy new year!! I decided to combine my love of darker fics and slow burn to create this for your reading pleasure ;) I just love writing banter like what Bam and Y/N have in this fic hehe XD This fic was also inspired by this amazing fic (one of my favorite Jackass fics on this website) by @asskickedbygirl, so please go check her out!! According to one of my beta readers this is one of the steamiest things I have ever written, and that was just based off of the first three paragraphs, so do with that what you will! Anyways, thank you for sending in requests and please keep sending more!! I love to read them and I enjoy writing them even more :)

You hated him. His edgy, crazy, rich boy schtick made you almost embarrassed to be touring with him and the rest of Tony’s team, knowing that no matter what, the spotlight was always on him. It was never Team Adio or Team Element- it was Bam and Company. Every time you saw pre-teens fighting tooth and nail over who got his autograph first or when chicks threw themselves at his feet for a chance to be graced by the presence of his less than average dick (you see a lot being on the same tour bus for two months), you gagged a little. You were seemingly the only person in America that didn’t fall for Bam Margera’s bullshit. Maybe hate was an understatement.

It was the evening before some exhibition you were supposed to do in the parking lot of a mall that you were pondering all of this, seething quietly in the tiny tour bus bunk bed you were trying to get some shut eye in. Trying being the key word, seeing as you weren't very successful at it. Sighing, you wriggled out of your middle row bunk, carefully stepping down and stretching, the claustrophobic sleeping conditions doing nothing for your already not great posture. There was a row of leather seats in the back of the bus you and the guys would usually sit around and play cards in or watch TV when you were on the road that you made your way back to, feeling around in the pitch darkness as a strange chill struck you. The only thing you could see was the glowing, orange tip of a cigarette as you sat down, knowing exactly who it was.

“Close the damn window. S’freezing.” Mumbling, you crossed your legs, tucking your feet into the backs of your knees to warm yourself up. He chuckled, taking another drawl on his cigarette, the embers glowing intensely for a moment before he exhaled, “Might wanna think ‘bout wearin’ a bra ‘round here.” You could practically feel Bam’s eyes on you through the darkness. “I had no idea y’were so fascinated by my tits, Margera.” His last name came out of your mouth like it pained you to say it, acrid on your tongue. Scoffing, you cooed with faux sweetness, sliding closer to him and whispering in his ear, “I-I mean, if you really wanted, y’could give ‘em a feel…” Two can play at that game. Bam found your jab funny, laughing bitterly as he playfully shoved you away, “Oh, no way in hell am I touchin’ you.”

So after a few minutes of small talk, you went back to bed, and so did he, but that exchange didn’t leave your mind. There wasn't an atom in your body that wanted to be felt up by Bam of all people, but you were still pissed that he wrote you off that fast. You saw the girls he took to the bathroom of the tour bus every night and they had nothing on you. Then there was the matter of why he was staring at your tits in the first place. Was he checking you out? Something hot bubbled in your stomach that you were sure was hate at the thought of that. God, it was too late to be thinking like this, you thought, pushing it from your mind and burrowing deeper into your sheets as you tried to get some sleep.

You felt like shit the next day, but the show must go on, three hours of sleep or not. Thankfully, the bus stopped at a Love’s truck stop on the way there- you would be surviving on a gas station coffee and a prayer. Everyone filtered out of the bus, buying snacks and toiletries or whatever they needed. That left you, lingering by the trucker showers with Mike Valley. You split a bag of Hostess Donettes while he waited for his turn, discussing some fight he got into at the bar last night. Smiling, you licked the powdered sugar off of your fingers and joked about it being the breakfast of champions. He laughed, but just as you looked back up from the now empty bag, your eye caught something.

Perfect fucking timing. The door to the men’s swung open at just the right moment for you to see Bam in all his naked glory, thankfully only from behind. It wasn’t rare for you to see him shirtless, especially when you were skating together in the heat of touring season, but you only just now realized how muscular his back was. His tan skin had contours like a bronze sculpture, shitty black fleur de lis tattoos winding down his sides as he toweled away the last glistening remnants of his shower. Before your eyes reached his ass you tore your gaze away, gagging in mock disgust, crumpling up the empty bag and throwing it in the trash.

There was this weird look in Bam’s eye as he handed off the shower key to Tim, taking his place next to you on the beige wall as he pulled his shirt over his head, “You got a little something there.” He gestured to the side of your face and you licked off the remaining powered sugar, cracking a smile as you mumbled, “Oh, fuck off.” Bam held his hands up in mock surrender as you could hear the shower turn on in the other room, the only noise in the otherwise silent hallway, “Hey, no need t’get all defensive! I mean,“ You could feel his long, half-wet hair dangle on your forehead as he leaned in closer, his voice teasing as he reached down to do up his belt, “especially with how you were pervin’ on me in the showers. I’d say you owe me an apology.”

You turned to him, glaring at his stupid grinning face under the fluorescent lights, “First of all, it was an accident. Second of all, I can barely stand the sight of your naked ass without hurling!” He just snickered at your joke that wasn’t even all that untrue as you rolled your eyes to keep them from lingering on the heartagram splayed out on his lower stomach, “And pull your damn pants up. Hope you bust your ass out there today.” Bam shrugged, walking down the skinny hallway, “Sure. Don’t break a nail out there, sweetheart.” That just left you, watching him leave.

The next time you saw pretty boy was under the signing tent, a respite from the blazing sun and asphalt. Your seat just had to be next to Bam, all sweaty and glistening from skating yet somehow not looking as gross as some of the other guys did. MTV star magic, you guessed. You were wondering why the hell you needed to do skate exhibitions in the ass crack of summer when some nerdy looking teen girl handed you a board to sign. Sure, you weren't Tony or Bam, who each had a line of their own nearly twice the size of the rest of the team’s, but you were generally pretty popular. The girl with the glasses was all smiles, leaning in close to you like she was going to ask you something secret, “Hey, I read somewhere that you and Bam, uh- that you had a thing together. Is that really true?”

Bam, who was sitting next to you and well within earshot, scoffed, leaning over with a sneer as you scrawled silver sharpie onto the board, “I’d rather tongue a maggot than Y/N.” You scoffed as you popped the cap back on the pen, “Yeah, the only maggot here’s that thing in your pants.” It was then, as you turned back to the fan who was awkwardly standing there, watching your little lover’s quarrel go down, that you got an idea. A malicious grin spread across your lips as you handed the signed board back to her, “But if you were wondering, I am dating Tim O’Connor. Thanks for being a fan!”

God, if you could see Bam’s face. As much as it pained you to not look over at him, you didn’t, knowing it would be impossible to keep a straight face seeing him all slack jawed. The best part of it was you weren’t dating him- well, not yet, but you didn’t even need to for what you had in mind. Hell, knowing Tim, he’d be game for fucking with Bam any day of the week, even if it mean having to hug and kiss and pretend flirt from time to time. This was the ultimate way to get back at Bam for fucking with you for so long, you thought- your ace in the hole.

You told Tim your plan and he was more than eager to get in on it. You would come up with ideas on the fly whenever you knew Bam was watching, whether it was having you wear one of his shirts on the bus or you giggling when he messed up your hair while you stopped for food on the road, or even the night you shared a bunk- one of your favorites, especially with how pissy Bam looked as he angrily slid the curtain closed on his bed when he saw the two of you. Basically anything you would see in a cheesy romance movie, you did.

But if you thought Bam was a childish asshole before, you had no idea how much worse he could get. No matter where you were, he always seemed to have his eyes on you, glaring under heavy lids across the room. Even though he was still performing well, off the ramps he was this little ball of rage, quietly observing with raised hackles. Gone were the pranks with the team and the playful banter between the two of you. Bam was a tyrant before and even more so now, only a little quieter. He avoided you like the plague, so the only form of communication between the two of you was the sporadic spitting of insults at one another just short of an argument- he’d say something about your appearance, you’d jab at some trick he messed up, and then he’d tell you to fuck off.

His behavior became so uncharacteristic that, at one point, Tony, who was often the only voice of reason, tried to take him to an urgent care because he was obviously sick. Yeah, maybe that’d be a good idea, you thought, a medical professional would probably know how to get that stick out of his ass. No, not in the slightest did you care that you hurt Bammy Boy’s precious little feelings. He was a jerk to everybody, you thought, so he deserved it. It was only after a few weeks of this charade that you started to wonder why the hell he was being such a baby about all this. Bam just seemed to radiate jealousy, especially towards Tim, but there was no way that was the case. It sounded like something straight out of third grade- that boys are mean to girls they like. But, knowing Bam, you couldn’t write that off immediately.

All this tension kept building for a while until it reached a fever pitch. The team had an off day so you all decided to stop by a skate park late in the day to kick back and chill for a few hours before you needed to get back on the road again. The chance to bust out a few tricks without the judging eyes of thousands was a breath of fresh air and everyone was all excited as they filtered out of the bus onto the concrete- that is, everyone except Bam. The little prince of darkness shot you a scowl before he ran off to the bowl with the rest of the guys while you ran off on your own. You were on the mini ramp, enjoying some rare alone time while doing a few simple tricks and thinking about how you could probably run to the Wendy’s across the street to get dinner- one of those baked potatoes would really hit the spot. It was in the midst of that thoughtful silence when you were poised on the coping in a nose stall that the clatter of a board slamming against the ground behind you hit your ears.

You were startled and, turning towards the sound, you felt the ground slip out from under you as you shifted your weight ever so slightly. The world seemed to freeze for a moment as you plummeted to the ground, landing square on the lip with a blunt packing noise, busting your cheek open. The air was knocked out of your lungs as a choked gasp escaped you, reaching up to grasp the raw skin pounded flat against your throbbing cheek bone. Your vision was a blur of orange from the setting sun as you wrenched your eyes open, tilting your head up towards the source of the shadow that looked over you.

“Nice spill.” Struggling to your feet, Bam didn’t even offer to help you, just standing there with his hands in his pockets, watching. Something red hit the concrete when you spit, rubbing off some of the hot liquid from your cheek as your gaze met his, “The fuck’s your problem?” Coughing, your voice was rough, words punctuated by heavy breath as you continued, “You’ve been all pissy for weeks, man. What’s goin’ on?” There was an edge to his voice but he still sounded calm as he reached into his pocket for his pack of Marlboro Lights, still not making eye contact, “Maybe I don’t like seein’ you and Tim eatin’ each others faces- ever thought about that?”

Snatching the cigarette from his fingers, his fingernails painted in that stupid black nail polish he always wore, you growled, “Is that it? Really?” You got all in his angry little face, close enough you could smell the shitty cologne he wore to impress chicks that always made you gag. MTV fuckin pretty boy, always looking his best. Your voice dropped low, murmuring close to his skin, “Maybe you’re just jealous’a him. That he gets to have me and you don’t.” Bam finally met your gaze, staring at you with newfound intensity as the lines between teasing and flirting blurred. He spoke through gritted teeth as he glared down at you bitterly, “Oh yeah? Yeah? You think I can’t fuckin’ have you?” You said nothing, defiant.

Time stood still, but in a second, he was on you. Bam’s hands seized you, tugging you impossibly close to him as his calloused palms traveled up and down your body possessively. It was like something snapped inside of him that was holding him back. You could feel the muscles under his clothes flex as your breath hitched, one of his hands tangling in your hair and pulling you closer. Bam kissed like a starved man, his tongue moving against yours in a lecherous mess of teeth and spit and a little blood on your part. The air swam with a mix of rage and lust as you pulled away from each other after what felt like an hour, catching your breath. Your eyelids fluttered as a weak smile spread across your kiss-sore lips. Whispering under your breath, you leaned your forehead against his, “Holy shit…”

Glancing down at the cigarette still in your hands, you slipped it between your teeth, looking back at him, “Gotta light?”

#jackass #bam margera #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #jackass x reader #fluff #angst #bam margera x reader #I absloutely adore Love’s truck stops <3 #I took a six hour trip by car once and stopping at one of those was straight up magical

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bl-bam-beyond · 11 months

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Spotlight Series:

A Classic in Gay Films

Title: BOYS IN THE BAND

Year: 1970

Written by: Mart Crowley

Directed by: William Friedkin

Adapted from play of same name.

This film is based on a Off Broadway play, it is among the early major American Motion Pictures to revolve around gay characters. It is cited as a milestone in the history of queer cinema.

Starring: Kenneth Nelson, Leonard Frey, Cliff Gorman, Laurence Luckinbill, Frederick Combs, Keith Prentice, Robert LaTourneaux, Rueben Greene and Peter White.

This spawned a 2020 remake available on Netflix. The 1970 version is available on Showtime.

Premise: Not for the weak of heart. There is a lot in this film. About friends coming together for their friend's birthday party. Set mainly in an apartment. It spirals into a clash. So many triggers including violence (nothing major but a fight ensues) homophobia, depression, alcoholism, racism, suicidal talk, prostitution, infidelity and a whole lot of self loathing.

Harold is the birthday boy and is so down on himself but at the same time he's fierce. Michael is quick witted potty mouth and gets worse when he drinks as spews hateful speech. Donald is fairly laid back and a kind person but still sees a therapist. Emory is an effeminate man and a little bit racist. Bernard is the only black character and the brunt of racism by Emory and Michael. Larry is a handsome fella and self proclaimed slut. Hank is a married man that left his wife and children to be with Larry yet Larry is an unapologetic cheater and Alan is Michael straight college friend (whom Michael believes is a closeted homosexual) and rounding out the party is Cowboy, who is a street hustler purchased by Emory for Harold.

Alan is an uninvited guest that starts the horrific trouble as he attacks the effeminate Emory and using gay slurs. Sending Michael back to drinking and becoming quite malicious to his friends.

Though the triggers are serious, there is a bit of humor and even after the melee and Michael's viciousness his friends seem not to blame him.

Though not a pretty story it has some fantastic performances. And in the history of gay cinema. This is a classic. I did watch the remake on Netflix which includes Jim Parsons, Matt Bomer and Zachary Quinto among others.

@pose4photoml

#THE SPOTLIGHT SERIES #BL-BAM-BEYOND FAMILY OF BLOGS #1970 GAY FILM #BOYS IN THE BAND #BASED ON 1968 OFF BROADWAY PLAY #CLASSIC #NOW TO REWATCH THE REMAKE #My GIFS #MYGIFSET #MY-GIF-EDIT

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cheesy09 · 8 months

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[CN] Kiro's Sound Waves Mind's Quest (Pt. 1)

🌸 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date that hasn't been released on the EN server yet! 🌸

[Note: This date was translated with the help of Google Translate :>]

Note: This date explores some very suggestive themes, so if you do not meet the game's required 17+ age rating, I'd suggest to avoid reading this date.

Highly recommended that you read Kiro's R&S: Youthhood, R&S: Stunning Young Idol as well as his New Palpitations Date before engaging with the date!

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 1]

Woooah---

The spotlight shines to the beat of the drums, and thousands of people in the audience cheer.

Under the beam, Kiro raises his hand, the silver pick hovering over the strings of the electric guitar with a slight difference. In an instant, the world seems to freeze, and all eyes are on him.

And after he turns his head and smiles at me, he sweeps it down hard with his right hand.

The sharp melody surges from the speakers, and I automatically step to the beat, playing the corresponding rhythm on the keys.

The keys of the keyboard and the strings of the guitar tacitly collide with each other, causing the audience to scream again and again.

In such a thrilling and electrifying world, all happiness and noise can be released here unscrupulously.

Under the surging sound waves, Kiro jumps along with everyone, and the fingertips flying across the strings gradually approach its climax.

His blond hair sways wildly to the music, and the smooth lines of his muscles grow tighter with the ever-accelerating rhythm.

As the amplitude of the sound waves grows louder and louder, he presses his entire back against my own, and using him as support, I hotly press up against him.

The sound of the strings and our breaths intertwine until the melody is pushed to its climax. I stop my hands in an instant and give an air shot to the person who was paying the most attention.

Bam! - the passionate tail sounds bloom loudly into the night, instantly extinguishing all the lights.

Panting, I return backstage, but as soon as I turn around, I'm met with a pair of deep eyes.

I take a step forward, wanting to say something, but he grabs me and kisses me in the darkness.

The sounds of the encore rise and fall, but I have no time to care about such things. I just tighten my grip on the front of his guitar strap and demand for more.

The friction between our clothing and the strings makes a fine sound, as if continuing the music in another subtle way.

Our heated and soft breaths cause me to slowly slide to the ground, and he squats down with me, pressing one of his hand against the wall and deepening the kiss.

Most of my oxygen is instantly sucked away. Everything spins, and strange light spots keep dancing in front of my eyes.

Those lights become more and more ethereal, slowly enveloping the world in a layer of white gauze, and the breeze blows through, making the scenery outside the window faintly visible.

Window...?

I turn my head in confusion, and see a touch of gold reflected in my eyes. That familiar face is sound asleep, the corners of his lips curled up as if was immersed in a sweet dream.

MC: ...Ah.

My consciousness gradually returns and my cheeks suddenly burn up - was everything just a dream?

While I busy myself trying to cool them down with the back of my hand, the person beside me seems to wake up and hug me.

Kiro: [sleepily] Good morning... mm, why didn't Cello come to step on the quilt today...? And Apple Box hasn't licked me either...

He pats the spot behind him in confusion, as if calling the two little ones to come over.

Seeing this man be even more confused than I was, I chuckle and caress his face.

MC: Wake up. Did you forget that we landed in Los Angeles at midnight? We're in the hotel right now.

Not long ago, Kiro's new album was nominated for the Best Pop Vocal Album by the WMAs. Considering the fact that the award ceremony was close to the Spring Festival, we arrived in Los Angeles early with the intent of taking a vacation to celebrate the New Year.

Kiro: ...Oh yeah, I was pretty sleepy. [Yawns] So, how did you sleep last night?

MC: Really well. So well that I even had a beautiful....

As soon as the words leave my mouth, the sound of our gasps suddenly comes to my mind and I quickly change my description with a blush on my face.

MC: I had a very magical dream.

MC: I dreamed that we were performing on stage together... You were the guitarist, while I was the keyboard player!

MC: The audience kept shouting for an encore. During the performance, they thought we were the most popular band in the world~

Kiro's eyes widen and he moves a little closer to me.

Kiro: Then what?

MC: And then we walked off the stage, and then, and then it was over...

While its true that dreams are usually blurry, this one is so vivid that it gradually overlaps with the person in front of me, making me feel hot all over.

Kiro: Over?

MC: Over!

Kiro: [chuckles teasingly] MC, did you know you're really bad at lying? Your eyes are wandering and your face is as red as an apple. Usually when you get like this, it means...

The hand touching his chin pauses, and Kiro comes closer to me, a wicked smile on his face.

Kiro: Did I possibly kiss you in your dream?

MC: ...!

His straightforward answer makes me want to crawl under the quilt, but he latches onto my head first and buries it into his chest, laughing.

Kiro: [with lilting laughter] Okay, I'll stop teasing you now. Can you tell me more about your dream? For example, what songs did we sing? And did you enjoy being in a band with me?

MC: Of course I enjoyed it, and I remember the song we sang was also really nice, something like hum--hum hum--

The melody on my lips slowly becomes clearer and smoother, and we both seem to realize something, each of us staring at each other with wide eyes.

Kiro: Isn't that "Wonderful Day"?

MC: Ah... Now I know why I had this dream!

I excitedly pick up my phone and unlock the screen, automatically playing the video I hadn't finished watching before going to bed--

The video shows a practice room lit up by the afterglow of the sun, and a blond boy is sitting on the ground, holding a guitar and humming a tune.

His tight-fitting pure white long sleeves shirt makes him look a little thin, and his face beneath his forehead also possesses the unique innocence of his youth.

As if he was practicing, he sang acapella without accompaniment, but his singing was filled with the sounds of friction due to the old recording equipment at the time.

Even so, the passion and purity can clearly be seen in those eyes.

This was Kiro, an 18-year-old member of a start-up band, and this scene appears in this MV in the form of a memoir.

MC: Although I've searched for various old videos of yours, this is my first time seeing you practice behind-the-scenes.

MC: So I couldn't help but watch it a few more time. I didn't expect it to end up in my dream though~

As I say this, I think of something and point at the drum set behind "him" and the electric guitar on the floor.

MC: But why are you the only one practicing? Where are your bandmates?

Kiro: ...I can't remember. Maybe they hadn't come over yet, so I was just casually practicing while I waited for them.

MC: Oh, but I remember one of your bandmates' name was Pen?

He startles, as if he didn't expect me to still remember the person he'd just mentioned in passing.

Kiro: Mm, he was the guitarist for our band.

MC: Oh~ Then tell me in secret - who was better at playing the guitar, you or him?

Catching on to my teasing, he playfully raises his eyebrows in turn.

Kiro: There's no need to ask. I was the all-rounder of the band. I was just doing my duty as the lead singer so as to not steal everyone else's limelight.

MC: Wow... how bold. Your former bandmates would be furious if they knew about this.

I grin and lean on his chest, playing with the buttons of his pajamas.

MC: But this MV just reminded me that there must be many "treasures" from the past waiting for me to discover.

I pause and selfishly confess.

MC: After all, some people say that dreams are another parallel universe. So, I'll keep digging out more "materials".

MC: That way, I'd have more stories to experience with you from that time~

There is a chuckle that comes from above my head, and he takes my fingertips and kneads them absentmindedly.

Kiro: Then this treasure hunter should work hard. Maybe she'll be able to find... a super rare treasure that even I forgot about.

MC: I'll definitely work hard, but before I can gain anything new--

MC: I plan to listen to your album a few more times. Maybe I'll be able to continue my dream tonight!

MC: You don't even know how happy I was in the dream. It was my first time performing on the same stage with you. And I performed so beautifully!

The more I talk, the more excited I become, and I feel my heart pounding again like it did in my dream.

Kiro suddenly leans over and looks at me intently.

Kiro: MC, don't wait for night to come. Let's form a band now.

MC: Huh?

Kiro: Don't let it just be confined to your dream. After all, no matter how good the dream is, it'll only be a tenth as good as reality.

Kiro: And if dreams really are a parallel time and space... then I'll be very jealous of the Kiro who got to be on the same stage with you.

He pauses, and the familiar "sly grievance" appears in his eyes.

Kiro: What he has, I want too.

As he speaks, he lifts the quilt and gets out of bed from the other side.

MC: Wait! Now??

MC: Although there are still some days left before the award ceremony, we still need to get our outfits fitted and meet with various directors and producers...

For a while, I can't seem to make sense of what I'm feeling, and just report the upcoming itinerary in a daze.

But Kiro comes to my side of the bed and squats down with a smile, looking at me with bright eyes.

Kiro: Of course we have to do all that stuff, but music is a magical existence.

Kiro: It never conflicts with anything.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 2]

In the afternoon, we drive a rented sports car through the city.

Kiro: There used to be a very authentic American burger joint on this street, but later, the owner closed it down cause he wanted to enjoy his old age.

Kiro: And on that street, I used to feed a black stray dog, which was later on adopted by a kind-hearted grandpa.

Kiro: Yes, yes, and this is the spot where Carol failed to confess his love. Raymond was gloating about it and collapsed to the ground laughing [laughs].(LMAO I'M SO SORRY, CAROL)

The bright sun shines on every street corner and seems to allow me to peak into his past through a rearview lens.

I take pictures of the scenery one by one until I realize something and speak out of curiosity.

MC: By the way... You've been touring the world frequently since then, so wasn't it rare for you to come back here?

Kiro: Yeah, it was even rarer after I went to college. I usually went back to the Bay Area after our tours.

At that moment, Kiro parks the car and pulls me out to stand in front of an unopened shop.

Except for a few guitars displayed in the window, it was pitch dark inside. I look up again and find that it doesn't even have a store name.

MC: Hmm? Is this a music store? Or some kind of training institution? Why does it feel like its closed down...

Kiro: Well... it's considered one of the "strongholds" of our band.

Kiro: You're right in thinking that it's a music store, but it has never been open for business. You'll know when you go in and take a look.

He takes out a key, opens the door and walks in under my doubtful gaze.

With the sound of a switch, the room instantly lights up--

It isn't big, and everything from the floor to the cabinets is made of dark solid American retro-style wood. Various musical instruments stay in different corners as they please, but they don't look dusty and seem to be well maintained.

MC: Okay, there are a lot of musical instruments here. So many instruments, and it still isn't open for business?

Faced with my shock, Kiro bursts into laughter and reaches out his hand to brush the guitars nostalgically.

Kiro: What you see here is what we intended to use ourselves.

MC: ...Yourselves?! With so many instruments, were y'all able to use them all?

Kiro: Most of the time they'd only be used as backup or in special situations~

As if remembering the past, he vaguely lifts the corners of his lips.

Kiro: There was a time when our drummer broke his drum during a late-night rehearsal. At the time, we were in high spirits and wanted to run out immediately to find a place to repair it.

Kiro: But all the instrument stores were closed. No matter how much we wanted it, we couldn't get it fixed.

Kiro: So in order to prevent similar incidents from happening, we made a decision on the spot - we'll just simply buy a music store!

Kiro: That's how we got this "stronghold".

MC: HUH??

He smiles as he thinks about it, as if realizing now how "reckless" they were at the time.

Kiro: [chuckles] Okay, I admit that normal people wouldn't think like this.

Kiro: But we honestly thought that this idea was quite reasonable at the time, because we wouldn't have to worry about breaking stuff in the middle of night during rehearsals--

Kiro: You could just immediately grab a new one from the side and continue rehearsing seamlessly~

MC: [grinning widely] Sigh... What a bunch of music fanatics.

MC: And y'all were such "tycoons", buying music stores just because you wanted to...

As soon as I finish speaking, I realize that I seem to have touched a sore spot. The corners of his lips twitch stiffly twice.

Kiro: No, we didn't really have much income at the time, so we basically used all of my little treasury to get it.

MC: Your little treasury? What about Pen and the others?

Kiro: [pouting] Hmph... they only covered the water and electricity bills here!

MC: Hahaha, it seems like every famous individual has a past that is "unbearable to look back on"~

MC: Tell me more, tell me more!

Kiro is momentarily taken aback, and he lowers his eyes, as if caught up in a brief memory.

Kiro: Also... it feels like there's nothing special about this place. Basically, we rehearsed together, held meetings to discuss creation, or asked a nearby Chinese restaurant to deliver food for us.

Kiro: Oh, I remember there were several magazines here. A lot of our promotional pictures should be in them.

MC: Promotional pictures? No private ones?

MC: For example, when you guys went out to have fun together, didn't you secretly take "funny photos" of your friends?

Kiro stops flipping through the magazine and shrugs at me.

Kiro: That's unlikely. Aside from performances and rehearsals, we hardly ever got together.

Kiro: You'll probably have to look for it, or you could dig out one or two from my cell phone album from a few years ago.

Sensing my subtle gaze, he quickly waves his hand.

Kiro: Don't think too much about it. I've been on good terms with them and have never gotten into any fights.

Kiro: At most, there were minor disputes over music discussions, but those were more about technical matters rather than personal ones.

MC: But... it doesn't seem like you guys keep in touch anymore.

Kiro: As "former colleagues", it's normal not to be in touch, right?

MC: Huh?

Seeing my stunned expression, he smiles and leans in front of the stairs.

Kiro: How should I put this... When Mr. Lawrence formed the band with me at its center, I knew it was more than just a dream.

Kiro: It was still my job and my career, I couldn't just care about my own feelings.

Kiro: Of course, they thought so too. So naturally, we focused on creation rather than each other.

His voice is very soft, but it weighs heavily on my heart.

This isn't the band story I'd imagined it to be. It was too rational and mature, so much so that it seems to have lost the passion and purity that youth should have had.

But their band was also lucky, and in the end, stood brilliantly under the bright lights.

Kiro knew very well where he needed to go and what he had to pay for it, so he made those regrets, big and small, seem too insignificant.

But... passion isn't just for the youth, is it?

Free adults could also grab a hold of it.

With that thought, I stretch out my hand towards him and smile brightly.

MC: Hello, lead singer, let's formally get to know each other.

MC: I'm the keyboardist of our band - MC. I'm going to be relying on you to guide me.

Kiro is left stunned for a moment. He then tightly holds my hand and raises a smile that was even more dazzling than my own.

Kiro: Hello, but I would like to remind this keyboardist that you're also responsible for the harmony.

MC: Huh? Will I be able to handle it..? After all, I haven't practiced the piano in a long time...

Seeing me suddenly get nervous and stiff, he gently shakes my shoulders.

Kiro: Relax-- Although a band sounds like a professional team doing many things, it is essentially a place where everyone gets together to play music.

MC: Then do you have any piano practice sheets? I want to warm up and move my fingers.

As I say this, I walk to the bookshelf nearby to rummage through. However, the person behind me laughs and pulls me back.

Kiro: Let's not do that. I need to help you relax. So why don't you say hello to them first?

Kiro pulls me to a piano and stars playing from behind me.

He plays softly and slowly, like a sleeping kitten rolling around in the sunshine, wrapping itself up with a flick of its tail.

Unknowingly... I seem to turn into that kitten, leaning peacefully into his arms.

Gradually, he removes his fingertips from the keyboard and gives me complete room on the instrument.

I can't help but raise my hand and continue the melody at will. Amidst the light and flying notes, I meet those smiling eyes.

MC: I didn't expect to meet "Teacher Flower" again after such a long time. And his teaching methods are still just as effective.

As if he hasn't heard that title for so long, Kiro chuckles, walks to my side, and leans down slightly.

Kiro: Then, Miss Chips, do you wish to give "Teacher Flower" a reward? So that I can be more-- [sharp muffled inhale].

Before he can finish saying what he wants to, I smile and kiss him.

The music stops and is gradually replaced by our hearts beating. His hands slowly tighten around my waist and he deepens the kiss.

It's slow, lingering, laced with a hint of fruit candy.

I have a hunch that our band will be the sweetest.

After playing with the other instrument for a while, I look at Kiro belatedly.

MC: Wait, we don't have a band name yet. That should be the first step to forming a band!

Following my words, his eyes grow distant, as if in thought, and finally land on a blackout curtain--

Seems that, due to the passing of the years, the curtains have several tears and small holes. But they still are able to let the sunlight slip in and sprinkle a little "starlight".

Kiro: How about calling it Twinkle?

MC: Huh? Is it that simple?

Seeing him nod seriously, I smile and return to the piano again, playing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star".

MC: Then this can be used as our "theme song"~

Kiro: Yeah, but since we're going to be an awesome band, there can be a little more variety to it.

Kiro picks up the guitar at his feet and skillfully strums the strings.

Once the cheerful "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" variation ends, I tentatively blink at him.

MC: How about it?

I thought that I would get some compliments, but instead he smiles and shakes his head.

Kiro: There is indeed nothing wrong with the pitch and rhythm, but we're here to play music, not take an exam or perform at a concert.

Kiro: Can you relax a little more? Don't be music's best student, be its best friend.

MC: I...

Seeming to sense my confusion, he smiles and pinches my face.

Kiro: Don't worry, "Teacher Flower" is here. I'll definitely have a way to get you completely immersed in the world of music.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 3]

In the span of the next few days, Kiro does not seem to have thought of a solution.

Seeing as we were in no hurry, we went along with our original plans of designing outfits and having dinner with some people in the industry who had made prior appointments with us.

In our spare time, we would go back to the "music store" to practice, and even put a mattress in the attic for us to lie on at any time.

MC: ...Why am I still getting it wrong even after practicing for so long?

Looking at the black and white keys in front of me, I pout and tap on them twice.

Kiro: You seem very depressed, Miss Chips. Would you like me to help you?

The joking inquiry comes from the attic, accompanied by the creaking sound of wooden boards. I turn around and find Kiro leaning on the armrest, a smile on his face.

MC: Very much so... I had originally intended to get an early start and relieve you of some of the pressure.

MC: But I realized that music arrangement and theory are much too difficult for me.

Kiro: I admit that they are difficult, but why do you need to master them?

The dazzling lights of a car happen to pass by the window, causing me to blink in a daze.

MC: Because... I want to make that dream a reality and have an awesome performance with you.

Kiro: [in mock despair] Oh, I've done it now. It seems that I've unknowingly infected you with my perfectionism and obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Although he says this, he approaches me with a smile and leans down to look at me.

Kiro: Usually you tell me to do one thing at a time, but that doesn't seem to apply to you.

MC: I...

Taking note of my stunned expression, he unconsciously caresses my cheek with his fingertips.

Kiro: It doesn't matter. I'm going to give you a doze of "strong medicine".

His left hand that he had kept hidden behind his back suddenly comes forward and sways something in front of my eyes. Upon closer inspection, I realize it is a bottle filled with wine.

MC: ...Is that wine??

MC: Is this your way of helping me relax? By getting me drunk?

Kiro: Don't worry, it won't do anything to upset your stomach. This is a wine I specially concocted to get you drunk at most.

I take a whiff and smell the sweet and fruity aroma, but finding it too strong for me, I quickly shake my head.

MC: No no no...

MC: I have no idea what I'll do once I get drunk. It would be bad if I just played things at random.

Kiro: So what if you did? Who said that music has to have a standard answer?

He walks to the table nearby and takes out two glasses, slowly pouring the wine into them.

Kiro: As a musician, I promise you - as long as you do it from the heart, your music will be given a soul the moment it appears.

Kiro: Think about it, when you happily play the notes, there'll be several little chips jumping in the air. How cute would that be?

I giggle and simply take the glass from him and drink it. The sweetness of citrus and the warmth of the liquid mixes together and slowly spreads throughout my chest.

MC: It's delicious. I never thought that the Kitchen Killer had the skills to be a bartender~

As soon as I finish speaking, Kiro slightly narrows his eyes and puts on a brighter smile.

Kiro: Right. But just now, this Kitchen Killer thought of adding another ingredient to the mix. That should make it a lot more delectable.

MC: What?

Kiro: What do you think about green apple?

As he finishes speaking, he takes a sip of the wine in his hand, then bends down and kisses me.

His breath and the wine come at the same time, and caught off guard, I subconsciously grab the lapel of his clothes.

Kiro triumphantly raises his eyebrows, then grabs a hold of my waist, and forces me to stand up and get closer to him.

Then he goes deeper and deeper, his lips and tongue intertwining with mine over and over again, along with his scorching breaths as he gently bites me.

I subconsciously raise my head to take in the air outside, but he gently latches onto the back of my neck, and forces me to look directly into those eyes.

I feel like I'm being dragged into a whirlpool by the deep sea. Helplessly, I cling to his neck and "complain" in a low voice.

MC: ...You stingy fellow, you won't even let me get in a word with you.

Kiro: [softly] Is it? Obviously, I just want to you to get a taste of the improved flavor.

MC: Lies, where is the green apple flavor?

Kiro: Well, I just finished one candy, and it was green apple flavored. You must not have been looking seriously just now. Look again carefully.

He lowers his head and takes another sip of the wine, once again taking up all of my breath.

As if he really wishes for me to taste that tangy flavor, his dexterous tongue circles around in my mouth, leaving indelible traces.

The lack of oxygen quickly causes the alcohol to diffuse into the air, leaving my body feeling hot all over as I weakly cling to his shoulders.

MC: B-But just... don't forget what we're going to do tonight...

I softly beg for mercy, but all I receive is Kiro's low laughter. He then hugs me and sits down on the piano bench.

Kiro: [chuckles] Of course I haven't forgotten tonight's plan of relaxing and enjoying everything... whether it be music or happiness.

I am unable to see his expression clearly, but from the brisk tone of his voice, I can tell he is smiling happily.

He reaches out his hand from behind me and gently touches the black and white keys.

Kiro: As long as we combine notes one after another, we can create the world.

Kiro: Such as sunshine... forests... flowers...

Kiro: Or a house... a chimney... a clothes rack...

At this instance, he pauses, raises his hand by half an inch and hovers it over the keys.

Kiro: Of course, the most important thing is-- Kiro and MC...

As soon as he finishes his sentence, the world becomes quiet and a chord blooms into my ears.

His hands jumps around the keyboard, the brisk notes converging into particles of light and shadow in my mind, like the sunlight swaying amongst the shadows of the trees.

The atmosphere becomes light and fluttery, luring people to get closer to these lights and shadows, and run with them.

So I get out from under his arms and pick up the guitar beside him, strumming the strings with a grin as he looks at me, amazed.

MC: I can create anything, right?

Kiro: Of course. You are the master of this world.

After saying that, he starts playing along with me, playing a melody as light as stepping on the clouds.

I immediately shake my head, then bend my knees and strum the guitar vigorously.

MC: No, no, I don't want clouds, I want us to roll on the lawn--

Taking note of my unhesitant request, he raises his eyebrows slightly and plays a burst of warm and playfully skipping notes, making the countless blades of grass bend down.

Kiro: Then I want the sun to rain.

As he speaks, he tilts his body to the high-pitched area, and quickly moves two keys with his fingertips. The patter of sounds fills the air.

MC: But we don't plan on taking shelter from the rain, because...

I deliberately stop strumming for a beat and wink at Kiro.

MC: We haven't had enough fun~

My body starts to dance to the increasingly cheerful melody, as if I was gleefully letting go of all my inhibitions, and I am unable to stop myself from bending down and rubbing against the tip of his nose as I pluck the strings of the guitar.

Waves of heat steam across my face, but also tempt me to indulge in this even more brazenly.

Kiro's forehead is also wet with a fine layer of sweat, and something seems to shine in his naked eyes.

Our breathing gets faster and faster as the notes flow within the melody in a simple and profound manner, making our emotions a bit explicit and leaving our mouths dry.

At some point, the intertwining sun and rain seem to stop, leaving only a lingering pattering of sounds in the air.

However, our souls still seem to be connected. I slowly put down the guitar and walk forward, following my heart's desire, and finally come to a stop in front of Kiro.

The dim yellow chandelier sways in the wind, causing the light in those blue eyes to flicker again and again.

I don't think I've ever been as exposed to him than I am in this moment. And the same can be said about him.

And just as I'm about to give in to my desire to kiss him, he lifts my chin first, and a burning hot temperature follows suit.

I drown in that deep sea all at once as I unabashedly wrap my arms around his neck to absorb the oxygen that I longed for.

But this doesn't seem to satisfy him. His scorching breath lingers on every contour of my body, and the constant numbness makes me impatiently bite his neck.

His muffled groan falls into my ears and is then followed by his palms, grasping a hold of my thighs and picking me up.

I instantly lose my center of gravity and am unable to keep myself from opening my eyes and meeting that ravenous gaze.

Kiro: There's one more thing I forgot to tell you.

Kiro: Anything that makes a sound... can be turned into a melody.

As he says this, he lays me down on the table beside me, and then kisses me hard.

He specifically picks out those sensitive spots and rubs them all over, as if wanting to amplify my senses to the limit.

The sounds of hair brushing against the wooden table, the sound of paper sticking to the skin, and the rustling sounds of a plug being pulled all fall clearly into my ears, stirring up a numbing ripple.

They sultrily and ambiguously meld together, playing a secret melody.

Kiro: [whispers sexily] Do you hear this song that can only belong to you and me?

His voice is hoarse and the corners of his narrow eyes are slightly red, obviously stained with desire.

I see myself in his eyes as though I have intertwined myself with him.

Kiro: [in a breathy voice x1] ...Why do I still feel like something's not enough?

MC: ...Even if you ask that, I still...

Our words are muffled between our lips and teeth, and the sounds mix together, making everything feel comfortable. He suddenly smiles and unconsciously moves a little closer to me.

Kiro: [x2] Then let's not stop this song.

As he speaks, he laces his fingers through the gaps between mine and presses them together on the table. Then, he leans forward and kisses me.

The lights on the ceiling intertwine with his figure, blurring my vision from time to time.

Kiro: [voice almost TREMBLING from the passion] I would also like to add more of your voice.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

Part 2: Here

#@$!^@$@^@$^*!%@*&#THIS DATE IS--#ALL I CAN SAY IS BE PREPARED FOR THE STEAMIEST SEXIEST RIDE OF YOUR LIFE #AND MORE KIRO LORE YESSSSS #ALSO CAROL GETS MENTIONED HERE FOR LIKE ONE LINE AND IT FUCKING KILLS ME ASDFGHJKL #ESPECIALLY AFTER WHAT WE KNOW ABOUT HIM FROM THE ABSOLUTE MATCH MINDS QUEST #mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro

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tomodchis · 2 months

Text

you've been unkind to me in my dreams for years. over and over you get to not want me. over and over i get to be the dog at your heels. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎. . . ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ، ‎ ‎lev st. valentine

overview ‎ ‎ ‎ ıllı ‎ ‎[ 🍀 ] ‎♪ ҉

(tomo)dachi — also stylized as DACHi or simply dachi — is a four piece co-ed group that debuted on july 27th, 2023 with bim bam bum. formed by the highly esteemed survival show lucky hour, they are praised for their vocals, storyline, and unique creative direction. the group’s consistent ‘cute’ sound has garnered them lots of attention. when asked if their sound ever got old after performing all day, every member was vehement in their positive answers.

dachi is managed by mystic story, an sm entertainment subsidiary. although dachi is not marketed as a sibling group of billlie, fans of both have drawn similarities between lore and wonder if it is all encapsulated within the same universe.

affectionately known by fans as an uneven group, the members of dachi are accustomed to curiousity. during the final episode of lucky hour, viewers were worried what type of dynamics would come out of a group with one man and three women. in fact, the group has been plagued with boycotts and unnecessary hate due to this. debut era was, arguably, the worst for the four of them, despite building up a strong fan base since episode one of lucky hour. the hate train has lessened with time — thanks to the multitude of viral moments, ambassador side jobs, etc — but twt comment sections are still filled with weirdos who use dachi as an example for… nothing in particular.

greeting ﹪ ❝ making new memories! hello, we are (tomo)dachi! ❞ fandom name ﹪ pockets fandom name meaning ﹪ fans are able to feel like they have the members in their pockets all the time, cheering them on genres ﹪ bubblegum pop, synthpop, electronic, dance years active ﹪ 2023–present day

members ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ıllı ‎ [ 🏡 ] ‎♪ ҉

(홍제열) : hong jeyeol, 02 23 ‘97

. . . is a former child actor, model, and member of dachi. he’s been in the spotlight ever since he gained his ability to walk. thanks to his parents — hong siwan, movie director and angelina hong, supermodel — opportunities come incredibly easy. he decided to become an idol in his late teen years, rapidly switching companies before auditioning for sm and being moved to mystic story. jeyeol himself acknowledges his advantage among his peers. he frequently jokes about his place in dachi, saying how he rigged himself into the lineup with the help of his ‘mommy’s money’.

nicknames ﹪ yeol, romeo, head of the sassy boy apocalypse identity ﹪ cis male, he / him, bisexual height ﹪ 5′11 birthplace ﹪ busan, sk ethnicity ﹪ korean nationality ﹪ korean position ﹪ lead vocalist, lead dancer final rank ﹪ #2 fc ﹪ lee jaehyun

(大江理恵) : ōe rie, chorong, 09 10 ‘00

. . . is a former professional cheerleader and member of dachi. chorong naturally looks for challenges everywhere in life. her biggest challenge for a long time was keeping up her competitive cheerleading career. she began at 8 years old but quit at 17 due to her kneecap shattering, altering her life’s course forever. she began looking into different occupations that she may not have looked twice at, which came the idea of becoming an idol. she moved from america to south korea all by herself and auditioned as an individual trainee for lucky hour. her ability to become a leader figure in virtually every situation has helped her form a multitude of connections. now that she’s an idol, possibilities seem endless.

nicknames ﹪ cherry, 5th gen’s cheer captain identity ﹪ cis female, she / her, lesbian height ﹪ 5′5 birthplace ﹪ san francisco, usa ethnicity ﹪ korean-japanese nationality ﹪ korean-american (dual citizenship) position ﹪ main rapper, lead dancer, vocalist, leader final rank ﹪ #4 fc ﹪ uchinaga aeri

(고서이) : go seoyi, 12 03 ‘01

. . . is a member of dachi. she is the only member of the group to have no career in the public eye prior to appearing on lucky hour. she is delicate with her words, constantly thanking her parents for an ‘average’ life while also praising her fellow members for their talents and charm. her pure image during lucky hour absolutely enthralled the media which helped her rank in the number one spot. these days, no one can walk around south korea without seeing her face on billboards or hearing her voice in an advertisement. seoyi is, by far, the most popular member nationwide. it’s hard not to adore her.

nicknames ﹪ gogo, everywhere-girl identity ﹪ cis female, she / her, bisexual height ﹪ 5′8 birthplace ﹪ seoul, sk ethnicity ﹪ korean nationality ﹪ korean position ﹪ main vocalist, face of the group, center final rank ﹪ #1 fc ﹪ kim gaeul

(은주비) : eun joobi, 04 29 ‘02

. . . is a member of dachi. eun’s idol career has spanned three generations in total: 3rd, 4th, and now 5th. in 2015 she debuted in an unsuccessful kid group. eun fell into obscurity immediately. she simply couldn’t achieve what she truly wanted because of the limits of a kid group (despite being a child herself). in 2020 she debuted as a soloist under mystic story, but didn’t gain the proper momentum to propel into stardom. she had one more comeback before heading back into the trainee dungeon. but finally, mystic story announced to their trainees that they would be airing a survival show, and eun was the first to get picked as a contestant.

nicknames ﹪ scooby doo, joojoobi identity ﹪ femme, she / him, lesbian height ﹪ 5′7 birthplace ﹪ gwangju, sk ethnicity ﹪ korean nationality ﹪ korean position ﹪ lead rapper, main dancer, vocalist, visual, maknae final rank ﹪ #3 fc ﹪ park sohyun

additional info‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ıllı ‎ [ 🎧 ] ‎♪ ҉

dachi has an incredibly tough issue with solo stans. honestly, it might be the downfall of the group. seoyi solo stans are the worst for obvious reasons, but jeyeol solo stans can be even more infuriating. as the only guy he sticks out like a sore thumb. not to mention his extroverted personality and charisma which naturally draws in people. it feels like every day there’s a seoyi or jeyeol solo stan that protests for their removal of the group, like the bond that all dachi members share isn’t bordering on familial.

before dachi and lucky hour was an infamous scrapped project titled girl front. the lineup was entirely different, with nine female trainees of multiple nationalities. the goal was to represent as many kpop fans as possible through the idols. girl front quickly fell through when every trainee left the company over a 5 month period. the identities of the trainees are still unknown, but many theories have popped up around the industry.

insp. by @venusvity, @pureun & @almostyours

#— 𓈒 ݁ ₊ profile. . .#fictional idol community #fictional kpop idol #idol oc #fictional idol group #idolverse #kpop oc

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