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its-vannah · 1 year

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Last Forever | Eddie Roundtree x Reader

Request from anonymous: hii!! i love your eddie fics, you’re an amazing writer! i was wondering if i could put in a request where eddie and reader are both in the band and as they’re up on stage they look at each other while performing (kinda like billy and daisy i guess?). Karen and Camila notices this and they talk about it with reader and reader is in denial because her and eddie are good friends and she doesn’t want to jeopardize that (they became friends over their hatred of billy😭). but they end up together in the end though? thank you💕💕

Warnings: Angst, fluff, profanities, kissing

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

Everytime you walk out on stage, you instantly get high off of the thrill of seeing the crowd bursting with energy. The audience cheers as the band walks out onstage, jumping up and down while waving their hands in the air. You'll never get tired of this. To think you had once believed you'd never make it out of Pittsburgh—now you were performing in front of a sold-out concert in the heart of New York.

You thought back to your first performance, back when the band was called "The Dunne Brothers." It seemed crazy to you, now, that you were so nervous to go out on stage. There were, at most, thirty people who couldn't care less about what you guys were playing.

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Holding your tambourine tightly in your hand, you peeked your head out from behind the curtains, tapping your foot against the wooden floor. You were nervous, anyone in the band could see that.

You felt the warmth of a hand on your back, an arm slinging over your shoulders. Turning your head, your eyes meet Eddie's.

A forced smile found itself on your face as he spoke, "Nervous?"

"Can you tell?" You asked, bowing your head.

"Only a little," He smiled, "Look, it's going to be okay. Just pretend they aren't out there. They don't give a damn what we're doing anyway. This is just practice for when we make it big."

Taking a deep breath, your eyes met his again, your foot going still, "Thank you."

"You're going to do great, Y/N."

"You are, too."

Sure enough, Eddie was right. Barely anyone in the crowd, except one woman who was drunk off her ass, cared about what you guys were playing. A few people swayed to the music, but few looked up on stage.

While singing backup, gently tapping the tamorine on your upper thigh, you looked over at him, a smile plastered on your face. He returned the sentiment, nodding his head as he played.

That was the first, of many, times Eddie Roundtree eased your fears.

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Stepping up to your mic, you looked around at the band. Daisy and Billy were waving at the crowd, who's cheering only got louder as they do so. Meanwhile, Karen was laughing at something Graham was saying to her—and Warren was fiddling with his drumsticks, getting his energy from the audience.

Then there was Eddie. He was tapping on his guitar, a gentle smile on his face as he took it all in. New York City. Who would've known?

You looked over at him, as you had done before every single performance in the entirety of your career, and smiled.

He smiled back, nodding. This time, your eyes stayed locked on each other's for a second longer than they should have.

The two of you turned back to the roaring crowd, listening for the cue of when to start playing.

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Things had been different since moving out to LA, especially after the first tour. Billy was more involved with Camila and Julia, only going to mandatory practices and opting to spend more time with his girls. Warren, Karen, and Graham were out doing everything and everyone under the sun. You expected Eddie to go with them, as he had before the band had gone on tour. But he stayed back with you.

You weren't exactly sure why, but one conversation stuck in your head as a possibility to him stopping his wild streak.

The two of you had been messing around with a melody when he looked up at you, asking, "Why don't you go out with us anymore?"

You had hesitated, initially unsure of how to answer, "How honest do you want me to be?"

"As honest as you can be."

Taking a deep breath, you leaned towards him, "I saw what drugs and alcohol did to Billy, what it did to the people who loved him. I don't want to make that same mistake. I don't ever want to put myself or the people I love in that position. When the right person comes along, I'll know. But that person won't be out being reckless."

Eddie was silent for a while before he excused himself, leaving his guitar propped up on the couch. You weren't sure what he was doing, but you did hear him rummaging in one of the rooms upstairs and then the toilet flushing.

He came back downstairs a few minutes later, his hands in his pockets, asking a simple question, "Want to keep practicing?"

You nodded, happy that what you had to say didn't ruin your friendship. As he played, you silently hoped he wouldn't notice your fleeting glances towards him.

Although you'd never admit it to him, you were aware of your feelings for him. Unbeknownst to you, so were Camila and Karen.

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Daisy knew how to work a crowd—it was first nature to her. Her movements were fluid, captivating everyone's attention as she sang.

"You found me in flames/it's the daylight of change," She and Billy began, "Baby, all that stuff is done."

Your part came in a split second later as you sand backup, "You're my morning sun/Aurora, you're the one/You're my mornint sun."

While the lead vocalists continued, you focused on matching the rhythm with your tamboruine, swaying as you shook it back and forth.

When you got to the chorus, you made it all of three seconds before looking at Eddie, "Oh, I kinda think I wanna make it last forever... Oh, I kinda think I wanna make it last forever..."

To your surprise, he was looking back at you, mouthing the words back to you.

"Oh, I kinda think I wanna make it."

In that moment, there was nobody else on stage except for the two of you, looking longingly into each other's eyes as you sang back and forth to each other.

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"Are you ever going to tell him how you feel?" Karen asked you, rather impatiently, as you set the table for dinner one night.

Camila looked up from her spot over the stove in the kitchen, as if she were wondering the same thing.

"What?" Your cheeks suddenly felt hot and you chose to look anywhere but in her direction.

Karen crossed her arms, "Cam, are you going to take this or am I?"

Camila came out of the kitchen, setting a dish towel on the counter, "Y/N, we've seen the way you and Eddie look at each other. It's before every performance, every practice session... Really, anywhere."

"Because we're friends."

"That's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard," Karen said, rolling her eyes, "I don't know whether you guys are head over heels in love or if it's just intense eyefucking—but you've got to take care of it one way or another."

Camila held back a laugh, "What we're trying to say is, what's the point in not telling him? What do you have to lose?"

"Everything."

"What? You won't lose us or the band. You know that."

You tried to stop the tears from falling, but that proved to be difficult, "No, you don't understand."

Camila moved towards you, rubbing your back as Karen pulled out a chair for you to sit down on.

"Then what is it, honey?"

"He is everything."

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Your eyes are locked with one another, unable to put your attention anywhere else. For once, you don't give a damn what anyone thought. All you care about is what happens after the concert.

"Where did you turn... When you needed tenderness..." You sing softly, chest heaving.

You saw, Eddie's breath hitch in his throat, biting his lip.

"Where did you turn... When you needed tenderness."

Your mind drifts back to all the touches you had shared over the years—his hand on your shoulder, your palm pressed on his chest while the two of you danced around the living room on Christmas. It was all clicking.

You kept singing, "When you reached out for my touch...and I couldn't give you much...Of all the time we lost..."

Eddie tilts his head, thinking about where the two of you would be now if he had manned up and told you how he felt four years ago.

"While I was running from your light..."

You had spent years running from your feelings—that wasn't an option anymore.

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Your first performance in front of over a thousand people had you a nervous wreck all over again. You could handle a couple hundred—but enough to populate your hometown? It sent you spiraling.

Eddie found you pacing back and forth behind stage, your hands running over your face to try and calm your nerves.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," He whispered, gently taking you by the shoulders, "This isn't our first rodeo, right? We're the real deal now, Y/N/N. It's alright."

He pulled you into a hug, running his hand over your hair as you breathed into his chest, "Breathe with me, okay? Listen to my heart, alright? Listen to the beat."

His voice alone managed to calm you down—paired with his touch, you didn't know what to do with yourself.

The two of you pulled away from each other, and he looked you up and down, "Ready, sweetheart?"

You nodded, causing him to smile. He pressed a kiss to your temple, "You've got this, don't worry."

The both of you ignored the looks you got from the rest of the band while you walked on stage.

During the performance, it became too much. Your fists clenched up and your breath work wasn't quite right.

Taking notice of it, Eddie discretely moved towards you, passing it off as him being really passionate playing the bass. In reality, he just wanted to be there with you, reassuring you that you'd be okay.

He succeeded, too. Having him a foot away versus the usual six helped in ways you couldn't have imagined.

From then on, he always played a little closer to you.

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As soon as the band went on a short break halfway through the concert, Eddie made a beeline towards you behind stage.

He cupped your face, pulling you into a kiss the two of you had been waiting for the entirety of your careers.

Your hands found the collar of his shirt, pulling him as close to you as physically possible. His hands slid down to your waist, finally pulling back to catch his breath.

"I've been waiting to do that since the day I met you."

His forehead pressed against yours, relief washing over him, "God, I love you. Was that too soon? I'm sorry—"

You pulled him back in for a quick kiss, "Not soon enough."

#daisy jones & the six #daisy jones and the six #daisy jones and the six fanfic #daisy jones fanfic #dj&ts #daisy jones #djats #eddie loving #eddie #eddie roundtree x reader #edward roundtree #eddie roundtree #eddieroundtree #eddie roundtree x you #eddie roundtree x y/n

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matttgirlies · 1 month

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Matt & Me🎀

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a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of guns,, drug use,, threats,, mentions of affairs

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 21

Putting together the best musicians, sound and lighting technicians, costumers, and choreographers, he was taking no chances this time. He scoured the music scene for the top sidemen in the business. Auditions were held and he handpicked each player—names such as James Burton, John Wilkinson, Ronny Tutt, Glen D. Hardin, Jerry Scheff. He loved the sound of the Sweet Inspirations, backup group for Aretha Franklin, and he hired them on the spot as a warmup act and to sing backup vocals. He also hired his favorite gospel group, the Imperial Quartet.

Before leaving Los Angeles, Matt rehearsed at RCA Sound Studios for ten days and then polished the act for a full week prior to the opening. It was the event of the summer in Vegas. Colonel Parker brought the preopening publicity to fever pitch. Billboards were up all over town. On the third floor of the International, administrative offices bustled with activity. No other entertainer coming into Vegas had ever stimulated this kind of excitement. The hotel lobby was dominated by Matt paraphernalia—pictures, posters, T-shirts, stuffed animals, balloons, records, souvenir programs. You’d think Barnum and Bailey were coming to town.

Back home there was also excitement as we girls discussed what we’d wear to the opening. “I want you to look extra special, Baby,” Matt said. “This is a big night for all of us.” I hit every boutique in West L.A. before finding just the right outfit.

Though it had been nine years since Matt had given a live performance, you never would have known it from his opening. The audience cheered the moment he stepped onstage and never stopped the entire two hours as Matt sang, “All Shook Up,” “Blue Suede Shoes,” “In the Ghetto,” “Tiger Man,” and “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” He mixed the old with the new, the fast and hot with the lyrical and romantic. It was the first time I’d ever seen Matt perform live. Wanting to surprise me, he had kept me from rehearsals. I was astounded. At the end he left them still cheering and begging for more.

Cary Grant was among the stars who came backstage to congratulate him after the show. But the most touching moment was when Colonel William arrived with tears in his eyes, wanting to know where his boy was. Matt came out of the dressing room and the two men embraced. I believe everyone felt their emotion in that moment of triumph.

I don’t think we slept that night. Nate Doe brought in all the newspapers and we read the rave reviews declaring, “Matt was great” and “He never looked or sang better.” He shared credit for his new success with all of us.

“Well, we did it. It’s going to be a long thirty days, but it’s going to be worth it if we get the reception we got last night. I may have been a real tyrant, but it was well worth it.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” we all agreed, laughing. “You were a tyrant.”

The International Hotel was delirious over Matt’s performance and the box-office receipts. The following day they signed a fiveyear contract with the Colonel for Matt to appear twice a year, usually around the same time, January and August, at the then unheardof salary of one million dollars a year.

Matt literally took over Las Vegas for the entire month he was there, playing to a packed house every show as thousands more were turned away. No matter where we looked, all we could see was the name Matt—on television, newspapers, banners, and billboards. The King had returned.

Initially, Matt’s triumph in Las Vegas brought a new vitality to our marriage. He seemed a different person. Once again, he felt confident about himself as a performer and he continued to watch his weight and work out every day at karate.

It was also the first time that I felt we were functioning as a team. I made several trips to New York, trying to find unique accessories for him to wear onstage. I bought scarves, jewelry, and a black leather belt with chain links all around it that Bill Belew would later copy for the famous Matt jumpsuit belts.

I loved seeing him healthy and happy again, and I especially enjoyed our early days in Vegas. The International provided an elegant three-bedroom suite that we turned into our home away from home. During his show I always sat at the same table down front, never tiring of watching him perform. He was spontaneous and one never knew what to expect from him.

On occasion, after his midnight show, we’d catch lounge acts of other performers playing Vegas or we’d gamble until dawn. Other times we’d relax backstage, visiting with entertainers captivated by his performance. This was the first time I’d been with Matt at a high point in his career.

With the renewed fame came renewed dangers. Offstage he could be guarded by Sonny and Red. Onstage he was a walking target. One night that summer Nate and Sonny were tipped off that a woman in the audience was carrying a gun and had threatened to shoot Matt. A true professional, Matt insisted on going on. Additional precautions were taken and everyone was on the alert. Matt was instructed to stay downstage, making himself a smaller target, and Sonny and Jerry were poised to jump in front of him at the slightest sign of suspicious movement in the audience. Red was positioned in the audience with the FBI agents.

The show seemed to take an eternity. I glanced at Patsy apprehensively and she in turn grasped my hand as we comforted each other, longing for the night to end without incident. James remained backstage, never letting Matt out of his sight and praying, “Dear God, don’t let anything happen to my son.”

Because of this and other threats, extra security was arranged wherever Matt appeared. Entrances through backstages, kitchens, back elevators, and side exits became routine.

Matt had his own theory about assassinations, based on the murders of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., and Robert F. Kennedy. He felt that the assassins gloated over their “accomplishments,” and told his bodyguards that if any attempt were made on his life, they should get the killer—even before the police. He didn’t want anyone bragging to the media that they’d killed Matt Sturniolo.

Sonny and Red lived in so much tension these days that they were constantly frenzied. Suspicious in crowds of overzealous fans, they were quick to respond to any sign of danger. Compared to Sonny’s diplomacy, Red’s reputation was to act first and ask questions later. Eventually, numerous assault-and-battery charges started piling up against Matt. When James warned him about Sonny and Red’s aggressiveness, Matt said, “Goddamn, Red. I hired you to keep the sons of bitches away from me, not get me in any legal binds. Somehow you’re going to have to control that redheaded temper of yours.”

Although Matt would joke about the death threats—and there would be several more throughout the Vegas commitments—the fear and constant need for security heightened the pressure of nightly performing.

In the beginning when Matt began doing regular Vegas engagements, we girls visited frequently. We’d fly in over the weekend, sometimes bringing our children, spend three or four days, and then return home.

On the days we were apart I’d take hundreds of Polaroids and home movies of Charlotte. She was growing so rapidly I didn’t want him to miss out on her development. Daily he’d receive his “care packages,” as I’d refer to them, including tape recordings of me teaching Charlotte new words and Charlotte mimicking me. Each week, upon my arrival, I’d paste photos on the mirrors in his bedroom to remind him that he had a wife and child.

During his first couple of engagements he still seemed humbled by lingering doubts of whether the public was fully accepting him. At this point he had no interest in outside affairs or flirtations, his concentration on daily rehearsals and performances every evening excluding everything else.

Later he would become more cocky. The crowds’ admiration took him back to his triumphs in the early fifties and he found it hard to come down to earth after a month of nightly cheers. His name on the International’s huge marquee would be replaced by the next superstar. The offices on the third floor would be cleared out and incoming calls for reservations would stop.

Thriving on all the excitement, glamour, and hysteria, he found it difficult to go home and resume his role as father and husband. And for me the impossibility of replacing the crowd’s adoration became a real-life nightmare.

At home in Los Angeles, there was just the usual group around—strictly a family atmosphere. This abrupt change was too much for him and soon he developed the habit of lingering in Vegas for days, sometimes weeks, after a show. The boys were finding it increasingly difficult to resolve the conflict between working for Matt and maintaining a home life.

Crazed with inactivity and boredom, Matt became edgy and temperamental, a condition exacerbated by the Dexedrine he was again taking to control his weight.

Sometimes, to ease the transition home, Matt would insist we all pile into cars and head for Palm Springs. Since our marriage we had spent-many weekends there sunning and watching football games and late-night television, but after Charlotte was born, my needs changed. The Palm Springs heat was too much for her, the long drive boring, the idleness of resort life wearying. One weekend I suggested, “Matt, why don’t just you and the guys go down?”

From that time on, the guys developed their own lifestyle in our secluded desert home. Occasionally we wives would be invited to spend the weekend, but by and large, Matt now considered Palm Springs his private refuge.

He made it clear that this time away was good for him, giving him a chance to think, to hang out with the guys. In reality Matt was lost. He did not know what to do with himself after Vegas. He escaped in more powerful, unnecessary prescribed drugs to raise his spirits and ward off boredom.

After he had conquered Vegas, it was agreed that Matt should go back on the road. Colonel immediately began booking concert tours around the nation, starting with an impressive run of six sold-out shows in the Houston Astrodome, which earned over one million dollars in three nights.

The night I arrived in Texas to watch the performance, Amber, Judy, and I flew in on a private jet. I looked down on the Astrodome and found it hard to believe my eyes. The length of a football field—and already sold out. It made me nervous. I could imagine how Matt felt.

Matt too found the Astrodome overwhelming. “Goddamn,” he said when he first walked in. “They expect me to sell this son of a bitch out? It’s a goddamn ocean.”

However dwarfed he was by the giant facility, he electrified his audience. Houston was our first run-in with mass hysteria. The limousine was strategically parked by the stage door for Matt’s immediate getaway. Even so, screaming fans surrounded the car, frantically yelling out his name, presenting flowers, and trying to touch him.

If anything, Houston was an even greater victory than Vegas. The King of Rock and Roll was back on top. The strain of sustaining such a hype was just beginning and, for the moment, I could believe that everything would still be all right. I did not realize the extent to which Matt’s touring was going to separate us, that this in fact was the beginning of the end. After Houston Matt began crossing the country, making one-night stands, flying by day, trying to catch some sleep to maintain the high energy level demanded by his performances. From 1971 on, he toured more than any other artist—three weeks at a time with no days off and two shows on Saturdays and Sundays.

I missed him. We talked constantly of being together more, but he knew that if he let me join him, he couldn’t refuse the requests from regulars whose marriages were also feeling the strain of long separations. For a while a group of us would fly in from time to time, but this didn’t last long. Matt noticed that his employees were lax in discharging their duties to him when spouses were present, and he established a new policy: No wives on the road.

I didn’t really miss the one-night stands, a tedious routine at best: Jump off the plane, rush to the hotel, unpack as little as possible, since you had to check out the next day, go to the performance, then back to the hotel for a little rest before heading back to the airport. Everything was the same except for the name of the town.

It was the day Matt suggested I come to Vegas less often that I became really upset and suspicious. He’d decided that we wives would attend opening and closing nights only.

I knew then I’d have to fight for our relationship or accept the fact that we were now gradually going to grow apart as so many couples in show business do. As a couple, we’d never sat down to plan out a future. Matt, individually, was stretching as an artist, but as man and wife we needed a common reality.

The chances of our marriage surviving were slim indeed as long as he continued to live apart from Charlotte and me, and in bachelor quarters at that. It came down to how much longer I could stand the separation. Matt wanted to have his cake and eat it too. And now, as the tours and long engagements took him even further from his family, I realized that we might never reach my dreams of togetherness.

I had trouble believing that Matt was always faithful, and the more he kept us apart, the more my suspicions grew.

Now when we went to Vegas, I felt more comfortable at the openings. He was always preoccupied with the show and I felt he needed me then. On closing nights I always felt uneasy. Too many days had gone by, enough time for suspicions to poison my thoughts. The Vegas maître d’s invariably planted a bevy of beauties in the front rows for the entertainer to play to. Curious, I would scan their faces while watching Matt closely to see if he seemed to direct his songs to any girl in particular. Suspicious of everyone, my heart ached—but we were never able to talk about it. It was to be accepted as part of the job.

Backstage one night James was jokingly negotiating for a key that had been tossed to Matt. She was an attractive middle-aged blonde—James’s type. Matt said, “Dad, you’ve got enough problems at home with one blonde. You certainly don’t need two.”

“Well, okay,” James said. “You’re going to have problems of your own if your wife goes out in the street looking like that.” I had begun wearing skimpy knit dresses and see-through fabrics that were daringly revealing. Steven and Charlie whistled and gave wolfcalls, while Matt proudly showed me off.

The jokes I played on him were also efforts to get his attention. One night, after he’d left early for a show, I put on a black dress with a black hood and an exceptionally low-cut back. When it came time for Matt to give away kisses to the girls in the audience—a regular part of his show—I went up to the stage. Instead of kissing me, he kept on singing his song, leaving me to stand there. With my hair hiding the dress strap around my neck, I appeared from the back to be nude from the waist up. I could hear the “oooh”s and “ahhhh”s of the audience. They were under the impression that a topless girl had cornered Matt and that he couldn’t figure out what to do.

I kept whispering to him, “Kiss me, kiss me, so I can sit down,” but he decided to turn the joke on me, and made me wait in the spotlight for the duration of the song. Planting a big kiss on my lips, he surprisingly introduced me to the audience. I felt a bit embarrassed and made my way back to my seat.

Later in the show he’d strut back and forth onstage, tease his audience, talk to them, tell them stories, even confide in them. “You know,” he’d say, “some people in this town get a little greedy. I know you folks save a long time to come and hear me sing. I just want you to know, as far as I’m concerned, there won’t be any exorbitant raise in price when you come back. I’m here to entertain you and that’s all I care about.”

Matt was having an ongoing love affair with his audience and the next time I was home alone I knew I had no choice but to start more of a life of my own.

It was with that thought in mind that Amber, my sister Michelle, and I planned a short trip to Palm Springs. In the course of the weekend I opened the mailbox to check the mail and found a number of letters from girls who had obviously been to the house, one in particular signed “Lizard Tongue.” My immediate response was disbelief, followed by outrage. I dialed Vegas and demanded that Nate find Matt and bring him to the telephone. When Nate said Matt was sleeping, I told him about the letters and insisted I speak to Matt. Nate promised that he would have Matt call as soon as he woke up. He did, but it was clear that Nate had filled him in on the situation and Matt had his explanation ready. He was totally innocent, the girls were just fans, they were out of their minds if they said they’d ever come to the house, and besides, it was their word against his. As usual, in the end I apologized for putting him on the spot, but things at this point were becoming too obvious.

He said, “Get out and do things while I’m gone, because if you don’t, you’re going to start getting depressed.”

Although my choices were limited—he still objected to my taking a job or enrolling in classes at college—I continued my dancing and started taking private art instruction.

Matt was a born entertainer and although he tried to avoid crowds, disliked restaurants, and complained he “couldn’t get out like a normal person,” this life-style suited him. He handpicked the people he wanted to be around him—to work with and travel withand they adjusted to his routine and his hours and his temperament. It was a pretty close clan throughout the years. A few arguments erupted and a few couples left over some misunderstandings, but they usually returned in a week or two.

My view of life had been fashioned by Matt. I had entered his world as a young girl and he had provided absolute security. He distrusted any outside influences, which he saw as a threat to the relationship, fearing they would destroy his creation, his ideal. He could never have foreseen what was happening as the consequence of his prolonged absences from home. A major period in my growth was beginning. I still feared our separations but felt that our love had no boundaries, that I was his and if he wanted me to change, I would. For years nothing had existed in my world but him, and now that he was gone for long stretches of time, the inevitable happened. I was creating a life of my own, starting to achieve a sense of security in myself, and discovering there was a whole world outside our marriage.

Over the years of playing Vegas, other pressures began to mount. There were more death threats and lawsuits, including alleged paternity suits and assault-and-battery charges. Jealous husbands claimed they’d seen Matt flirting with their wives, and others continued to charge that Sonny and Red were manhandling them. Matt began to get bored with these nuisances as well as with the sameness of the show. Inevitably, he tried to change the format, but then he felt it just didn’t have the same pacing as the original. He’d add a few songs here and there but then revert to the original. Pointed suggestions that he make changes before the next Vegas date added to the pressure.

Bored and restless, he increased his dependence on chemicals. He thought speed helped him escape from destructive thinking, when in reality it gave him false confidence and unnatural aggressiveness. He started losing perspective on himself and others. To me he became increasingly unreachable.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - welll..🎀

#matthew sturn #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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everestica · 2 years

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hi can i request scenario of akito falling in love with an’s best friend and them getting together thanks to an? (fem!reader) thank you<3

Akito x An’s Bsf!Reader

Writing Type: Headcannons

Request: Yes

Author’s Note: Thank you for being my first request! I hope you enjoy it!<3

(OMG I didn’t realize that this had gotten so long lol, sorry about that! Ps. I really loved this idea so much I think that’s why its so long<3)

Alright so at first when you had joined Kamiyama High School you were in the same class as An, and y’all immediately hit it off and within the first couple days you guys became best friends

Now being friends with An meant you have probably met Haruka and Kohane as well and they all talk about their bands and what they are working on

But little do they know your also in a band called “Heartbreak” You’re their main vocalist and your very well know for your amazing voice

One day An, Kohane, Haurka and yourself were all talking after school before Kohane and An had to head to practice

So you are Haruka spoke for a little longer before you had to go to your practice as well

There was an upcoming event that your band was signed up for, surprisingly it was the same one that Kohane and An were also attending

They were talking about the bands that they would have to compete against and your band happen to make it to the top of list of bands that they were worried about, as they had heard about the amazing voice of the lead singer

Now at the time of the competition Vivid Bad Squad was the first group to go onstage so you saw them perform their very well know song “Ready Steady”

About 2 bands after your band were heading on stage, and as soon as you got onstage you saw all Kohnane , An, and 2 unknown guys, one with orange hair and a yellow streak, and one with two toned blue hair on his right.

After you guys had set up everything you started to sing to song that y'all had been practicing for days “Broken Heart” (It's just a random name I made up lol)

But as soon as you started singing everybody in the crowd looked at you with their jaws dropped

“Wow That girl is amazing”

“No kidding”

“If there goal is to also surpass RAD WEEKEND, with her voice they are definitely on the right track”

As you guys finished the song you waved goodbye to the crowd and walked to the other side of backstage

On the other side of the backstage you were met with a Overly excited An and the guy with orange hair with an impressed look on his face

“Wowww That was amazing Y/n!!” An said running up to hug you

“She's Not kidding though” The guy with orange hair started “That was pretty impressive”

After speaking to them you found out that the guys name was Akito Shinonome and the blue haired guy was named Toya Aoyagi

You then realized that Akito and Toya also went to school with you and An, as you had seen them talking to her in the halls and at lunch sometimes

Soon after the competition concluded and another team had won

So you went home and that was then end of that day, but the next day at school An had met you outside school and said that after school Vivid Bad Squad was having a practice and that they wanted you to attend it

You of course said sure and after school you had followed An, Akito, and Toya down to “Weekend Garage”

As soon as you got there you were greeted by An’s dad and Kohane who had showed up a couple minutes earlier then you guys

You took a seat at the table closest to the stage as they started to get their stuff prepared

After they were all ready they started to warm up and during the warm up Kohane had walked over to you and was asking you how you warm up, and what you would recommend for certain notes in songs to warm that up in her voice

But during your discussion with Kohane you didn’t realize that a certain gingers eyes were on you the whole time

“You like her don’t you” An says sliding over towards him

“W-What No way” Akito replies quickly snapping his head in the other direction

“As if” An continues “You only look at Pancakes and Cheesecake like that”

“No I don’t” Akito spits hastily

But An was 100% Correct, but he would never let her know that, having a crush on her best friend he would rather die than let her know that

But as Akito looked back at you he realized so much about you, the warm smile you had, the nice laugh, your killer style, your great personality and not to mention you're an amazing singer and are happy to help everybody around you.

After practice was over and everything was put away you all started to walk home together, but Akito slowed down when you guys where walking, and noticing this you slowed down too

“Hey Akito, you okay?” you said looking at him worriedly

“Uh- Yeah” He said not daring to make eye contact with you

“alright , well if you uh need anything don’t be afraid to ask!” You flashed a smile at him and then started to walk to catch up with the rest of the group

He grabbed your arm before you could get to far away and he engulfed you in a hug

He then realized what he had done and quickly let go of you

“S-sorry” he said “But there was one thing I wanted to ask you”

“What’s up?” you questioned

“Would you uh maybe like to go to a café with me sometime tomorrow seeing as it's the weekend..” He asked just starting to look you in the eye

“I would love too Akito!” You said with another one of your “cute smiles” as Akito calls them

“Great then uh I will text you the details then.” He said with a slight blush on his face now

“For sure!” You finished.

“Oh shoot” you said now looking at your phone

“I’m really sorry but I have to head home” You said

“Bye Akito!” you said waving and running off towards your house

“Bye Y/n!” he said waving back at you

As soon as you were out of eyesight he did a huge fist pump and quickly pulled out his phone to text Toya

He smiled his whole way home thinking about what you guys would do on your café date tomorrow!<3

#akito shinonome #akito shinonome fluff #akito shinonome x reader #project sekai #project sekai x reader

71 notes · View notes

firstelevens · 2 years

Note

sambucky, 14 (bc i know u had IdeasTM u wanted to get out and im trying to make it easy for u)

14. grabbing their hand to show them something

( also on AO3 )

If there is a field that Sam’s kind of an expert in at this point, it’s admiring a good view: earth from the deck of the Guardians’ new spaceship, the skyline of Birnin Zana against the mountains in the distance, lightning bugs flitting around the backyard as the sun dips behind the trees.

Now, on a breezy May afternoon, Sam stands a little ways away and considers the deadliest assassin of the twentieth century as he watches a middle school choir performance, and not a great one at that. Bucky has a stuffed animal tucked under his left arm, a way-too-big bag of cotton candy hanging from his vibranium fingertips–AJ’s, naturally, because Sam had told him he’d have to carry any novelty-sized snacks on his own, but Bucky remains a sucker for an earnest, “Please, Uncle Bucky?”—, and his phone held aloft in his right hand.

For a moment, his eyebrows are knitted together, his gaze laser focused on the phone as he adjusts it for the clearest video. Then, sudden enough that it makes Sam a little dizzy, there’s a grin on his face so wide that it’s making the corners of his eyes scrunch up.

Bucky’s been a little freer with those unguarded smiles in the past few months, but no matter how many times Sam catches one, it doesn’t diminish the warmth that thrums through his veins at the sight. It doesn’t hurt that this particular smile is directed at the stage, where Cass is warbling his way through a solo on “Signed, Sealed, Delivered.”

He’s practiced nonstop for weeks. When the others were on the verge of rioting if they had to listen to the song one more time, Bucky had taken to inviting Cass along on mostly-made-up errands, so he could sing in the car and the rest of the Wilsons could get some peace at home. Chances are good, Sam realizes, that Bucky has heard Cass sing this specific verse of this specific song more times than any of them have, but he’s still beaming, the pride rolling off of him in waves.

They’re both cheering and whooping as Cass moves back to his place and chorus starts again. Bucky has kept the phone remarkably steady the whole time, and as Sam pushes through the crowd to reclaim the spot beside him and AJ, the rush of affection doesn’t fade. Sarah hadn’t even asked Bucky to take a video when she found out she couldn’t join them. The choir teacher has a camera set up; the whole thing is going to be up on YouTube later anyway. Bucky had just insisted, pulling Sam and AJ this way and that as he found a spot that gave them the best vantage point of Cass’s mic.

Without a word, Sam plucks the phone out of Bucky’s hand and replaces it with one of the drinks he’d gone to grab. Bucky lets him do it, murmuring his thanks and taking a sip of the drink without a second thought. If Sam weren’t so distracted, he’d take a beat to marvel at how far they’ve come.

Onstage, the choir launches into their next song (“April Come She Will”, which at least explains why Sam thought he heard Bucky humming it on the comms last week.) Beside Sam, Bucky makes a pleased noise and holds out the drink to get a better look at it.

“What is this?” he asks. “And why is it so good?”

AJ answers before Sam can. “It’s Miss Colette’s sorrel. Mom says it’s magic.”

Bucky tilts his head as he looks down at AJ. “Magic, huh? That’s the secret ingredient?”

“That’s what Mom says.” The, ‘And she knows everything,’ is implied in the way he shrugs before returning to his kettle corn.

Sam leans in a little and murmurs, “Maybe there’s magic in there, but I’m pretty sure the actual secret ingredient is a pound of sugar.”

A snort. “Is that why you’re not having any of yours? You don’t have–what did you call it the other day?–the ‘sweet tooth of a five year old whose parents are really strict dentists’?”

“That cake was covered in jellybeans and marshmallows and sprinkles, Buck, and you took down four slices. Tell me there was a better way to describe that.”

(The better way to describe it, they both know, is that the local girl scout troop had baked and decorated a cake to thank them for helping out in a cookie emergency, and Bucky had taken extra slices so Sam wouldn’t have to. The girls had been delighted and Sam had avoided a sugar crash, which meant he wasn’t passed out on the couch when they got called out to deal with a situation in Arkansas that afternoon.)

All he gets in response is Bucky shaking his head, then pointedly finishing half his drink in a single slurp.

It’s enough of an answer for Sam to continue the conversation. “This is for Cass,” he says, giving the cup a little shake. “It’s his favorite; I just wanted to grab him one before they ran out.”

Something in Bucky’s eyes goes a little softer, and just as he opens his mouth to speak, the crowd erupts into applause and startles them both. Sam raises his eyebrows questioningly at Bucky, but he shakes his head and gestures towards the stage.

As the audience disperses and parents cluster to take pictures of their kids, the three of them hurry over to the steps and wait for Cass to make his appearance. It’s all hugs and fistbumps as they fawn over him, Cass ducking his head and shrugging off the praise.

Sam points the camera right at Cass and informs him that he expects to be thanked by name in his Grammy acceptance speech.

“But you have to thank me before Uncle Sam,” interjects AJ, “‘cause I convinced you to join choir in the first place.”

The flip from ‘performer in front of adoring fans’ to ‘annoyed older brother’ is instantaneous. “No you didn’t!” scoffs Cass. “I joined choir because Nin- I mean, I joined choir because I wanted to.”

“We know you did,” Bucky says, his voice placating as he passes Cass his drink, and at least then he’s mollified enough to stop glaring at his brother.

Sam had called Cass’s crush on Nina-from-down-the-street (not to be confused with Nina-from-the-library, a high school senior) during a carpool run last month. Bucky had originally told Sam he was jumping to conclusions, but then they’d both watched Cass tear through the kitchen baking Nina’s favorite cookies for the choir bake sale and he’d conceded that Sam may have had a point.

“So what do you want to do now?” asks Sam. “Y’all want to stick around here a little longer, maybe go on some rides? Or do we go get that pizza I promised you?”

“Pizza!” says AJ immediately, but Cass shakes his head.

“I didn’t get to do anything fun earlier,” he says. “I just did the ring toss one time. Can we walk around a little more?”

AJ, who in fairness has been out here and on his feet since nine in the morning, looks absolutely mutinous at this idea.

“Why don’t we split up?” Bucky says quickly, glancing from the boys to Sam and back. “AJ and I will go get pizza; you two go play some games. We’ll bring back some slices for you.”

Sam turns to AJ to see if that works for him, but he’s not where he was a second ago. Before the panic can set in, Bucky points to a spot a few steps away, where AJ is somehow already in the middle of a complicated secret handshake with his best friend Yusef.

Yusef’s mom, Maya, sends Sam an apologetic smile as he walks over with AJ and Bucky in tow. “I was just telling AJ that we’re going to go get lunch before we head home,” she says. “He’s welcome to join us, if that’s okay with you. You, too, Cass.”

“Cass is going to see if he can beat my record at the ring toss,” says Sam, “but I know AJ would love to join you. Should we pick him up from your place when you’re done, or…?”

But Maya waves his question away. “Don’t worry about it; I’ll drop him off,” she says. “It’s on the way anyway; I’m driving Nina home, too. You’re neighbors, right?”

“Yeah, we’re just up the street from her,” Sam says, silently counting down until Cass chimes in.

“Actually, Uncle Sam, now that I think about it, I’m kind of hungry,” he says. “I think I’ll just go with AJ and Yusef, if that’s cool.”

Sam shrugs and hopes he looks nonchalant. “Fine by me,” he says to Cass, as AJ plucks his cotton candy from Bucky’s hands. Then, to both boys: “Be good for Tante Maya. We’ll see you at home.”

They nod, AJ more distractedly than Cass, and Sam thanks Maya before they set off towards the parking lot.

At the last second, Bucky calls out to Cass. He jogs back, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, Uncle Bucky?”

Equally confused, Sam watches as Bucky holds out the stuffed dragon toy that Cass won at the ring toss booth earlier. “You forgot this, kiddo.”

“You can keep it; I don’t want it,” Cass says, starting to turn back to the others.

“I know you don’t want it,” Bucky says conspiratorially, “but remind me, who was it in the carpool who couldn’t stop talking about her new book with all the dragons in it?”

Cass’s jaw drops a little, and Sam follows his gaze to the group, where Nina has just joined the others.

Bucky smiles as a wide-eyed Cass takes the blue dragon from him, holding it like it’s something precious. The moment feels like it should be private, so Sam pretends to be distracted by his phone, although that doesn’t stop him from overhearing.

“What do I say?” asks Cass, half-whispering. “I can’t just like, give it to her. Isn’t that weird?”

“She’s your friend, right? You guys talk all the time. Tell her you won it earlier and you remembered that she likes dragons.”

“That’s it?”

“It can be something quiet, Cass. People just want to know that you’re paying attention.”

It’s solid advice, muses Sam, eyes still on his phone. He tamps down the impulse that says he should follow it and starts typing a response to Rhodey’s last text to distract himself.

He doesn’t look up again until Cass has called out a thank-you and walked away. They both watch as he rejoins the others, waiting until they’re all out of sight before turning away.

“Ready to head out?” Sam asks Bucky. Crowds can wear on Bucky, he knows, and though he probably smiled through it for the boys, there’s no point in him putting himself through this longer than he has to. Anyway, they’ve both got reports to write up from that mission to New Mexico last week. “Uncle duties have been taken care of, so we can just-”

“Are you hungry?” Bucky asks without preamble, and Sam furrows his eyebrows.

“Am I hungry?”

“Yeah, I saw a funnel cake stand back by the ferris wheel,” he says. “Come on, I’ll buy you one.”

Before Sam knows it, Bucky’s hand is in his, pulling him along through the crowd until the vanilla-sweet smell of fried dough is in the air.

“Buck,” he says, “we don’t have to stay here. We can just drive home.”

“Sweet tooth of a five year old, remember?”

It’s only when Bucky lets go that Sam realizes they were still holding hands. He feels the back of his neck go hot and tries to ignore it. “Fine. Maybe if you eat enough sugar, you’ll be too tired to mess with my music on the way back.”

(Bucky, Sam has discovered, is a serial song skipper. He’ll make it twenty seconds in, say he likes the song, then skip it anyway. Sam is incredibly tired of only ever getting through the first verse of “Son of a Preacher Man”, and he’s starting to suspect that Bucky’s doing it on purpose.)

“Don’t hold your breath,” Bucky laughs, then steps up to the counter.

The topping choices are messily scrawled on a chalkboard beside them, and Sam is busy squinting at it as Bucky orders. He’s just decided on the berries when he hears Bucky say, “And one strawberry shortcake, please.”

“How did-” he starts to ask, but trails off. Bucky’s observant, he tells himself, and they spend basically all their time together. It stands to reason that he could narrow down Sam’s preference from a list of five options. It’d probably be more surprising if he couldn’t.

The clouds of powdered sugar are still hanging in the air when the girl behind the counter passes them their funnel cakes, the paper plates bowing a little in the center from the weight of the toppings. As they make their way to the cluster of picnic tables nearby, Sam watches Bucky lick caramel off his thumb and tries not to feel any particular way about it.

“So why funnel cake specifically?” he asks when they sit down. “There’s giant s’mores on a stick two stalls down; that feels more like your thing.”

“Who says I’m not headed there next?” Bucky asks. He reaches over with his fork and steals a strawberry from Sam’s plate, slow enough that Sam could swat him away if he wanted.

He doesn’t bother, just makes a vague noise of protest and says, “You could’ve gotten this, too, you know. Then you wouldn’t have to steal mine.”

“They taste better stolen, Sam. That’s just a fact.”

“I let you have that one for free,” Sam says. “Come for the funnel cake again and it’s going to cost you.”

“Should’ve known our partnership would end this way,” Bucky says, shaking his head.

Sam snorts. “Me fighting you because you can’t keep your hands off my dessert?”

“No, you fighting me because you don’t like to share.”

“That wasn’t sharing, Buck; that was theft. Sharing implies an exchange.”

“Aww, Sam, if you wanted to try mine, you should’ve just asked,” Bucky says, pushing his plate closer to Sam with a smirk.

“Pass,” Sam says flatly, though he can’t quite keep the corners of his mouth turned down. “I don’t need to try it to know that it’s an abomination.”

“If they didn’t want you to combine the praline and the hot fudge, they wouldn’t have put them next to each other on the menu.” Bucky’s prim delivery is offset somewhat by him shoving an enormous bite of funnel cake into his mouth. “And besides, it’s delicious.”

“That’s not the point. Of course it��s delicious. Funnel cake is the-”

“-best part of going to any given fair, carnival, or amusement park,” Bucky finishes for him. When Sam looks at him in surprise, he just shrugs a little. “I heard you telling Sarah.”

Sam doesn’t have a response, just ends up looking at Bucky for a long moment. For once, it’s Bucky who blinks first, ducking his head to keep his eyes on the food in front of him.

They finish their food–well, Sam’s food and Bucky’s sugar monstrosity–mostly in silence, but it’s the comfortable kind. Sam nudges his plate with its last few strawberries over to Bucky; Bucky reciprocates with the one praline that somehow was untouched by chocolate. When they go to throw away their trash, Sam catches Bucky looking at him, his gaze assessing.

“What?” he asks. “It’s powdered sugar, isn’t it? I swear it gets everywhere, just spreads every time you try to wipe it off.”

Sam is pulling out his phone to check in the camera when Bucky reaches out a hand, stopping just short of Sam’s jaw. “It’s right there,” he says, gesturing to somewhere Sam can’t see because his eyes aren’t on his nostrils.

He reaches up and tries to swipe away the sugar anyway. It must not work, because then Bucky huffs a quiet laugh and asks, “Is it okay if I-?”

Before he’s even done with his question, Sam has tilted his chin up just a little in silent permission. Bucky’s fingers are gentle as he brushes it away. It doesn’t escape Sam’s notice that he uses his right hand, even though the reach is a little awkward. He almost comments on it, but then there’s mischief lighting up Bucky’s eyes.

He frowns dramatically, squinting at Sam’s face before shaking his head. “Nope, still there.”

“What, the sugar?” asks Sam, mostly because he knows he’s supposed to.

“No,” Bucky says, “the paperwork face.”

“The paperwork face,” Sam repeats flatly. “What is the paperwork face?”

“That face that you make when you’re thinking about all the reports we have to write when we get home,” Bucky says, like this is something Sam should know.

“This is just my face, Bucky.”

Bucky just looks at Sam, stoic as ever.

It sinks in after a second and Sam shoves his shoulder. “Very funny,” he deadpans. “Tall, dark, and brooding over here telling me that I have paperwork face.”

“I’m just an objective observer, Sam.”

Sam lets himself laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe if you worried a little more about paperwork, I wouldn’t have to be so dedicated to making mine clear and detailed.”

“My paperwork is clear and detailed,” says Bucky. “It’s not my fault that kids these days can’t read cursive.”

It’s not, but it definitely is Bucky’s fault that they don’t have another choice. He claims he can’t fill out his reports on a tablet because the vibranium hand doesn’t respond well to touchscreens. It would be a lot more believable as an excuse if Bucky wasn’t constantly reading books on Sam’s tablet when they have downtime on the jet.

(It’s possible that, as Captain America, Sam should discourage this kind of behavior, but sometimes the only thing that cheers him up after a frustrating joint mission is watching an annoying SWORD agent grit out a thank-you when Bucky hands over triple copies of their exhaustive paperwork, all filled out in beautiful and perfectly illegible cursive.)

“I’m feeling generous because you just bought me food, so I’m not going to make fun of it, but I want you to know I heard that ‘kids these days.’”

“You call them kids, too! And they exist in this time period, Sam. What else am I supposed to call them?”

Sam just laughs, bumping his shoulder into Bucky’s. “Come on, Old Man Barnes. Let’s go play some overpriced games for crappy prizes.”

Bucky’s only response is a vague grunt, but when Sam puts a hand on his elbow, he lets himself be pulled along. There’s a water gun race booth near them where a crowd has just cleared out, and Sam beelines there first. Bucky looks skeptically from the plastic guns to the little model boats and back.

“Really?” he asks flatly. “This?”

“What?” asks Sam, already in his seat. “You worried you’ll lose?”

Bucky scoffs.

“It’s okay, Buck. We can go play the kiddie games if you want. Straws in a milk bottle, fishing with that little magnetic pole…”

The glare that Sam gets as Bucky grabs the stool next to him is less Winter Soldier than it is Bucky realizing Sam ate the last of the peanut butter, and he just grins back unrepentantly. When Bucky turns to line up the shot with the little pink water gun, the corner of his mouth twitches up just a little, too.

Then Sam beats Bucky by what can only be called an embarrassing margin and Bucky looks appalled, handing cash to the man running the booth before declaring that it’s now best out of three. Sam doesn’t bother to conceal his delight, even when Bucky evens up the score in their next round.

The third race finds them neck and neck the whole way, but the light at the end of Sam’s track goes on just a second before Bucky’s, and he takes the win. Bucky doesn’t even look annoyed about it, just tolerates Sam crowing about his victory as they keep walking among the booths.

Eventually, Bucky points to a game a little ways away. “Hey, what’s that one?”

Sam squints at the darkened interior of the booth, then lights up as he realizes what it is. “Skee-Ball! That used to be my favorite as a kid.”

Bucky just lets out a mildly interested hum, eyes still on the booth. “You played it a lot?”

“Sarah and I used to get really into it,” says Sam. “Eventually, she figured out that as long as I had the advantage of being taller, it was a better idea for her to stop me from scoring instead of trying to outscore me.”

“Do you want to play a round?” asks Bucky. “Promise I won’t use Sarah’s strategy.”

Sam looks at Bucky through narrowed eyes for a moment, then nods. “Fine, but I’m warning you, this is going to be a much more embarrassing defeat than the race.”

But all Bucky does is shrug just a little too casually before he starts heading for the booth. “Who knows?” he calls over his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

When they get to the game, there’s a group of teenagers getting very intense about their competition, so Sam uses the time to take a picture and send it to Sarah. Bucky’s back is to the camera, but he’s still pretty distinctive, so Sam texts, ‘New Skee-Ball opponent. Maybe this one won’t try to cover my eyes in the middle of a game.’

She texts back immediately to tell him that there are no rules against that, so he can take his talk of cheating somewhere else. Sam is typing out a reply to her when he hears Bucky laugh and turns to find that he’s already looking back at Sam.

He raises a questioning eyebrow and Bucky holds up his phone. “Sarah’s giving me advice on how to beat you.”

“What?” Sam moves closer so he can get a look at Bucky’s screen. “Did she tell you to cover my eyes, because-”

Unfortunately, whatever Sam was planning to say next is interrupted by what can only be called a yelp, and he belatedly realizes that it came out of his own mouth. When he looks up again, Bucky is grinning delightedly at him.

“She said you were ticklish and I should go for your sides, because you always leave them open.”

Sam clamps his arms around his sides, deletes the beginning of the text he’d written to Sarah, and sends, ‘TRAITOR!!!’ instead. She replies with cry-laughing emojis.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky says. “I’m not gonna sabotage you.”

“I feel very reassured,” deadpans Sam, as they take the two freed-up spots in the booth. He very hesitantly relaxes his arms. “But it doesn’t matter, ‘cause I’m good enough to win even if you do sabotage me.”

“Then I guess you have nothing to worry about,” says Bucky, picking up the scoop and flipping it in the air before he catches it again.

Sam narrows his eyes at Bucky again, but his face betrays nothing.

“Ready when you are, Samuel,” he says, flipping the scoop again.

Shaking his head, Sam squares his shoulders, hits the button to start the clock, and clears his head of the competition, focusing instead on scoring with every shot.

It’s a sound strategy, even if he starts off kind of rusty: he keeps overshooting at first, has to modulate his strength a little to land on 50s and 40s consistently. Once he gets into the rhythm of it, it’s a little easier, and he’s proud of his score when the clock runs out and the machine spits out his tickets.

He drops the scoop back onto the ramp, shaking his hand out as he turns to look at Bucky, who he pities for just a second: if Sam had to hold back his strength for the game, then it must have been even harder for Bucky.

But Bucky looks completely unbothered, leaning casually against the divider between his ramp and the next, an absolutely absurd amount of tickets clutched in his hand.

Briefly, Sam has the thought that Bucky just pulled the panel off the ticket dispenser and took out the whole roll, but then he looks up at the display above Bucky’s spot and realizes the words ‘high score’ are spelled out in flashing lights. Just below them, the digital display reads, in blocky red letters, ‘PERFECT GAME.’

Sam feels his jaw drop.

“Did you know,” says Bucky, looking more smug than Sam thought humanly possible, “that one of the first ever Skee-Ball ramps at an amusement park was at Rockaway Playland in Queens?”

“Did you just-”

“That thing had years on it by the time Steve and I used to take my sisters there, so there wasn’t always a line, and if the guy running the booth was feeling friendly, he’d let us keep playing until new people showed up. We got pretty good at it.”

“You just hustled me,” Sam says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“We didn’t bet anything, so I don’t think that’s technically hustling.” Bucky furrows his eyebrows, smirk gone. “Right?”

“Not technically, no.” In an ideal world, Sam would have a snappier comeback, but he’s busy trying to convince himself that Bucky going from cocky to sincerely confused in a split second isn’t something he finds endearing. It’s not working.

“Good,” Bucky says, nodding like that settles it. He steps aside to let a group of kids take his place, and Sam follows suit, handing off his tickets to them as he does.

There’s a memory niggling at the back of Sam’s brain, a story Steve once told him that shook loose at the mention of Rockaway Beach. He can’t remember what it was, exactly, but he remembers laughing about it with Steve and Wanda and Natasha, tucked away in a safehouse in Accra.

He shakes off the ache of missing them and focuses on Bucky again, who looks a little sheepish.

“I didn’t think I’d remember anything about the game, you know,” he’s saying, eyes sweeping the rest of the fairground. “I didn’t even know I had that memory until I saw the booth, and I figured it’d been so long, and it’s not like it was a skill I used after we shipped out, and-”

“Bucky,” says Sam, gentle but firm.

He stops talking. After a moment, his eyes snap to Sam.

“I’m not actually upset,” Sam continues. “And I’m glad it came back to you. It sounds like it was a good memory.”

Bucky bobs his head in a short nod. “It was,” he says. “So do you want to go to the prize booth? See what this many tickets gets us?”

Sam agrees absently and lets Bucky lead the way, because he’s finally got it, the memory he was grasping for.

He can see it so clearly now, Steve doing an exaggerated impression of young Bucky Barnes’ swagger while he chatted up some girl with an old school name. ‘Three dollars,’ Steve had laughed. ‘Three whole dollars to win her that bear. I still think the guy took pity on him and rigged that last game.’

They reach the prize booth, all brightly lit and full of brightly colored plushies and cheap toys. It’s quieter on this side of the fairground, barely any booths and no line for prizes, either.

Bucky slides his fistful of tickets over to the bored-looking kid at the counter, who tpoints them to a corner with stuffed animals easily the size of Sam’s torso.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks, as nonchalant as ever. Now that Sam’s looking for it, though, he can see the way his eyes linger just a little, the way Bucky’s mouth lifts into a smile when Sam’s does.

Sam makes himself look at the prizes and immediately grins at the sight of one, right at the very end of the shelf. “That one,” he says, pointing decisively at a massive teddy bear. It’s wearing a jaunty gingham bowtie. “Definitely that one.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Really? Not the dolphin? Or the frog? Or the bird with wings that kind of look like yours?”

“Redwing would get jealous,” Sam says, shrugging.

“The bear, then,” Bucky says to the kid.

When Bucky’s handed the stuffed animal, he holds it out to get a better look, brushing the fur into place and adjusting the bowtie a bit so it sits right. Sam can admit to himself that it’s kind of adorable.

Bucky fusses with the bear for another second or two before he holds it out to Sam. “For you,” he says. “I feel kind of bad about the Skee-Ball thing.”

And because Sam can’t resist messing with Bucky just a little bit, he shakes his head and says as earnestly as he can, “Really, Buck, it’s not a big deal. You should keep it.”

“I-” Bucky starts to say, then frowns. “It’s yours, Sam. Just take it.”

He’s about to say no again, see if he can’t push Bucky into actually saying what he wants instead of the silent 1940s wooing that’s apparently happening here, but then from the corner of his eye, he spots a blue dragon like the one Cass won earlier.

He hears Bucky’s words in his head again, gentle and earnest, the way he always is with the boys: ‘It can be something quiet.’

Sam had thought the advice was just for Cass, to let him know it was okay if he couldn’t get the words out. He’s starting to wonder if Cass wasn’t the only one who’d needed to hear it.

He thinks of funnel cake, of Bucky holding the camera up so Sam’s arm wouldn’t get tired, of how fiercely he loves the boys, of longform cursive paperwork and company on the nights Sam screams himself awake and those smiles that always feel a little bit like being entrusted with something precious. All those quiet somethings that have become his touchstone, warm and steady and always there.

Sam looks back at Bucky, reaching out to take the bear with a soft, “Thank you.”

Before Bucky can pull away again, he catches the vibranium hand in his own, watching as Bucky’s eyes widen just a little. His eyebrows knit together in confusion as he looks from their hands to Sam’s face and back.

“Just wanted to try something,” Sam says, hopefully with more confidence than he feels.

It must work, because Bucky’s shoulders relax just a touch. “Okay,” he says, nodding.

Using their joined hands, Sam pulls so they’re closer together. When he hears Bucky’s breath catch, he asks, “Okay?”

Bucky nods.

Sam slips his hand out of Bucky’s grip, bracing it against his neck. “Still okay?”

Bucky nods.

As gently as he can, Sam leans in and rests his forehead against Bucky’s. “Sti-”

But he never finishes his question, because then Bucky is gently tipping Sam’s chin up and pressing their lips together, quick and chaste.

Bucky pulls away after a second, but only manages the first word of an apology before Sam is pulling him closer to kiss him again. Sam is pretty sure he hits Bucky in the head with the teddy bear that’s still clutched in his hand but he’s also pretty sure neither one of them cares all that much.

When they pull apart again, there’s a part of Sam that’s pleased to see Bucky looking just a little bit dazed, especially since Sam can’t seem to stop the dopey grin on his own face.

It’s Bucky who recovers first. “So wait,” he says, “you’re telling me that in the end, all it took to win you over was a cheap bear from a fairground? That’s it?”

“Don’t forget the funnel cake,” says Sam.

Bucky hums, nodding very seriously and doing a terrible job of biting back his smile. “No, we can’t forget the funnel cake.”

“Just one question,” says Sam, as they pull away from each other and make their way into the crowd again. “When you blew all your train money to win that girl a teddy bear, did you try to woo her with a funnel cake first? Or is that just in the updated version of-”

Bucky’s eyes go wide, his ears and neck turning red. “He told you about that?!”

“He may have been carrying some bitterness about having to ride home in a freezer truck.”

Sam slips his hand into Bucky’s as he launches into an explanation of how the freezer truck had been a brilliant plan, actually. He hefts the teddy bear a little higher in his arms, listens, and lets himself be led.

#this is so long you guys #I don't know what happened this was going to be 1.5k MAX #sambucky #sam x bucky #sambucky fanfiction #I'll probably throw it onto AO3 tomorrow #philtstone

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timeskip · 2 years

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Juten, 838 words! Commission for tealharp on twitter

---

Juza used to hate it when the spotlight fell directly on him.

It’s almost a habit to hide away from the light, blending in with the background even as their music soars around them, even as Juza loses himself in the rhythm and the crowd fades away. It’s peaceful like that, and his eyes can close easily, fingers on the strings of the bass and nothing more.

He loves those moments. He loves the way the crowd adores their music, the way everyone works together in their band. He’s happier now, letting himself stay here—letting those who love the spotlight take its full glare, and he soaks up the light left behind, in a place he belongs.

But when his eyes are open, he’s supposed to look out on the crowd and smile—sometimes, he lets his eyes wander to the back of Tenma’s head, instead.

Sometimes he feels guilty about that, like he’s betraying their fans. Like he’s betraying Tenma’s dream of being a performer, singing in front of those crowds and making them happy. It’s something Juza loves too, but he’s never quite breathed performance in the same way Tenma does.

Framed by light, Tenma sings powerfully, as bright as the sun. He’s alive in a way that makes Juza’s heart clench with excitement.

He knew the first time he saw him sing that he wanted to be part of that.

The song ends. Tenma lowers his microphone, and Juza knows he’s sending a smile at the crowd, who roar with excitement. Juza lets the sound wash over him, looking at the crowd and feeling the heat of the spotlight until they exit the stage.

---

Tenma sings when they’re not practicing, too. He sings along to the radio and gets embarrassed when people are watching him do it, face turning bright pink when he meets Juza’s eye.

“You don’t need to stop,” Juza tells him, still staring from the other end of the couch.

Tenma seems to get even redder at that. “I’m supposed to be paying attention to the songs. The competition,” he emphasizes as if that means anything at all. Juza doesn’t get the point of that—but it’s important to Tenma to succeed no matter the cost. Juza thinks it has something to do with his parents, but he’s never asked.

Juza makes a noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat. “You can like the music too.”

Their band is popular enough for them to not worry about that too much, especially with Tenma smiling at the crowd as he does. But there’s this other side to him that only his friends get to know—the star who’s eternally motivated, but more than anything loves music.

Juza loves it too—that’s the whole reason he’s here, why he practices so much. Tenma can do his thing easily enough with all that passion, but Juza has to work twice as hard.

Tenma looks away. “I do. But it’s embarrassing.” He ducks his head—Juza already knew that, but Tenma isn’t very straightforward with these things. It’s different when he’s in the spotlight, when the world stops to stare at him. He’s not clumsy onstage like he is otherwise.

Juza shrugs. “I like hearin’ you sing.”

Tenma doesn’t look at him. “Thanks. But I’d rather you hear me sing things I know are within my range so I won’t mess up.”

Juza has watched Tenma mess up a hundred times, though. During practice, moving back too far and tripping over a wire. Singing a note wrong and stopping to perfect it, apologizing for it when he has to try three times. He smirks when he gets it right; he’s good at what he does, but he puts a lot of care into it.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Juza says. “I said I like your singing, and it doesn’t matter if it’s our song or someone else’s. You’re just trying new things.”

Tenma looks up, then—staring at Juza with wide eyes and a small smile. “You know, I don’t usually hear you say things like that,” he says, and that smile widens even more. He’s almost teasing Juza now, which makes Juza feel warm.

“...It’s nothin’,” he says.

“Hey,” Tenma replies, scooting a little closer to Juza as the music keeps playing behind them, switching to a poppy song that isn’t quite their style. “It’s important that my bandmates like my singing. So don’t say it’s nothing.”

Juza’s heart is in his throat. He can’t say that Tenma reminds him of the sun, that Juza is slowly getting over a fear of the spotlight because their music invigorates him. The words are too difficult—but someday he wants to tell him how much he’s helped him, and how much he wants to help in return. “Okay.”

Tenma gives him a gentle kind of smile—confident, warm, just for Juza. Just like Tenma’s embarrassment—something good to hold onto. Juza finds his lips twitching upwards to smile back at him.

In the light from Tenma’s smile, Juza feels he belongs.

#my writing #a3!#juten #juza hyodo #tenma sumeragi #c

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ibelongto-tylergalpin · 2 years

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Being Eddie Munson’s Rockstar Girlfriend....

A/n: This is my first hc so sorry if it suckss

~After the whole Vecna thing, Robin got a lot closer with Eddie, causing Steve and Nancy to hang out with them from time to time

~One day Eddie’s band was performing at a battle of the bands, so they went to go watch, including Dustin

~Because it’s fucking Eddie Munson, he was so sure that him and his band would win

~That was, until you and your band went onstage

~The song I imagine you and your band singing

~As soon as you opened your mouth to start singing, Eddie could not take his eyes off of you

~”Dude I think you’re drooling”

~”Shut up, Harrington”

~To no ones surprise, you won

~Eddie constantly staring at you and your friends as they congratulate you

~Robin pestering him to talk to you

~”What’s the worst that could happen?”

~”I could die” (The girls that get it, get it. The girls that don’t, don’t.)

~Eventually after getting hyped up by Steve, he finally goes up to you and tells you that you deserved to win

~You thank him and he’s about to walk away when all of a sudden he turns around and asks for your number

~Well, he more like yells it....... but its fine cause you find it cute

~Hella fuckin shocked when you say yes

~Calls you like as soon as he gets home

~Fast forward to about a month or two later, you guys are chilling in his room listening to music

~You’re on his bed writing down lyrics for a new song you’re working on, humming or quietly singing to yourself

~He’s just sitting there next to you, not being able to handle how perfect you look and just ends up grabbing your face and kisses you

~”I was wondering when you’d pluck up the courage to do that”

~You guys end up becoming a power couple

~You guys are always laying in bed just cuddling while listening to music

~He is 100% little spoon

~Constantly caters to your every need

~Becoming best friends with Robin

~You guys constantly write music together for each others band

~If you’re ever both entering a battle of the bands again and beat him, he’ll act all pissed off but you know hes just fucking with you

~He basically just loves you with all his heart and will 100% absolutely without a doubt write a song about you

#eddie munson #st4 #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson owns my soul

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stagemanagerssaygo · 4 years

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Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney’s Hyperion Theater

by Cooper Howell

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney's Hyperion Theater. #holdingtheateraccountable Im just gonna go ahead and be straight up. This is pretty scary to share. HEAVEN: Once upon a time Liesl Tommy cast me as Prince Hans in Frozen: Live at the Hyperion. And I was gooped. GOOPED. There was nothing in my prior history that gave any indication this was possible. Up until then every role I played had to do with my race. Every. Single. One. And even ones where it didn’t (Shakespeare or classical pieces mostly) I was always made aware that the novelty of me being a poc in that role that gave me the part. So much did I not expect to get this part that when I got the callback I rolled my eyes and didn’t take the actual callback seriously. I mean, there was a zero percent chance that Disney would ever let me play a Prince, especially when the dude in the movie is a ginger. But then I got it. And immediately everything I thought was possible about my career changed. My whole life I’ve never inwardly felt black. I’ve never inwardly felt white. I’ve always felt like I was Cooper, you know, on the inside. But whether it was every single white human in Utah reminding me that I was “the whitest person they ever knew/saw” (which DIDNT mean how white my skin was. It was how white I ACTED) or Mr. Johnson, my 7th grade drama teacher, telling me that he “wanted to put Velcro on the ceiling to see if I’d stick” or Mr. Smith, my high school drama teacher, saying “finally we can do black shows” as soon as I entered high school and then not casting me in roles because of the "optics" of it, or even my best friend in high school Tanner Harmon who called me "blackie", I was always reminded that I was an other. So imagine getting paid good money to put on that $10,000 costume and waltzing out to 4000 people a day to play a really amazing part. A fantastic, evil, complicated, person who sings a killer duet and then grabs the show by the throat with a vicious about-face monologue... and not once was my race ever mentioned cuz it didnt matter. What was being prized was Cooper, my talent, not my skin color that I never asked for. Heaven. Liesl MADE SURE, almost overly sure, that the poc’s in the cast felt equal. The kingdom of Arendelle, after all, is a make believe place. It can be whatever. From having Disney executives come and tell us that they were happy to have us there, to side conversations with John Lasseter, we were made to feel overly welcome playing the parts we were playing. She encouraged us to dive deeper into the script of a cartoon that I didnt really think much of until I was in it. We were encouraged to ask why. We felt seen as talent and not commodities. There were, of course, detractors. Gosh, I remember people at a party of cast members from "Mickey and the Magical Map" another show at Disneyland which features a princess and the frog number and many of those casts mates angrily claiming that “if that black girl Tiana Okoye can play Elsa than I should be able to play Princess Tiana” and then looking at me to confirm that was okay to say, not realizing that a) she’s one of my best friends, b) that I’m in the show with her also playing a role that wasn't created to be a poc, c) how racist that sounded, and d) why there's a difference there and why that wouldn't make sense. On Liesls final night I came up to her and said “I don’t know why you did it but thank you so much for casting ME in this part” to which she replied “you mean why would I cast a handsome, talented person in this role?” And I stuttered something like “well, I mean, I’m black. You know...” to which she tilted her head to her side and said “no. I don’t know why. Tell me why that matters.” And I had no answer. Seeing that I had no answer she smiled. That was the answer. There was no reason. On the spot my outlook about myself changed. Windows into what I thought was possible for me opened. -------------------------------------- HELL: And then Liesl went back to NYC and she was replaced by a man named Roger Castellano as show director. Rogers task, he told us on the first day, was to "change the show". We were not told what needed to be changed or even why, but that changes were on the horizon. You've got to understand: to a full cast of actors who had just spent more than three months dissecting a 60 page Disney script with a Tony nominated director like it was Shakespeare, we were initially emotionally/mentally/spiritually resistant to changes. But then it became clear that the spirit of collaboration was over, and the show changes were to be given without the same care, consideration, and thematic explanation of why they were being made. Everyones initial reaction was to push back, but when people who questioned their notes or their changes started getting days removed their schedule or being replaced entirely by a new actor, the Hyperion theater became a place where no one was allowed to speak out. Injustices were happening left and right and no one felt they could do anything for fear of losing their livelihood. And that's when the Frozen: Live at the Hyperion became a living hell. In my first note session with Roger he pulled me into a room with Domonique Paton, my best friend and incredible costar who played princess Anna in the show I was in. She just so happens to also be black. Almost all of Prince Hans’s scenes in the show are with her character and so most of my notes would be primarily based on those interactions with her. Earlier in the day I performed with a different (white) actress but it was the show with Domonique that I had a note session about. Imagine my surprise and dismay when, with how Liesl set up the show experience, we were told this: “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER ITS TOO… URBAN.” Urban. What else could that have meant, do you think? He could have said maybe “too contemporary” emphasizing that we were maybe too modern in our speech patterns or movements. We weren’t. He could have said “too lax” or “too loose” meaning that maybe we were being unprofessional and goofy up there because we’re really good friends. We were not. The best me and Ms. Paton could think of was a 8 count moment of improv dance that me and Domonique decided to use as a synchronized moment of unity. It happened to fall on the line “our mental synchronization can have but one explanation” and thought, with the freedom that Christopher (the original choreographer) had given us, was appropriate, especially considering everyone behind us was doing the robot. As in the 80s robot. But he didnt clarify. He just said “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER IT’S TOO… URBAN” And when asked what he meant he smiled with a little shrug and said "you can figure that out. You're smart." And thats how I became Black Hans and Domonique became Black Anna. My every moment onstage afterwards became about the optics of being a poc in that show. It was if I was suddenly made aware that I was LUCKY enough to be there and under any normal circumstances, or this new directors circumstances, me getting this part would have never happened. But the message was clear. It was especially clear when me and Domonique Paton shows together durastically decreased and made even more clear when the vast majority of the new hires were not people of color. But no one said anything. And made even MORE clear when, over the next few weeks, both Domonique and I got COPIOUS notes, ten times that of our coworkers that played the same parts. It was almost a game. In fact we did turn it into a game, seeing who would get the least amount of notes from him in a day. Our costars would even joke about it onstage with us, during the ballroom scene, and jokingly whisper "The shows been up 15 minutes. How many do you think you got today?" But no one said anything. And the notes were about all kinds of things. How we held our hand. If our inflections went up or down on a word. Which side of a couch we leaned on… which was fine! When you're an actor, thats the gig... until we started comparing our notes with the actors that played our same parts and none of them, NONE, would get the same notes. Our notes would be outrageously longer, the note sessions sometimes lasting 10/15 minutes. Others would get the “Oh hey, try doing this or that next time, okay bye” walk-by notes. Sometimes I would sneak into the audience and watch as some of the other Han's, some of whom changed lines, changed entire intentions of scenes, some of whom adding in all types of vocalizations and cackles and dance moves and what have you, and would receive ZERO notes. But I was watching them to see what was wrong with me. What was my performance missing? What am I actually doing to feel this singled out. And then I realized that the thing that was wrong with me was that I was a different color than the 5 other white Hans's they cast. And then I started getting notes about my penis. Most of the time these “penis sessions”, as I called them, were given in private rooms without another stage manager present. It was incredibly unpleasant and unprofessional. In fairness, those Prince Hans pants are TIGHT! And yes, Mr. Howell is indeed a party in the front and a party in the back, but so were a lot of those fellas. And thats where I put my foot down. If Disney was going to provide me with a costume it is not my responsibility to fix their problem, especially when other of my (white) costars had been given a dance belt for the same thing. But they never got penis notes. Private session notes about what their penis looked like in that show. Over and over again I was told to fix it, to not make it (my dick) so apparent, and that “if my daughter were younger I wouldn’t want her to come to a show you were performing at" all the more insulting considering his daughter, a cast member in the show, was a friend of mine and the loveliest person. He started demanding that I buy a dance belt. It was “my fault”, “my responsibility” …and thats where I took my stand. And then it really became hell. Penis sessions were now done out in the open. Once, he screamed at me, in the green room in front of all of my costars during lunch, about how incredible unprofessional I was, about how he was tired of seeing my dick, and that if I didnt go buy myself one I didnt deserve to be there anymore. Followed by a huge litany of notes. That doesnt compare to some of what Domonique went through and I invite her to share them if she’s willing. During this time I went to every stage manager in the building and told them about being singling out and about my penis. They all told me to write a complaint report and it would go to some place called "HR". Which I did. Numerously. More months passed. Nothing from "HR". Multiple cast members who witnessed my note sessions encouraged me to go to the HR themselves. I didnt honestly know what an HR was. As soon as it was explained to me by my allies even what an HR was I went to the head of HR at Disneyland herself and waited outside of her door. I asked her if she got any of my HR reports and she told me that she had received no HR reports from the Hyperion. Ever. And then asked me to fill out a HR form. As we went over it, she asked me some questions, and then set up a second meeting. On the second meeting she said that in order for my report to be given credence I would need witnesses to give their testimony. The witnesses, in fact the very people that told me to go to HR in the first place, said no. They didnt want to lose their jobs. In retrospect that might be the thing that hurt the most but, whatever... anyway, I was told "“well… without testimonies we’ll do an investigation and we’ll call you when we’ve completed it.” I never received a phone call. With absolutely zero protection from the stage managers from both the sexual harassment or my obvious racial targeting I (and others) were experiencing, not to mention that HR reports were doing nothing, aka not being forwarded, I thought about quitting. And when a white stage manager made a show mistake and laughed it off to the cast by saying an entirely offensive lynching joke, I quit. I didnt matter to Disney. How I felt and what I was being put through didnt matter. I was a commodity. My departure was unceremonious. Bizarre. 100% un-magical. I hung up my costume one last time and it was given to a new Hans, one who looked very much like me oddly, and stepped out of the theater. The park was playing “every wish your heart desires will come to you” and I remember laughing at how dead that song felt. The director has since moved on but still works as a musical theater director in Southern California. This one time 4 years ago I got to feel something other than my color for the first and only time in my professional career. It lasted from about March 2016 to July 2016 and never again since. I will never forget in those early days looking at all the beautiful princesses I got to woo and thinking “wow. I’m a prince right now.” Im sure that sounds stupid. But it didn't feel stupid. And a Disney prince! Yeah, a shitty prince kinda... I mean, he's a sociopath... BUT still a Prince! Especially special was being able to look in Dominique’s eyes and I could see the same glimmer of “can you believe we get to do this right now” reflected back. We never knew it was in the cards for us. My race always has and will always be part of my career equation and a determining factor of its projection. It will always be a determining factor in how im treated, by creatives, by people, by the those in authority over me, including the government and the police. #wasitmyskin

Copied in its entirety here from Cooper Howell’s public Facebook post: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10163696376095054&set=a.10151302685610054&type=3&theater

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dinosaurtsukki · 3 years

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⸺𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀 27: i should be over all the butterflies (finale)

i should be over all the butterflies | a chuuya x gn!reader smau

a/n: wow, so here's another smau coming to a close. this ended up being much longer than i thought it would be but it was entertaining to write until the very end. i hope you guys like the final chapter and please let me know what you think of it !!

also, i'm sure some of you have been curious about the title. well, it's actually based on the song 'still into you' by paramore. when i first listened to that song i kinda imagined vocalist!chuuya (it's because of the orange hair). if you like, give it a listen while reading this last chapter

ever since he first started performing with the mafia dogs, chuuya had never felt stage fright or even remotely anxious before singing onstage. he even surprised himself when he came to the realization that performing was just second-nature to him.

but god was he nervous now.

usually, he was the one who hyped up the crowd before playing but right now, chuuya busied himself with fiddling with the height of the mic stand as tachihara and dazai took on the role.

"hey everyone!" dazai yelled into the microphone. the crowd in front of the stage cheered in unison.

"you may know us as the mafia dogs," tachihara continued. "but right now, you can think of us as the newest members of the journalism club."

"yeah, we actually just sent our application forms earlier," dazai laughed, glancing sideways at chuuya with a look that expressed 'dude, your turn to say something.'

"so, uh," chuuya cleared his throat. "we're actually going to perform a new song."

the crowd cheered once again and that put a smile on his face. he scanned the people standing in the front row until his eyes landed on you. chuuya bit back a laugh at the matching mustard shirt and pants you were wearing that made it impossible for him to spot. right beside you was ranpo, in crutches but mostly leaning on oda for support.

chuuya took in a deep breath and calmed himself down. having akutagawa right next to him, who looked the happiest he's ever been as he fiddled with the buttons on his keytar, definitely helped.

"this song is actually dedicated to someone. well, two people," chuuya clarified after exchanging a look with dazai. "and, i hope our thoughts come across in this song."

chuuya nodded at dazai and akutagawa, feeling his breath swell in his chest as he began to sing.

"can't count the years in one hand that we've been together. i need the other one to hold you, make you feel, make you feel better"

the roar of the audience gave chuuya a surge of confidence and he grinned widely as he continued to sing. it was always a bit nerve-wracking performing a new song and hoping their fans would like it. after all, he and dazai just poured out their raw emotions into the lyrics and hoped for the best.

for a split-second, chuuya's eyes darted over to make you out in the front row of the crowd again. was that a grin on your face or was he just imagining things? chuuya tried not to let the anxiety grip him.

"because after all this time, i'm still into you"

but at the end of the day, chuuya knew he would "perish and die", in the words of dazai, if he never let you know how he felt.

"i should be over all the butterflies but i'm into you. and baby even on our worst nights, i'm into you."

chuuya could tell that everyone was getting into the song by the time the chorus hit. the audience was jumping up and down in unison to the beat. dazai was leaning into the microphone singing the back-up vocals. tachihara had a wide, gleeful grin on his face he played the drums. even akutagawa was bobbing his head up and down to the music.

seeing all of them getting into the song gave chuuya just a bit of courage to lock eyes with you in the crowd as he sang the next line that condense all of his feelings.

"yeah after all this time, i'm still into you."

...

as soon as the mafia dogs started playing the song, one of the first thoughts in your head was "damn, chuuya's pants look really tight" and then "damn, chuuya looks really good onstage."

you've known him practically your whole life and even though back then he demonstrated no inclination at all for being a band vocalist, it looked like chuuya was born to be one. on the one hand, you felt bad that you two weren't close for the past few years. you would have enjoyed watching their earlier band practices and showing up for his first gig or watching him brainstorm new songs.

but getting to know chuuya again, especially this side of him, wasn't so bad. he was your best friend after all. and thanks to that little introduction he made before singing the song, chuuya's intentions were now clear as day to you.

"let them wonder how we got this far 'cause i don't even need to wonder at all"

you weren't sure if he could make you out in front of the crowd all, even if your mustard ensemble, much less see the expression on your face. there were probably hundreds of students in the campus square all watching and cheering to the mafia dogs' new song. but maybe, just maybe--

and there.

chuuya unmistakably met your gaze in the crowd and you smiled broadly at him in return as he ended the first chorus.

"yeah after all this time, i'm still into you"

'jesus christ, chuuya,' you thought as you smiled to yourself. 'you could have just sent me a text.'

...

"just so we're clear... you do know the song is dedicated to you, right?" ranpo said.

"i'm not that fucking dumb," you scoffed, flicking him on the forehead. right after the talent show, the three of you gathered near a bench just outside your dorm building. the crowds were slowly starting to thin out as well.

"is it... safe to assume that," oda spoke slowly beside him. you laughed slightly at the apparent hesitancy in his voice. "the other person is... me?"

"oda, i'm proud of you," ranpo grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. as if on cue, a text notification from oda's phone rang.

"you should take that like, right now," you insisted.

"really?" oda looked between you and ranpo. "do you need help with--?"

"i'll make it up the stairs on my own," ranpo huffed. "i'm not that helpless you know."

"right," you rolled your eyes. "says the guy who--"

"uh, y/n?"

you turned around to see chuuya approaching the three of you with his hands in his pockets and his guitar in its case on his shoulder. ranpo pushed you slightly forward before hurrying back to the dorm building in his crutches. oda waved goodbye before heading off in the other direction, leaving you and chuuya.

"so."

"nice... outfit," chuuya nodded at your shirt and pants.

"well, i've always had a thing for monochrome," you laughed, placing your hands on your hips. "look at your outfit though. i mean, can you even breathe in those pants?"

"not going to lie, i almost passed out on stage," chuuya joked and the two of you laughed in unison. "so... what did you think about the song?"

"hmm," you cocked your head to the side. "i think that whoever that song is dedicated to must be very lucky."

"really? then does that mean--"

"ranpo would absolutely love to be your boyfriend. or tachihara's. or is it akutagawa?" you interrupted him. chuuya stared at you with his mouth open before you burst into laughter.

"you should have seen the look on your face!" you pointed teasingly. "like your mouth was all open and everything. i gotta say chuuya i really--"

before you could even finish your sentence, chuuya had wrapped a finger around one of the belt loops of your mustard pants, pulling you close and kissing you right on the lips. instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck and you felt both of chuuya's hands on your waist.

"you should see the look on your face," he whispered in a low voice as soon as you two parted. the smirk on his lips was enough to make you want to cover your face with your hands.

"i hate you chuuya," you whispered back much to his amusement.

"oh yeah, it sure seemed like you do." he flicked you on the forehead for good measure before walking off, leaving you to catch up to him.

"hey, hey. how did that song go again?" you asked, skipping next to chuuya. "i should be over all the butterflies... it's pretty catchy! you're gonna sing it for me again, right?"

"i literally just sang it for you."

"aw but i want one that's just for me. please chuuya?"

"...fine. maybe tomorrow."

a/n: and that is the end of the series! what happens to the characters next is all up to you guys (i do love an open ending for my fics). let me know what you all think and thank you for reading my series!

⸺𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

@kiyoobi @atsumusdomain @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo @guardianangelswings @kei-ya @loisuke @whootwhoot @liz-multifandom-hotel @kac-chowsballs @violentfarewll @fyoyacanruinmylifethanks @nightmare-light @miyakiyo0mi @whorefordazai @rirk-ke @cross-crye @alohablue @duhsies @alittlesimp @tetsustation @https-inarizaki @himboos @magpiemissy @hanazou @monochromaticelliot

reblogs and comments are much appreciated

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hopefullystillatheatrestudent · 3 years

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i'm so excited about you taking asks again ahhhh okay so. if you'd absolutely had to choose. what would be your top 5 cockles moments, and why? thank you ily <3

here’s the thing: there are so many routes i could go down with this, because cockles moments come in all shapes and sizes and formats. these include moments from their panels, their bloopers, the footage we get when they don’t even know they’re being recorded, stories being passed down from photo ops & autographs(one of my personal favorite ways to get cockles, tbh, because they’re all insane), and social media(tweets to each other, instagram posts & comments, etc.).

SO! since many a list like this has already been made, and i want to stand out from the crowd, what i’m gonna do is definitively give the number one spot to each of these five categories.(i might even throw in honourable mentions because they’re so despicably in love that they warrant that. i really put my whole pussy into this, guys, i hope you’re happy.)

disclaimer: these are my own personal opinions. but that also means i’m right. so. enjoy.

number one: top cockles panel moment

so we’re starting off with a bang, because how do you even BEGIN to rank what atrocities jensen and misha commit at jibcon. every single one they’ve had is damning in it’s own right, for different reasons.

however, considering just how much unabashed fuckery they’ve given us to sift through, it’s a good thing i do have a personal favorite despite it all. it’s heartwarming, the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen, AND it’s jarringly cinematic - mainly because it has a whole ass arc to it that was years in the making. it might even be surprising to some people, but my favorite cockles panel moment, and what i consider the one that encompasses their entire gut-wrenching journey from 2008-2013 in the most sweepingly romantic gesture possible, is this one.

i want this burned into my retinas. i am not even joking. when i'm through with my explanation, let me convince you why this is thee most romantic cockles moment of all time.

first, some history: people call this the resume off, but many seem to forget the botched attempt at a resume off a year prior. and yes, you guessed it: it's during their break up. it's a juicy time period for a reason, guys. it came across as exceedingly one-sided and VERY awkward. let me refresh your memory as to just how bad it was, and just how hard jensen was trying and ultimately failing at winning misha over: the funniest part of the whole resume off in 2013??? every joke/bit had literally already been made/done. they were just going through the motions again, but the difference THIS time...is that misha reciprocated jensen's energy. it. is. fascinating. i want to get into it more detail in another post, and i'll link it here when i'm done, but the main takeaway, i think, and the main difference that showcases how much they've grown in a year, is that in jib 3, misha flat out refused to do an accent, and this time around, he indulges jensen for literal minutes. when i tell you they're crazy, they're crazy. i can't wait to actually dive into it later.

ANYWAY, the resume off culminates in this moment here. and, like, a million things happen in this gifset. actually, more like a million and one. the music starts playingneediremindyouthatthesongissingingintherain(h e l p), misha starts dancing, jensen 'perpetually fake grumpy' ackles lets misha think he's not going to join, misha sits down defeated, but no!!! that was jensen's plan all along(look at his stupid fucking smirk) and he offers his arm to his dance partner who immediately grins like a fool, jensen then leads misha into their kick step, they perfectly synchronise and let loose, and are then very clearly having the time of their lives, hanging off of each other with joy and ease. from their expressions alone i can tell that this moment is so. so. so. so! much more than what initially meets the eye. i mean-misha is fighting back the biggest smile i've ever seen. to me, it reads like jensen is offering something to misha, something that misha kind of gave up on expecting, and him offering his arm like that is like, a surprise to him in the best possible way(and it's so not platonic, let me just say that.) as soon as jensen did that, it ushered in a new era of cockles. this panel is jensen and misha's favourite for a reason, and i think this moment is the biggest clue as to why.

whew!!! ok. that took a lot out of me and that was only point one. moving on,

number two: top cockles blooper moment

cockles bloopers hold an extremely special place in my heart, because it shows just how fucking disastrous jensen and misha are. they are so goddamn infatuated with each other that they HOLD UP PRODUCTION ALL THE TIME TO FLIRT WITH EACH OTHER(???). let me repeat. let it sink in. jensen ackles; arguably one of the most professional actors on that show who puts everything he has into each scene, with mountains and mountains of notes to prove it: would rather hold up production to flirt with misha collins. this sounds fake. it's not. he does it. all. the. time. and here's the thing guys!!! i'm gonna let you in on a secret!!! misha loves it. he loveesssss it. on top of that-misha collins: overlooked because he's pranked and people assume he's unprofessional as well, but his only pranks are in retaliation/off-set, and he rarely if EVER causes problems if he can help it....lets himself get carried away when it comes to jensen making kissy faces at him!!! are you actually kidding me!!! i mean. misha. it's just a face. you've seen it a million times. i don't buy that it triggers something in you that strongly....you like it, and you like jensen's reaction. you can't fool me!!! lisa berry's face in that one gifset shows just how fed up the crew is with their gross, coupley boyfriend antics.

i could pull up so many examples. sooooooo many. but my favourite was sealed since the moment i saw it.

i actually already wrote an analysis on it but i can't find it :(((( which SUCKS because i really unpacked the whole thing. i'll try to summarise.

basically, a backstory is part of this too!!! jensen and misha both had a really really hard time with this scene(because it's explicitly romantic there i said it), they sat down for hours and poured over their scripts together, they were super super nervous going into filming, both of them, jensen especially, were super hard on themselves for their performances not being true to their characters but they both complimented the other's work(boyfriend moments fr). so, yeah. they weren't confident going into shooting. and how do they get themselves to feel better???? by cuddling each other, apparently.

a lot. a LOT. happens in this specific blooper. to the point that i saw it years before i knew about cockles and it raised all sorts of flags for me.

1) stop pulling my face towards your crotch(as a thinly veiled request that misha would, in fact, move jensen's face towards his crotch, considering it was jensen moving himself there in the first place. also, why so comfy down there guys???) 2) you're my baby daddy i know(in the most intimate voice i've ever heard please) 3) i know, i know, i love you too i didn't say i love you i know but you wanted to say it etc. misha's right, of course. that's what jensen meant.

it just reeks of comfort, familiarity and intimacy between the two, and it's a moment that is extremely sweet and silly at the same time. they're so <3

number three: top cockles found footage moment

WONDERFUL category. truly the culmination of the cockles experience. many people have said that shipping cockles doesn't work because 'they're just onstage you dummies!! they're playing it up for the audience!!!' here's the thing, love. i could not disagree with you more. once you climb your way up the cockles ladder, you soon learn that they are, in fact, playing their dynamic DOWN, not up. they really are just Like That™, and they could not care less about the paying audience, if we're being honest, considering how much time they take to giggle with each other and refuse to let the audience in on the joke. and i love them for it <3

anyway, my point is that this category is for all you naysayers out there, all you 'jensen and misha's relationship is just for show and is real life queerbaiting'(?????lordhelp???) oh yeah? ok, explain this.

he. he. he calls jensen sweetheart. literally enough said. there's nothing to really add here, except, misha and jared then immediately engage in damage control. jared's method is distraction and misha's is retconning('get out of the car, dude') this was what got me to buy into the cockles dumpster for GOOD good. you don't call your buddy sweetheart accidentally and sound so completely earnest while doing it! especially not when that buddy is jensen ackles!!! you think he would let any of his friends call him that? do you?

one more thing; if it was a slip of the tongue, little mouth thing or whatever, you think jared wouldn't have jumped on it immediately??? i can hear it now. 'did you just call him SWEETHEART???' yeah. that's what i thought. you know why he didn't? because it was too revealing.

number four: top cockles autograph moment

i mean, i think we all know what it's gonna be, and if you don't, well, do i have the piece de cockles resistance that is gonna send you over the edge.

if you haven't heard of this story by now, as a cockles, truther, i'm gonna go ahead and get you to read it, because there is no possible heterosexual explanation for any of it, and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise.

spoiler alert: it's the story where phones weren't allowed in an auto session, jensen nuzzles himself in misha's hair, leans his full body weight onto him, holds his hand, etc. etc. i'm imploding just repeating this back, actually. also, just, the sheer amount of stories from photo ops where they tackle hug each other or slap each other's asses or sing romantic songs to each other or almost kiss is, frankly, a lot. if i could wish for anything, it would be to witness them in person.

and finally,

number five: top cockles social media moment

this one is super difficult, because there's obviously a lot to choose from. but you know what? full send, i'm going with this one:

i just. what to say about this. how often do misha and jensen watch sunsets together for it to qualify as ‘always’ ??? why are sunsets synonymous with their relationship??? that’s like??? a very romantic thing????? ‘this guy’??? the fact that it’s a CANDID??? i don’t know guys.

that could have been better but i am TIRED so. there you go rose ily

#cockles #cockles ask #liz answers #i really just. spend hours. writing about misha and his boyfriend.#why. why do i. do that #long post for ts

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bakudekushimasimp · 3 years

Text

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 18+

Picture credit to: @Milmil21229 and @BrttPaige on Twitter

Pairing: KatsukiBakugouxreader

Summary: you and Bakugou are ex’s (yay plot twist) bad break up involving another female. Both your bands show up to a battle of the bands, you both get to watch each other perform. In the end your band wins and his is runner up. both your bands go out to celebrate..

A/N: I actually ended this very abruptly after the smut part, I’m sorry if this isn’t as good as my other ones I just really fantasized over drummer Bakugo. I would definitely say this is Bakugo fluff. He is not even half as rude as usually portrayed. Side note: your band~ misery business;paramore His band~ can you feel my heart; BMTH

https://href.li/?https://www.instagram.com/reel/CQF9pZBJb8y/?utm_medium=copy_link

You push threw sweaty bodies making a path for your band to get backstage, and to your dressing room. You elbow and shove people creating a commotion as people start to recognize you and your group. You finally break through the crowd and you wait for your band members to emerge from the pit. Shinsou, Amajiki, and Jirou all stumble forward. Amajiki rams into you and you somewhat catch him before you both land in a pile on the ground. He looks down apologizing but you stand straight brushing off your skirt and fixing your thigh high boots. “You’re fine, I’m fine. We’re good then.” You show him a gentle smile before your resting bitch face is plastered back on. You look around at the different bands making their way to their rooms, and grabbing various things getting set up for their performance. You find the closest person with ‘Stagehand’ printed on their shirt. You sauntered over to him his arms crossed right below the words he’s directing people in different directions. You walk up and glance at his name tag ‘Tokoyami’. “Hey Tokyo, can you point us in the direction of The Shadows dressing room.” He looks at you seemingly annoyed at his nickname you gave him as he looks at your group before pointing you in the right direction. Your band makes it to the door of your dressing room, but right before you get the chance to enter you see a bright flash of red in the style of spikes. You only know one single person to have that hairstyle meaning there was someone you’ve been avoiding not to far behind him. Shinso seems to notice and he looks at you, “just ignore it, we came here to perform and win.” He puts his hand on the small of your back and you turn into the room.

Bakugou is following behind Kirishima as the are a few feet away from their dressing room. Multiple people had stopped them on their way recognizing the attractive band members, trying to get pictures and congratulating them on their recent release. Kirishima pushes the door open and they all start to flood in. Denki quickly grabs Bakugou pulling him back and pointing a couple doors down. “That’s Jirou isn’t it! From the Shadows?” Bakugou’s hands spark knowing that could only mean one thing. His ex was here to perform. He shoved denki’s hand off his arm and stomped into the dressing room. “What’s your problem?” Denki looks confused. “Shut up, Pikachu!” Bakugou screams at him. The door closing behind him.

You and your band are ready to perform, and your up next. You’re waiting off stage watching the band come to a close, the crowd erupting into cheers. Jirou slings an arm around you grinning. “You ready?” You turn to her, “More than ever.” Shinsou smirks knowing now that you knew he was here you were going to give it your all even more so than before. Especially with your song choice. You were going to perform your cover of ‘Misery Business’ by paramore. Which always killed the crowds. You abruptly turn around to face him and catch his smirk. You look into his deep purple eyes, “how do I look?” Amajiki answers before he can in a quiet whisper, “amazing..” You look to him and hug him noticing how nervous he is, “Thank you Jiki, let’s kill this.” You squeeze his shoulders and turn around. The band that was once on stage is now gone and the stagehands quickly adjust everything for your band to perform. You fix your skirt that is just long enough to cover your round ass, and your crop top that has several tears on the shoulders. Your curls are sticking to your forehead already from the heat. You swing your hair over your shoulder so it falls down your back. You shift side to side in your thigh high boots loving the way they made your legs look and how they hugged your thighs. You took a deep breath as you hear your introduction and the lights dim. You look up through your lashes with a grin on your face, and start to walk out onto stage with your band mates. You listen to the crowd chant your band name, and occasionally you hear different fans shouting out for their favorite band member. You all take your places on the stage that now had fog spreading over it swallowing your feet, and only dim purple lights shining enough to give the illusion of you and your band only being shadows. You hear Shinso start to tap his drumsticks and that’s when the performance begins.

Bakugou’s band made its way to the side of the stage as they were told to get ready, they were on next. As he got nearer he could hear the current band playing. All his band mates slowed their steps until they finally came to the clearing. The crowd was going insane, the pit was a blur of movement. There was bands on both sides of the stage watching as the band onstage performed. His band mates slowly looked to Bakugou as they realized the person in the middle of the stage singing standing between a guy and girl strumming their lives out onto their guitars. Bakugou’s face turned red as he knew that voice anywhere, the lyrics shaking his whole body.

“She's got a body like an hourglass, it's ticking like a clock! It's a matter of time before we all run out, when I thought he was mine, she caught him by the mouth! I waited eight long months, she finally set him free, I told him I couldn't lie, he was the only one for me. Two weeks and we had caught on fire, she’s got it out for me, but I wear the biggest smile!”

Kirishima put his hand on Bakugou’s shoulder, “it’s just a song bro-“

“She looks.. so good.” Bakugou was entranced by the emotion you put into the song and how happy you looked to be performing. He couldn’t believe it was your band getting this big of a reaction out of the crowd and the other bands. The heat in his face quickly rushed to his lower body as you started to walk away from your other band mates and he got an actual look at you. Your skirt was just the kind that use to drive him so crazy he would have to take you wherever he could back when you were together. His muscles tensed as you walked back to your drummer, looking at him and running your hand down his chest as he hit played. As you ran your hand down seductively and slowly you sang out your part, “but god does it feel sooo goood!” Bakugou’s hands sparked and he took a step forward just for Kirishima to grab him by his bicep. With his fist clenched he stepped back into his place, he knew why you chose this song. He knew who you sang about when you screamed the lyrics, “once a whore, you’re nothing more-“ into the microphone. It was his fault. He should’ve never messed around with the groupie he did. Back when he first started performing shows with his band. Dismissing you not believing your potential to be a lead in a band yourself. And here he was eating his words. Your song came to a close, and all he could do was decide to show you just the way you showed him, through his performance.

“We’re changing the song.” He growled out.

“Wait- what.” Denki and Sero said together.

“Bro are your sure that’s a good idea we’ve been rehearsing for weeks over this song.” Kirishima spoke out. “Shut up shitty hair I know what I’m doing, we’re doing the cover!” Bakugou snapped. Kirishima looked at the other boys and shrugged, “Okay bro- if you’re ready to perform it.”

You stood in the middle of the stage your curls sticking all over your face. You beamed in the lights shining on you and your bandmates. The crowd drank every bit of your performance in, they couldn’t get enough. The screams drowned out everything, making your ears ring. You all took a bow and walked off the other side of the stage. Other bands clapped you on the back and beamed at you explaining how amazing your performance was and they’ve never seen the crowd so alive. Some back stage helpers handed your group towels and water bottles, which you all gladly accepted. You showered your bandmates in compliments making sure they knew how well they did. You were so wrapped up in everything going on you completely missed the next band being introduced. Jirou and Amajiki went to stand off stage to watch the rest of the performances. Shinsou moved over to you and placed his hand on the small of your back where it comfortably rest. He eyed you, “how do you always still look so amazing after a performance like that,” You stomach tied in a knot and you smiled down at your boots. Shinsou had been there for you since your rough break up a couple months ago, he was there when you first started your band up. He happily offered to be your drummer, after he fell in love with your voice. You felt as if someone was staring at you so you stepped away looking around to see the culprit. Your eyes never met with anyone else’s everyone seemed occupied with their own things. You took another drink of your water bottle and wiped your face and neck. “Let’s go watch the last few performances, see if they’re really any competition.” You dragged him off to the side stage meeting Jirou and Amajiki. Jirou held her hand out stopping you from moving all the way to the front of the crowd of bands. You stopped in your tracks looking confused at Jirou then peering over to see who exactly was performing. That’s when red vermillion eyes met yours.

Bakugou’s anger was soaring through the roof as he watch Shinsou place his hand right above your perfectly round ass, at the small of your back as he whispered in your ear. He almost snapped his drumsticks in two as he watch the interaction, with only himself to blame. He kicked himself again, as he watch you take his hand pulling your new drummer to watch HIM play. His friends started preparing for their performance, getting their instruments tuned and ready. Until you finally looked up and met his eyes. His face still holding a scowl as he watched your close actions with your drummer boy. Kirishima stepped up beside him and softly spoke to him, “it’s time to start bro..”

Bakugou tore his eyes away from yours after sending a threatening glare to the lavender hair man hovering behind you who only smirked in response. His hands tightened around his drumsticks as he walked back to his set and got ready. His knee was already bouncing in irritation. He was ready to play all his anger and mixed emotions into this song, even if that meant leaving a pile of wreck in replace of this drum set. The song started and it was time to show you exactly how he felt, and to show pretty boy who was the real drummer.

You stood frozen in place as you realized the eyes you felt staring at you watching your every movement belonged to no other than your ex-boyfriends. You watched as he ripped his eyes from yours and stomped to his place. Once the stage came alive you couldn’t help but only watch him. You felt weak, giving him all your attention like this. You should have walked away and not even stayed for his performance, but you were intrigued just by the song choice. Anyone who was here at the battle of the bands would recognize this song. Kirishima had started the song, instantly grabbing the attention of the crowd. But that’s when the next verse came and your attention was snatched from you.

“Can you help the hopeless?

Well, I'm begging on my knees

Can you save my bastard soul?

Will you wait for me?

I'm sorry, brothers, so sorry, lover

Forgive me, father, I love you, mother.”

Your gut wrenched at the thought of him pouring his emotions into the lyrics of this song. Showing you just how he felt. Here he was usually boarding up his heart and hiding his true feelings, but now he was on stage in front of hundreds of people pouring out everything into one song. You were mesmerized by the way he so effortlessly played the drums. The crowd loved the drop dead boy band group, they looked just as alive as when your band performed. You looked to your bandmates as Jirou had her eyes set on one of Bakugou’s band mates, known as Denki. They were basically eye fucking across the stage his whole body shifted in her direction. Amajiki was hidden between other bands but still looked interested, you remember him saying he enjoyed this song before. Shinsou who was now besides you instead of behind you looked at you, as you looked at him. He mouthed, “are you okay?” You nodded your head. The other bands buzzed and vibed enjoying the performance just as much as the audience. The song was coming to an end and your eyes couldn’t help but fall back onto the drummer who you used to call your own. Tears threatened to prick your eyes as he closed the song,

“I'm scared to get close, and I hate being alone, I long for that feeling to not feel at all

The higher I get, the lower I'll sink

I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim!

Can you feel my heart?

Can you hear the silence?

Can you see the dark?

Can you fix the broken?

Can you feel, can you feel my heart!”

The song ended and your heart was aching, you had so many different emotions running through you your mind was spinning. The crowd cheered screaming their band name. You were still looking at Bakugou who’s head was hung and eyes still closed. You wanted to go to him but everything inside you was fighting it. He finally looked up. He stood walking around the drum set emotionless. He tucked his drumstick into his pocket and the band threw their fists up. They all then dispersed off the stage. You felt suffocated and turned and walked away from the side of the stage your group following behind.

The battle continued to go on as you stayed cooped up in your dressing room. It was pretty much silence as no one knew what to say after the performance. You had teased Jirou for a little but everything went back to quiet. You all just sat on your phones scrolling through trying to distract yourselves until the end of the battles. A notification pops up at the top of your screen, you pull it down to see it was on Shinsou texting you. You peek over your phone to meet his purple ones. You smile and sigh setting your phone down. Just as your about to say something there’s a knock on the door. Jirou jumps up to crack it open until she swings it open. “Tokyo!” You say. He grunts, “they’re about to announce the winner.” You chuckle and look at your friends and gesture towards the door indicating you should go. You all stand up and walk to the stage where all the bands stand. You take your place among a few other groups on one side. You catch yourself innocently looking for the blonde hair sticking in different directions until you feel an arm sling over your shoulder. You look over to see your band members anxious yet excited to hear the winner.

“The winner of tonight’s battle of the bands is..” everyone on stage holds their breath, it’s the quietest it’s been the whole night. You could even hear a pen drop.

“ THE SHADOWS” the crowd erupts into a crazy frenzy and Jirou jumps up and down her ear jacks going everywhere. Amajiki looks shocked beyond relief as Jirou shakes him back and forth. Shinso squeezes your shoulders, “we should probably step forward.”

You’re in a daze as your all walk to the front of the stage. “Runner up, they almost knocked them right out of the first place spot..”

“Explosive Riots!!” The crowd goes even crazier jumping and screaming the boys names. Everything starts ringing in your ears as you look over and watch the band make their way to the front. Kirishima walks ahead of the others as Bakugou is right behind him stalking up towards the announcer. He’s glaring in your direction but his face softens and he just looks at his feet. The announcer hands the trophy to you and you gingerly take it but then remember the nights you stayed awake, the hard work you put in, the tears the pain and you grab that award and you lift it into the air stepping forward more proud of yourself than anyone. The bring the check out and hand it to your bandmates. They then bring the last award out and hand it to the other band. “Congratulations to both bands!” You step forward to shake hands with Kirishima as they’re about to take a picture but Shinso steps in front of you first placing his hand right into the same place he always rest it. Bakugou notices immediately and yanks kirishima back grabbing Shinsou’s hand roughly then letting a small explosive go off into his hand. Shinsou only grins and steps back. Everyone starts to disperse off stage and out of the building. There’s a couple more photos taken and you and your band make your way backstage. Your standing talking to some other bands as everyone is leaving as it’s already late at night. You suggest going out to celebrate your win with your band when you see people being dispersed in a bee line headed straight for your band. You look over to see a seething Bakugou headed straight at you. Or you thought he was coming for you until his hands are balled up in Shinsou’s shirt. Kirishima and the rest of his band coming quickly behind him. Just as Bakugou goes to shoot a blast off in Shinsou’s face, Kirishima grabs his arm once again pulling him back making him drop Shinsou. Both bands facing each other you step in front of Shinsou.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” You shout.

Kirishima gingerly chuckles and steps in front of Bakugou shoving him back.

“We were just on our way over here to invite you to come celebrate our wins together. There’s a club down the road, we occasionally hit after shows.” He rubs his hand behind his neck. You’re looking between his band and your band, Jirou and Denki making small talk she’s twisting her ear jacks around one finger. Amajiki and Sero are discussing their cords. It’s just you four facing each other. You cross your arms and stand back a little closer to Shinso. “So what do you say?” Kirishima pushes the question further. Shinsou flashes a toothy grin and throws and arm around your shoulders, “we’d love to join you.. if you can keep your Pomeranian on a leash.” Bakugou fights to get around Kirishima, “oi, move it shitty hair!” You sigh rolling your eyes walking past all the boys making sure to sway your hips and barely brush against Bakugou as you pass by him. “If we’re going let’s go, before I change my mind.” Bakugou’s full attention has shifted to you as he watches you in your short skirt walking away. He’s like a Lion watching his prey as he walks after you before Kirishima then grabs him by the collar of his shirt holding him back. He watches as Shinso passes by smirking and shrugging. Jogging to catch up to you, the rest of the bands following after.

Bakugou follows behind the two groups down the road, walking beside Kirishima. He kicks rocks as he walks groan and grumbling as he goes. Kirishima laughs and nudges him, “you know you can’t exactly be mad when you’re the one who got yourself in this mess.”

“Shut. Up. Shitty hair.” He grumbles. He’s angry because he knows it’s his fault, he’s very aware and has been every cold lonely night since you left his sorry ass. All he wanted was to make things right with you. He missed you in his bed, at his performances, standing in his kitchen with just his shirt to cover that delicious figure of yours. He missed your crazy sex sessions. He missed everything about you. He couldn’t help himself but be upset when he saw Shinsou do those things, it’s like he knew it got under his skin. He looked up the sidewalk to see you both walking beside each other, Shinsou had just said something to make you laugh, and add that to the many things he missed. Your laugh. Echoing through his ears. He slouched his shoulders. “Man, cheer up you can always tell her how you feel. Without the song. Tell her tonight or just simply congratulate her. Shit, she did damn good tonight.” Kirishima boasted. “Tch- I already know this.”

You walk up to the club doors going inside and making your way to the bar. The two bands find a booth area to share and sit down. Some order drinks from the waitress walking around, but you chose to order straight from the bar. Shinso had sat down with the others. You took a breath an image of Bakugou performing earlier crossing your mind. It made your cheeks warm remember the unknown emotion spilling out of him. That warmth spread straight to your core remember his face and the sweat. His muscle contracting as he drummed his heart out. His tattoos danced on his skin. You licked your lips and ordered your drink. As soon as you got it gulping it down. If you were going to face your ex tonight you’d definitely need a couple drinks first. You get a refill and head back to the booth area everyone is chilling at. Jirou is already deep in conversation with Denki whispering in her ear and her giggling. Amajiki continued to converse with Sero as Kirishima chimes in every now and then. Then there was Bakugou sitting with his arms crossed on his chest legs planted apart you followed his state to Shinsou who sat with his arms behind his head, relaxed back. If looks could kill. The waitress comes up with a round of shots and you quickly take that moment to break the tension. “Shots everybody!” You clear your throat and everyone starts grabbing one. You take two in your hand, handing one to Shinso who happily takes it. Then you turn to Bakugou and lean down letting your crop top pool away from your body revealing your black lace bra to him as you hand the shot out to him. His eyes quick Avery to your breast that are practically spilling out of your bra and you smirk, “eyes up here Katsuki.” He looks up to you and takes the shot. “Cheers for tonight’s performances and winning the battles!” You shout already feeling good from your two drinks. The bands shout cheers and tilt their drinks back.

Bakugou watches you over his shot as you down your shot. Everyone goes back to socializing but in a brighter mood. Soon they start to disperse and make their way to other areas of the club. Shinsou stands up and whispers something into your ear and a blush creeps across your face. Bakugou watches intently as he walks away and leaves just you two. You look down at him and he picks up another shot tilting it to you. You sit across from him and grab another picking it up and tossing it back. You’re now feeling tipsy. And you cross your legs giving him a clear view of the barely there lace between your cushiony thighs. He was in the middle of taking his shot when he slightly chokes then roughly swallows the rest of the liquor. “There’s something I need to say-“ Bakugou clears his throat. Your eyes haven’t left him as you raise and eyebrow. You get up and walk over to him sitting next to him. “Speak then.” You whisper into his ear as he clutches his knee with his hand shivers run through his body. He takes another shot and he word vomits.

“I know I hurt you, and I know there’s nothing I can do to change that. But I wanted to let you know I see you. I see how much better you’re doing without me. How much your striving. You killed shit tonight. I was so impressed, I knew you could sing but you surprised me when you owned the stage like that. I should’ve never doubted you. I should’ve never let those groupies get in between us and ruin the amazing thing we had. None of them could compare to you. You’re literally everything anyone could want and more. I guess that’s why I’m so jealous of Shinsou, being close to you. Being in the spot I used to be in. The way he touches you and makes you laugh. That should be me, I miss you. I miss everything about you, your entire presence. I-“ You slip your hand on his thigh. His cock twitches in his pants and he looks up to you. You’re already looking at him, you lick your lips and smile. His eyes follow your tongue as it drags across your lips. You tilt your head. “Katsuki, Shinsou isn’t your replacement. But he was there for me. When you did what you did. And he helped me learn that I can forgive you. But I needed to stop thinking about you and think about me. And now I’ve become stronger, and more confident and resilient. I’m me. I’m not the same person I was when I was with you. But.. I’m willing to work on things if you are. But you actually have to try. That doesn’t mean things will go back to the way they were but it’s a start.” He just looks into your eyes for a while not believing you are actually willing to start things anew with him. He pushes one of your stray hairs behind your ear and you lean into his touch. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, how much you’ve missed his intimate touch. Bakugo takes the opportunity to lean forward and capture your lips in his. You pull back and open your eyes. He pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth, “should I not have done that?” Heat is pooling in your core right now, you chuckle. “You’re still a cocky son of a bitch.”

You wrap your hands in his blonde tresses pulling him into a heated kisses moaning into his mouth. He shoves his tongue into your mouth his stud hitting your teeth then exploring your mouth. Your hand moves up his thigh and rubs his hard on. He groans into the kiss and pulls away leaning his head on your neck. “Want to get out of here?” He leans back and looks at you. I’ll probably regret this in the morning you think to yourself but the alcohol in your mind shoves the answer out of your mouth, “yes.” He links his fingers between yours as he basically drags you out of the club. He calls a cab over and you both slide into the back seat. You both steal kisses here and there until you get to a familiar apartment building. He pays the taxi and you both get out dashing to the door. You stumble through already locked back into a passionate kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck pulling him deeper in and he kicks his door shut, locking as it closes. He breaks the kiss and you look around. He’s definitely switched it up since you left but not even in a bad way. It looked a lot nicer, you took a deep breath in taking in his sent as it surrounded you completely. Bakugou already had his shoes kicked off and his shirt ripped up off his shoulders. You went to take the skirt off but he growled, “leave it on.” You smiled knowing what these skirts did to you. He pulled you back into him crashing your lips together then trailing down to your neck. He nipped and sucked at your skin leaving love bites everywhere. He knew all the places to make your pussy so wet your underwear were soaked. He lifted you up and set you on the counter pulling your shirt up and over your head. You trailed your hands up his tattoo arms then down his chest to his abs. You kisses his collarbone and rubbed him through his pants. “Mmm” He tilted his head back. You unbuttoned his pants as he I clipped your bra. You let the bra slide down your arms as you flung it somewhere into the room next to where you sat on the counter. He shuffled out of his pants putting the pitched tent in his pants on full display. He wedged himself between your thighs gently laying you back, he pulled your panties off from underneath your skirt. “Damn princess, are you that wet already? You haven’t been taking care of yourself have you..” he ran his hands down your body grabbing your below the knee and spreading you open so he could see just how wet you were for him. “The toys just don’t do it for me-“ you breath out shakily as the cool are hits you. Bakugo runs his hard length along your slick, only to pull away. “Do not tease me Katsuki.” He tightens his grip on your legs. He loved when you addressed him by his first name. He planted kisses along your thighs until he reached your core. He blew cold air onto your wetness. You clenched around nothing and arched your back. He looked up at you from between your thighs, you squirming already. He let your legs rest on his shoulders as his hands reached for your hardened peaks. Twisting and pulling your nipples as he licked up your slit. You gasped taking in the sheer pleasure feeling as if you’d reach your climax right then. He took your clit into his mouth and hollowed out his cheeks sucking on it before flicking his tongue over it. “Katsuki,” you moaned out for him ready to fall apart. He let go of your right bud to bring his hand down to where he was feasting on you. He slowly rubbed circles around your entrance with his middle finger as he licked viciously at your clit, his tongue piercing rolling against your swollen bud of nerves. “You like that teddy bear?” You reeled in the bliss of him using your pet name from when you were together. It made you even wetter. He caught on right away as you pushed your wetness onto his finger, he took his ring finger and collected your slick with his fingers before slipping them gently into you. He pinched your nipple as he start to thrust his fingers in and out of your core, letting the lewd sounds fill his apartment once again. How he missed the sounds of your moans ringing through his empty apartment.

His cock throbbed, pre cum dripping from the tip. He hooked his fingers inside of you feeling you clenching around his fingers, your release approaching quickly. He released your clit and stood connecting his lips to yours. You moaned into his mouth as he muted you with his tongue. You tasted yourself on him, he pulled away from you a long string of saliva still connecting your mouths as you let your tongue hang out of your mouth with your eyes glazed over with lust. Bakugou loved seeing you melt under his touch, being so open and vulnerable to him. He plunged his fingers in and out of you at a quicker speed pressing against your g-spot everytime. He looked into your eyes as your mouth still open for him with drool running down your chin and the corners of your mouth. He collected the saliva and juices in his mouth and grabbed your throat with his hand he had occupied with your nipple. He didn’t want to spat into your mouth but let the string of spit drip down into your mouth as you happily let it intrude your mouth dripping onto your tongue and you swallowing. He then took your nipple into his mouth shoving his fingers into your mouth to replace his tongue. You sucked on his fingers as you went over the edge squirting on his hand. He let go of your nipple with a pop and watched as you squirted up his forearm. “That’s right teddy bear, cum for me” Your back arched off the counter as you finished your legs quaking. He eased you out of your orgasm. He scooped you up your skirt wet sticking to your ass as he walked into his living room and dropped onto the couch you straddling his hips. He kissed your jaw and your neck as you caught your breath. You grabbed both sides of his face kissing him, then trailed your kisses down his neck biting his collar bone and moving down his chest. You licked one of his buds pulling it into his mouth as he moaned and moved to his other repeating the action you then, licked his abs leaving a trail of marks down then until you reached his massive cock. You grabbed it wrapping both your hands around it and started stroking it. His hands gripped the couch cushions, he leaned his head back eyes closed in ecstasy. You took his engorged head into your mouth swirling your tongue around the tip. He wrapped one hand into your hair as you slowly bobbed your head making your way down his entire length. It had been a while since you’ve performed on him so you couldn’t go all the way before he hit the back of your throat triggering your gag reflex. He slightly chuckled moving your curls away from your face wrapping them in his big hand, “take your time teddy bear” you look at him through your lashes with your big doe eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth.” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you tried to force more of him down your throat. His hips bucked into you causing him to shove more down your throat. You swallowed and it aloud you to take more of him. You cupped his balls massaging them and he couldn’t help himself to continue to fuck your pretty face. “Mmm, just like that teddy bear. You’re doing so good for me.” He shoved his cock into your mouth repeatedly until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He pulled you up to him by your hair and flipped you over so your knees were on the cushions and your arms were resting on the back of the couch. He rubbed his head at your entrance, “are you ready teddy bear” you nodded quickly confirming this is what you wanted. He ran one of his hands down your back to the small of it right about your skirt. He unzipped it and let it fall onto the couch. He slapped your ass and slowly eased his head into your entrance. You whimpered as he stretched you. He grabbed your shoulder while the other hand rest on your hip and slowly eased himself in. He bottomed out letting you adjust to him. You slowly shifted yourself and starting to move front and backwards rocking yourself on your knees fucking yourself on his cock. “Fuck- baby.. your so tight.” He started thrusting into you and you hesitantly looked back over your shoulder. Bakugo was staring at where you both met, as he was entering you enjoying the view of his cock splitting you apart. You’re cheeks reddened as he looked up and caught you watching him. He smirked at you and slapped your ass leaving a pink handprint. He pulled you back onto his cock picking up his pace fucking you hard showing you just how much he missed you wrapped around him. You faced forward now moaning crazy almost positive any of his neighbors could hear you. He grabbed your hair and rutted into you slamming himself into you hitting your soft spot as your gummy walls sucked him in. He felts himself coming closer to his finish. You started to throw it back at the same time he was thrusting in and he groaned loudly, “fuck teddy bear you like throwing that ass back on this fat fucking cock don’t you” another rough smack landed against your opposite cheek, your ass now a pink on both sides. You both moved in sync and he grabbed both your hips. “I’m about to cu-“ he slammed into you hitting your cervix as you screamed out, “Katsuki.” He grinded against you riding his finish out. He then pulled out watching as his seed dripped out of you onto your skirt. “So sexy” he rubbed circles on your ass. You lay slumped over the side of the couch. He grabs a throw blanket from one of the chairs sitting off to the side and wraps it around you picking you up bridal style. You lay your head against his shoulder. “You can rest, I’ll clean you up teddy bear. Don’t worry.” You relaxed into him and let your eyes close, not sure if you’d regret it anymore in the morning.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou smut #katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki smut #bakusqaud #bakugou fluff #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #mha katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #kirishima #amajiki #my hero academia jirou #shinsou hitoshi #bakugoudrummer #mha smut

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reinvent-and-believe · 4 years

Note

48 from dialogue prompts + 50 from wordless i-love-yous for geraskier?

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

It catches Geralt’s eye while he haggles over an outrageously priced jar of alchemy paste with a none-too-impressed herbalist on the outskirts of Novigrad, a buxom widow with thick-braided auburn hair by the name of Irmina.

“This for sale too?” He picks up the brooch from the countertop where it rests in a beam of golden light streaming through a dingy window. He examines it. It’s simple enough metalwork, a brass oval with a scalloped edge, but inlaid in its face is a single pressed yellow flower framed by tiny white blooms encased in resin.

The herbalist’s dour demeanour brightens immediately. “It is indeed!” she answers, her brown eyes shining in a plump, suddenly pleasant face. “Made it myself just last week. It’s something of a hobby of mine, making pretty knick-knacks from the flowers we can’t sell. Got plenty more like this if you’d like to peruse ‘em, master witcher! Forget-me-nots and arenaria, hellebore, violets, any flower you might like.”

A buttercup, he realizes belatedly. That’s the yellow flower in the center.

“No.” He sees Irmina’s brow furrow in offense, so he hastens to appease her. “No need, I’ll take this one. I...I’m partial to buttercups.”

Her freckled face breaks into a sly, knowing smile. “Oh, aye, I’m sure someone is partial to buttercups.” She winks, waving away his stammered attempts at an answer. “Never you mind, I know a man besotted when I see one, and it seems a witcher’s not so different. Tell you what. Fifty crowns for the paste and I’ll throw the brooch in for only ten.”

Leaving the herbalist’s shop with an overpriced paste, a lighter purse, and a useless trinket, Geralt curses himself for a fool.

He’s not sure why he bought it.

He knows buttercups are Jaskier’s favorite, of course. “None but the noblest of flowers for my sobriquet!” Jaskier had squawked indignantly when Geralt once made the grave mistake of referring to the pesky things as weeds after he’d stopped Roach from chomping on a patch of the bright, poisonous blooms.

They are weeds, buttercups. They serve no function. They can’t be used in any of the potions, decoctions, or oils Geralt brews, nor do they have any particularly helpful curative properties for humans.

“As ever, my dear witcher, you have no sense of poetry,” Jaskier had sighed in a most put-upon voice when told as much. “Their function is they’re pretty. Their function is to enrich our lives through the beauty of the natural world.” He’d looked to the sky, tip of his tongue between his teeth showing through his frown as was his custom when puzzling through the right way to turn a phrase. “From a strictly utilitarian perspective, perhaps the buttercup has less value than, say, moleyarrow, or verbena, or chamomile, even. Some plants provide nutritional or medicinal or alchemical qualities of various sorts. But some exist to make life worth living! To transform the banal into the sublime.” He’d plucked a buttercup from the roadside, twirling it between his long fingers. “It’s graceful and balanced, effortlessly beautiful. It’s vibrant, bright like...like sunlight, on a summer afternoon! And when you see it growing alongside the various and sundry flora, it fills you with the loveliest burst of warmth, like a lover’s smile.”

“So...it’s a pretty weed.”

“You’re incorrigible, witcher, that’s what you are.” Jaskier had huffed dramatically before tucking the buttercup behind Geralt’s ear, his face alight with a delighted grin.

Like sunlight on a summer afternoon.

The Kingfisher Inn is crowded when Geralt arrives. He goes to the bar, orders an ale from Olivier, and leans against the counter to take a look at the stage.

Jaskier loves playing the Kingfisher. In many of the inns he plays across the Continent, he’s relegated to a corner to try to sing over the clang of dinner, his only option to win the common folk over a raucous drinking song or a filthy ditty. And while the bard doesn’t shy away from such vulgarities, the patrons of the Kingfisher tend to be of a more artistically inclined ilk, responding with appropriate gusto to the virtuosic art songs that he rarely performs outside of competitions or Oxenfurt.

Or so he’d explained to Geralt when he’d suggested they meet up at the inn.

Jaskier sits atop a tall stool on a rather large stage framed by crimson curtains, his sky-blue doublet a vivid contrast. The audience, enraptured, listens to his ballad, a melancholy tale of a fair maiden who’s violently killed before she can profess her love to a farmhand in her village, a beautiful, strong, kind man whose hair shines like a blaze of pale fire in the sunlight. Her love for him tethers her to this world, and her spirit—bitter, weary, and endlessly yearning—calls the men working in the fields to join her dance at midday, when the sun is in its zenith, hoping against hope for the chance to finally confess to her beloved.

In the end, the brave, noble farmhand sacrifices himself, hoping to stop the spirit’s killings by listening to her song and joining her as she beckons. And as they are reunited, as she finally kisses the lips she’s longed for in a blinding blaze of sunlight, they pass on together, their spirits becoming one.

It’s a contract Geralt worked a few years ago, a noonwraith outside Oreton—or at least something close. As ever, Jaskier has taken artistic liberties, romanticized the actual events (“Sometimes, in our pursuit of Truth, we must sacrifice the facts,” Jaskier loftily explained on more than one occasion. He seemed quite taken with the profundity he seemed to find in the statement. Geralt called it pretentious once and Jaskier hurled a chunk of bread at his head). Once it might have bothered Geralt, but he’s grown accustomed to Jaskier’s rather malleable relationship with veracity in his ballads. There’s no denying the impact of his storytelling: when Geralt glances around the inn, he sees several patrons discreetly dabbing at their eyes.

It’d been an ugly case, leaving him feeling empty, drained. Noonwraiths haunt his thoughts far longer than most the monsters he dispatches. They’re victims of circumstance more than anything, young women who’ve been transformed into bloodthirsty, violent spirits through no fault of their own, through the violence inflicted upon them. Nearly forty men had fallen prey to her before the farmhand distracted her with his kiss—though Geralt would hesitate to classify his grotesque, gruesome sacrifice as such—so the witcher had a chance to strike her down with silver. Jaskier has spun the miserable tale into something beautiful, moving, something that clearly resonates with his captivated audience, that speaks to a greater force at work than the chaotic, banal evils the witcher sees every day, and Geralt thinks he understands, for a moment, what the bard had told him of Truth and facts.

(Geralt doesn’t know what greater Truth is served by changing the beloved farmhand’s hair from the dull brown it really was to “a blaze of pale fire,” but then, Geralt’s not a poet.)

The final notes hang in the air, all eyes fixed on Jaskier for a rapt, breathless moment before the room bursts into wild applause. Jaskier stands and bows deeply, once, twice, a third time, surveying the room as he offers his thanks. When his gaze catches Geralt at the bar, his expression of showman’s grace vanishes, a flash of something that looks almost alarmed for a split second before it’s replaced by a small, gentle smile.

Geralt nods and raises his mug toward the stage in cheers, draining the remainder. Jaskier is quickly swept into the swarm of captivated fans, accepting their praises with a gracious, if distracted, smile.

The witcher turns back to the barkeep to order himself another ale along with a glass of wine.

“Geralt!” Jaskier swerves to avoid a near-collision with a frenzied barmaid on his way to join his companion at the bar. He grabs the wine glass with a groan of appreciation, taking a swig before asking, “Is this for me? Gods, but you’re a marvel, darling, I thank you.” He takes another sip and sends a disarming, roguish wink to a pair of girls staring at him and giggling to each other. “I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive, but it wouldn’t have mattered, I suppose, they only had one room to let when I checked in and it hasn’t cleared out since. You’ll share mine, of course, but I’ve been here a week so, you know, best brace yourself, I’ve quite made the place my own.”

Geralt snorts. He’s stayed in enough rooms that Jaskier has made his own over the past decade to predict with some certainty what mess he’ll soon venture into.

(Doublets draped over furniture after they’ve been discarded; crumpled sheets of paper tossed near, never in the fireplace; a few near-empty bottles of wine; a shirt hung to dry over the modesty screen between the sleeping and bathing areas; bottles of a dozen oils and perfumes and soaps scattered haphazard near the tub; an unmade bed that may well contain an abandoned undergarment or forgotten stocking left by some well-satisfied guest.)

“Have you eaten? Shall we? I’m starved, felt jittery all afternoon and didn’t eat a damned thing which was all well and good until I got onstage and suddenly wished for a fainting couch. Or we could take your things up to the room first, of course. Oh! We could have them bring our dinner up to us, it’s awfully crowded down here tonight and I’m not sure I’m up to socializing all evening, to be honest, I’ve been dreadfully out of sorts, did you notice, Geralt, that I’ve…”

Jaskier continues his ramblings, and the witcher can’t help a twinge of worry for his friend. It’s not unheard of for Jaskier to be in a heightened state over a particularly important performance, but usually afterwards the nerves dissipate and he seems more himself. Not to mention, why would playing in an inn prompt such anxieties? Even if the Kingfisher clientele trends toward the more refined than the country folk he often plays for, it’s still rather a low-stakes environment to trigger such stress.

“New song?” he asks casually. Jaskier always beams when he notices such things, when he makes an effort to ask about his music.

Instead, Jaskier blushes, looking away with an expression that almost seems guilty. “Ah, yes, well, I wasn’t certain when you’d be arriving, of course, I thought I might try out something different, a sort of test audience, as it were, to feel out the piece before I use it for anything important.” The look he’s fixed on Geralt seems almost wary. “Did you...like the song?”

Geralt shrugs. “Not quite how it happened,” he grumbles, out of habit more than anything.

A smile, genuine and rueful, breaks out on Jaskier’s face. “Gods, I’ve missed you, my friend,” he says, shaking his head and looking away quickly.

“Hmm.” He reaches quickly into the coin pouch at his side, thrusting the trinket from the herbalist into Jaskier’s hand with a brusque, “Here.”

“Whatever have we got…” He cuts off as opens his palm. “Oh.”

There have been so few times over the years that Geralt has seen Jaskier speechless that he begins to worry he’s offended him. He turns the brooch over in his hands, once, twice, his thumb swiping gently over its smooth enamel face. He doesn’t look up.

Even in the crowded room, Geralt can smell the shift in his demeanor, the muted sickly-sweet anxious smell becoming something sharp, metallic, pained, like he’s been stabbed. “You’re upset.”

“I...no.” Jaskier shoves the brooch into his trouser pocket, a tense smile on his face, not at all reaching his eyes. “Thank you, Geralt, it’s lovely. Shall we take your bags to the room now?”

“I didn’t...I didn’t get it to upset you.”

Jaskier laughs, a broken thing, and Geralt grows even more alarmed. “You didn’t, it isn’t that, sometimes I want things I can’t have is all.” He grabs the saddlebag sitting at Geralt’s feet, not meeting his eyes as he rushes past him up the stairs to the last bedroom in the hall.

Geralt follows after a moment, giving his companion a respectful distance. There’s a tightness in his shoulders, a knot in his gut that only grows as he watches Jaskier’s hand tremble on the key as he unlocks the door.

It was a stupid idea. He knew it was stupid when he bought it, yet he bought it anyway, somehow ruined everything anyway.

“Here we are.” Jaskier’s voice is filled with a forced cheer as he sets the bag down, hand never leaving the doorknob. “I’ll go fetch us some supper. Or, actually, you know, now that I think of it, I’ve a few errands to run before it gets too late, meant to do it earlier but you know how it goes, lost track of time…”

“Jaskier.” Geralt moves toward him but stops himself, helpless. “Please. I’m sorry I upset you.”

Jaskier stands in the doorway for another moment. He takes a deep breath, closes the door, and walks slowly to the writing desk in the corner. He pulls the chair out, moving the doublet strewn across it before sitting. He doesn’t look at Geralt.

“You didn’t.” Every word is calculated, deliberate. “What kind of ungrateful wretch gets upset over...over an exceptionally thoughtful gift from a friend after a time apart?”

Geralt sits on the edge of the bed. His elbows rest on his knees, fingers locking together as he stares at the floor. “You’re not a wretch. The fault is mine.”

“Dammit, Geralt, there isn’t fault, I only—why did you bring me a gift?”

Geralt frowns. “I’ve bought you things before,” he says slowly.

“Things, yes!” Jaskier vaults from the chair, pacing listlessly about the room, no longer trying to mask his inexplicable distress. “Lute strings when I broke a string and I was low on coin. The lute is my livelihood, it made financial sense for you to replace the string so I could pull my own weight, help you when we pass through several towns in a row with no contracts. Boots when you noticed the hole in the heel of my old pair, because I slow you down limping about in footwear that’s falling apart. Room and board, sometimes, because you know I’m good for it, I’ll cover you the next time.” He’s stopped pacing, stares silent into the fireplace.

“Wasn’t keeping a tab.” Geralt’s voice is quiet. “You needed strings and boots and food and a room.”

Jaskier doesn’t turn to face him, but Geralt sees his hand slip into his pocket, pull out the brooch. His head bends, studying it.

He’s not offended or annoyed or angered by the gift. He’s hurt. But why?

Except...

Jaskier looked guilty when Geralt brought up the song. Like he’d been caught red-handed. Did you like it? he’d asked. Incredulous.

The noonwraith singing her song in hopes that her beloved hears her confession. That he’ll hear her song of longing and come to her.

Hair like a blaze of pale fire, not dull brown.

Sometimes I want things I can’t have.

“Geralt?”

The witcher snaps back to attention, eyes fixed on Jaskier, finally facing him.

“Why did you get it for me, Geralt?”

Geralt frowns. “It’s...pretty,” he starts lamely. “I thought you might wear it when you play. You wear gaudy things.”

Jaskier snorts, a small, crooked grin on his lips.

“It made me think of you,” he confesses quietly, his eyes tracing the wood grain of the floor. “Sometimes...things don’t have to have a function. It was a buttercup and it was pretty and it…made me think of you.”

When Geralt dares to raise his eyes, Jaskier’s staring at him, brows drawn together and mouth slightly agape. After a moment, he walks toward the witcher, sitting carefully beside him on the bed. He reaches his hand towards Geralt’s and presses the little brooch into his palm.

“Will you pin it on me?” he asks softly.

Geralt nods.

His fingers feel thick and clumsy as he fumbles with the delicate clasp. The top few buttons of Jaskier’s doublet, as ever, are undone, but it closes neatly just beneath his exposed neck. Geralt slips a finger beneath the satin fabric to pull it away from his throat, cautiously piercing the fabric with the thin pin and sliding it into its slot, locking the clasp with shaking hands.

His hand doesn’t move from Jaskier’s chest. A sword-calloused thumb, seemingly of its own volition, grazes lightly over the bobbing Adam’s apple.

“Geralt.”

He looks up, almost pulls away but for the flushed cheeks, the tongue that darts out to wet pink lips, the hooded eyes beneath dark lashes fixed on Geralt’s mouth. Jaskier’s breath is warm against his face. When did they draw so close?

“Are you going to kiss me, Geralt?” The breathy whisper is laced with wonder.

And he didn’t...didn’t buy the brooch to entice Jaskier into anything, didn’t mean to solicit any sort of reward, and he opens his mouth to tell him so, yet as his rough hand moves to gently cup the back of Jaskier’s neck the words that tumble out instead are, “I’d like to.”

And Jaskier throws back his head and laughs, a euphoric, intoxicated sound, as his lovely hands cradle Geralt’s face. He brings his forehead to rest against Geralt’s as they still, breathing each other for a moment before Jaskier surges forward to capture his lips.

His kiss tastes like sunlight.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fic #the witcher #my fic #anon asks #prompt fill #thank you so much for this absolutely lovely prompt!!!!! i'm so sorry it took me months to actually filling it!!!

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izumi-fanclub · 3 years

Text

A3! Translation Chikage SR Card “SUNNY SPRING” [Harugumi Fanservice Study Group ~Chikage Edition~]

Aren’t you curious?

Citron

Live music is the best~! It is so exciting and hyping dayo!

Izumi

Citron-kun, you went to an anime song singer’s concert the other day, right?

Citron

Yes! It was a very hot live concert! Coke & Lemon Pawns were also fun!

Masumi

Call & response.

Citron

That is it!

Itaru

Cool, I was really itching to go too. You could just drop by on weekdays any time you like, talk about unbeatable……

Chikage

If you wanted to go so much, you could’ve just taken a paid leave.

Itaru

That’s like, trying to casually pull out a legendary sword out of a stone.

Sakuya

The venue was built by MIZUNO Enterprises in the next town over.

Citron

That is right. It is newly built, and the audience seats were very comfortable!

Tsuzuru

We were on stage at the opening of that venue, right? *

Even though we had the power of Mizuno on our side, I still can’t believe it.

Itaru

That stage really was different from our usual one. It’s pretty refreshing.

Izumi

The re-viewing performance we did before and the White Day Live were both very received……

We often get requests for live performances.

Maybe we’ll have another chance to hold another live together, maybe.

Citron

Yes! I also want to do it!

Sakuya

If that happens, I’ll have to work on my singing again!

Tsuzuru

It also helps when you’re onstage in a musical.

And as an actor, there’s nothing better than being able to sing.

Citron

Of course, singing is important, but that is not all there is to it!

Masumi

More than just the song?

Citron

The fanservice, of course!

I went to the concert as a spectator, I felt the importance of fan support again.

Chikage

Sakyo-san would always tell us to say things like “I would like to thank my fans at….” to thank them for their support.

Citron

Yes! That is why we need to study more about fanservice.

Tsuzuru

You got a point there.

Sakuya

I want to convey how I feel to my fans through various fanservice!

Citron

Like the singer I saw at the concert, you will be more popular if you do stuff in a way that suits your personality while doing fanservice!

Itaru

I get what you mean, the princely type, the energetic type, the cool type and the list goes on.

Citron

Our company members all have different weapons! I am going to start researching on fanservice to take advantage of them!

Sakuya

Chikage-san also puts on a wonderful smile in front of the fans.

Citron

A mature and gentlemanly smile dayo!

Itaru

But, senpai’s also pretty bland.

Chikage

Oi, don’t give such a petty response.

Itaru

How do we add more oomph......

Ah, I got it.

Tsuzuru

I think I’ve got an idea on what it is.

Chikage

I got a bad feeling about this.

Part 2

Itaru

This is why I called you over. This is Producer Sakisaka.

Muku

N-nice to meet you!

Citron

I see, we will be under Muku Productions!

Itaru

Thanks for coming, Muku. We’re researching bout fanservice right now, we plan on using each spring troupe member’s personality to our advantage.

Muku

Wow, each one with a unique fanservice style...... that’s so cool!

Itaru

So, Muku, we wanted to ask for your help in producing a new kind of fanservice that would take advantage of senpai’s sadism.

Muku

If I can be of any help, of course I’ll help you in anything!

A handsome man who is very sadistic... I got it! Please wait a moment!

Masumi

I think he went to get something.

Tsuzuru

Muku knows a lot about shoujo manga, handsome guys and heartbreaking lines, maybe he went to get a book about it to help us.

Izumi

(Chikage-san's fanservice produced by Muku-kun, I wonder that’ll be like.)

Muku

Sorry for the wait!

How about we refer to my shoujo manga!

It’s shoujo manga that’s very popular these days, and it features a really sadistic, handsome guy from the underworld!

Izumi

Oh, I know about it!

There’s even a movie adaptation.

Muku

That’s right.

I’ve always thought that the sadistic hero Byakuran-san is a lot like Chikage-san!*

Tsuzuru

I agree, the vibe is pretty similar.

Sakuya

You’re right!

Chikage

Well, I don’t know, I’m not sure myself.

Citron

This cool bare is awesome!

Masumi

It’s glare, not bare.

Muku

And this line on page 38 of volume 5 has a buzzing great quote in it......! It’s really popular!

How about practicing this line as reference for fanservice?

Chikage

No, I.......

Itaru

If you give it a shot, you might even get some ideas for new fanservice.

Muku

This line is really cool.

I think it’ll definitely suit you, Chikage-san! Please do it...!

Tsuzuru

…... Muku, your eyes are shining.

Chikage

Sigh...... if you look at me like that, how can I not? There’s no way around this, so I’ll give it a try.

Muku

Wow, thank you!

Chikage

Is it the line on this page?

Sakuya

Do your best, Chikage-san!

Itaru

Your move, senpai.

Chikage

“Fuu...... You’re the one who made me get all serious. No matter how much you cry or whine, it won’t reach anyone.”

Chikage

“I’ll chase you to the ends of the earth. Don’t you ever think you can escape me.”

Muku

Wow......!! A heartthrob!

Sakuya

That was so cool......!

Citron

As expected of Chikage! Sadistic lines are perfect for him!

Tsuzuru

No, it’s cool, but......

Izumi

The lines hit and the vibe was perfect, but......

Itaru

Somehow, when senpai’s the one saying the line, there’s like this bloody fear for some reason.

Masumi

It’s not like shoujo manga or a live fanfic.

Itaru

Yup.

Tsuzuru

This is production is a no-go......

Story Clear!

—————T/Ns:—————-

May be referencing Mankai Company doing a live show there at the opening day (A3! White Day event story “Sing Big Thanks!”)

This might be a reference to the character ‘Byakuran’ from the Reborn! Manga/Anime series, if you read his personality section in their fan wiki, you’ll definitely get what Muku means

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toastedkiwi · 4 years

Text

First Man

Summary: you debut a song on stage at the AMAs.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Daughter!Reader, Harry Styles x Popstar!Reader

“No, I got no clue to what she’s performing,” Chris said to the interviewer and looking at you.

“You’ll just have to wait,” you said.

“POPS!” You both hear.

Chris turns knowing exactly who it is. He opens his arms and hugs his son-in-law who’s in an elaborate suit. You smile.

“I’ve missed you,” Harry exclaimed as your dad cups his face.

“I know, Bubba,” Chris said smiling.

You greet Harry’s mother Anne and sister Gemma whilst your dad and husband hug each other like long lost lovers. It took awhile for your dad to warm up to Harry but after seeing the way his only daughter and only child was being treated warmed his heart. It took some convincing from you as well. Chris couldn’t let just anyone marry his little girl.

Yes I'm gonna stay with him tonight

I'll see you in the mornin'

No of course, he won't drink and drive

Chris immediately gets teary eyed seeing you onstage in a gown at a grand piano with spotlight shinning down. He hasn’t heard this song and neither has Harry as he hears you singing. It brings Chris back some memories.

“No, I’m gonna be with him tonight,” you said into the phone.

“Excuse me? Who’s this boy? Is it Tyler? Adam? Tom? If you’re back with Holland, I’m gonna fuckin—.”

“No, Daddy. It’s somebody else. I’m not dating one of your costars. That was a mistake.”

Chris sighed and said, “be careful. Don’t drink and drive.”

“No, of course not,” you said.

“Call me if anything happens, I’ll be there, comet.”

“I know, Daddy. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Oh you'll like him, he's really kind

And he's funny like you sometimes

And I found someone I really like

Maybe for the first time

Chris sniffles and tries his hardest to keep it together especially with a camera pointed at him and Harry. He focuses on the stage where you’re singing.

“Daddy, please! You’ll really like him. He’s really kind,” you said. “And he’s funny like you sometimes.”

“Excuse me?! My jokes are killer all the time, Comet! —Knock, knock,” your dad said truly offended.

“Come in,” you said.

He gives you one look and you start running. He runs after you growling. You scream when he grabs you and lifts you off the ground.

“Have I taught you nothing?!” Chris exclaimed. “We’re gonna try this again, Miss Thing.”

“Oh Jesus,” you rolled your eyes and you can’t help but smile.

“Knock, Knock,” he said.

“Who’s there?” You asked playing along.

“Boo,” he said still holding you tightly not wanting to let you escape.

“Boo, who?” You said confused.

“Aww, munchkin, don’t cry,” your dad said pressing a kiss to your cheek. “It’s just a boy. No need for crying over him.”

You laughed and said facing him, “but Daddy. He’s really good to me. And I think I really found someone I really like— maybe for the first time.”

He can’t help but frown and narrow his eyes.

“Who is he?” He asked.

“His name is Harry,” you said smiling.

No I don't need a jacket

It's not that cold tonight

And you worry, I get it

But he's waiting outside

“Grab a jacket!” Chris yelled at you before you can leave.

“It’s not that cold,” you said as he comes over to you from the kitchen. “And I’m 21, Dad.”

“I know how old you are. I was there and I know you’re a popstar and I—,” he said.

“And you worry, I get it,” you said.

“Yes, so grab a jacket, comet,” he said pointing to the hallway.

“But he’s waiting outside, Daddy,” you said.

“And he can wait longer. Also, you still live under my roof which I don’t get when I know you’re making a shit ton of money off of your music,” Chris said.

“You know they’re still renovating my house,” you said. “And I’m pretty sure you like having your own daughter around again.”

Chris scoffs and shoos you back down the hallway. He knows you’re right. He loves having you around even if you both get very busy with work. It’s nice to know you’re around safe and sound.

You’re quick to put a leather jacket over your outfit. He follows you out without hesitation. You give him a look but he’s got his murder glare.

“Hey, I was thinking that I got the wrong house,” the Brit said as you get in and he’s got the windows down.

Chris looks into the car and you said, “dad, this is Harry. Harry, this is my dad.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Harry said.

“Comet, didn’t you have a poster of him on your wall with some other boys?” Chris asked looking at you.

“DAD!” You looked at him mortified.

“It was One Direction, right?” Chris said.

“Yeah, but we split off into different directions,” Harry said.

“But she didn’t like you,” your dad said. “It was a different one.”

“Was it Liam?” Your boyfriend asked.

Chris shook his head and said, “it was the dude with the bleach blonde hair.”

“Oh, Niall. He’s a cheeky little Irish fucker. I don’t blame you, Y/n,” Harry said.

You try getting out of the car to get away from the embarrassment but Harry locks the doors on you. Chris smiles a bit.

“Have fun, comet,” Chris said pressing a kiss to your temple as you hide your face into your hands.

He steps away from the car and threatened, “I’ll fucking destroy you, Harry, if you hurt my little girl.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Evans,” Harry responded honestly.

I swear on my heart

That he's a good man

I know you'll stay up late

Just waiting for me

“You should be asleep, Daddio,” you said putting your arms around his shoulders.

“Had to make sure you got home safely, munchkin,” Chris said putting a hand over your forearms.

“But you’ve got a plane to catch in the morning,” you said. “And he’s a good man.”

“He was in a boyband, Y/n,” he said.

“He’s in a man-band now,” you said with a giggle.

Chris can’t help but laugh as he stood up from his spot on the couch.

“I still don’t trust him,” your dad said making you frown.

You held me so tight

Now someone else can

But you were the first man that really loved me

You looked to the crowd with a tear rolling down your cheek. Your dad is openly letting the tears stream down his own cheeks. Harry smiles at you with tears of his own building up. He knows it’s about him and your dad but mainly your dad.

Now you're driving to the airport

Not just me you pick up anymore

I've got eight days off coming up

And I can only come home for four

Yeah I just met his family

“Harold,” Chris said.

“Mr. America!” Harry exclaimed throwing his arms around your dad.

You smile happily at your dad and he gives in hugging your boyfriend. He hugs you next and kisses your cheek before helping Harry load your bags into the car. There’s not much— only your carry-ons. It’s a short trip to Boston so everyone can meet Harry and you can spend time with your dad.

“How was London?” Your dad asked as Harry is outside playing with your cousins.

“I met his family,” you said.

“So, it’s getting serious?” He asked.

You nod your head. It breaks his heart but he won’t tell you that.

He makes me really happy

I think he might be the one, oh

I swear on my heart

That he's a good man

I promise he loves me

He'd never hurt me

You held me so tight

Now someone else can

But you were the first man that really loved me

“I promise you! He makes me really happy, Daddy,” you said.

Chris scoffs. You’ve always been a pretty happy kid and even with a chaotic life you live, you’re sunshine peaking through the clouds on a rainy day or more like a shining star around a world of darkness. No boy or man will change that. You’ll cry for a week or so over them and your dad will be there to comfort you or at least try to.

“Dad,” you said.

“Come here,” your dad said seeing you aren’t too happy with him.

You plop down next to him and he pulls you into his side.

“I worry,” Chris said.

“You always do,” you mumbled.

“Yeah it’s my job as you’re my daughter. I don’t want you with an undeserving man of you,” he admitted. “You deserve the best.”

“I think he might be the one,” you said.

“You sure?”

You nod your head.

“Well, shit,” he said.

“Dad,” you said.

“You’re growing up on me, comet.”

Now you're on the driveway

Faking a smile

You wish you could tell him he doesn't deserve me

So I had to stop the car and turn around

To tell you, you were the first man that really loved me

Your dad wants to yell at Harry and tell him to stay the fuck away from you because nobody is good enough for his little girl. But Chris bites his tongue and smiles from the driveway as Harry drives off with you.

“Wait! Stop the car!” You exclaimed.

Harry does and you’re quickly out the car. You run to your dad and into his arms.

“You know I love you, right?” You said.

“Yes, comet,” Chris said.

“You’ll always be the first man I love,” you said. “He’s just in second place.”

“HEY! I heard that!” Harry yelled making your dad smile.

“Shut it, loser!” Your dad yelled back.

And before they open up the doors

I say I've never seen you cry before

You say "You've never looked so beautiful

You know you'll always be my little girl"

You're looking at me, while walking down the aisle

With tears in your eyes, maybe he deserves me

“I don’t think I’ve seen you cry before,” you said.

“Only when you aren’t looking, bubs,” your dad sniffled adjusting your veil. “And you’ve never looked so beautiful.”

“Dad,” you said.

“You know, you’ll always be my little girl, Y/n,” Chris said. “My little shooting star.”

You nod your head with tears streaming down your cheeks. Your dad hugs you tightly.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said.

“Alright, just let me know ‘cause I’ll drive you outta here and we can watch Disney movies at home,” Chris said holding you still.

You shake your head no and said, “he’s the one, Daddy.”

Chris smiles at your words and said, “we can’t keep him waiting any longer.”

“Yeah, we can’t,” you said.

The doors open and you take your dad’s arm. You both start walking down the aisle. Chris can’t help but smile looking at you as you look at Harry. Your eyes sparkle looking at your soon to be husband. Maybe Harry isn’t that bad.

You don't even know how much it means to me now

That you were the first man that really loved me, that really loved me

You really love me

You’re quick to get off stage and go to your dad who’s in the first row with everyone. Chris stands up just as quickly. You go into his arms and wrap your arms around his waist. Everyone cheers and applauses for you.

“Fuckin’ shit, comet,” your dad whispered into your ear and holds you tightly as you cry into his chest. “I wasn’t expecting that at all.”

“I love you, Daddy,” you said.

“I know. I love you too,” he said wiping away your tears.

“And I love you both,” Harry said putting his arms around you both.

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luminnara · 3 years

Text

The Dismemberment Song | BOP Victor Zsasz x Reader | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey

Words: 3,791

Summary: Zsasz takes a liking to one of the burlesque dancers at Roman’s club.

PART ONE | PART TWO |

WARNINGS: graphic blood/gore/violence, reader may or may not torture and murder a guy, alcohol, all that good Gotham stuff, reader is kinda fucked up

Seriously, don’t read this if you don’t like blood

Based on The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid!

This is written as a kinda vague fem!reader, but if there’s interest I can always write alternate versions for different genders, more specific body/personality types, or whatever else might tickle your fancy! Just hit up my ask box!

Requests are open!! Pls, I really wanna write more Zsasz or Zsaszmask x reader, gimme ideas!

The Black Mask was a club that boasted only the best of the best. Top shelf booze, luxurious furnishings, and entertainers that Gotham’s other club owners wished they could get their hands on all came together to form the East End’s trendiest spot. You were lucky enough to be one of those very entertainers, and you had been performing onstage at Roman’s club ever since one of his goons saw you dancing at another spot across town. Roman Sionis had bought you easily, promising a good nightly wage and all the free drinks you could stomach, and a few years later, you were still enjoying the nice gig at the Black Mask.

Most nights were the same; you showed up around seven, hung around in the dressing room with the others while you all got ready, and enjoyed a drink or two before your first number. You were always in the chorus, not that you really minded--Roman paid you more than enough to keep you happy, even though you knew the stars got more. Girls who did solo numbers, especially if they could sing, those were Mr. Sionis’s favorites. You never really expected to achieve that kind of status, not when people like Dinah Lance were around and holding his attention, so when Roman pulled you aside one night to tell you that he wanted to give you the chance to do your own routine, you nearly dropped your drink.

“Full creative control,” he said, a hand resting at the small of your back as you gaped at him.

“I--what?” you managed to choke out. “I-I mean, thank you, Mr. Sionis, really--”

“Please,” he chuckled. “Call me Roman.”

“Thank you, Roman,” you smiled, swallowing down your fear. “I won’t disappoint you, I swear.”

“I know you won’t, doll.” he motioned for someone to bring him a drink. “Full creative control, like I said. I want to see what’s swirling around in that pretty mind of yours. Put some heart into it for me, k doll?”

You nodded. “You got it, boss.”

He grinned, hugging you to his side and pressing a kiss against your temple like he did with all the girls he liked. “Looking forward to it, beautiful.”

He let you go, turning to leave, and Zsasz slunk after him, but not before casting you an almost annoyed look.

“Don’t disappoint,” he teased, whistling low before he followed his boss.

You gulped. You were sure he wouldn’t mind peeling your face off, but you rather preferred staying alive.

“I won’t!” you called after him bravely.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes practically boring into you as if were sizing you up. He thought you were just some prissy little girl, didn’t he? Just like Roman, just like everybody else. But you would show them. They wanted to see what kind of shit really ate at your brain? Oh, you’d give them a nice little glimpse.

And so, only a couple shorts weeks later, here you were, getting ready in the dressing room like usual, only you were far more nervous than you had been for any other shift. You had busted your ass getting everything ready, even taking a few nights off to work twice as hard on what you hoped would be a good debut. You had given the band their sheet music, you had learned your lyrics inside and out (because you were absolutely determined to go that extra mile for Roman Sionis and show him that not only could you prance around onstage, but you could sing, too), and you had spent hours upon hours hand-decorating an old corset and lingerie set you had sitting around. Roman wanted this to come from the heart, he wanted a passion project, and you were gonna give it to him.

You just had to pray that he was in the right mood to enjoy it.

“Think you’re good to go, my love,” the house mom said as she finished with your hair.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. So far, so good...your hair was in big barrel curls, still warm to the touch as your house mom gave it a couple more passes with the hairspray for good measure.

“You sure I don’t need--”

“You’re gonna knock ‘em dead,” she interrupted, retreating to her usual chair.

You kept staring at your reflection. “Do you think it’s too much? I mean...”

She laughed loudly. “Hon, this is Gotham. There’s no such thing as too much.”

Glancing down at your outfit, you weren’t so sure. “But...”

“But nothing. Now go on, go show Roman why he stays in business.”

You stood on shaky legs, nodding to her as you made your way towards the door. “R-right.”

“Break a leg,” she called after you.

All you could do was nod. You knew what you were doing. You had practiced for hours every day to get ready for this. With a deep breath, you made your way down the hall leading to stage, shaking your hands out as you stood in the wings. You could do this. You were ready.

As soon as your stage name was announced, you stepped out, ruby encrusted heels clicking against the wooden floorboards. The lights were harsh, the crowd quiet as you came out to face them. The stage was set for you, a few props already waiting for you as you stood there, ready for the music to start.

Then, the band began playing, and you sprang into action.

“Hold still, my sweet. I’m tryin to measure the space between your molar and your jaw...” You sang, lunging forward to grab the medical-grade calipers sitting in a metal bucket for you. You trailed them down over your victim’s jaw, smiling as you did so. “...This caliper, no cause for fear. No it...it doesn’t hurt, it only helps me measure how much skin you have...”

Across the club, Zsasz looked up. He was standing near Roman, his boss sitting in a booth while he chatted with some business associates. He was far more interested in you than their conversation, his dark eyes tracking you as you moved across the stage. He was absolutely enthralled by your outfit, your tightly-laced corset covered in blood red rhinestones that glimmered under the stage lights, your matching bra and thong shining just as brightly. You looked like you were covered in blood, the gems catching his eye in a way he hadn’t expected.

“--and the topmost layer of fat, but I won’t make an incision till you’re nice and numb...” There was an operating table on the stage, where one of Roman’s lowest-ranking goons was tied down. If Zsasz remembered correctly, this guy had fucked up pretty monumentally recently, so seeing him strapped down and struggling brought a grin to his face.

You ran over to the man, the crowd laughing as you leaned across him. “...Oh, and laughing gas can be so much fun, please don’t doubt my decision...”

The scene you had set was both comedic and sexual. In all honesty, Zsasz hadn’t expected you to do anything like this; you were a chorus girl, someone he had thought would go for something overdone and classic. Maybe some old school stupid, annoying, Singin In The Rain type shit, yet there you were, dressed in an outfit that was obviously meant to emulate dripping blood while you flitted around a man on a gurney.

Zsasz couldn’t look away.

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee!” you squealed, teasingly pressing your sawblade to the goon’s torso. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”

You grabbed the goon as he struggled against his restraints, holding him down. Zsasz was sure the man was in on your little number, and he thought it was cute; you were pretending to be some sort of killer, maybe trying to appeal to Roman’s face peely urges. Maybe you were trying to make the boss happy by scaring his lackey like this.

“So don’t you squirm, don't you fret, I'm not gonna hurt you...yet.” You grinned, leaning down before you shoved the man’s face to the side, letting him go as you ran back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of blood lettin’, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading...”

You pranced back to the gurney, moving with that little extra theatrical oomph that made everyone think you were just playing. You smiled as they clapped and laughed loudly. They would figure it out soon enough.

“Cutting you up will be so refreshing for me...” you cooed, discarding the calipers in favor of a scalpel. You traced it down the goon’s bare chest, a little line of blood following the blade as it pierced his flesh.

He let out a scream, just as you hoped he would, and you gave his little table a shove, sending it wheeling a short distance away.

“Now don’t you cry,” You sang, “And don’t call Miriam, she’s my alibi...oh let me check your toes out!” You picked up a set of pliers, taking hold of his big toe. “Aren’t your toenails cute?” you grabbed one and pulled, the goon screaming as you removed the nail, leaving a bloody pulp behind. “...and red is such a lovely color on you!” you leaned down in his face, grabbing the opposite foot’s big toenail and yanking. “...But you won’t be needing those!”

Roman began clapping, giving a loud “Whoo!” as he watched you. He had no idea that when you had asked him for the name of his least favorite henchman, this would be the reason. Now, watching the man suffer onstage in front of everyone while you were dancing around him in six inch heels and a scandalously skimpy outfit, Sionis was more than entertained. He was impressed, absolutely astounding by the cruelty his little burlesque dancer held inside of her. He couldn’t have hoped for more.

“When you’ve got no knees!” you sang, dropping your weapons in favorite of a crowbar. “...Or shins, or pinky fingers, or arteries....”

You brought your weapon down on each of the man’s legs, somehow still managing to poise yourself perfectly as you did so. You gave him a few good whacks, then dropped the bar, leaning down to pick a knife up out of the bucket and run it over his hands teasingly.

“...so hold still while I remove them!” you trilled.

The man tried to sit up, struggling against his restraints, but you shoved him back down with a sweet smile.

“...Oh, and don’t fight back,” you sang, hopping up to sit next to him. “I think you’ll find you’re missing the point, with that.”

Meanwhile, Victor Zsasz was grinning, showing off his gold teeth while he watched you. He kept a close eye on your hips as they swayed, his trained eyes following your ass as it moved across the stage. Were you really carving a man up right then and there? He wanted it to be true. He wanted to smell the overwhelming tang of blood as you plunged a knife into your victim. But he was too far away, and so he had to settle for watching instead.

Your victim tried to scream, and you shoved his head to the side playfully.

“That’s enough outta you!” you sang, holding his jaw tightly.

As you repeated your chorus, your knife returned to the man’s flesh and he grunted in pain, pleading to an audience that didn’t care about him. The Black Mask was a fucked up place for fucked up people, no matter how trendy it was, and nobody in the audience was going to protest when someone was torn apart onstage. Besides, Roman Sionis was far too powerful for the GCPD to go after, and as you heard him laughing loudly in the audience, you had a pretty good feeling that he wasn’t going to send anyone after you for carving somebody up in a way that only you could.

You kept going, peeling your underbust corset off with the same grace and dexterity that Zsasz peeled faces with. As you stood in only your bra, thong, garters and stockings, you felt exhilarated, powerful, as if you had been born to cur people up in front of an audience.

It’s not like this was your first time chopping a body up, anyways; there was a reason you had to move to Gotham and get a new gig, after all.

Zsasz watched you. In fact, his eyes were glued to you, even when Roman walked away to chat with a few mob bosses in a nearby booth. Were you seriously killing this man right in front of everyone? Victor didn’t necessarily care for all the theatrics, but he could appreciate how seriously you took you took your craft, and he had to admit, he was surprised that this was what you had come up with when Roman told you to give him something good.

“‘Cause I’m all out of hurt, you’ve used up all I’ve got,” you taunted, sneering down at your victim as you brought your saw down on his leg. “So I’m chopping you up and still coming up squat! If I want it to bleed, I’ll just roll up my sleeve and saw and saw and saw...”

The blade cut back and forth, and Zsasz’s eyes followed it. Blood was spurting up, drenching your arms as if you were wearing red opera gloves.

“And saw, and saw, and saw, and saw....”

“Zsasz, can you believe this?” Roman asked, leaning towards him.

“No, boss,” Zsasz said with a little grin, shaking his head.

“She’s good. We may have to give her a new job...”

You paused, giving your victim a break as you tossed the saw back into the bucket, drops of blood spattering across the stage as you pulled out a large butcher knife. Before it could touch Roman’s henchman, you used it to flick open the clasp on your bra, tossing the thin little piece of lingerie out into the crowd. You didn’t really care where it went; you were too busy enjoying yourself.

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee,” you purred, trailing the blade down the side of the man’s face. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”

“So don’t you squirm, don’t you fret, I’m not gonna hurt you, oh no, no, no, not...yet.” you plunged your blade into his chest, between two of his ribs, not close enough to knick his heart but definitely deep enough to cause him immense pain despite all the adrenaline that was sure to be running through his system now.

You pulled the knife back out, blood dripping off the metal blade as you held it tightly and pranced back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of bloodletting, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading but there’s one thing you’re forgetting...”

Turning back to him, you brought the blade to his throat, and in the crowd, Zsasz’s eyes lit up. He was delighted. He was enthralled. His pants were getting a little tight, but whatever. The rest of the audience was gazing up at you with wonder, disgust, amusement...but Zsasz was absolutely admiring the way you so confidently played with your victim. The theatrics were starting to grow on him, he decided, and he wanted nothing more than to go right up there and lick all that blood off your face.

“There’s nothing like the thrill of a shredding,” you sang, almost snarling, “but this is no orthodox beheading...”

You destroyed the man on the gurney, carving through him, drenching yourself in blood in an almost comical way.

“Cutting you up,” you sang as you made an absolute mess. “Cutting you up...”

“Cutting you up is gonna be....” you finally stepped back, catching your breath as the song slowed. “...so refreshing for me.”

As your routine finished, you took a little bow, still holding the knife as you crossed your ankles and bent at the waist in a delightfully fancy gesture. The man on the gurney was very much dead, blood dripping down onto the stage, and the audience was still eating up every second of it. You could hear Roman cheering, and as you spotted him standing there amidst the crowd with Zsasz at his side, you blew them both a little kiss.

“How about that?” you heard Roman’s voice boom above the clapping as you strode offstage. “I would call for an encore, but unfortunately, I think we’d need a new victim....”

Your head was still abuzz with the rush of killing, and you walked back to the dressing room in a daze. You were vaguely aware of Dinah Lance wrinkling her nose as you passed her, but you didn’t pay her any mind. Absolutely nothing could kill your good mood now.

“Well?” the house mom asked as you made your way to your mirror. “Sounds like it went well, judging by those cheers...”

You smiled and hummed to yourself, nodding as you reached for something to clean your face with. You were going to need an entire shower to get all this blood off yourself.

“Told you.” the house mom snorted a laugh.

“He loved it,” you grinned.

She shook her head in amusement. “You are one fucked up girl, I’ll tell you that much.”

“That’s showbiz, baby,” you joked, raising a towel to start working at wiping your face.

“Oh, pussycat?” a singsong voice made you freeze.

You could see Zsasz in the mirror.

He was leaning in the doorway, smirking as he watched you. “Boss wants to talk.”

You paled. Had you fucked up after all? Did Roman get his shits and giggles and now planned on having Zsasz peel your face off? Sionis was infamous for his fickle moods. You’d watched him have plenty of people dragged off into back rooms just for speaking at the wrong time, and you had just done way worse than interrupt him.

You gawked at Zsasz, still staring at his reflection. What were you supposed to do? Run? He was blocking the only door, and there was no way you’d be able to get past him. You had no choice but to follow him to Roman.

“O-Okay,” you managed to stammer out, finally turning towards him. “Lead the way.”

“Might want this.” he held up the bra you had tossed, twirling the strap around his finger while he gave you a smile that showed off his gold teeth.

“Give me that!” you snapped, rushing towards him.

“Ah.” he held it above his head, leering down at you. “Think I like this view more...”

“Zsasz!” you protested, scrambling against his chest and practically trying to claw your way up him to get your lingerie.

He froze. He finally smelled the metallic tang of all that blood covering you, and coupled with the feeling of your tits against his chest...oh, he was so fucked.

When he dropped the bra, you grabbed it from him, tossing it back to your mirror and moving to pick up a silky red robe off a nearby hook. You shrugged it on, tying it shut while Zsasz cleared his throat and offered you his arm.

“Such a gentleman,” you sneered, taking it anyways.

“When I want to be.” his voice was low and rough, as if his vocal chords were scraping against each other with every syllable.

You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded, as he led you out into the club once more. The band was playing as a few people cleaned up the carnage you had left behind, the bar’s patrons all chatting and drinking again. It was as if nothing had even happened and they hadn’t just watched a man be torn apart onstage a few minutes prior.

Zsasz took you to Roman, the crowd parting before the two of you easily. Sionis was sitting in his favorite booth, sipping his drink and laughing, still seeming to be in a very good mood.

“Ah, there she is!” He said when he saw you, standing up and spreading his arms.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You asked nervously as Zsasz let you go.

“Yes, yes, I had Mr. Zsasz grab you so that I could congratulate you on a thrilling performance.”

You stared at him. “You liked it?”

“Liked it? I loved it, darling! A bit messy for my tastes, but a lovely show, truly, though I suspect our dear Mr. Zsasz here wishes he could have been the one to take care of your victim. Isn’t that right, Zsasz?”

You glanced up at Zsasz. He grunted, not necessarily in agreement. He didn’t hate watching your performance by any means, and as much as he enjoyed helping little birds fly away from the world, he rather enjoyed watching you do it, too.

“I’m glad, Mr. Sionis,” you said.

“I told you, call me Roman.” he took a sip of his drink. “You know, normally, I don’t enjoy it when someone kills the people that belong to me, but I must admit, you certainly have a way with a knife.”

��I would have asked your permission, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” you gulped.

“And what a lovely surprise it was!” Roman laughed loudly. “You’re very talented...in fact, how’d you like a promotion? Yes? Perfect, perfect! No, no, don’t shake my hand, you’re...well, you’re covered in blood. Quite frankly, it’s disgusting.” He snapped his fingers. “Mr. Zsasz, take her up to the penthouse so she can clean up, I don’t want all this blood getting on the new carpeting in here.”

“Oh, Mr. Sio--Roman,” you cleared your throat, “I can use the shower in the dressing room, really, it’s no trouble--”

“Nonsense, nonsense.” he waved you away. “You’re part of the team now, aren’t you? Besides, a job well done deserves some sort of reward. Zsasz will show you upstairs. Don’t worry, he’s completely harmless.”

As Zsasz put a hand on your lower back, you had your doubts. Harmless wasn’t really a word you would choose to describe Roman’s right hand man.

“Come on, princess.” Zsasz purred, guiding you through the crowd before you had much of a chance to protest.

He took you to the elevator in the corner, the bouncer standing guard in front of it stepping aside with a nod. The man hit the up button, and soon, you were pressed up against Zsasz in the small space, on your way up to Roman’s spacious penthouse.

#victor zsasz x reader #zsasz x reader #victor zsasz #bop zsasz #birds of prey zsasz #birds of prey imagine #birds of prey x reader #birds of prey #dceu #dceu imagine #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc x reader #gotham #chris messina imagine

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justasoftstan · 3 years

Text

This Moment

Characters: Junhui x Reader

Genre/warnings: Angst. Little Fluff. Idol!Reader , Idol!Seventeen Jun

Word count: 1592 words.

The burden of being an idol. How does it really weight?

Is it heavy as the make-up you wear? Or the clothes and costume changes’ you wear?

Is it heavy as the harsh criticisms and training period you must endure?

Is it heavy as the burdens and problems you share with your members that you are leading?

Or is it on the opinions of the media and prying eyes of the public on you and your personal life?

How does a person can carry all of it without breaking their backs and crumbling down when everything else seems to fail? You do not know how, but you managed. Or trying not to crumble down. Not when you have other people to think. If you go down, they will go down too.

So, you close your eyes and take a deep breathe. Allowing yourself to be consumed by the energy coming from the screams and cheers of the people who supported you from the start. They are the exact reason you are standing there. The very people who helped you achieved your dream. The very people who spent their money and time to see you there. You have no excuse for petty problems you have in your life.

“5 MINUTES, BE READY TO BE ONSTAGE”. The shout from one of the directors distracted you from your thoughts, reminding you where you are. You scramble in the dark trying to find your way to your members before going onstage.

There they are, forming a circle. You squeezed in between them, “Sorry, I forgot were doing this.”

“Relax, Leader-nim. We are going to rock this stage tonight.” One of your members said with a reassuring smile. Earning a form of motivational cheering from other members. Well, it seems like you are not the only one nervous tonight.

You did a final speech hyping your members up before wearing the fake confidence you are forced to practice even in the corners of your practice room. Soon you are met by the thousands of people who came to spend their night to see you perform. Allowing their energy to consume you as give your best performing your songs and singing with your heart. It is one of those nights where feel all the energy and the emotions of your songs that feels like it is the only way to express your emotions. And as you prance around the stadium, you see familiar faces cheering alongside the fans. Despite being half-covered, you recognized their faces. It was Dino who you first recognized, shouting for your name when you made eye contact with him. Then he pointed out Jun, who is just a seat from him beside Hoshi. Your first instinct was to wave at them with a big smile. Then one of your members noticed you waving at some guys, and soon she was there beside you are waving along with you, even sending finger hearts at them.

Some fans around them took notice of this and start looking around them. Not long enough, they realized that 5 of the members from Seventeen are in their area. Loud screams from their area ignited as the news spread in that side of the venue. They did not go unnoticed by your other members and soon they are going on that side saying hello to the members of Seventeen. This made you nervous and self-conscious as you go on with your concert. It didn’t help when you heard a fan in the crowd say, “Yah! Seventeen is here watching the concert. Bet they are dating one of them.”

The weight of those words lingered on your mind as the light gone off and you descended backstage. Are we getting obvious? Are my actions getting easy to read? Did the fans know? Or did they just make an assumption? Thoughts are running in your mind as you are led into changing rooms for a quick costume change before the final part of the concert. The other members are cheerily sharing stories and funny encounters they had during the concert. One of them even saying she saw a fan screaming loudly because she saw seventeen not the dance break. This makes you even more nervous.

It is not a secret that your group and the seventeen are close. Despite not debuting at the same time, most of your members are the same age with the maknae line. Keeping a close relationship with the latter group. Fans even admire the senior and junior relationship your group have with them. But will they admire you still if they found out that you are dating one of their members? You just opt to expect the worst-case scenario. It is your members that only knows about your relationship with Jun. Not really trusting your outside circle and definitely not agency and the media. You would not take the risk.

Your change of demeanor does not go unnoticed by Jun when your group came back the stage for the final part of the concert. Your stiff posture and calculated moves, trying not to face their area are already a confirmation that you are avoiding interaction with them. He would not deny that this hurts him too. The weight of you being a leader is enough and he would not want to add another burden to you because this relationship between the two of you. He too, is scared if the media exposes your relationship, he will not want you to be hurt, he wanted to be your comfort, the one who will be there for you when the world crumbles down. Now he is having second thoughts if coming here for support added some stress in you. For him it is the only thing that he knows to express his love for you. Even if it is masked by being a senior in the industry in order to protect you.

Even your members did notice your stiff posture, constantly joining you on stage, putting their arms around you and being playful with you trying to cheer you up. It did cheer you up and you are thankful for the members deeply for being there always. You kept your energy up, trying all the things to keep that smile on your face. Until one of your ending songs came, the melody of the song undeniably makes people cry.

You probably will not know yet

How precious you are

I hope the you in you don’t forget

Your every moment, moment

If I tell you this, will you know

That the paths you’ve walked on are beautiful

If you pause for a while and look back you’ll know

The beautiful moments you’ve left behind

It feels like you are singing to yourself. The lyrics consumes your body, and you can’t help but to tear up.

Your every moment is all you

Wherever you’re standing

I will hug you so you won’t feel hurt

Just like the day you hugged me

I love all of your every moment, moment

Even if the day comes when I’m not by your side

Even if I remain just as a small piece of memory

I’m fine, they are all your moments

After the chorus you are full blown crying, you are thankful that you are placed behind the members so that the fans do not notice your tears and you try to wipe your tears away.

Just like the day you hugged me

Always like that day

I am thankful for having met you

Who left happiness in my life

I will remember this moment

No matter what hardships come

We will always be together

You remember this moment. This in front your fans, together with your members. Despite the burden of being an idol and the hardships you have to go through; you’ve found happiness in your life. From the encouraging words your fans, the overflowing love and support you receive from the people whom you do not even know personally. Even if you think you did not deserve any of this. You will definitely remember this moment. You will treasure it deeply in your heart. That is why you sing the last few parts of the song with that in mind.

Remember this moment, moment

This happiness that we discovered together

I will hug you so you won’t feel hurt

Just like how we’ve always done for each other

Even when the days we’ve been together become moments

And the days we were together all leave

Love the past days that we were each other’s moment

Every moment, moment

The concert ended well, and you cannot wait to go home and rest. When you and your members had gone backstage you are welcomed by a strong pair of arms, engulfing you in a tight hug.

“You did well. I am so proud of you. You deserved all the love that you receive, and I hope you don’t doubt yourself anymore.” Jun said softly in your ear as he gently swayed the two of you. Hearing those words, you hugged him tighter burying your head in chest. Muttering a couple of thank you’s. The two of you stayed like that a couple of seconds before Hoshi grabbed you out of Jun to hug you pouting playfully that you do not pay attention to him. You just laughed as your other members boo’ed him. This moment right here, together with your members and your loving boyfriend, you know that you have enough to face anything and share the burden of being an idol.

a/n: I really liked this imagine and spent my afternoon making this. This is by far the longest imagine that I wrote. The song I used is Moment by Apink.

- summer

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