#Both guitarist in they're worlds

[paropaul]

They can't stay aparat for long 😁

From tanya.ivanna ig, credit to landers.hub ig

Guitarists see eachother again in Turin 2022 after spending a few days with their resp. families 😊

(anyone surprised why i have the 'natural born huggers' tag 😊)

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[facefullofsadness]

The world needs guitarist winter!! 🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥 (i die a little each time i see her with a guitar)

AGREE!!! everyday that has passed since 230225 winter playing guitar at synk hyper line in seoul for the first time has just been me trying to recover and seek guidance bc damn, she ruined my life and it's all I've been able to think about

content - rockstar guitarist!winter, best friend's sister!winter, dom!winter, includes txt members (beomgyu and yeonjun) and giselle, song references, smut (messy and wild sex, slight degradation, fingering, cunnilingus, strap-on usage, choking, breeding kink, quickies, squirting, vibrator usage, semi-public sex/voyeurism)

wc - 3122

a/n - a loaded one since it's been a while. I had sm fun writing this in general, but especially a certain part (I think u'll be able to tell when u get there), I was laughing my ass off so fking hard. also I just got a haircut that's very wolf-cut-y so it helped a whole bunch to get into writing this lol, committed to the bit!

winter's a damn good guitarist.

she's fuckinggg hotttt too when she plays and she knows it. watched a vid of her recently doing her guitar solo during girls and after the final riff she smirked at the camera and I LITERALLY COMBUSTED DEAR LORD.

anyway, I imagine her in a rock band, one with beomgyu, and they're both just the hot, wolf-cut, dark emo guitarists. you're the lead singer and front man of the band and were the reason the band formed in the first place. you were besties with beomgyu and you two wrote and composed music from time to time, always having the idea of a band as a passion project at the back of your minds.

eventually, gyu recruited his sister, minjeong. the three of you worked together diligently, recruiting yeonjun as a drummer who knew and dragged along aeri as a bassist. it was truly a dream come true, getting to pursue what you're passionate about the most with your best friend and a group of people just as enthusiastic as you were.

though, it was hard to focus with such a pretty girl like kim minjeong breathing down your neck at all times. you, beomgyu, and minjeong would primarily work together on music, usually going from the afternoon until after midnight hours. while minjeong was only a few months older than your best friend, she'd boss him around and push him to go home, saying it was late and that their mom needed to see at least one of them to know they were okay. he'd groan and complain about it, especially since you and him were the main collaborators for songs and were the best when you were together, but she'd always promise to take good care of you, whatever that meant (huehuehue).

beomgyu cares more about you as a little sister than he does his own sister so when he gets confirmation that she'll take care of you, he accepts it and goes home early, leaving you and minjeong in the studio alone. you bite your lip as you watch the door close, your friend leaving you behind with her.

"just you and me now, huh pretty?" the girl leans into you on the couch.

you shift uncomfortably at the close proximity and try to subtly scooch away, "uh yeah, I guess so... we should try to finish this arrangement before we get out of here."

you try your best to compose yourself and act professional, hearing minjeong's deep chuckle next to you, "alright then."

actually getting work done and writing some lyrics alongside figuring out the instrumental arrangement with minjeong since she's the other guitarist, besides beomgyu (also bc he left). you tell her that you get frustrated with the fact you're not that good at playing, her having asked why you don't just make the arrangements yourself. and so, she decides to teach you! well, "teach you."

placing her acoustic Silvertone on your lap and crawling up slowly behind you, her warm body pressed up against your back, the brush of her lips against your ear making you shiver. she brings her arms over and places her hands over yours, guiding them around the strings and assisting with the chords.

she whispers deep and raspy into your ear various instructions, "if you cover this entire fret and press down on these strings, you'll get the F Barre chord. it's a little difficult but nothing you can't manage, right princess?"

"the placement kinda hurts..." you complain, feeling the burn of the metal strings against your skin.

"it'll be a little painful when you start, but with practice you'll get better. you have to press down harder than that though," her pressing your fingers down harder against the nylon strings.

whining softly at the pain, making her lips come closer to your ear, "come on baby, you can do it, a little pain goes a long way. I know you can handle it."

a chill runs down your spine at her words, proceeding to repeatedly attempt to strum the chord correctly until the sound was full.

"good girl, it wasn't that bad right?" you turn to face her, her lips just centimeters away from yours.

your breath picks up at her proximity and a smirk tugs at her lips, moving her face into your neck and hotly sighing against it.

"how badly do you want it, hm? how badly do you want me to fuck you like a rockstar?"

your grip on her guitar tightens as her mouth trails around your neck, gasping when you feel her tongue drag across slowly.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"nothing you don't want me to already, sweetheart."

you lean into her touch, moving your hand away from the body of the guitar to lace your fingers through her soft wolf-cut hair, pulling her head in further into your neck, now placing wet kisses against the skin.

you suddenly shoot your eyes open at the realization of what you two are doing and stutter, "I-I don't think we should be doing th-this... we need to finish the arrangement... and also, y-your brother, what will h-he think?"

you stumble over your words as minjeong just hums in response to, continuing to leave sloppy marks across your neck, feeling her make hickeys on parts of your skin that wouldn't be noticeable.

"we have all the time in the world to finish the song. but what about gyu? did you want him instead then?" she asks, almost threateningly, challenging you to say yes.

in response, you whimper and pull her head in further towards your neck, practically begging her not to go away.

"don't you feel ashamed letting your best friend's sister do this to you? or are you just a slut?"

you don't answer, only shut your eyes and bite your lip. minjeong doesn't like that, resulting in her hand to pull you by the hair backwards, head facing the ceiling. your eyes shot open at the contact and you see her blown pupils staring into yours.

her voice comes out low and dark, "answer me whore. tell me what you are, I wanna hear you say it."

you gulp down a lump in your throat, debating if you should listen to her or to your morals. all sense jumps out the window when she sexily raises her eyebrow at you, an expectant expression sitting on her aroused face.

fuck it whatever, she's too fucking hot, "I'm your slut, minjeong, all yours."

finishing the arrangement? what a joke! she has your legs spread wide open on the soundboard, skillful fingers pumping in and out of your squelching cunt, your head thrown back, moaning into the hot air of the studio. her one hand plunging deep into your pussy while the other one is wrapped around your waist, holding you close, keeping your thighs propped open with her body. and she's just watching you, her mouth slightly open and lips a deep dark plump red, her messy hair tousled, bangs sticking to her sweaty forehead. she loves watching how your face contorts in response to her digits curling to hit that delicious spot in your hole, hitting it repeatedly, her palm slapping against your clit with every quick thrust of her hand. the sounds of your croaky moans, wet and clenching pussy, and her heavy breathing fill the sound-proof room, the thought of productivity not even grazing either of your minds.

the pleasure built so much, you felt that knot in your stomach tighten. minjeong quickened her pace as she felt your legs start to shake around her, sensing how close you were to cumming. it was all too much and you suddenly orgasmed, crying out moans with every wave of delight that surged through your body, thighs trembling, eyes rolled back and mouth hung open, your hands gripping her shoulders for dear life. she intently watched with a lustful stare at every expression your face made while you came, memorizing how good you looked when she fucked you. pulling her fingers out and collecting every drop of cum you leaked onto her hand and wrist, licking it clean until a thin sheet of her saliva remained.

"open your fucking mouth and stick your tongue out," she demanded with a deep voice.

you obeyed and gagged, feeling her tongue shove itself down your throat, forcefully swallowing her saliva and your cum. drool seeped out the sides of your lips as she continued her onslaught in your mouth, feeling her clothed hips grind against your sensitive clit, moans slipping out of your throat in the form of gags.

she'd pull away suddenly, tongue exiting your mouth with a wet slurping noise, making you cough. "you. are. mine. remember that."

she'd remind you, running her damp fingers through her hair.

these late night escapades continued to occur with every single long session held in the studio (she definitely recorded some audios of you guys fucking for sureeee). the creative part of you wanted beomgyu to stay and help with the music, but the sinful part of you so desperately wanted him to leave as soon as possible to have his sister all to yourself. your best friend never caught on to you and minjeong, but oh, yeonjun and aeri caught on like THAT. the tension between you two was so palpable, the two older members would side eye you during practices and giggle to each other, watching the two of you eye fuck from across the room.

eventually, the band's popularity would build and proceed to skyrocket, leading to your guys' first tour. tour meant performing together, traveling together, being with each other, and ultimately, tour meant being with minjeong. and so when management would get 3 hotel rooms for you all, 1 for the boys, 1 for the girls, and well, 1 for aeri being the sleeping beauty she is, rooming with minjeong meant a few things. practicing together, writing and composing together, and sleeping together (for the girls in the back, SEX).

throwing you onto the bed as soon as you reach your hotel room, tearing your clothes off and pinning you down, sloppily kissing each other. she'd prep you by eating you out, sticking her wet muscle inside of your leaking core, caressing your walls and flicking against your g-spot. you bit down hard on the pillow, muffling your moans as her thumb covered in her saliva rubbed against your throbbing clit. her pulling away right before you came and putting on a strap-on she brought on tour (for you of course!), wasting no time in thrusting it into you.

the pillow probably did nothing to silence your screams as she mercilessly fucked you into the mattress, hand pressing down on your lower stomach to feel her cock pumping in and out of you, the tip of her dick hitting your cervix again and again, her thumb still stimulating your clit. minjeong had your back arching, your hands flew everywhere, trying to grip onto anything to ground yourself, but nothing was enough, even as you screamed and bit down on your pillow. your eyes watered and your vision blurred as she rammed into you, the dark-haired girl moving her hands to wrap around your neck, choking you, gradually adding pressure with every rough thrust. her pants eventually became moans too, loving the feeling of the side of her strap hitting that delicious spot inside of her too, slapping her clit against yours as she bottomed out in you.

"I'm gonna fucking cum in you y/n, I'm gonna knock you up, fill you up until you're leaking both of us," minjeong growls above you, lowering her face to level with yours.

you feel tears fall down the sides of your face and your throat sore from another scream ripped out of you as well as her hands around your neck as she throws the pillow in your mouth onto the floor, attaching her mouth to yours instead. you cry onto her tongue as you orgasm against her strap, toes curling and legs wrapped around her waist, nails digging into minjeong's shoulders, cum gushing out of you as you feel her cock shoot fake ropes of white liquid into you, filling you up. you feel her shake in your arms too as she cums, her pleasure leaking out onto your thighs, soaking the bedsheets. she collapses on top of you, both of you desperately gasping for air, her dick still inside of you, keeping the fake cum from leaking out.

"good thing we have another bed."

of course being on tour also meant fucking in the green room before a performance. having done interviews all morning, having a concert for the tour tonight, minjeong was so mean! she had you wear a vibrator the entire day! it would be on the lowest setting up until the interviewer would ask you a question. she would turn up the intensity and you would squirm as you tried to answer, gripping your ripped jeans, almost causing another tear. and so when you two were left alone in the green room for just a minute, she took you right then and there, your legs wide open on the sofa, her mouth stimulating your clit while she increased the vibrator's setting to max, thrusting it in and out of you.

you were screaming in pleasure, all the built up tension in your stomach finally being relieved with each pump of the sex toy in your pussy. you clutched onto her leather jacket for dear life as you came all over her face, squirting everywhere. she licked as much as she could and you both worked quickly to clean before anyone came back. your members, staff, and the fans would notice you limping around on stage that night, winter with an especially evil smirk resting on her face.

being on tour also meant getting fingered in the bathroom backstage. it's literally 10 minutes to showtime, but minjeong NEEDED to fuck you now! her calloused fingers pumping in and out of you while you reciprocated fingering her too. both of your skirts hiked up and panties pushed to the side (no safety shorts? idk this is fiction, ignore it!), moaning desperately into each others mouths as you messily and sloppily made out against the bathroom stall door. curling your fingers at the same time, biting down on her lip while her fingernails dug into your thigh at the feeling. rolling your hips against her palm to stimulate your clit, her repeating the motion and pinning you harder to the door so that your bodies were flush against one another.

screaming into each other's mouths as you came at the same time, cum dripping down your wrist. quickly cleaning one another up (with your tongues, yup) and running to your places since there was literally THIRTY SECONDS to showtime! beomgyu confusedly looking at you two in frustration, asking where you guys had been, yeonjun and aeri rolling their eyes laughing, still lowkey irritated that you guys were LITERALLY FUCKING instead of getting ready to perform smh. everyone definitely noticed the redness in both of your cheeks. winter had fingered you with her calloused hand, the dampness making it more difficult to play the chords during that show, the band noticing the change in effectivity too (how technical!).

at some point, the fans would notice the tension between you two. who wouldn't ship the lead singer with the guitarist in a band anyway right? especially when it's the hot dark wolf-cut emo guitarist winter and the stunning pretty charismatic lead singer. but of course that wasn't the only reason, you guys were soooo obvious. you're singing the flirty and seductive lyrics towards her, minjeong returning a smirk back at you and sticking her tongue out while she fingerpicks her guitar, raising her eyebrows when she does. trailing your fingertips over her bare skin in skimpy outfits they'd put her in onstage, singing the lyrics into her ears.

or literally just flat out fucking saying it. like having those soundcheck Q&As where fans would ask you questions like "if you were to date one of the members, who would you date?"

answering each other's names at the same time, causing everyone to laugh in the audience, beomgyu gagging, and yeonjun and aeri holding back laughter. minjeong following up by saying something like "I mean, it's not like it hasn't happened before." LIKE WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?

or when you and winter are in an interview and they ask what the inspiration was behind a particular song, let's say a more sexy song, and she responds first, "well, every song that we've written has influences from our own personal experiences."

the interviewer would be like, "so then is it true when you sing quote 'I might fuck your friend, I made my mind up'?"

you blush profusely and winter just dies laughing, "I'll let you guys decide that one."

"y/n, you wrote "we go for hours and it's still good" correct?" the interviewer continues.

"yes yes but the details don't really matter do they?" you nervously laugh while minjeong drills holes into the side of your head, staring at you with a playful and sinister smirk on the side.

my favorite headcanon to think about is online discourse regarding you and minjeong. your guys' new mv dropped for your latest single and there are a bunch of scenes with you and winter acting like an angsty couple in the rain, making up in the end by having an alluded to sex scene (lmao, wild if this actually would ever happen).

I just imagine twt going INSANEEE.

slut4winter: DID Y/N AND WINTER FUCK AT THE END OF THE VIDEO?!?!?

y/nonechancepls: i literally cannot defend minjeong and y/n anymore...

beomgyuswolfcut: bro, winter fr cucked her brother from y/n 😭😭

aerifuckinguchinaga: win-y/n's chemistry is a lil too real yall 💀

drumjunyeonjun: not them saying it was their fav scene to film, the closet is made out of AIR, IM SICK OF U F WORDS !!!

and of course, despite all of this, your dear bestie and minjeong's brother doesn't catch on. at times, beomgyu will be all what the fuck is going on when you two say something that has double entendre or has some sort of underlying meaning.

yeonjun usually just pats him on the back while laughing, "oh my friend, never change, never change."

aeri being such a nosy friend LOVES hearing you rant about it, chin propped up on her fist, leaning forward against the table, a cheeky grin on her face. with every spicy detail, she's always just like, "girllll, you're insane and wild, but good for you!"

a/n - like rq, through a guitarist pov, winter is so attractively good at guitar it pisses me off. also headcanon songs this band would make are like wdywfm by the neighbourhood, sex by the 1975, do I wanna know by arctic monkeys, and slow down by chase atlantic. incredibly self indulgent hc and WHAT ABOUT IT!!

[cripplecharacters]

I've read the post about how arm prostheses are often more trouble than they're worth and it makes sense. My special interest fandom doesn't have robotics or magic anyway, so a prosthetic there would more or less amount to a stick with possibly a hook on the end, and I'm not trying to argue in favour of making anything more advanced than that here. What I would like to know is if the same practical considerations apply with someone who's lost BOTH hands or analogous gripping appendages. Is it worth it to go for the lightest and least clunky prosthetic possible or is it still easier to do everything with the mouth and/or feet? Does it vary depending on what one is doing, or how much of the arm is lost?

Hi!

[Please note, we don't currently have mods who are amputees; you can try checking with some of our recommended blogs from our navigation post, but I'm not familiar with any bilateral arm amputees doing writing advice on Tumblr.]

There is a lot of factors that would go into this, and the two you mentioned are absolutely important, but I'd say that age plays the biggest role. What I mean is how old the person was where they had their arms amputated, since that's where I generally see the biggest difference in prosthetic use.

For the following sections I'll presume a scenario where the person is financially able to buy prosthetics that would suit their body in the technical aspect and potential assistive devices to get them on etc. aren't a problem to acquire for them.

If someone loses their arms at 70, they're almost certainly going to be using prosthetics, at least part-time. They spent decades doing everything with their hands and probably have close to zero coordination necessary to do these tasks with their feet now, not to mention being in worse condition in general due to their age. Even if their prosthetics are the simplest hooks, they will probably give them more independence since at an older age and with no practice, using their legs would be out of the question and using stumps could be much harder for someone whose way less flexible and strong. This doesn't mean that all the cons of an arm prosthetic disappear, because they don't - in this scenario, it just means that the possible pros outweigh the cons.

If someone is born without their arms or loses them as a younger child, they're probably gonna wear prosthetics at first because their parents will want them to and will stop just as fast. Have you tried to put a shirt on a toddler? Now imagine trying to put two arms on them that they can't fully control. For someone younger they will just instinctively do things however they can, whether that would be by using residual limbs (more common if it's below the elbow) or feet (more common if above the elbow). There might be some tasks that might be impossible or very difficult to do without a prosthetic, and then the person might get a specialized one - Bebe Vio is a wheelchair fencer who uses an arm prosthetic to hold her foil because you can't really do that without one. Some instruments might also require the use of a prosthetic, but children generally tend to figure to do almost everything out with what they got. There are armless drummers and guitarists who play with their feet.

You can check this video out, it's by Isabelle Weall where she talks about why she chooses to not use prosthetics arms. Jessica Cox is one of the most famous people with no arms and she can do more or less everything - fly a plane, do karate, drive a car. Matt Stutzman is one of the best compound archers in the world and he doesn't use prosthetics either. All these people lost their arms young or were born without them.

Obviously a lot of people will be in the middle. That's where length of residual limbs will play a major role, but also people's lifestyle or what they do on the daily basis. If someone needs the tactile sensation to be able to do their job, they will probably prefer using their arm stumps or feet if the stumps are too short.

But if someone's stumps are too short, and they don't want or can't use their feet (it's not as easy as just starting to do stuff with your toes, it requires a ton of practice, flexibility, and patience) then they might go for prosthetics or a prosthetic, singular. Some people might find it easier to adapt to a body-powered prosthesis because to them the pros of one are more significant than the cons. I mean, not that many people have the flexibility alone needed to write with a pen with your foot, let alone coordination. They could wear a prosthesis when they know they'll be doing a lot of grabbing work because it's awkward for them to try doing it with their residual forearms and take it off to play with their dog because it feels nicer to pet it when you can feel it on your skin.

There is of course the situation where regardless of factors, neither option really works for someone. They might have minimal to no ability to actually use prosthetics (weakness, other disability), while their legs might be atrophied from the bedrest caused by the illness that required their arms to be amputated (or anything else that prevents them from using their legs). This person might rely on caregivers instead for a lot of tasks, and these people absolutely do exist. Sometimes it's a situation that happens right after the amputation and they later find something that works for them, but sometimes they might not. This is a possibility as well.

All these factors should be considered for a character, and then of course you have to factor in the character themselves - can they afford prosthetics? Do they have a way to learn how to use them effectively? Get them fixed and adjusted? If the learning process of using a prosthetic is frustrating to them, they might not want to use it at all, and if it comes easily to them they might be more inclined to do actually wear it.

Of course even if the pros-to-cons analysis decides that using prosthetics would be beneficial, the cons are still very much there. They're still heavy, with not the greatest dexterity, sometimes causing skin issues or muscle soreness. It takes a lot of work in occupational therapy to be proficient in using them. As long as you do research on the reality of using bilateral prosthetics (both negative and positive sides, which will be different for different people so you should get as many perspectives as you can) it's definitely okay to include them. There's no point in painting them as either magical tools that are just like regular arms or making them seem like they're completely useless pieces of junk - though they can be that for many, but for others they can also be what helps them live their life more fully, makes bringing groceries in easier, or just allows them to participate in that one hobby they do once a week.

And of course: when in doubt, have a range of disabled characters.

I hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[xzinbdg]

YO WHAT?

- i can see right through

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʏ/ɴ ᴍᴏᴠᴇꜱ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴀᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜱʜᴇ ɪꜱ ᴡᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴜᴘ ʙʏ ʟᴏᴜᴅ ᴀꜱꜱ ɢᴜɪᴛᴀʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴅᴏᴏʀ.

written part: 547 words

warning: reader jokes about "killing herself", reader has a panic attack.

checking your self one last time in a mirror you walk out your door and you see him. wonbin in plain black shirt, plain black pants but for some reason he's the most attractive person you have ever seen. "hi, did you sleep well?" he says "h-hi" you want to kill yourself on the spot for stuttering "i slept fine...how about you?" he gives you a slight smile "i was to excited to sleep" "excited? about what?" you give him an confused look. "about our date" he sends you a wink and starts walking to the elevator. you however stand there for a minute processing what the hell just left his mouth. you walk to him and the two of you go into the elevator. "you're a bit red, are you okay?" he asks with a smirk "ahh..hhaha I'm fine" you say turning your face towards the wall. it was a bit awkward in the elevator but as soon as you sit in the passenger seat of his car, he plays some chill music it's all good. the two of you talk the whole way to the cafe, just asking some questions to get to know each other better, wonbin telling you some stupid jokes that he learned from eunseok, it was a very fun ride. after about an hour the two of you arrived at the cafe, it looked very cozy from the outside and inside. the both of you placed your orders and meanwhile you wait the talking resumed. you got your orders and both were amazed at the quality of drinks and cakes. you had a good time, that was until you saw a familiar face enter the cafe. it was taesan with the girl that he cheated on you that's now his girlfriend, sullyoon. your face changed instantly from a happy one to a terrified one, you started having trouble breathing and got really hot in seconds. "is everything alright?" asked concerned wonbin, he noticed that you couldn't really speak so instead he tried to make you calm down. he gently took your hands massaging them with his thumbs "breathe with me yn, please" he started the "inhale, exhale, inhale...." and after a while you calmed down a bit. "thank you...i saw someone that...i really didn't want to see.." you said quietly just enough for him to hear "was it the guy you told me about?" ah that's right you did tell him about that, you nodded and that's when she saw you, sullyoon saw you and started waving to you with a smile. you waved back. it's not like the two of you are or were friends but you weren't strangers either and she never knew that you were with taesan. you saw her saying something to taesan and that's when your eyes met his. they were still the same, so nonchalant like he didn't have a care in the world. you broke the eye contact quickly and looked at wonbin. wonbin's eyes are beautiful. they're the same color and shade as taesan's but they hold so much life in them, you can tell when he's worried, when he's happy, when he's sad or angry and right now all you can see in them is just how much he cares about you.

previous ✮ next ✮ masterlist

a/n: things are about to get a bit more serious but don't worry not for long! also HERE is a reference to what wonbin was playing (check the lyrics 👀) also why did I lose like half the words.....anton is saying "you have a hot single wonbin in your area" and yn is saying "all i saw was love"

genre: smau, crack, strangers to enemies to lovers, boy next door!wonbin, neighbors au, band au

pairing: guitarist!wonbin x reader

taglist: @p-d1ddy @icyona @pxnklover @pinklemonade34 @cherrytaesan @soheendo @jiaisfox @i03jae @yoonyunsoob @wonychu @nujeskz

[msgexymunson]

Rumour Part 5: Ready

Description: After your love confession, you're wondering if Eddie feels the same. Something happens to make him see how special you are to him.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI this isn't for you bbys, the usual trifecta of angst, smut and fluff, brief violence (not between reader and Eddie) L bombs, brief male and fem oral receiving, p in v unprotected sex

A/N: this is the penultimate part!! I'll be sorry to see this version of Eddie go, I'm so happy you lot liked him as much as I do! If you enjoy this, please comment and reblog if you like it, it seriously makes my day reading your comments ❤

5.8k words

Masterlist    Part 1    Part 2    Part 3   Part 4

Sitting at your dressing table, you claw your hair into a sensible ponytail, fussing with the fluffy bits that stick out the sides. You really weren't in the mood to put a full face of makeup on, so you just apply mascara and lip gloss. It helped with tips.

Sighing into the room, you pout, attempting to stare down your own reflection, your mind wandering to the sticky dark cloud that clung to you. Intrusive thoughts had grabbed you and refused to let go for a week now. Black tar thoughts; slow moving, bitter and impossible to remove.

You hear your front door open with a rustle of leather and a creak of boots.

"Hey baby." You call out of the door frame, still fixated with your countenance in the mirror.

"Hey sweet thing, you good?" Eddie's voice is higher than usual and bursting with barely concealed excitement.

You don't trust your words, sensing they'll betray you, so you settle with a nonchalant "uh huh. You?"

"Pretty girl, I've got something to tell you."

You're sure your ears would have swivelled towards him if they could, heart suddenly inflating in hope. You turn to him, taking in his beaming face.

"What is it?"

He's pacing your room at this point, telling you what's clearly been dying to burst out of his chest, words manifesting with undeniable glee.

"Well, you remember that band we saw?" You nod, shoulders dropping, heart sinking again.

"The guitarist came into my shop for a tattoo, right, and told me they've had a falling out with the front man, Bill or Buck or whatever. Anyways, we got talking and I told him I could sing, and one thing lead to another- well guess where I just came from? Their managers office, I'm in! They want me as a front man! They're going to change the name, and obviously we need to practise and stuff, but I'm gonna be in a band! With a manager! Isn't that awesome?"

He squats by where you're sitting, grasping your hands in his. You've never seen his eyes more alive. His coarse thumbs rub circles into the backs of your delicate hands.

You do your best to swallow the lump in your throat, the disappointment bitter on your tongue. This clearly means the world to him, and you are pleased for him, truly. A smile adorns your face, warm and loving, even if it doesn't reach your eyes.

"I'm so happy for you Eddie." Leaning forward  you press a soft kiss to his mouth as a distraction. He smiles against your mouth.

"It's gonna be great sweets, for both of us." You can't help but scoff slightly at his comment but he doesn't seem to notice, instead moving to mouth at your throat, nibbling at your ear.

"Eddie what are you doing?"

"I'm happy," he says, sucking at the pressure point in your neck, making you stifle a moan, "I need you."

You laugh mirthlessly "well, do you know what I need?" The words have more bite than intended, an edge to your voice that's razor sharp, cutting through the room and changing the ambiance in a heartbeat.

Eddie's taken aback, leaning on his heels. "What do you need sweets?"

"I need-" not now, not now, he's so happy, just drop it. "I need to go to work." You finish lamely.

"I can drive you, I'm not working tonight."

"It's fine, Eddie, I could use the walk."

You stand, wrenching yourself away from him and his soft eyes. Marching into the living room you perch on the sofa to put your shoes on. Eddie's propped up in the doorway, frowning at you.

"I don't like you walking at night on your own."

You laugh at him, the sharp sound nipping; it has teeth. "Eddie it's 7 o'clock. I'm a grown ass woman, I'll be fine. Can't you trust me to look after myself?"

"It's not like that sweets and you know it." Long strides cut you off from the front door, his arms folded.

"I just need some space. Fresh air." You stand up to leave, but Eddie's about as immovable as a mountain; all rocky arms and stony glare.

"Can I leave? I'm gonna be late."

"I said, I'll drive you." He's towering over you, broad and intimidating.

You stick your chin out, mustering your courage.

"And I said no." You push past him but he holds your upper arm with a firm hand.

"Sweet thing what's this about?" He ducks down to your height, searching your face for clues.

Your eyes are glossy, vision beginning to blur. "You know exactly what this is about."

Eddie steps back, releasing your arm. "Sweetheart, I..." he trails off, arms falling to his sides. "I don't know what to say."

"Then don't. Lock the door when you leave."

You ignore further wordless protests from him and pull your front door open, not bothering to close it as you march into the biting cold, struggling to put your coat on as you go. You refuse to look behind you, knowing he's outlined in your doorway, watching you leave.

********************

The bar is a bustling, chaotic mess when you get there. It's unusual, but you're very welcome for the distraction. You serve drinks, run around collecting glasses, and make yourself as busy as possible.

Nothing can quiet the dark voice inside your head.

You're an idiot. Why didn't you just talk to him? You're acting like a brat. No wonder he doesn't treat you like a woman.

As soon as you push any of your self deprecating thoughts aside however, more comments run through your head like a freight train.

Him not treating you like a woman is not your fault. He said it already, he called you a play thing. Maybe that's how he sees you? But why would he do all that for your birthday if he doesn't care about you? Why won't he just say it?

You stop for a second behind the bar, pinching the bridge of your nose. Maybe if you pinch hard enough the thoughts will go away.

"Hey darlin', you ok?"

Looking up, you're met with the ashy mop of hair and concerned eyes of Matt.

"Hey, sorry just real busy tonight, what can I get you, the usual?"

"Yeah, and a glass of red for the lady."

You look over his shoulder and see the unmistakable blonde hair and, well, physique, of Estelle.

"Oh, are you two-"

"Together, yeah." He beams at you.

"Aw that's real sweet, happy for you," you smile back, "hey you know there's a free booth over there, there's a reserved sign on it but it doesn't look like they're coming. Just, collect some glasses for me, ok?"

"Sure thing sweets." You flinch at that; continuing to get him his order.

After a while the hubbub dies down and your manager leaves you to lock up. It's just you and four drunks, and Matt and Estelle sucking each other's faces like there's no tomorrow.

Shouting last call, they're ushered out of the bar, leaving you to lock up. You think about calling Eddie to come get you, then remember how you left. Guilt twinges your stomach.

This is stupid.

You pick up the phone and call his number, nerves bubbling in your gut. After four rings, it defaults to voicemail. There's no way he's asleep already. He clearly doesn't want to speak to you.

Grabbing your belongings you leave, locking the front door behind you. You stomp briskly in the direction of home, trying to move fast to avoid the cold, your breath fogging in the air.

You're so lost in thought that the first time you see the two men in front of you is when you walk head first into one of them. Shock shakes you; a sharp cold breath shoots into your chest. Nearly falling, you teeter until one of them grabs you by the arm.

"Woah, falling for me are you?" He laughs perniciously, helping you get your balance. You look up at a tall, gruff looking man, wearing a dirty Demin jacket. A rough, wanton demeanour radiates from him. Dangerous. He keeps his hold on your arm despite your pleading eyes.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

The other guy speaks up, moving to stand behind you. Crowding you; a silent threat, an escape blocked.

"You ought be more careful." Every word seems heavy and considered, like it was an effort to string a sentence together. You could smell the booze from here.

"Look, I'm sorry ok, I've got to go." You go to pull your arm free but he just grips you tighter.

"Seems you owe us a proper apology. Hot young girl like you, you should come with us."

Fear stabs you in the stomach; a red hot knife falls through your guts, twisting and cauterising as it goes.

"Yeah, we're havin' party." The man behind slurs out. You feel an unwelcome hand travel to your waist, flesh crawling with horripilation.

"Hey, let go of me!" You move to punch with your free arm but it's instantly pinned to your side by the gruff man in front of you. Hot alcohol breath is in your face, making you cringe and scrunch your nose up, panic gripping you as tightly as his hands.

Suddenly the hand on your waist is wrenched loose and you hear a dull thud. A shadow is cast over your shoulder, blocking the street light. You try to open your mouth to ask for help when a familiar low voice growls out.

"Don't you dare lay your fuckin' hands on the woman I love."

You see a blur, and hear a sick thud. It sounds wet and crunchy. Unable to process what's happening you stand there, frozen in shock. There's a scuffle, but it sounds underwater; after a while a firm hand guides you to an open car door. You smell cigarettes, and weed, and Aramis aftershave. Eddie.

********************

The next thing you're aware of is Eddie's apartment, Eddie's couch, safety; a blanket over your shoulders and a mug of something hot being placed into your waiting hands.

Eddie's crouching in front of you, hand with roughened bloodied knuckles stroking your arm so, so gently.

Your eyes refocus and there he is, chiselled jaw clenched, brown eyes filled with worry, blood running down the side of his face.

"You're bleeding Eddie." Placing the mug down with shaking hands, your fingers come up to his face.

"Fuck, you're ok." He collapses to his knees, pulling you in for a tight squeeze. Both of his arms encapsulate you, hands splayed against your back, holding you close.

His voice is muffled as he continues, speaking into your abdomen. "I was so worried when you wouldn't say anything, I didn't know what to do."

He pulls back enough so you can look down at his face. To your shock, tracks of tears run down his cheeks, shining in the light.

"Baby, you're crying." Your brows knot as you stare in the face of this dishevelled man in front of you.

He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and half laughs, "yeah, seem to be doing a lot of that tonight."

Your heart breaks at that remark, splintering at the thought of causing him pain. Standing up, Eddie stands too, holding onto your shoulders.

"What are you doing sweets?"

"Sit down I need to clean you up."

"No don't worry you sit-"

"Eddie, you're bleeding."

He finally sits down, holding his hands up in submission.

Fetching a first aid kit, a wash cloth and a bowl of warm water, you sit next to him on the couch and clean the blood off of his face, grateful to have something to do.

"I think you need stitches baby." You frown at the cut on his eyebrow.

"No it's fine, eyebrow cuts just bleed a lot. Trust me, I used to get beat up all the time." You give him some cotton wool so he can hold it against his eyebrow to try and stop the bleeding.

Taking his bear paw of a hand in yours, you gently take his rings off and dab lightly at the blood marks with the cloth, water in the bowl turning murky.

"Did you mean it?" Practically a whisper, knowing your voice will break if you say it any louder.

"You remember that huh?" He chuckles, still holding the cotton to his brow.

"Pretty hard to forget Eddie." On cleaning his hand it looks like most of the blood isn't his.

"Pretty shitty way to hear it for the first time. I'm sorry, I'm a stupid asshole." He huffs, looking down.

"Hey," his eyes meet yours, red raw and soft. "You're not an asshole."

"So I'm just stupid yeah?" He flashes a lopsided grin.

"Hey, you said it not me." He chuckles at that.

You gesture for him to move the cotton wool. The bleeding has stopped. You go over it with an antiseptic wipe and bandage it for him.

"You know, I tried to call you, for a ride. And I felt awful. I'm sorry. I should have spoken to you."

"Well, I felt awful too. I thought you didn't want to see me, so I waited outside the bar and tailed you home."

"Wow," you giggle, impressed by his chivalry, "I'd call you a creep but you saved me. So, thank you."

"Anything for you sweet thing." You blush at that.

"You're so fuckin' cute. I just, I'm sorry. And for the record, I don't fight, not really, but I saw them touching you and I just lost it. Can I explain a little?"

You nod, feeling your eyes already start to fill with tears. He takes your hands in his, looking at you dead in the eye.

"I'm not used to people wanting me. I'm not used to people staying, you know? Everyone always leaves me. I thought if I distanced myself a little, it would help, when you realised you were too good for me and left. When you realised I was too old for you."

Your heart swells, filled with love for this soft, vulnerable boy.

"Eddie, when have I ever mentioned your age? Or mine? I don't care. You are good, you're spectacular. You're mine. I love you."

"Pretty girl, I love you too."

Rough hands meet soft cheeks, chapped lips meet smooth. Crushing your lips together, you sigh in contentment, kissing the man you love.

His tongue laps into your mouth, softly massaging yours. You feel the chime of steel against steel. He quickly pulls away.

"Shit can I kiss you yet, I'm sorry I forgot-"

"It's fine Eddie, please." You press your mouth against his eagerly, tongue pushing into him. You take turns massaging each others tongues with your studs. It's sensual in a way you can't describe, an infinite connection, the sensation leaving you both breathless. Every movement conveyed with a lasting passion, an adoration for the ages.

His fingers start fumbling at your shirt, unbuttoning it slowly. He breaks away from you so he can start trailing hot little kisses all over your collar bone.

"Can I take you to the bedroom? I want to take my time with you."

You nod, biting your lip in anticipation. He doesn't scoop you up in his arms, like he does when he's desperate. He simply stands up and holds his hand out to you. You take it, allowing him to lead you gently to the bedroom.

You both perch on the edge of the bed, hands sweeping over torsos, ridding each other of your shirts. Each inch of skin displayed earns a kiss, each kiss earns another. Soft fingers trace tattoos, calloused hands rub warm flesh.

Time is inconsequential; nothing as crass as time could possibly invade this moment. You explore each others bodies as if it were the first time; touching, stroking, kissing.

Dragging your nails down his naked chest procures you a hiss through his teeth. You smirk, planting open mouthed kisses over every patch of skin, guiding him to lie back with your delicate palm. He complies, resting one arm under his head, the other hand stroking softly at the back of your head.

Unbuttoning his jeans, you pull them down slowly along with his underwear, stopping to kiss at the apex of his toned thighs. No matter how many times you see it, you can't help but think how pretty his dick is. Huge and girthy, resting against his stomach, flushed nearly purple at the tip, leading to the heavy steel bar though the slit.

You press little teasing kisses up the shaft and down the sides, watching it twitch at your ministrations. When you lick all the way up and circle the tip he practically whimpers; the steel of his piercing hitting the metal ball in your mouth.

Moving to rid yourself of your jeans he stops you to do it himself. Laying you down just where he was, he inches them down so, so slowly, kissing and licking at each inch of your exposed skin. The sensations building are progressing straight to your molten core, lava threatening to bubble out at all his small, careful, gentle touches.

Kneeling between your legs, thick digits trace the outline of your heat, spreading around your growing wetness. He leans over you, lips brushing your own, leaving paper trace kisses, his nose whispering against the side of yours.

"You're so beautiful like this. My beautiful good girl. I love you so much it fuckin' hurts."

With that, he sinks two large fingers into your pussy, gliding through your slick easily. You grasp at his biceps, mouth forming a silent gasp, heavily lidded eyes seeking his.

"I love you Eddie, you're- you're everything."

Eyes shining, he kisses the tip of your nose, the movements of his hand slow and soft.

You whine at his touches, gasping breaths escape your lungs as you stare into his eyes. He quickens his pace but you still him with a squeeze of your hand.

"Please, baby."

He knows what you need. Moments later he's between your legs, hard length rubbing against your folds.

"Like this, ok sweet thing?" A rough thumb pad strokes against your cheek as your breaths intermingle.

"Yes, please."

He smiles and pushes into you, diffusing the gentlest kisses over your forehead, cheeks, lips.

The feeling of being filled by him never ceases to amaze you. You feel him, in every pore, every cell. You open to him, exposed and vulnerable. Staring into his eyes you see him, really see him. He's just as exposed, just as vulnerable. Stroking at his cheek, you peck him lightly on the lips, allowing him to move.

Your bodies meld together, hips meeting in perfect unison. You feel his muscles tensing against your own; inked skin rippling against you, rose hip tattoo sliding against his skin.

Hooking your legs around him, you pull him deeper, and deeper. Your moans crest in a wave of longing, loud and lascivious. He smirks at the volume of your want, giving you exactly what you need. The bubbling heat of your release overflows, pouring out of your heat and into the universe, the feeling stretching and lasting forever; you and Eddie, an eternity in a moment.

Quivering and gasping, you make it back to this plane of existence, grasping at the roots of Eddie's hair in fear that you'll float away, begging with your eyes for God knows what. He takes one of your shaking hands in his own, lapping at your fingertips with his pierced tongue, deft kisses bringing you back to the here and now.

Smiling against your fingers when he sees you've made it back to him, he cages you in the unassailable fortress that is his arms; safe and warm and loved.

He holds you, large hand nearly encompassing your thigh, keeping you close as he moves against you. Both of you are glistening, the very aura around you pulsing in a crimson cloud of passion.

You're surrounded, engulfed and taken by him. There is nothing else except Eddie; this beautifully broken man, with his barely contained ardour, and his fragile soul.

You feel him speed up, mouth beginning to hang open, chasing his release. Pressing soft kisses to him, you map out your love over his cheek and jaw. He presses his forehead to yours, wide eyes locking, as he releases inside of you. Burly arms cling to you as he falls from that precipice, a tight embrace of consummation. The steady panting of his chest presses into you, wordless for a moment.

"Well, that was... intense" he chuckles softly into the skin of your neck, overridden by sheer joy. You stroke the back of his head.

"Yeah I know baby, same."

"Can we just stay like this? For a while?" The roundest doe eyes gaze at you.

"Of course we can. Just like this."

********************

Three months later and you're squeezing your way past giggling girls and denim clad men trying desperately to get to the backstage area, clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels to your chest. You're honestly impressed, this is the biggest crowd you'd seen them play for; there had to be a couple hundred people in this place at least.

After a few starter shows in dive bars, and a lot of practises, they were playing their first official gig as their rebranded band, Tongue Tattoo.

When Eddie had first told you the name you were very confused, staring up at him with an empty furrowed brow, wide eyes innocently gaping.

"But Eddie, you don't have a tongue tattoo."

"That's not what it means sweets."

"But what could it possibly-" Eddie flicked his tongue in an obscene gesture towards you, making you blush profusely.

"Eddie you can't call your band after-"

"-eating pussy? Why not? You seem to enjoy it." All smug grin and wandering hands as he pulled you in.

Thinking about it, it did seem appropriate. It was filthy, and sexy, and very Eddie.

Finally wiggling your way past some biker types in leather jackets you see two bouncers in front of you. Thankfully they remembered you, allowing you to pass with a nod and a wink.

You shuffle through the door, pulling down the front of your too short skirt with one hand, desperately clinging to the bottle with the other. Smoothing down the wrinkles in your top you let out a sigh of preparation and move down the narrow corridor into the back stage area.

If you could call it that. Bare brick and old sofas, a broken amp being used as a side table in the corner, cigarette butts on the floor. The room was swamped in smoke and noise; music playing from a beat up stereo, guitars being tuned, a couple of giggly girls hovering near the drummer trying to get his attention whilst he was in deep conversation with Anthony, the bass player.

Eddie's hunched over his guitar, fiddling with the strings, when Rich the guitarist nudges him. He looks up and sees you, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"Well, my pretty girl, holding a pretty bottle. What you doing fetching drinks? You don't need to do that sweets." You're drawn in to the warmth of his smile, hands grabbing to pull you in by the flesh of your hips, guitar pinched awkwardly between you both.

"I wanted to. It's a gift for you and the guys. For good luck." He grins whilst you pull yourself away for a moment, grabbing some loose glasses on the side and handing out a shot for each of them.

"Hey, don't forget yourself sweet thing."

"Oh I'm not-"

"-part of the band? Pretty girl, you've been to every practise, every dive bar, helped with equipment. Come on." You flush at his words but pour yourself a drink anyway.

Toasting to the band, you knock the bourbon back, relishing the burn.

The band are called and you move to leave to support them front and centre of the crowd, but Eddie has you by the wrist.

He pulls you in roughly, and speaks low and sultry in your ear.

"And don't think I didn't notice this tiny skirt," he says, grabbing you by the ass. Then his voice lowers further, almost a growl, just for you.

"When the show ends I'm going to fuckin' ruin you."

His words flood through you, leaving chaos in their wake. You're all wide eyes and clenched thighs.

Flashing you a grin and a wink as if nothing happened, he allows you to leave. You gape for a moment, then remember yourself and find your way out of the room and to the front of the crowd, elbowing your way to your place.

A couple of fans notice you and move out of your way. One guy even pulls you in front of him so you can see. No one wants to upset Eddie.

And suddenly it's all lights and noise as they come on stage and you see your beloved once again in all his glory. This is where he's supposed to be. You knew it the first time you'd seen him perform. He prowls across the stage as if he owns it, as if it were made for him.

They whip the crowd into a frenzy, playing a mixture of original songs and covers. The style you recognise from that night you'd seen the band without Eddie leading them, but now they had an edge. It was darker, sexier. As always he brought this undeniable sin to the table that sent the crowd crazy.

And that was all before he unbuttoned his shirt.

Girls screamed. Hell, some guys screamed. Eddie laughed deep into the microphone, and you noticed a splash of colour on his chest, deep red, that wasn't there before. There's an unnatural shine to it. You squint and finally figure out it's a plastic layer; he must have gotten a new tattoo, just over his heart. It's not until he finishes a song, taps the pop of red twice and points directly at you, that you see what it is.

It's a rose, almost identical to your own. The permanence of the act makes tears prickle behind your eyes, a gush of feeling flooding your heart.

Almost as suddenly as the show starts, it's over. The energy in the room is palpable, electrifying. It was definitely a good gig; you're certain the band are going to be pleased.

Pushing and shoving your way backstage, you get there just as Eddie does.

"Baby that was incredible!" 

He picks you up in his large hands and spins you around making you squeal like a school girl.

"Yes it fuckin' was! Incredible. C'mere."

Before you can blink he's pulling you in for a devastating kiss.

"Hey, come on guys, get a room!" You hear Anthony groan.

"We have a room Tony, you just happen to be in it." Eddie bites back, grinning carnivorously.

"Seriously? Not cool!"

Eddie laughs, but nods at the guys and pulls you through a door, down a hallway, and into what you can only assume is a supply closet. You haven't exactly got much time to take in your surroundings before Eddie's biting at your throat.

"Eddie, wait just one second!" You giggle, pushing his head away. Wild eyes meet yours. You can feel the post show glow practically vibrating through his system; you know you have a small window if that.

You hold your small hands to his shoulders, ducking your head to actually look at the new ink he has.

It's nearly identical to your own rose tattoo he gave you about nine months ago, just a slightly different style. It's a little more illustrated, slightly less realistic. It's still beautiful, a perfect accompaniment to your own.

"Eddie, its beautiful. I don't know what to say."

He gives you a lob sided smile, stroking at the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

"I love you sweet thing."

"I love you too baby."

You're about to lean forward to give him a sweet kiss but your mouth hits nothing but air.

Eddie's fallen to his knees, reaching under your skirt to pull your panties down. You kick them off and away. Expecting to feel his tongue, your eyes half close in anticipation.

The world falls downward. Suddenly, Eddie's picking you up, your head advancing towards the ceiling. He's lifted you with ease, bear like hands grasping at your ass, your thighs either side of his head. Pulling your heat towards his waiting lips; he's holding you in the air like a rag doll.

Abrupt slam of your back into shelves; Eddie's dexterous tongue laps between your folds. A guttural moan winds its way out of your lungs, tinged with animalistic need. The heat of his mouth is igniting the fire within you, hips rolling into him as nature intended.

You want to tell him he's making you come. You want to tell him how much he means, how good this is. All you manage is a broken scream and a muttered "Eddie, oh fuck!"

Eddie knows. He forces his face into you, ferocious intent clearly exhibited. His tongue is wickedness personified; fiendishly flicking into your core, so evilly it may as well have been forked.

Fire bubbles deep within you, an unearthly lust boiling just under the surface of your skin, waiting to lash out with all the force of hellfire.

Eddie sucks on your clit like the devil himself and forces your release out of you. Your thighs clamp around his head as your orgasm flies through every nerve ending with a cleansing fire. Your moans ricochet through the tiny room and probably out to the rest of the band. You're past caring at this point.

Panting and sweating, you want to take a moment to centre yourself but there's no opportunity. Eddie's pinning you to the shelves with one arm, as if you were his toy. The other is frantically pulling at his belt and fly.

Pushing his pants down just enough, he slides you down his sweating torso and towards his waiting dick.

You feel him breach you and bite your lip to control the burning sensation. Even in this elevated state, Eddie knows he's a lot to handle. He bottoms out, grunting with the feeling of finally being seated inside of you, but gives you a moment to adjust.

"You ok sweet thing?" His words are heady and husky, barely containing the predatory want, devious desire spreading into his very vocal chords.

"Yeah baby," you manage in a small voice.

That's all he needs. Eddie's huge hands are grabbing you by the flesh of your ass, pulling you up and down his length. He's using your  body, his puppet to control; a burning effigy for his desires.

"My fucking good girl, letting me use her like this. Fucking pussy beginning to be used." He's growling, low voice shaking slightly with each heavy thrust. 

You moan, clenching at his filth, slick from your cunt dripping down your thighs.

"Yeah? That good huh? So fucking filthy for me, so ready for me to fuck you. Shit, hang on."

He pulls you off bodily and places you on your feet, only to spin you around and force your front into the wall, kicking your legs apart.

The tip of his solid cock is teasing your entrance, breath of his words ghosting your ear.

"You can take me like this, huh? My good girl."

You're about to scream your submission to the heavens when he pushes back into you with no warning, turning your scream into a whimper.

One of his hands twirls into your hair, forcibly pulling your hair back so he can plant burning open mouthed kisses to your throat. His thrusts are unyielding, pushing his entire length into you, leaving dull bruises deep inside. Gasping at the relentless onslaught you tighten around him, feeling another orgasm about to race through you.

"You're gonna come, I can feel it. Don't you fucking dare. You wait, you come when I come. You come when I tell you to come."

You tighten your muscles, cunt constricting his cock, eyes tight shut. Your impending release is held on a gossamer thread, grasped by the fingertips of his threat.

"Eddie, please please please-" it's just babble at this point; inane, needy noises.

He speeds up his powerful thrusts, one hand holding you against the wall by your throat.

"You do as I fucking say. You want to be my good girl, don't you?"

You attempt to nod, head lolling to the side, only held upright by his firm grip.

Hot breath, a low whisper on the shell of your ear, "I asked you a question."

"Please, please, I'm your good girl!" So high pitched; you'd think you sounded pathetic if you were aware of anything other than Eddie's thick cock penetrating your entire being.

"Ok, fuck, I'm gonna come, come with me, please, oh fuck-"

Eyes tight shut, you do as you're told. Your release cries out, speeding through you, ripping out of your very soul and beyond, leaving your decency and sense of self in tatters, torn by Eddie's hands. Every bone turns, changes, now slipping into useless puddles, muscles unresponsive and uncaring. You'd sink to the floor if Eddie wasn't pinning you to the wall, with not a thought in that pretty head of yours.

Eddie gently pulls his member from you and softly sits you down on a nearby stool, pulling up his pants. He kneels in front of you, palms pressing into your thighs.

"Fuck, I'm sorry if that was a bit much pretty girl." Half a laugh huffs out his chest.

"It's ok, it's fine, baby." You want to sound sure, confident. Your voice is a whisper, a shadow of itself.

"Shit sweets you know what to say if it's too much." He frowns, palm coming rest on your chin as if he was inspecting your face for damage. 

You hold his sure hand in your trembling fingers, softly kissing at his skin.

"I'm ok, I know what you needed."

He laughs, pulling you in for a crushing hug. Voice in your hair, you hear "the fuck did I do to deserve you."

"Something really good?" You smile, relishing his hold on you.

"Seems unlikely but I'll take it" he grins, "you're an angel."

Preening at his praise, you soak up the feeling of Eddie pressed against you, the love of your life holding you as tightly as he can.

Masterlist    Part 1    Part 2    Part 3   Part 4

Part 1 of tag list! Rest in the comments

@angelsarecallin @cutiecusp @pxrxcxa @spencerinmydrawls @munsquinns @sillypurplemurple @tiannamortis @walleloveseve @sinczir @biblichornerd @frogers @lauraasiain @madiisixx @leftdonkeygothgoop-blog @rafestarkeysblog @kittykatvenom @southside-serpent-bae @psychedelicsandsunsalutations @biblichornerd @angelina16torres-blog

[mt-oe]

𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝘼𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙈𝙚—ex bandmate mizu

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

Back with one of my favorite tropes! I high key feel bad for being away for so long and for being too shy to actually interact with anyone so I'll try to make up for it as much as I can.

Will you be the bad guy in this one? Not sure, that's for you to decide. I hope all of you will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa ;*

warning/s: not proofread, angst, cursing, violence (mdni!), toxic, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

note: I tried fixing some parts because I wrote this while I was drunk and I realized that some parts sucked. I'm sorry, dears!

The sound of cars whizzing past, horns beeping, and the endless conversations of people chatting on the street filled the night. The wind blew harshly, the cold biting at your flushed cheeks. Stars glimmering as bright as your narrowed eyes as you ran, footsteps heavy on the concrete.

Bright lights lit up the city, commercials everywhere of something stupid. Probably the next new hyped up skincare product that was overpriced and didn't work or the next new corny romance film they're trying to sell out. Celebrities' faces plastered on every building, some pretty, some borderline lewd, some dramatic.

God, you hated these fucking displays, always so obnoxious and overly marketed...

Especially her fucking face.

Mizu's stupid fucking face plastered all around the buildings, informing you of her concert in your home city as a way of ending her first oh-so-grand world tour. The new hit guitarist made by Abijah Fowler, the manager of the biggest fucking band in the world. A legend. Anyone he handled turns into a star by the first debut.

Oh, fuck you.

These displays were truly obnoxious, even more so with her stupid fucking face, her stupid hands holding her same old guitar, and her gorgeously blue eyes on display for every passerby to see. For you to see every time you went to work, went to get the groceries, went to...whatever.

Blue eyes reminding you of the times when you were her manager. Of when both of you were young and stupid, when playing in a band was just something you did to unwind and have something to do aside from rot. Reminding you of your promise to make her a star, that talent recognizes talent.

And indeed, she was talent.

She was the greatest fucking talent the world ever saw. Her hands played the guitar as if it was natural to her. As if whatever deity that created her wanted mankind to know what music actually sounded like. Like her hands were made for this. Like she was made for this.

Every time she went on stage, countless would scream for her, cheer for her, throw what ever expensive lingerie they had for her. It took months, maybe even a year, to be able to schedule an interview with her. Her fans would sell their soul for a chance to breathe the same air as her, yet alone be in the same room with her.

Which ever city she went, concert or no concert, paparazzi was waiting for her. Each stage she rocked, she made the floors shake with how hyped her audience got. Everyone who attended had post-concert syndrome. They were star struck. She exuded confidence. She was an icon. Not even the lead singer but she was the front man.

An eye catcher.

Talent personified.

A star.

Your fucking star.

And you hated this bitch with every fiber of your body, with every cell that passed and will pass through your veins, with every nerve, with everything you had. You made her a star, gave her to the best fucking manager known to man. For fuck's sake she even finished a world tour. And this is how she repays you?

Your hands pushed the crowds of people away, legs burning as you tried to run into the backstage. The sounds of people yelling at you, glaring at your figure as you cut through lines echoing across the waiting area.

Was this illegal? Probably.

Who cares?

You were getting this bitch even if you had to be dragged out by every armed force known to man.

Just as you were about to reach the doors, security immediately held you back. Bodyguards grabbing you as you thrashed around, trying to kick them off while pulling your arms away from them. "Let me go! Let me fucking see this bitch!" you screamed at them, nails digging into their skin as they held you back.

"Mizu you fucking bitch! I know you're there! Explain yourself!" you yelled, hissing in pain as security tried to drag you out, yelling at you to leave. Your hair out of the bun you put it in, seams at the corners of your shirt ripping slightly, legs scratched. Their hands leaving red marks on your skin, and yet you continued to try and fight them off, yelling obscenities as they held you down. "Fuck! Get off of me! You motherfucker! You ungrateful bitch!"

With a twist of your arm and an unexpected bite at their hands, you finally broke free from their grasps, only to be tackled to the ground as soon as you tried to sprint towards the door. The impact of your head on the ground making you extremely light-headed. Your vision growing blurry as the warm red liquid started dripping from your nose onto the concrete. You could feel them lifting your body; but just as you were about to drag your body out, you heard a voice. The same fucking voice you were searching for.

"Unhand her. Don't worry she's with me."

Upon her words, the guards looked at each other and security hesitantly let go of you, going back to their stations. With a groan, you sat up straight, blowing the blood out of your nostril before wiping the leftover crimson with the back of your hand as she approached you with an unreadable expression.

Just as you looked up, your breath got caught in your throat as your eyes met. Blue orbs meeting with yours. Those gorgeous blue eyes. Drowning you.

Slowly, you stood up, trying your best to balance yourself. Her eyebrows knitting at how beaten up you looked. But just as she was about to open her mouth...

SLAP

...her cheek was met with a harsh stinging pain, knocking her back slightly. Her chest rose up and down as she panted, trying to register what had just happened, hand slowly clutching her cheek.

Sharp blue eyes glared at you as soon as she composed herself. She watched as you shook the pain from your hand, glaring at her with such loathing. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she growled, grabbing you by the collar.

I asked you a question, I wanna know why Why'd you have to make a record 'bout me?

"What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck do you think you're doing?" you yelled at her, eyes narrowing further as you continued to glare at her, no longer caring if her hold on your collar was choking you. "Answer me, Mizu. Why'd you have to make a fucking song about me, you stupid jackass?"

Her eyes scanned your face, looking over every detail as her grip on your collar tightened. Even with a scratched up face and a bloody nose, you were still so beautiful to her. The most beautiful woman she has ever met.

"That's what you're here for? Hah..fuck...I'm with my own band. Stay out of my business," she said in low voice, pulling you closer, jaw clenching as if holding back some sort of unexplainable anger towards you as well. An exasperated yet angered expression washed over your face at her words.

"Stay out of your business?" you repeated before letting out an angry sarcastic laugh. "How can I when you fucking used my picture? Our picture? On a fucking diss album, for fuck's sake! Are you stupid?!" you yelled, hand gripping her hand around your collar tightly until your knuckles turned white, until your nails were digging into her skin.

That's right.

A whole fucking record about you. A whole motherfucking album dedicated to you. This is how this jackass repays you.

The track list started with innocent cute little love songs about how much she admired you, how much she fucking tried for you, how she constantly played her heart out just for you to realize how in love she was with you.

Then, it went on to heavier songs, talking about how you sold her. How you were a fucking traitor who threw her into the pit, making her feel as if you would be there for her no matter where the band's musical journey took off to only to leave her.

And you wouldn't have minded if it was just some kind of corny ass typical romance album with cheesy lyrics a little angst. Every band had that at some point. Maybe it wasn't even dedicated for you. You hoped it wasn't dedicated to you. However, the moment you saw the album cover, you could physically feel the color draining out of your face.

But it's alright 'Cause it was all in my mind To begin with (And you don't know why)

It was a picture of you and Mizu in the old studio. Your body turned to the side as you wrote something on your clipboard. Mizu was at the background tuning her guitar. Of course they had the decency to blur out your face, but you knew.

You fucking knew.

God, you loved this picture so much.

"Mizu...do you think we should add crushcrushcrush to our song list for the next gig," you asked, eyes trained on your clipboard. Your eyebrows furrowed in thought. Damn, this client was stingy. Only 3 songs? How were you going to fit a whole ass gig into three songs?

She looked up from her guitar before her eyes glanced at Akemi who was just beside you, giggling as she looked at her digital camera then back at her with a sly smile, showing the camera to her mischievously. Mizu immediately turned around in fear of her face being captured in the photo, fiddling with her guitar while she thought of an answer. "...Well if you want a Paramore song, I think Ignorance would be better," she said quietly but loud enough for you to hear.

"Although...I still think One Weak is better. Make Taigen sing or something," she suggested, plucking the strings of her guitar as she tuned it. A small 'I second that' could be heard from Akemi as she pointed the camera towards you. Your eyes widened in delight at the suggestion, immediately writing it down on your clipboard. "That's not a bad idea! Not bad at a—"

You were cut off by the loud click sound of a camera, followed by the bright lights of the camera flash. "Oops.." Akemi mumbled sheepishly as she watched you rub your eyes. Just as she was going to hide the camera in her bag, you waved your hand around before gesturing her to give it to you.

Mizu couldn't help but be curious, setting her guitar down to take a peek. "Woah..." you mumbled, grinning at the picture.

It was perfect.

The slight tint from how old the camera was gave it a vintage look. The way your skirt rode up slightly from how you crossed your legs gave it a slightly lewd feel. And along with your combat boots? It definitely had that edge. Y'know? Like that little irresistible charm that made you stare at album covers like Around the Fur.

Mhmm.. don't even deny it. We've all stared at that album cover before.

Even the way Mizu was standing at the background looked so badass. Her back turned from the camera, so sturdy and strong. She definitely had that natural mysterious vibe that drew everyone in.

Everything about this picture...made your heart race.

"Looks like an album cover," Mizu commented, sitting down next to you. A small blush appearing on her cheeks as her eyes traced your legs. The three of you nodded in agreement, each with your own smiles. "Hmm.. maybe if we make it big somehow. We could use this," Akemi suggested.

You nodded, smiling at the photo fondly. "Yeah, let's make it big together," you mumbled, eyes still staring at the picture. God, you loved this picture so much.

God, you hated this picture so much.

Keep the chaos 'cause you don't know why

"Oh don't be such a fucking narcissist. Just because we used a picture you loved so damn much, doesn't mean its for you," she growled, hairs on the back of her neck standing up from anger.

Slowly, her hands gripped your collar tighter, ignoring the pain your nails were inflicting on her, shoving you until your back collided with the cool metal of the trailer. Your body trapped between the vehicle and her body. The tension was so thick it was suffocating you.

You could feel the air being squeezed out from your throat as you continued to glare at her, not letting this go. "Then tell me, Mizu." A small cough escaping your throat as your breathing turned into wheezing. "Who...who is this stupid fucking album for?"

Her eyes narrowed at your question, continuing to stare at you intensely but gave no answer. Although the slight tremble and weakening of her grip told you that you definitely struck a nerve. The silence was unnerving and even with the lack of oxygen, it was pissing you off.

"Answer me, you bitch!" With the remaining energy you had, you lifted your leg before stomping it towards her, digging your foot onto her stomach.

Immediately, her hands let go of your collar as she reeled back, coughing and wheezing. Your hands rubbed at the area where the friction from your collar burned your skin, trying to soothe it as you tried your best to regain your breath.

It was a good try, but Mizu was strong. So strong and well-built. The body that used to keep you close, holding the umbrella for you, trying to hide the shiver in the cold so she could lend you her jacket, was now pinning you to the ground. Knees weighing down on your hands and her weight pushed on to you. You loved her. You hated her. You love her so much.

I heard your song but I wasn't impressed So, you got your feels hurt and now you're feeling depressed Just because we had sex and it didn't last? Now you want revenge, you wanna put me on blast?

"Give me one good reason to not kill you right now," she said in a low voice. Her long, rough, slender fingers wrapping around your neck, squeezing it lightly. You could feel the hesitance in her hold, the slight tremble of her hands and the almost invisible quivering of her lips, contrasting the harshness of her expression.

"You're such a fucking bitch," you coughed out, eyes narrowing as you tried to lift her weight off your body. "Tell me who that motherfucking album is for! Spit it the fuck out!"

Eyes narrowed further as she gritted her teeth, jaw clenching. Her hands squeezing against your throat further, other hand balling into a fist as she lifted it out. Anger emanated from her gaze, burning deeply as she looked at you. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then her soul must be either dead or burning with rage more than ever. And yours? Yours filled with a type of hatred that seemed to deep to be quenched.

No, don't look at her like that.

Fists raised and clenched tightly, mind violent and filled with rage. And yet, she could see no fear in you. Even with the threat of pain, you looked at her with no fear, as if you thought she could never hurt you. Even with the threat of pain, you felt no fear, as if you knew she could never hurt you. Mizu could never do that to you.

So please, don't look at her like that

Her breathing became heavier as she continued to glare at you, fist shaking until eventually letting go. She let out an exhale, eyes glossing over ever-so-slightly. 'What the hell am I doing?', she thought, throat tightening as a lump formed, making it hard for her to breathe. Your form under her, too beautiful, too lovely.

She couldn't do it. Not to you.

Slowly, she got off of your body, sitting on the spot next to you as the two of you looked up at the sky, except her eyes were on your figure. You took a deep breath before eventually looking at her, admiring her features. "You changed so much.." you mumbled, glare softening but still there. "Tell me. That album...was for me, wasn't it?"

A sigh escaped her lips before she gave a slow, hesitant nod. "Why?" you asked, sitting up slowly.

"Why'd you have to.."

"Because you're a fucking liar."

Your eyes widened before narrowing into the harsh glare it was before. "Liar? How am I a liar?" you almost yelled, voice a bit raspy.

Her eyes glared back at you, nails digging into her own skin of her palms. "You fucking sold my contract. To Fowler of all people!" she exclaimed. "Have you ever considered how I felt? Did you even think of me?"

"Of course I thought of you! If I didn't hand over your contract to Fowler, you wouldn't be where you fucking are!" you yelled back, turning to face her. "Look at you now! The biggest and fastest rising star! People are praising you like you're some sort of modern Kurt Cobain, Mizu! Can't you be fucking grateful?!"

Grateful?

Don't make me laugh

She stood up and grabbed you by the shoulders before pulling you up harshly, your sides almost colliding with the trailer yet again. Rage enveloping her being, radiating from her as she approached you, fingers digging into your shoulders. "You didn't think about me! Fuck, you didn't think about any of us at all!"

"How about Ringo? Taigen? Akemi? Where the fuck are they now after you disbanded us, left us all rotting, for Abijah's stupid fuckin' agenda?!" she almost croaked out, face getting closer to yours. Her jaw clenching as her hands trembled in both anger and the desire to be soft with you.

You couldn't believe what she was saying right now. You didn't even think of her? How could she say that after you gave her to the best, to make her dreams come true? Harshly, you pushed her off of you. Now it was your turn to grab her by the collar, pulling her to your height. "Abijah's 'stupid fucking agenda' is what got you where you are, Mizu,'' you growled. "Talent recognizes talent and Abijah is the most talented manager in the industry and he wanted you. The kingmaker wanted you."

A strange sense of disappointment towards you swirled into her eyes. It was stupid of her to think that if she met you again, things would go back to the way they were. An unexplainable retching in her gut welling up as she listened to you speak. Was this it? Was this why you sold her fucking contract?

"You wanted to be a star, he made you a star. I made you a—"

"I never fucking wanted to be a star!" she yelled, glare hardening. Confusion painted over your face, making the anger in your eyes falter. Her disappointment and dismay in full view as opposed to the anger she held earlier. "I don't understand, Mizu. Isn't this why you joined—"

"I fucking joined your stupid band to be with you, dumbass," she sighed, pulling your hands off of her collar. "It was never about making it big. I just...wanted to play and be with you."

Her hands held yours softly as she looked away. "You told me we'd stay together as a band. That we'd be together no matter if we made it big or not." The grip she had on your hands trembling slightly as it tightened. She took a deep breath to calm herself down before looking at you straight in the eyes. "But you're a fucking liar, aren't you?"

For the first time since you've heard of Mizu's concert in your home city, you were speechless. Thoughts empty as you tried to process her words. Hatred quelled deep in your heart. "Mizu.. I really don't understand," you replied, hands desperately trying to hold hers as she tried to pull away.

She looked down at you with a sigh. The heavy feeling weighing down both your chests. With one look at your eyes, she knew this was too difficult for both of you. And maybe, this was just how the world worked.

She loved you. She loves you. But she can't help but hate you too.

"Go. Get the fuck out of here," she said coldly, turning to head back, making you even more confused and even a bit more pissed off. An unexplainable anger gnawing at her insides, making her throat tighten. "I don't want to see you ever again."

Her feet made its way towards the backstage. Ringing echoing in her ears as you plead her to come back, to explain, to talk to you. She heard nothing because she knew nothing would get her feelings into your dense little brain. This was pointless.

Before opening the door to head into the backstage, she took one last look at you. Her eyes tracing your figure, admiring your features that she had grown to love so much. Even with your bruises, anger, and hatred, you really were the most beautiful woman she has ever seen.

Just as she was about to turn away, your hands traveled to the hem of your skirt, pulling it up to your waist, sticking your tongue out as if to mock her cowardice. A blush appeared on her cheeks as she caught a glimpse of your underwear.

'It's pink', she thought with a groan, glaring at you before storming inside and slamming the door behind her. Once she was inside, she hid her face behind her hands, breathing heavily. How fucked up did you have to be to tug at her heart at a time like this?

She really did hate you. You really did hate her.

The feeling was mutual.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

can you do head canons on an upset farmer? They are just really overwhelmed / overstimulated??

(bachelors(

Eyyyyyy, another opportunity for hurt/comfort headcanons! (As I understand it, you want vanilla SDV candidates) Thank you, dear anon, for your ask! ☺️💕

_________________________________________

Elliott:

It was not new to Elliott that his friend, Farmer, was a fan of fishing on the seashore, even in the pouring rain. However, looking out the window of his little beach house, Elliott saw them not far from the pier: without an umbrella, without a fishing rod, looking away and completely drenched by the downpour. The writer's heart clenched at the pitiful sight of his intimate friend, and so he hastened to invite them into the house and give them a chance to dry off. Elliott began cautiously to ask Farmer what was the matter, and Farmer recounted all their troubles. To which the writer calmed and comforted them as best he could. Elliott asked Farmer not to keep everything to themselves and to talk to him if they felt sad and upset again.

Sam:

Although Farmer tried to hide their terrible mood behind a fake smile, Sam's keen eye did not miss their facial expression, which was ready to crease with a restrained urge to cry. Not wanting to embarrass his friend with the presence of other residents, the young guitarist invited his friend over to his house on the pretext of "showing him new lyrics for a future song," but when they entered the room, he honestly asked Farmer if everything was okay. Sam doesn't like that their friend is so sad and he thought that maybe he could help them in some way. Farmer couldn't hold back the tears and told Sammy that they felt bad, that they're so tired and exhausted, while Sam petted the Farmer's back, jokes and offering comfort snacks to cheer them up a little.

Sebastian:

Sebastian probably knows better than anyone that nasty feeling when everything around you seems so awful and you wish everyone would leave you alone. For him, the stop near the railroad became one of the secluded and quiet places, when, feeling upset, he wanted to take a break from people, from noise and events, from the whole world. It was there that he took Farmer so that they could cool off. He wouldn't insist on talking if Farmer didn't want to, and they could both just stand in complete silence for a while. But he will listen to them if they need to pour everything out of their souls, all the pain and anger over someone or something. Listen to them and not interrupt them. He's not too great at giving advice, but he'll try to help his friend and comfort them.

Shane:

Shit... When Shane saw Farmer, he thought he saw himself, in the same depressed state he'd been in a couple of months ago. And he didn't like the thought that his friend, who hadn't left him in that state, was now in the same state too. Starting a conversation about what had happened with Farmer and whether they wanted to talk would be difficult and awkward for Shane, but he would try to casually ask the reason why Farmer was upset. The chicken man himself will try to give a couple of advice that he has learnt from talking to therapist and, if Farmer doesn't get better, seek therapy too. In the meantime, the door to the coop at Marnie's Ranch is always open to them if they want to get away from their problems and just vent to Shane.

Harvey:

Farmer looked so pale, ducking their head and paying no attention to anyone.... So Harvey rushed to them immediately, thinking that they had overworked themselves and were about to faint again from fatigue. But the trouble proved to be quite different. Yes, Farmer was tired, but tired more mentally (though physical health was also affected). The doctor invited them in for a cup of coffee to find out more about why Harvey's friend was so upset and depressed. The doctor listened patiently and gave Farmer some good advice, assured them that everything would be fine and they could always count on him if they needed help or just to talk to him. He also reminds them to to take time to rest. Doctor's orders, because the health of a patient, especially a close friend, is important to Harvey!

Alex:

Alex was just about to open his mouth to ask Farmer if they wanted to hang out on the beach after his work at the ice cream counter. But the athlete immediately shut his mouth when he saw how depressed Farmer looked. Nevertheless, he invited his friend to the kiosk and gave them ice-cream at his own expense and asked casually how Farmer was doing. Apparently not very good, because they were almost crying, telling him that they were very upset about someone/something. At least Alex's pep talk and delicious ice cream helped a little, Farmer feel a little better. Alex didn't know what advice to give them, but promised to always be there for them, just like they were there for him during a rough time. Plus, the free ice cream would definitely help them a little, eh? All for his friend!

[mapledkanata]

Doodles of my MTL ocs! They're part of a band called Istria (band shared with @sneakydevilship !), and are the second most popular metal band in the world. Dethklok's popularity far exceeds them, though.

Puppy is the bassist. She hails from Peru, but grew up in Mexico with her adoptive, older sister Gael. She is more withdrawn than her bandmates, but has a remarkable presence in the dynamics of the band.

Gael Oyente is the drummer. She's deaf, but rhythm and music is everything to her. Cool and collected, Gael is often given task to keep an eye on her bandmates. Alongside her sister, Puppy, she keeps the band grounded.

Cathal Issaseel is the rhythm guitarist. From the highlands of Scotland, he is one of the "founding members" of Istria. He is charismatic and lively, and with the wits to match!

Istria's vocalist and lead guitarist are my friend's, and I hadn't drawn them here.

Some initial concepts from when I was first making them last year under the cut.. very old. & additional notes!

Puppy has tattoos on both her arms. They are pre-columbian based tattoos, relating to her ancestry. She has two piercing on her bottom lip and several on both her ears.

Gael has angel wing back tattoos. She has a piecing on her bottom lip and several on her ears.

Cathal has a tongue piercing, eyebrow piercing and several on both ears.

[forwhatiam]

Happy 28th! <3 Here's my favorite fics I read this month, organized from longest to shortest. Fics with a * before them found their way into my bookmarks!

*Hiding Place by orphan_account (E, 365k)

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

The Serpent and the Lion by louiseparker (E, 212.5k)

Seventh year Hogwarts AU in which Harry Styles is an asshole Gryffindor jock with daddy issues, Louis is just trying to get through the year, and Liam, Zayn, and Niall rarely ever know what the hell is going on.

*Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices by Toomanytears (E, 126k)

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

May We Stay Lost On Our Way Home by LoadedGunn (E, 74.2k)

On March 31st, Harry Styles disappears. Though many speculate, only two people know where to find him: Niall, his former guitarist, and Zayn, who follows where Niall leads.

The fact the biggest boy band in the world broke up two weeks earlier might be related to the disappearance. The fact Harry meets a fairy named Louis in the woods is a whole other matter.

(Liam is a centaur.)

Little by Little by nonsensedarling (E, 65.5k)

Harry Styles is an omega who works at the London Planetarium, has lived in the same flat for ages, and is happy enough on his own. When he gets home from his first (horrible) attempt at dating in years, a new pregnant neighbor knocks on his door after smelling his cooking. He and Louis quickly become close, but their friendship gets complicated when Harry begins questioning who he is and what he likes.

*PA (series) by whoknows (E, 59.2k)

Harry doesn’t think of himself as a womanizer, not at all. Sure, he enjoys sex, enjoys how women feel underneath him, and by some people’s standards he has sex with quite a lot of people, but that’s no reason to tell him that he can’t have a female PA anymore.

It’s especially no excuse for giving him a male PA who’s possibly the most gorgeous boy in the world who won’t even let Harry look at him for too long.

Sometimes Harry hates his life.

*haunted by the ghost of you by missandrogyny (E, 49.3k)

He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.

Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

To you I can admit, I'm just too soft for all of it by starryhaze (NR, 28.2k)

“Harry?” Louis asks when he hears the frantic crying coming through the speaker. “H, darling what's wrong?”

Concerned, Louis puts on his shoes as he keeps hearing the sobs. It’s the middle of the night and the phone call has definitely pulled Louis out of his deep slumber, but Harry is crying, and Louis has to be with him.

“It’ll be okay, baby, I'm gonna come over, okay? You just- Haz you have to send me your address, yeah? Can you do that for me?” Louis asks, trying to remain as poised as possible as he presses his phone between his ear and shoulder so he can grab his jacket.

“No.” Harry cries out. “It's all wrong, Lou- It’s-” Another sob. “I hate it, Lou, I hate it so, so much, make it stop.”

If This Is a Rom-Com (Kill the Director) by tippitytap (G, 27.2k)

It wasn't like Harry Styles needed a housemate.

It certainly wasn't like Harry Styles needed Louis Tomlinson as his housemate, the musical snob who only listened to a hand-picked selection of 14 artists and who had imposed a no-dating rule between the two upon moving in.

They could manage to be housemates and friends, right? Right?

Run and I'll Give Chase by orphan_account (E, 24.5k)

Harry is a fledgling vampire without a maker. Louis is graciously offering to fill that role.

The Warmth by goldensweetmemory (M, 22.3k)

Based on the movie "Good Luck To You, Leo Grande"

*like a bastard on a burning sea by vashtaneradas (NR, 22.1k)

au; harry breaks louis, louis breaks everything.

*Confessions of a Fabricated Alpha by jaerie (E, 18.3k)

Famous alpha Harry Styles has a secret and paying an alpha to roleplay a relationship with him over the phone is the only way he can be himself.

*Roman Empire by Speechless (E, 11.1k)

One day Louis answers Liam's phone while he is in the shower. That's how he meets Harry, Liam's friend who moved to Italy just a while ago. And that's how Liam loses ownership of his phone.

Never Been Knotted by allwaswell16 (E, 9.4k)

Harry doesn't mind that he presented as a beta. It mostly just makes his life easier and more convenient. There's just one small problem: he'd really like to be knotted.

Devil in my brain, whispering my name by lunarheslwt (E, 9.1k)

Louis, a demon, shows Harry, an angel, just how good it can feel to give in to temptation and sin.

This Ain't Red Wine by LetTheMusicMoveYou (E, 9k)

It’s not until he gets a whiff of the contents of his glass that Louis realizes his grave mistake.

That’s not red wine.

It’s blood.

It’s probably not the most rational, but his first thought is what people are going to think when they discover his body. On the list of stupidest ways for a human to die, accidentally turning up to a Vampire party has to be pretty high up there.

(Help!) not just anybody by yeah_alright (M, 3.5k)

Harry unexpectedly finds himself on a date with a coworker and needs help to get out of it without hurting anyone’s feelings. Louis’s eager to step in.

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2024 Day 2

Your Fave Relationship

There was not really another option in my mind when I read the prompt for day 2. The world doesn't have enough of bantering Scandinavian guitarists so that's what I'm offering today.

Specifically, I wanted to focus on the enigmatic of their relationship, because they're a couple of weirdos. That I love, of course.

When Skwisgaar walked into the kitchen, he found his own face staring back at him, in the form of a mug. Toki usually had his morning coffee in the skull-shaped mug that had his likeness, this was nothing new. And it certainly was nothing Skwisgaar had to point out. Toki wanted to be him, but who didn’t, really? 

He also did an astounding negative effort to become nothing like Skwisgaar. Not in the parts that mattered, anyway.

“You knows it ams records kings deys todays, rights?” Skwisgaar said, in lieu of a greeting. “Can’ts keeps sayingks you wills practiske laters nows.”

“Oh, shuts up, Skwisgaar.” Toki rolled his eyes with disinterest. He took another and empty eye sockets glared at Skwisgaar. “You don’ts scares me.”

“Yous playingks ams whats scaries.” Skwisgaar blurted with a smirk.

Toki said nothing, but gripped his mug so tightly that the veins on his hands became noticeable. Skwisgaar never really understood why he did that sometimes. 

“Euh…sees you later at the studios…” He awkwardly said, in the manner of a farewell.

–

Skwisgaar watched Toki play the chords he wrote for him in the wrong succession for the upteempth time. “Wrongs!” He yelled, walking up to him. “It ams twos, twos, fours and thens twos agains! How manies times I gotsa tells you this?”

“Dats whats I dones!” Toki defended himself. “I dids two fours and thens-”

“Twos and twos first!” Skwisgaar dragged his hands across his face with exasperation. It had been so long trying to get Toki to record his track that the other three just left to eat. Skwisgaar was angry, starving and most of all in disbelief over Toki’s stupidity. It’s like he got dumber over time. “You know whats? Gives to me de guitar, I does it.”

“Noes!” Toki protectively holding onto his Flying V. “I wants to plays!”

“Toos late ams gonna does it nows!”

“Noes!”

“I wills!” Skwisgaar grabbed onto the lower body of the guitar.

“You cants!” Toki grabbed the neck instead and they started struggling over the instrument. 

“Eugh, just lets goes, Toki!” Skwisgaar said with frustration, pulling from one end of the guitar. 

“You lets goes!” Toki replied, pulling from the other.

“You cants even plays!”

“It ams mine guitars!”

“Whats I can plays betters?!” 

Suddenly, there was a flash and Skwisgaar felt his face impact against solid flesh. It took him a few seconds to realize that Toki had punched him, and in turn he gave him a slap across the face. Soon enough, the attention stopped being on the guitar and on each other instead. The instrument was even propelled to the ground at some point and neither of them reacted to it, too focused on their fight.

When Toki shoved Skwisgaar against the amp wall, he took a false step and fell, but not without bringing Toki down with him. On the floor, the fight resumed, punches and kicks being delivered from both sides. While Skwisgaar had a good time stretching Toki’s cheeks, Toki, the little dildo, dug his fingers into Skwisgaar’s nose. 

“Eughh!!” Skwisgaar yelled and rolled over so he could regain control. Toki, however, was as bad with guitar as he was strong and he pinned Skwisgaar down, looking obnoxiously smug about it. 

And Skwisgaar was not about to have that so he stuck his own digits in Toki’s mouth, wiping that stupid smile off his face. Because Toki was a bit like an animal sometimes, he started chomping down, trying to bite Skwisgaar’s fingers. He narrowly avoided it, though when Toki’s tongue grazed one of his thumbs, Skwisgaar instinctively looked up.

And, even though it was far from being their first rodeo, something felt a little different. Or maybe it was that without the scowl, Skwisgaar’s fingers on Toki’s mouth had another connotation. 

Before he could even begin to think of anything else, he felt a yank coming from his scalp. It took him a few moments to realize that it was Toki pulling from his hair, forcing him to raise his face.

Their eyes met, both of them gasping from the physical effort and Skwisgaar couldn’t help noticing the flush on Toki’s cheeks. Experimentally, rather than pulling his fingers out, he shoved them deeper which made Toki grimace. A harder hair yank followed, and Skwisgaar groaned.

Toki’s eyes widened and Skwisgaar tried to feign dignity, though he was pretty sure his cheeks were betraying him. Finally, it occurred to him that having Toki on top of him wasn’t exactly helping his situation. Trying to move, however, caused the opposite effect as the motion made him grind his hips against Toki’s backside. In turn, Toki continued the friction by spreading his legs to the sides, locking Skwisgaar in his place. But Skwisgaar didn’t like being told what to do, so he lifted his upper body in an attempt to sit up, only for Toki to lean in to force him to back down. 

Stupid Toki, no matter how short the distance between them was becoming, he wasn’t going to just give up. Just because Toki didn’t care about personal space, didn’t mean he was just going to let him win. Just because their faces were so close that he could feel Toki’s breath on him, didn’t mean Skwisgaar was going to let him do what he wanted…

The door suddenly slammed open. “Whet are you two dooshbegs doin’?” Pickles asked, drinking a piña colada from a straw. 

Panicking, they unwrapped from each other and stood up, not really sure how to answer that themselves.

“Skwisgaar ams dildos.” Toki said first, clearing his throat.

“You ams dildos.” Skwisgaar countered, still looking down.

Pickles loudly slurped, more interested in his drink than what they had to say. “Okey, just don’t forget to eat or whatever.” He said and then walked away whistling.

When they were alone again, Skwisgaar side-eyed Toki. “Eugh…does you wants to goes shootingks de guns lators?”

After a moment, Toki shrugged. “Ja, okays. Whatevers.”

“Okeis.” Skwisgaar leaned down to pick the guitar.

“And dens we watch de movies I tells you de other days.” Toki added. 

“Shores.” Skwisgaar said absent-mindedly, staring at the dent at the bottom of the guitar.

“Skwisgaar?”

“Ja?” He turned to Toki.

“I hates you.”

Skwisgaar smirked. “I knows dat.” Toki was heading out when he talked again. “I hates you too.”

“Goods.” Toki didn’t even look back but Skwisgaar knew he was content.

Because he was, too. 

[mak-be-ghouled]

mountain and aether meeting for the first time and then them saying goodbye when aether retires-

xoxo, your now angst dealer, clown anon <3

Oh, beloved angst dealer, clown anon, what a wonderfully painful prompt 

I hope you enjoy this 2.6k Mountain/ Aether fluff with a dash of angst at the end <3

Everyone knows how close Dewdrop and Aether are, they have the matching mating marks to prove it, but far too many overlook the bond the quint ghoul shares with one particular earth ghoul.

Mountain and Aether were summoned alongside each other, emerging topside on opposite sides of the same pit, the first time the ministry ever attempted asking such a thing from the prince below. To summon a ghoul was among the most strenuous of asks, and now, to summon two? But the ministry was becoming desperate, Terzo was becoming desperate. He’d managed to summon a new water ghoul after Mist announced their untimely retirement, Dewdrop was his name, and he already seemed promising. But he was still left without a drummer and a rhythm guitarist, Ivy retiring shortly after Mist and Delta being determined “unable to continue touring” after an experimental element transition, tensions only rose as the pressures of tour crept on steadily. And so, the gods below must have heard the desperation in Terzo’s voice, smiling upon him and sent two of the most precious ghouls the pits could offer.  

The bond between a newly summoned ghoul and the first creature, be it human or ghoul, they encounter topside is something truly indescribable, though often it may appear to mimic a newly hatched duckling imprinting on its mother. Ghouls brought topside are understandably wary of everything around them, all so new and unknown. The ministry learned of this curious behavior found in newly summoned ghouls and found that including the ghouls that would eventually become their pack greatly improved the socialization of the newly summoned ghoul. The new ghoul would imprint on one of the ghouls that had been topside, giving them a mentor of sorts. 

This of course was not what happened in the case of Aether and Mountain. Crawling from the opposite sides of the same summoning pit, the ghouls had no choice but to lock eyes with one another before seeing anything else, not that they wouldn't have been drawn to each other had the situation happed differently. There was something so captivating about Mountain, and something as equally as intriguing about Aether. 

The summoning portal closed and along with it the outside world melted away. All that existed now was Mountain and Aether. In any other circumstance either one of them would've found danger in the other. Face to face with a ghoul they’d never met, a ghoul of that stature would've posed a threat in the pits. And yet not once did were they overtaken with the instinct to protect, or at least to protect themself from the other. No, looking at each other now, they were filled with a sense of ease, contentment and safety that was entirely unfamiliar for them in the pits. 

It was not until blankets were draped over their shoulders that they pulled their eye from one another. Taking in the room around them, the people, the ghouls, their pack, but like a magnet, their eyes found each other in an instant. 

So, Dew and Aether may have the mating marks, tying them together for eternity, but Mountain and Aether will forever share a bond just as strong, just as permanent. 

Falling into bed together any time they get the chance. They're both busy ghouls when not touring, Mountain tending to the gardens and Aether in the Infirmary. It's necessary work, work they both adore, but being on opposite sides of the Abbey, lucky if they run into each other on a lunch break, they spend more time missing each other than they do together. 

Touring makes up for that lost time in a way, the entire pack forced into such tight quarters, they're together more than ever on tour, bone tired and drained, but together. Stuffing two ghouls, neither of which have ever fit comfortably into the tour bus bunk beds alone, into the same bunk just so they can be close, can hold each other, can spend time together, and yet those nights were filled with the most restful sleep either of them had gotten in far too long. Trading hotel key cards just to share a bed for the night.  

They took care of each other, the whole pack really, and the pack took care of them. But there was something special in the way Mountain and Aether took care of each other, something irreplaceable, something necessary, something uniquely theirs. Aether was able to read Mountain better than Mountain was able to read himself most of the time, knew his tells. Aether noticed the way Mountain’s posture became impossibly rigid when he tweaked his back during a show or slept wrong again. He noticed when Mountain began favoring one leg over the other after hours on his feet. He noticed Mountain grabbing his wrists more often, rolling them in circles after hours of playing. Most of the time Mountain didn't even notice himself doing these things, so used to a sore back, weak legs and aching wrists, but Aether did. Aether always noticed. And Aether was always so eager to help. 

Today was their first real day off in weeks, the days they’d spent not performing being travel days, cooped up in the tiny tour bus, they were getting restless, none of the ghouls had gotten the chance to truly recharge. They needed an off day, and it was finally here. They’d finally gotten to their hotel, their home for the next two days. 

The ghouls piled out of the bus, luggage in hand, coupling off into their rooms. Mountain and Aether had already been paired together, not that they had any shame in swapping cards with anyone, but this meant one less task to complete before they could enjoy their well-deserved break. 

As soon as they had reached their room, Mountain was making a b-line to the shower, he was stiff and sore, and sure, it wasn't his bathtub in the abbey, nor would it be as healing as really reconnecting with his element, but compared to venue locker room showers, a hotel shower sounded like paradise. 

“Bad pain day Sweet Thing?” 

Aether whispers into the back of his neck, wrapping his arms around Mountain's waist. 

“Hmm, just sore, and a hot shower sounded nice” 

Mountain sucks in a sharp breath as his back twinges. 

Aether tightens his grip on Mountain's waist just in time for his knee to give out, protesting the hours of sitting in the bus. 

Mountain rolls his wrist in a circle, suddenly aware of the strain it's been under as he leans against the vanity. 

Sometimes Aether really does know Mountain better than he knows himself. 

“fuck” Mountain lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding 

“Yeah, maybe a little” Mountain chuffs. 

“I'm sorry baby. Let me help?” Aether hums, turning Mountain around to look at him. 

“Would you Astra? Mountain mumbles in Aether’s shoulder. 

“Wouldn't offer if I wasn't already planning on it now, would I Sweet Thing? 

Aether helps Mountain out of his clothes and into the, rather small shower, not that they haven't done more with less.  

Aether grabs Mountain’s toiletry bag off the counter, quickly stripping himself of his own travel clothes and slides in behind Mountain.  

“Gonna wash your hair sweet thing, you need to sit down or can you look up for me?” 

Aether asks after a long moment 

Mountain looks up as far as his aching back will allow 

“Can stand, just no quint right now, that'll take me down” 

“Sounds good sweet thing” Aether chuckles 

They finish with their shower, Aether insisting on helping Mountain into a pair of boxers, grabbing himself a pair as well and leads the swaying earth ghoul to their bed.  

Instead of walking to the other side of the bed to lie down, Aether reaches over Mountain placing his hand on the bed and throws himself over Mountain. He does in in the name of efficiency, but if it makes a pretty blush bloom across Mountain’s face who is he to call him out? 

Aether gets comfortable, reaching out to Mountain, signaling him to join. Mountain lays his head against Aether's heart and puts his hand on Aether's stomach just before another sharp pain shoots through his whole body. 

“Want some quint now sweet thing?” Aether asks as he holds Mountain closer, wishing he could take all that pain away for good. 

“Yeah, please” Mountain breathes out. 

“I’ve got you Mount” Aether assures, and he does. He lets his quintessence slowly flow through him and into Mountain. Gentle and precise, enough to ease the pain without disrupting.  

Mountain’s always been especially responsive to quintessence, a blessing and a curse really. It didn't take much to affect him, something Aether learned early on. Too much quint, or too fast made Mountain nauseous and spacey, he’d come to with a magic hangover, groggy and disoriented. That made Mountain wary of quintessence all together, avoiding it at all cost. But Aether, the ever-attentive ghoul, found just the right amount of quint for Mountain. Something to ease the pain and help him sleep, but not knock him on his ass or make him sick. 

“I love you” Mountain murmurs into Aether's chest as his eyes become too heavy to hold open anymore. 

“I love you too, get some rest sweet thing” 

Nights like these are familiar, as well rehearsed as rituals really, Mountain will wake up in the morning, feeling guilty Aether had to take care of him the night before, embarrassed he couldn't do it himself; Aether had done just as much as him, arguably more, and here he was reaping the benefits of him and his magic, draining any energy he may have had left over.   

And Aether will assure him every time that, no he isn't being forced to take care of Mountain, he does it because he wants to. Because he loves him.  

“I love you so much, let me take care of you this morning Astra?” Mountain says, leaning over kiss Aether's forehead. 

“I suppose that sounds like an alright idea” Aether fake considers, looking up to meet Mountain’s lips with his own.  

They pull away, resting their foreheads against one another. 

“You’re such a dork” Mountain adds, punctuating his statement with a kiss to Aether's nose.  

“We don't have to do anything today sweet thing, get back in bed with me?” Aether asks, pulling out his best puppy dog eyes.  

And who is Mountain to deny such an ask? Especially after Aether spent the entire night taking care of him. 

“’course Aeth” Mountain smiles, crawling back into bed and opening his arms for Aether this time.  

“Stay here as long as you want Astra, or until you get tired of me” Mountain half jokes. 

“Believe me, I will never get tired of you Mount.” Aether hums as he nuzzles into Mountain’s chest. 

Now though?

Now that they were back at the Abbey, their old routine has fallen back into place. Spending their days on opposite ends of the Abbey, opposite ends of the world if you ask them. For the first few weeks they're lucky to see the other awake. 

Aether crawling into bed behind and already sleeping Mountain after another late night in the infirmary, as much as he wants to talk to his love, he knows how much he needs sleep, so instead of waking him, he sends a tiny tendril of quintessence into his brain, gently influencing his dreams, ensuring he will awake feeling rested and eases the ache of stiff muscles and joints. 

Mountain waking up with the sun, greeted by a still sleeping Aether. But as much as he wants to talk to his love, he knows how much he needs sleep, so instead of waking him, he slowly untangles them from each other, places a kiss on Aether’s forehead, and leaves a steaming cup of coffee and small bundle of asters on the bedside table for him to wake up to.  

I love you Astra, wake me up when you get home if I'm asleep, I won't bite ; ) 

Mountain scribbles on a sticky note before heading to the gardens. 

Over time Mountain and Aether get better at prioritizing time for their pack, time or each other, but Mountain finds himself missing the time they spent together on tour more than be thought he ever would.  

Mountain was Aether’s rock on tour, keeping him grounded when everything became too much. He was a safe space to exist without the pressure of conversation or excitement. But in the end, after being back in the Abbey, no longer considered a “new summon” Aether was beginning to realize, maybe he didn't want to go back on tour. He loved his pack more than anything, loved being topside, loved working in the infirmary, loved the fans, loved music, loved Copia, but maybe he just wasn't meant for touring anymore.  

He brought it up to Copia first. Copia was crushed by this, yes, he would miss his quint on tour, but he knew how much the band meant to Aether, he can only imagine how much of a toll touring must've taken on Aether for him to being up for retirement. It wasn't often a ghoul asked for retirement, the ministry had a track record of forcing ghouls into retirement when they felt said ghoul was no longer performing as desired. 

Aether went to Omega next, his mentor, once again following his footsteps in a way, intending to begin full time in the infirmary after band retirement. 

After solidifying his retirement with the higher ups, promising to mentor the new quint just as Omega had done for him, Aether began telling his pack his plans for the next tour cycle. 

Dew and Mountain were the last ones to find out. Aether wanted to tell them at the right time, on their own. He was dreading this more than anything he’d ever done.  

Dew took it about as well as expected, his mate telling him he’d no longer be touring with him. Greif ridden and angry, it took Dew a while to understand. How he could be so angry at a situation while still having so much love for someone. He even considered retiring himself, he couldn't imagine being on tour without Aether, he’d never done that before, he didn't think he could do that. But Dew’s love for touring ran far too deep. Staying with Aether meant no more touring, going on tour didn't mean no more Aether, and so he learned to tour with Aether no longer a bunk away, but now thousands of miles or a phone call away. 

Mountain though? Mountain took the news unmoving. He congratulated Aether through clenched teeth and blurry eyes. He had no reason to fall apart at this. Dew was Aether’s mate, Dew had a reason to kick and cry and scream, he didn't. He was supposed to congratulate Aether, to support him in such a big decision, to be happy for him. 

Everyone was worried about Dew, how Dew would take the news, and for good reason, Aether and Dew were mates, but Mountain and Aether had something just as special.  

Mountain wasn't jealous of Dew, he didn't want to be Dew or wish Aether was his mate instead, he cherished the bond he had with Aether for what it was and always would be. 

Mountain couldn't help but wonder though, had Aether finally become tired of him? 

[unholyverse]

waterparks // marvin magazine issue #10

(full transcript under the cut)

Waterparks

WORDS by HOLLY SOLEM

PHOTOGRAPHY by DANIEL PRACOPCYK

Waterparks are places you go for fun; both pools and slides and the gloriously buzzy, pop punk band featuring members Geoff Wigington (lead guitar), Otto Wood (drums), and singer/guitarist Awsten Knight, whose neon energy matches his hair. Their music leads you down sonic chutes and up rainbow ladders with four albums, countless tours, millions of listeners and a recent signing with Fueled By Ramen, the label under which they are about to drop their highly anticipated 5th studio album. MARVIN had the good fortune of catching up with Knight—who is busy prepping for a European tour, a US tour and the release of the band's new album—to talk about all that goes into creating the bubbly world of Waterparks.

The new album titled Intellectual Property features eleven legit bangers filled with anthemic choruses. psychedelic experimentation and hooky melodies all polished to a sheen. There are hints of megalithic rock bands like Muse, inspiration from The Beach Boys and the pop punk sounds we have come to expect. But as for the "pop" part, this record goes in hard with collaborations with the likes of blackbear and songwriter/producer Julian Bunetta.

I love pop music and we got an offer to write with this dude, Julian, who has credits on 95% of One Direction's discography. I fucking love One Direction. I don't want to be dramatic but let's say I've got a top 60 favorite songs, I think four or five are One Direction songs. And Julian's written on all of them. I was just like, 'I want to do what I do but with him too.' And then I made "FUNERAL GREY", "BRAINWASHED", and "FUCK ABOUT IT", with him.

For this album, the band brought in more outside alliances than on previous albums, with Knight saying. "I think I was more open to [collaborations] on this album. Other people's opinions and thoughts and stuff like that. Normally, I don't really love writing with people that I don't know very well because it can feel very sterile. You walk in and they're like, 'what do you want to write about? You're like, 'oh fuck'—because it's a personal thing." And when it comes to getting personal, Knight is also realizing that to his surprise, the more personal he gets-the more vulnerable lyrically—the more universal the message.

I feel like I used to be kind of freaked out by [vulnerability], especially earlier, on album one. I was really nervous about it and it sounds so lame in retrospect but I didn't even want to do any acoustic songs. I liked burying myself a lit- tle bit behind a big instrumental. [The song] "21 Questions" for example. I sent that along with all the other demos to Benji because I wanted his opinion and he was like, 'this is one of the best ones.' Those wind up being the favorites, which seems counterproductive because songs are supposed to be relatable. And I never feel like I'm being relatable but I try to be less selfish with the writing. I want this to be for someone else.

When Knight refers to "Benji" he is talking about Benji Madden, one half of legendary pop punk duo Good Charlotte. Benji, along with his brother and bandmate Joel, manage Waterparks after discovering them on YouTube and DM'ing them on Twitter back in 2015. Knight received the news of the Maddens' invitation to fly to LA for a meeting while working as a babysitter who gave guitar lessons.

I called the guys and we're like, 'holy shit.' So we all went and bought swimsuits because…California. And yeah, that was it. After we met them, we went back to our hotel and were just like, 'what is happening? A week ago we were still passing out flyers outside of other people's shows. And we're right here, right now. This is the weirdest shit.'

A literal dream-come-true for Knight and the band, who eventually would make the move to LA from Houston while missing its Tex-Mex and Thai food, and of course, his family. But when it comes to the weather, he's all about California. He doesn't even mind the earthquakes. He was in a rooftop hot tub during one and actually found it rather exciting. For a man who has toured the world, there's a bright-eyed innocence and almost childlike wonder to him. His seeming lack of cynicism is as refreshing as freshly fallen snow which he admits he only saw for the first time not that long ago. But now, Knight talks about having stress dreams as he and the band get ready to embark on a European leg, followed by an extensive US tour.

Here's the thing, I like to play shows and I like to meet people. The other 22 hours of the day, I like having my space. I'm pretty particular, you know what I mean? I like my zone where I can sit and just do stuff. You go from peace and quiet and doing what you want all the time to sharing a small living space and a bus with twelve people. It's basically having twelve people in your living room for two months. And you're just like, 'ah, but the shows are great' as long as the shows are fun and everyone is having a great time, that makes it worth it to me.

He's also superstitious. Around his apartment there are crystals, there are obsidian and selenite wands in front of all the mirrors. He has a healer-type person come in and energetically clear his space, insisting he throw away objects that may have "dark entities" attached. "I'm luckier than people I know. They're like, 'why is the light always turning green when you go to it? Why do you always get the front spot at the store?' I'm like, it's because I don't split the pole, you know? Can't split a pole when you're walking. There's a bunch of superstitions. But I follow them and I'm crazy lucky."

In addition to music, he recently penned a well-received book of personal essays called, You'd Be Paranoid Too (If Everyone Was Out to Get You). He plans to write a novel next and has also started a clothing line called HiiDef. that fabricates small collections that sell out fast. His enthusiasm for the line is on par with music. "If everybody made the songs that I wanted to hear, I wouldn't have to do this. The same thing applies with clothing." Passion abound, he is all smiles when discussing plans for the future of Waterparks.

How do I get to the fucking moon? I think anyone who hears this album is going to love it. Cause I think it's incredible. I'm looking at the songs right now. I'm just like, 'man, straight slappers.' Even the last song, which I know wouldn't be a single or anything-that's probably one of the best accomplishments of a song that we've ever been able to pull off. I see this album in plaques on the wall. All right, we're manifesting now.

He names his goals out loud, as one is meant to do when calling them in, mentioning things like how much he'd like to play the Redding and Leeds Festivals at sunset. Then he pulls up the Waterparks US tour schedule online while musing, "I want one of those big "Sold Out" things across all the dates. It's getting there dude. Yeah, actually, it's going crazy right now." In real time, he seems to discover that the banners that cross nearly all of the show dates do indeed read, "Sold Out". And then it's clear. Awsten Knight is lucky. But luck is really about preparation meeting opportunities and he has definitely shown up to the game prolific and prepared. Five albums in, it's clear that Knight and Waterparks have only just begun.

@waterparks

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Friends to Lovers Fics Masterlist (13)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / 

Created: June 6th, 2024

Checked:---

That Time We Took Over the World-Gamemakers (ao3) Summary: Being a session guitarist pays well, but Katniss Everdeen’s always wanted a taste of the spotlight. Enter Peeta Mellark, whose boyband fame faded twenty years ago, and a not-quite-dying wish from an old friend, and she’s in for way more than she bargained for. The Dance of the Color Guard, Op. 64-populardarling (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Peeta used to be best friends when they were kids, but now in high school, they're barely on speaking terms. It isn't until they are forced together as the titular star-crossed lovers for their marching band's field show that they will have to face their past mistakes and try to get along if they ever hope of defeating the notorious Capitol Height's Imperial Marching Crusaders in competition. It's all about winning and if that means pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark, so be it. But a lot can happen in six months. The Ghost of You-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: Katniss Everdeen thought they were just her imaginary friends. Turns out, they were very real—and dead. An Everlark take on the movie “Heart and Souls.” The Great Panem Christmas Bake-Off-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: Aspiring baker Katniss Everdeen finally gets her chance when she's chosen for The Great Panem Christmas Bake Off. Too bad, she's already managed to piss off famous baker and Bake-Off judge, Peeta Mellark. The Holiday Stand In-LemonLuvGirl (ao3) Summary: Katniss Everdeen needs a guy to pretend to be her boyfriend for the holidays, and when she meets Peeta Mellark she thinks he's the answer to her Christmas prayers. Peeta also happens to need a significant other to take home to show off to his folks. So Katniss proposes that they pose as each other's dates for the holiday season. Just to get their families off their backs. But pretending to be in love is a dangerous game, one that Katniss might not end up winning unless she plays her cards right. The Hoodie-LemonLuvGirl (ao3) Summary: Based off the prompt: I’ve been wearing my boyfriend’s hoodie around the house for the last week. I tried to give it back last night. “That’s not my hoodie.” He said. I then realized with horror I’ve been wearing our builder’s hoodie. In front of our builder. The Long Weekend-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: Two assistants who barely tolerate each other. One snowy cabin. One very long weekend. Oh, and one bed. The Marrow of the Story-hutchabelle (ao3) Summary: Written for the Everlark Fic Exchange Springtime 2020 Edition Prompt 17: Everlark enemies to lovers, a long-standing grudge (could be anything, even simple) but somehow it is discovered that Katniss is a bone marrow match for Peeta. If she doesn’t donate he will die. The One She Left Behind-Xerxia (ao3) Summary: Everlark modern AU Weeks after moving to New York, Peeta Mellark encounters a woman he thought he'd never see again. The Pact-endlessnightlock (ao3) Summary: prompt: best friends everlark!pact on marrying each other when they turn 30 and are still single. now both are 30 and very much married. what comes after? (surprisingly good sex, awkward kids talk, explaining to families and friends) its up to you☺

[in-hav3n]

So I have a request. I saw the post you did of Y/N taking Care of James after he got his arm burned. I was wondering if you could reverse the rolls? Like Y/N is a part of Metallica (like a second bassist of guitarist), is James’s girlfriend, and instead of James not being able to live away from the fire in time Y/N is the one who can’t. So in other words what it would be like if the burn happened to Y/N instead and how James would react.

𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑

WARNINGS : mentions of pyro accident

Sat on the waiting room of the Montreal hospital, head into his hands, James tried to recover from the previous hours events. In just a few seconds, the worst happened. Something they could never ever imagined happened, making his own world falling apart.

"Do you want a coffee, man?", Lars asked, placing a gentle and comfort hand on his friend's shoulder. James slowly moved his body to face the drummer and simply nodded. He wasn't thirsty but a hot coffee would maybe help him to relax a little. Lars nodded back and disappeared into the double doors, going straight to the cafeteria.

Since two hours now James was waiting in this depressing corridor for some news of you and he slowly started to go crazy. He was waiting to see this damn white door getting opened on a doc or nurse to tell him you were safe...

or not...

He sighed at this idea and rested his head against the wall behind him, his palms nervously rubbing his thighs. They were sweaty and he didn't like it. He closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths but it was impossible to relax. Pictures of the accident immediately crossed his mind and made him shivered.

He could still pictured you on the stage, him on a side, you on the other. You were both rocking hard, playing "Holier than thou" and performing probably one of the best show of your career and life until you stood at the wrong place at the wrong time...

James realized too late where you were and when the fire started, he could just heard your screams throughout the riffs, saw your body stepping back and falling on the stage. He didn't think twice. His instinct told him to react quickly.

James pulled off his guitar that fell on the ground and ran over you. Kirk and Lars didn’t see what happened and wondered why their friend stopped playing until they noticed you. They joined James and some staff members who came to see what's going on. But soon enough they decided to talk to the audience who was wondering too what was happening.

James fell on his knees next to you, not caring about the pain he could fell, and grabbed your face. You were pale, big drops of sweat were running along your forehead as you were whining off pain. Your arm was completely burned and James could see your arm's flesh burned and red. He tried to not look frightened or scare cause it wasn't the time to falter. But it was so difficult...

"Stay with me baby...", he kept whispering, your eyes watered by your tears of pain and your mouth tensed up by the pain. He saw you moving your eyes to look up at him but you were like paralyzed by the pain and the fear, you couldn't even speak.

"Everything will be alright...". He heard his own voice cracking under the emotions and tried to remain calm. But he knew how much a burn could be serious...

Suddenly, two medics arrived and proceeded to take you to the nearest hospital. James heard them babbling about how serious this was and tried to keep a cool head. He saw the panic in your eyes when they grabbed you by your head and feet to place you on the stretcher.

"It's okay love, they're gonna save you. I won't leave you I promise", he grabbed your hand and held it until they walked out of the stage to put you in the ambulance. He didn't leave you a single minute, hearing the audience and his band mates voice vanishing slowly...

This image would be stuck in his mind forever. No doubt. He sighed again and started to shake his leg nervously. Damn, we arrived 2 hours ago, how many hours do they need to save her? . He felt a urge to smoke or to drink, he couldn't tell but right now, he needed anything that would make him forget the fact he was waiting desperately for a single new of you. But it wasn't the time to leave the place. He was ready to stay here forever if he had to...

The door opened again but not the one he had hoped. It was Lars coming back with two coffee cups. He thanked him and grabbed the cup he was handing to him. The hot liquid comfort him a little, as he expected but not for long...

"Still nothing?", the drummer asked his friend, blowing out over his coffee cup. James shook his head and leaned his elbows on his thighs.

"Nothing...and it's been 2 fucking hours".

"Easy James...I'm sure they do the best they can. She'll be there soon", Lars said to comfort his friend, knowing his temper. He was surprised James didn't make a scene or didn't break everything in the hospital yet.

James sighed loudly and ran a hand into his long hair. "I'm going fucking crazy. My mind is showing me horrible images of tonight, I-...", he shut himself and though carefully of the words he was using. "I wouldn't survive if she...", he couldn't say it loud and heard his own voice cracked.

"Hey....", Lars said with a soft voice, grabbing his friend's shoulder to squeeze it. "She's a strong girl. She won't leave you that easily man. You know her. She will overcome this, she'll be alright". James nodded and hoped his friend was alright...He had lost his best friend and brother a few years ago, he could't face another loss.

Like if Lars' words had been magical, the double white doors brusquely opened on a doctor. He walked over them, taking off his surgery's gloves. James quickly got up and gulped when he saw the blood on those gloves he was pulling it off. He tried to read the doctor's face to have an answer. Was he mad? Was he sad? Was he content? He couldn't tell.

"Mr Hetfield?", he asked with his serious voice as he stopped in front of the frontman.

"How is she doc ? Is she alright ? Can I see her?", James immediately asked.

"Easy James...", Lars repeated as he grabbed his friend's arm to make him stop harassing the doc with questions.

"Yes she's alright. Your girlfriend is safe now. We could treated her burns but she'd need to stay here for a while. She needs a specific medication", he started to explain but James was only hearing "she is safe".

He nodded at everything the doc said and sighed loud of relief when he left, telling them they were preparing you to go to a private room where James could meet you.

"See, I told you she was a strong girl!", Lars said as he happily hugged James, wearing a big smile on his face. James hugged his friend back, his smile hurting his cheeks. His heart could beat at a normal pace now.

"Wow...what a relief! I can't wait to see her", he said as clapped his hands together, feeling more than ready to see you. He had so many things to say but he already knew that the first thing he'd say to you was how much he loved you...cause with these 2 hours of waiting, he realized even more how much you meant to him.

A/N : OMG this idea is absolutely perfect ! James and girlfriend being in the same band, that's exactly what I wanted to hear. Hope you'll like it <3

[magioftheseas]

The Concept Of Self

Written for @sayakazine Please check out the fundraiser!!! Summary: Sayaka needs a change in direction when it comes to her image. Who better to ask but the Ultimate Fashionista? It's strange, then, that Enoshima Junko doesn't act like expected at all. Rating: PG Warnings: None really. Notes: This is one of my two fics posted for the Sayaka Zine! It's Ikuzono-focused but you can read it platonically. I've always been super interested in the idea of Sayaka interacting with Mukuro while she's disguised because, uh, Mukuro's not the best at acting and Sayaka would definitely notice. I love writing Sayaka as more shrewd and inquisitive while Mukuro is floundering. I think they're cute. Currently, the Sayaka Zine is running a fundraiser, so please show them support! Special thanks also to @softausterity for the illustrations, which are included in both the zine and the Ao3 version. Go check them out, too! ***Alternative Ao3 Link*** Commission? Donate?

She didn’t look at many fashion magazines growing up, even after she debuted.

She loved fashion and pretty dresses as much as the next person, but it had never been her passion. Just something she appreciated and respected from a distance with little understanding beyond if she thought an outfit was cute.

At the beginning of her career, she was told it was okay to not concern herself with such things.

“You’re cute enough without trying!”

Except now it’s become,

“You can’t keep coasting on your natural charm forever.”

She supposed she had expected this to a degree. As distant as she was from the normal teenage girl, she would’ve been a fool to not notice the rising star of the fashion world.

One Enoshima Junko.

–

There were other girls with noticeable style, of course. The Black Cherry girls were a strong example with the guitarist especially standing out. That guitarist, Mioda Ibuki, had a personal style that was as bold and brazen as her music.

Sayaka admired that commitment to individuality, but when she looked at herself, the difference between her and Mioda-senpai was as stark as peacocks and sparrows. No, Mioda-senpai knew herself better than anyone, but Sayaka didn’t think that she’d be understood at all.

But someone like Enoshima-san might be different. Enoshima was similarly bold and outspoken, but her interviews also depicted her as someone with a keen perception and a knack for understanding not just people but people at their deepest and basest.

When she finally met Enoshima, she had been on edge.

…but Enoshima-san wasn’t what she expected.

–

“Enoshima-san, can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Uh, why?”

What caught Sayaka’s attention first was that Enoshima was always on edge around her.

“It’s nothing serious! I just want to talk!”

“O-Oh, that’s, fine, I-I guess?”

Enoshima would cross her arms defensively and not at all like the powerful young woman who was predicted to take Japan by storm. Almost as if that person had been nothing more than an illusion.

But the Enoshima-san in the magazines absolutely isn’t a person that the press could fake.

There must be something that Sayaka is missing.

“Have I done something to offend you in some way?” she asked innocently, taking in the twitch in Enoshima’s eye. How Enoshima just barely manages to disguise her grimace as a grin. “I’ve actually come to you for advice, Enoshima-san.”

“Oh. Oh!” Enoshima does perk up at that, but she still seemed strangely flustered. “L-Like about…boys?”

Oh. Oh.

“It’s not about Naegi-kun at all.”

“I-I didn’t say–!” Enoshima balked, face a now brighter shade that rivaled her red nails. “W-What even gave you the impression?!”

“It’s a joke,” Sayaka chirped with a laugh. “I know there are rumors about Naegi-kun and me, but an idol is nothing without her fans. I’d never do anything to break so many hearts.” She does pause, switching to a more serious mode. “It actually is about my fans. More specifically, the image I present for them.”

The sky was unbearably bright. A more blinding blue than the shade of Enoshima’s widening eyes. Enoshima was no doubt taken aback.

“How am I supposed to…?” Enoshima stopped herself, flushing again. “Wait, so you’re looking to change…your look?”

Sayaka felt her smile strain. A shameful slip that had her want to dig in her nails and heels.

“In a manner of speaking, Enoshima-san. I’m glad you understand.”

It’s supposed to be Enoshima’s talent. Enoshima should understand fashion and image better than anything, from the matter of boys to the matter of her own heart.

Enoshima’s shoulders hunch in the most pitiful way. She worries on her lower lip extensively. Her bright blue eyes go downcast. Her mouth works to speak, but hardly a sound comes out. The bright red of her cheeks really does bring out those homely freckles.

“If you don’t have the time,” Sayaka said, with a pang of sympathy overriding any disappointment. “That’s fi…”

“It’s fine!” Enoshima exclaimed, finally bursting. “I-It’s absolutely fine, Maizono!” Tilting her head back, she forces a hearty laugh. “I’m just surprised! Didn’t think you’d go out of your way to ask me about something like that!”

She’s being honest.

Enoshima clears her throat.

“S-Say,” she says, quirking an eyebrow in a way that only slightly distracted from the sweat dripping down her cheek and the clamminess of her clenched hands. “How about a shopping trip? J-Just us two girly girls.”

She’s uncertain, but she’s earnest.

Sayaka doesn’t have to force her smile in the slightest.

“I would love that, Enoshima-san.”

–

There’s a shopping district nearby Hope’s Peak Academy. Since a lot of Ultimates flock there, it’s always bustling especially in the afternoon. To call it a cornerstone of trends would be an exaggeration. It’s a perfectly ordinary distinct, it’s just in a convenient spot.

Not that Sayaka would know for sure. Enoshima was wetting her lips in a clear sign of nerves rather than offering any judgment on the matter. When Enoshima noticed her curious stare, she forced a grin and snatched up her arm.

“Let’s do this, Maizono!”

Her voice cracked at the honorific. Likely also nerves.

Sayaka had already put on her best-disarming smile, but Enoshima was already tugging her into the first clothing store, closest to the entrance.

Was it convenience, or…?

It wasn’t her place to assume.

–

“This is cute, isn’t it?”

She had picked out a soft blue dress. Rather plain but the kind of thing worn in movies going for a rural charm. It’s the kind of unassuming but lovely thing that Sayaka would usually go for.

She can’t help but think that the Ultimate Fashionista would call it drab, but Enoshima is terribly tense as her gaze flickers from Sayaka’s innocent face to the cloth.

“It’s, uh, fine, yeah.” Enoshima finally forced a grin and a thumbs-up. “Is it what you’re looking for?”

…so that you can hurry up and leave?

“I’m not sure,” Sayaka said, and it was a nugget of truth despite everything. “Can we keep looking?”

Enoshima looked like she might be sick, but kept up that grin.

“S-Sure!”

The next outfit that Sayaka entertains is a poofy blouse. Enoshima simply nods along, agreeing that it’s cute. She even points out that the mannequin was wearing it so it must be popular.

Shouldn’t she know based on her own intuition?

She did notice. Enoshima looked over clothes as well, but idly like she had never been clothes shopping before. Enoshima did seem partial to some colors and designs, but they largely seemed more suited for blending in with the bushes over dazzling a crowd.

Just to test her, Sayaka did pick up a dress that was patterned with earthy tones of green and brown. She knew who it’d remind Enoshima of, and she saw how Enoshima’s eyes brightened when she brought it over.

“How about this, Enoshima-san?”

It’s a dress that even Sayaka knows she wouldn’t be able to wear, regardless of how charming it was. It’s too unassuming. Even her plainest clothes needed to have some level of flashiness. The Ultimate Fashionista would also say as much.

“Uh…” Enoshima-san hesitates, cheeks pink. “Is that…what you’re into?”

Sayaka just smiled as she always did. Smiled, smiled, smiled.

“Why? Do you think it’d look good on me?”

“Well,” Enoshima stutters. “I don’t want to recommend something you don’t want to wear. And I’ll be real, I don’t even know what you want to wear.”

“I’m not picky.” Her smile wouldn’t twitch. “This is for the fans as much as it’s for myself.”

Enoshima just frowned at her.

“Are you sure? Are you sure it’s for yourself as much as it’s for your fans?”

Ah. Enoshima-san is making herself into a problem now.

“Sure I’m sure!” A cute laugh here. Smile, smile, smile. Turn up the CHARM! “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

Rather than at her, Enoshima looked up at the store lights.

It smarts a little.

“Do you like the dress or not?” She finally cut straight to the point. “Do you think it’s cute? Unassuming but so very charming? Because I’ll trust your opinion on anything, Enoshima-san. You’re the Ultimate Fashionista, so this is your talent, right?”

Enoshima looked at her shoes next. Her cheeks are flushed, and it’s likely not because of the dress.

I feel like I’m bullying her. That’s not how an idol is supposed to act at all. What’s wrong with me?

Enoshima doesn’t even assert herself. She just shrugs before sullenly nodding. Sayaka had once thought that the Enoshima-san she read about would tear someone apart if they dared to cross her. She had envied that idea to an almost sickening degree.

I’m already twisted, but…

“Do you think I should just forget about my fans?”

Still, I…

“That I shouldn’t consider them at all?”

Enoshima’s shoulders hunch.

“...m-maybe?”

She sounded so unsure.

“I-I mean.” She’s stuttering. “Isn’t this about you and what image you want to put out?”

“In a sense.” Sayaka is calm. “But idols aren’t anything without their fans. Not considering them at all would be cruel. I exist for their sake, so…”

“So you’re going to restrict yourself based on what you think they want?” Enoshima’s frown deepened. “I don’t think that’s what self-expression is about. It, uh, sounds like the opposite, actually.”

The thing is that Enoshima’s sentiment was sincere. She still wasn’t confident at all, but it was still a belief from her heart.

And it was ridiculous. Cliché and cheesy, but Sayaka had begun to suspect…

Maybe Enoshima-san has a secret twin or something.

That should’ve been the end of it. If this Enoshima wasn’t actually the Enoshima-san that she read about, then what actual good was she? This trip was a waste of time. A total waste, but she supposed it made for a pleasant enough detour.

And this Enoshima-san isn’t a bad person. She’s cute much the same way that Naegi-kun is. But my fans always come first.

“It can’t be helped,” Sayaka found herself saying. “I’m an idol, so that’s the way that things need to be. I can’t be like Enoshima-san.”

Enoshima warily regards her. That’s her first cue.

“I had a great time.” She made a move to put the dress back on the rack. “And I really do appreciate your help. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“You’re just going to cut things off here?” Enoshima’s voice rose. “Seriously?! You haven’t even tried on any of the clothes you showed me!”

Just like how unassuming Naegi could be full of surprises, it was a shock when Enoshima reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“So what if it’s not what the fans want? The fans aren’t even here, Maizono-san! If you want to wear these outfits, you should! I won’t judge!”

“A-Ah…”

Enoshima’s grip was stronger than she could’ve imagined. Enoshima realized that too when she winced, hurriedly retracting her hand.

“S-Sorry, I just…” Enoshima scratched the back of her neck. She dug in her nails like it itched terribly.  “I’ve just been thinking… I want to see what you want to wear. Even if it’s not what others want; if it’s what you want… What’s the harm in dressing up? That’s…what I wanted to say.”

Her wrist wasn’t swollen, and she really should leave. She really should.

Instead, she says. “It might be underwhelming or disappointing. I’m…afraid I’m not as sparkly on my own as I am on the stage.”

“That’s fine,” Enoshima almost replied too quickly. “I still want to know more about you. Despite our, uh, differences, I think we could get along.” Then, quieter, she mumbled. “You kind of remind me of someone I really like and admire, so I do want to help you…”

“Ah. Hm.” Sayaka tilted her head, genuinely curious because that person couldn’t be Naegi. “Who?”

“N-Not important!” Enoshima squealed. “Do you have to try and distract me instead of just answering the question?!” She’s whining, too. It’s so childish. “You always do that!”

She’s the one that’s like Naegi-kun. I can’t help but tease her.

She can’t help but laugh.

I can’t help but like her.

She takes the dress back and holds it close.

“Alright!” She exclaims like it’s easy. Like it’s simple. Like her heart really is light. “I’ve actually always wanted to wear green. I like green more than pink if you can believe it.”

“I don’t,” Enoshima said bluntly. “But I understand it.”

Sayaka smiles wide, and it doesn’t even hurt in a bad way.