#after that one performance when he was walking down the stairs of the stage he just previously danced on

[surrik-i]

I like (not really) how from what I saw, nobody is boycotting the new tour…. Like…… really? I mean I get wanting to see them and every ring but, even I couldn’t just watch them preform when they literally look so fucking exhausted. It hurts seeing them so tired, and then there’s people who really don’t seem to care enough and just (enable? Is that the right word) give money to a Zionist. Because let’s be real, Scooter Braun is a Zionist and all of your money is going right into his pockets. (Along with literally belift and hybe..)

Is it just me that feels that way? Cause I really can’t stand it… seeing their company just wear them out like that, have back to back tours, no fucking breaks, constant promotions, have one member (Jay specifically) have an injured knee for a few months and continuously make him preform, suddenly care about said member when it causes you backlash and possibly no more money so that you HAVE to speak up, not because you care about him nor the group, only for money. Have another member faint (Ni-ki), and feel so exhausted to the point where he has to hunch over to catch his breath due to exhaustion (also Ni-ki in that one criminal love performance), have another repetitively wince due to soreness and still let him preform (Jake in again that one criminal love performance), also have said member barely keep his eyes open either in a promotion shoot (Jake again), also have another member get mistreated by a staff/maybe bodyguard (Sunoo) repeatedly and still not do a fucking thing about it. OOP ALMOST FORGOT— have Heeseung very clearly sounding sick while preforming as well, and still not letting this boys rest because their suffering gets you more money.

Call me overdramatic all you want, say “oh it’s their job” all you want. But they’re fucking humans, not robots. They get overworked constantly, along with MANY other groups (but Enhypen is the one I’m talking about because they are the topic of my discussion). And still we have “fans” just continuously either but albums, tickets, etc. when all it does is enable BELIFT/Hybe to overwork them. All they care about is money (hybe not enhypen), all they care about is streams and plays, they don’t care about Enhypen’s well being. As long as they profit off of their suffering everything is ‘all fine and dandy’ when it’s really fucking not. The same goes to fans who are literally going to their new walk the line tour. All they care about is entertainment and watching their favs preform, not their actual well being.

For me, I care about them as people. I love the boys, with my whole entire heart. Don’t mistake me for an anti or anything, because I’m not. But is it really hard to NOT buy any albums? To not buy any tickets? For me it’s not, all I want is for them and possibly other groups to fucking rest for one without getting milked for money. Them (Enhypen) along with many other groups (like txt, etc) are being mistreated either by the staff or whoever is in charge, possibly getting sexualized in some way because it’s fucking hybe let’s be real, or getting severely overworked and have unhealthy dieting issues because image and looks matter so much rather than their actual health.

All I want is for the boys to take a long ass break, not have another fucking comeback after the one they just fucking had that the company had so much problem promoting to begin with.

[knavesflames]

Yes. Write it :)

As promised😌

Fem Balletdancer! Reader x Arlecchino ;)

Contents: fingering, in a public space but they don’t get caught, slight choking (a tiny bit), tears, praise, but very slight degradation (in a loving way) arlecchino is possessive (and lowkey jealous)

Word count: 1263

Nsfw under the cut!<3

Breathing heavily after yet another performance, you stare out into the crowd. You keep your face still, but your eyes can’t help but light up when you see the familiar figure front and center in the crowd, clapping loud and slow. She stays seated while everyone files out of the opera epiclese, her stoic face disrupted by the hint of a smirk.

“Very fun, love.”

You finally move from your ending position, letting your fingers gently bounce on your costume— a beautiful white lace bodice with rhinestones that shine oh so perfectly in the light, complete with a white tutu, because what ballerina can dance without a tutu? You grin a thank you, stretching your feet that are still clad with your pointe shoes.

Finally catching your breath, you hear the familiar clack of her heels walking across the floor and up the stairs to the stage as you take a seat on one of the props. Your ballet partner nods and hastily runs off, not wanting the potential wrath of Arlecchino, because what if his hands were too close to your waist for her liking? What if he held you for a second too long? Her smirk disappears when she sees him run off, a quiet mutter of “coward” under her breath as she walks towards you. Her own hands dance up your waist, her breath coming close to your ear.

“I don’t like him.”

You can’t help but roll her eyes at her jealous streak, one she’d never admit she has.

“You say that with every partner I’ve had.”

Her voice takes on a sharper tone, not by much, but you can tell she’s serious, and you can’t help but try to contain a shudder.

“They’re not me.”

You plant a soft kiss on her jaw as you reassure her that you do not, in fact, feel anything towards them. Her lips twitch into a frown, and her hand grabs your wrist, a tight grip that can only be possessiveness, her voice practically a snarl.

“It’s not you I’m worried about. I know you’re mine. It’s them. You’re gorgeous, and they get to be close to you. I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried anything.”

“They don’t.”

Her other hand moves to gently grip your chin, keeping you looking at her. She enjoys watching your face flush when she does it, and if anyone were to walk in, well, isn’t that a bonus? She gets to showcase that you’re hers and nobody else’s.

“They better not. I’ll kill them the second they’re too touchy.”

“Stop it—“

Before you can protest anymore, she’s only gone and bent you over the damn prop, a small wooden table. Your tutu flares upward, which earns a low, throaty chuckle from Arlecchino.

“You’re cute with this tutu. You’re lucky it’s expensive or I’d rip it off you. You’re not only cute, you’re mine.”

She feels your breath hitch as her hand travels up your thigh before she removes it, only to have it landing down roughly on your ass. Her fingers caress smoothly where the slap landed, soothing the sting, and my god is she glad you can’t see her and her wicked grin when you yelp. Her nails, long and sharp (you’re lucky she files two of them down), slice through your tights and leotard with one simple movement, causing you to whine.

“Arlie, these were expensive.”

“Shut up, I’ll buy you new ones.”

“But—“

“Would you like to cum? Then be quiet.”

With a whimper, you comply. With her one hand on your back, holding you down against the table, her other hand traces around your slit, so carefully avoiding touching you where you want to. Your hips buck back in an attempt to force her hand where you want them, which earns another slap on your ass and a yelp from you.

Your voice echoes around the now empty opera epiclese, which makes you so painfully aware of the fact anyone could walk in.

“What if someone comes in?”

“I’ll kill them if they do.”

“Arlecchino.”

“Fine. They won’t.”

With her fingers finally dipping into you, a soft moan leaves your lips.

“Good girl. So wet for me, it’s almost like you want to get caught. Lift your leg.”

Seeing your confused look, she taps your thigh, almost commanding you to lift it.

“You’re flexible enough. You can arabesque and développé everywhere. Lift your leg.”

You bite your lip, but lift your leg anyway, wrapping it around her waist for support. She knows you’re able to stay like that, and she relishes in how easy it is to touch you with your legs the way they are, so she uses it to her advantage.

Her fingers dip into you once again, teasing you mercilessly. Pretending like she’s sliding her sharp nails into you, making you whimper in nervousness, but she’s not that cruel. She slips two fingers inside of you (the ones with the filed nails, thank god), groaning softly when she feels you suck her fingers in. You let out a quiet moan that echoes once more as her fingers card through your hair, untangling it from the elegant hairdo you had while dancing. With a gentle flick of her wrist, your hair is wrapped around her fist, giving it gentle tugs.

Her fingers pump into you, slowly, then faster when your cute sounds only confirm you want to keep going. The hand in your hair tugs harder, lifting you from the table and pressing your back against her. Once she’s satisfied with your position, her hand moves. The hand once weaves into your hair moves to your exposed throat, squeezing gently and chuckling at your choked moans and the tears forming in your eyes.

“Not so scared someone will walk in now, hm? You’re so confident on stage, I thought you’d like someone walking in to see you turn into a fucked out whore. My fucked out whore. Do you hear me? Not his. He’s lucky I don’t rip his head off for looking at you the way he does.”

Her grip loosens enough to let you speak, grinning when she hears your cute little mumbles of agreement, feeling the way your pussy clenches around your fingers as she curls them, hitting the spongy spot inside you just perfectly.

Your tutu and your pointe shoes, which are still on your body (for a reason, because she’ll never admit how much it turns her on seeing you like that), are long forgotten by you. Your brain is focused on one thing, and she knows exactly what— chasing the orgasm she knows she’s giving you. Your voice rings out, stuttering and punctuated by moans.

“Cu-cumming, I’m-“

Her velvety voice whispers in your ear, her lips travelling down your shoulder before giving a quick bite that sends you over the edge.

“Good girl, cum for me.”

It’s all you need as you clench around her fingers and tremble, your position finally failing you. Her arm is quick to catch you before you fall against the table, her body leaning over yours as she soothes you, guiding you through each wave of pleasure. Her fingers pump inside just a little more, slowing to a stop before pulling out. Her fingers glisten with your slick in the stage lighting, and she moves her fingers ever so slightly, if only to showcase how messy you made her fingers. She smirks, her stoic demeanour almost back into place as she stares at you, her tongue flicking out to clean her own digits.

“You always taste so good, little dove. Want to go home and clean up, hm?”

[starlightkun]

⏯ word count: 13.7k ⏯ genre: band au, punk band frontman!shotaro, venue manager!reader, shotaro is whipped, reader is emotionally unavailable, is it a slowish burn or is it angst?, whatever it is ur reading a starlightkun fic so there’s a happy ending :), ft. eunseok/sungchan/wonbin as shotaro’s bandmates welcome back boys & wayv as reader’s coworkers ⏯ warnings: some blood/violence (shotaro gets punched once), not necessarily a warning but since i do generally avoid describing the reader’s appearance in my fics, i wanted to give a heads up—reader works at a punk/alternative concert venue and is generally in/around that scene. reader is mentioned and/or implied to have some tattoos and piercings (other than earlobes) ⏯ extra info: set in the same universe as filler episodes, but u don’t need to read that in order to understand this one, filler eps!sungchan and sugarcoated!shotaro r just in the same band! also the title is from a 5sos song lol ⏯ author’s note: sooo after writing filler episodes and experiencing bbb/lucky shotaro, i couldn’t get punk band frontman shotaro out of my head… i fear the trajectory of my life has been altered ⏯ now playing… empty wallets – 5 seconds of summer | apathy is boring – bears in trees | dreaming girl – xdinary heroes

“You’re not stupid. I know you’re not.” He stood up, stepping closer to you. “You always stop yourself right before… I’m sure you think you’re not leading me on or whatever, but I know you know how stupidly head over heels I am for you, because I don’t try to hide it.”

Flipping through your keyring, you selected the right key by touch in order to unlock the rear entrance to the venue. Despite the sweltering summer heat outside, the basement was cool as always. You flipped the AC and lights on as you disabled the alarm that wasn’t actually connected to a security company, then descended the stairs. Venue:Hell, your home away from home. Actually, you were pretty sure you spent more time here than your apartment some weeks.

Your phone buzzed with a text as you crossed the threshold into the back office, and you opened it as you flopped into the creaky office chair.

[kun: attached image]

[kun: new schedule for the month. y/n, don’t forget that you’re covering the new weekly act starting today]

It was your manager, and you read over the list of events for this week with mild interest. The two of you had already discussed that you’d be taking over being point with Venue:Hell’s weekly spot. The venue had a recurring local act come in every week to perform, typically a smaller artist, to help them build a base among your regulars. These guys had recently opened for one of your previous weekly acts on a national tour and your manager liked them enough to ask them to fill in the weekly spot when the tour made a stop here. You’d had that particular night off, so this was going to be your first time meeting the band.

As you went through your usual opening checklist, other employees filtered in, starting on their tasks. The venue usually provided all the staff and equipment for the weekly act. They just needed to show up and perform.

You were with your sound guy Yangyang by his equipment when you heard your name being called from elsewhere in the building.

“Yeah?” You yelled back, walking out from behind the curtain to look around for whoever it was.

Ten, who worked the front, was approaching with four guys in tow, instrument cases in hand. Must be the new band.

“New weekly is here!” He called out.

You hopped down off the stage to meet them on the main floor. “You guys are early.”

The band looked at each other, obviously worried. One that had a guitar case on his back spoke up uncertainly, “Is that a problem? We weren’t sure—”

“No, it’s fine. I’m pretty sure it’s a first, though,” you snickered.

“You got them?” Ten asked you. “Kunhang said he needed help.”

“Go for it,” you nodded, dismissing your coworker from the group.

Looking back at the four guys that you were left with, you started your spiel. “So, I’m Y/N, assistant manager at Venue:Hell. If you ever have any questions, need anything, let me know. I’m sure Kun already explained how our weekly spot works, but you guys will perform here every Thursday at 10:00 and have a forty-five-minute slot. It’s not exactly primetime, but it’s consistent and we have a good pool of regulars. You’ll also have priority for inclusion on lineups for any special events we host. If your weekly slot ever needs to be moved or canceled, we’ll give you as much of a heads-up as we can, but sometimes it will be very last-minute. If you ever need to miss a week, we ask the same from you, tell us as soon as possible. Make sense?”

You got four hasty nods in return.

“Great, let me show you to your green room.” Just as you were about to turn around and head off, you realized something. “Ah shit, I completely forgot to ask your name. Sorry.”

The guitarist that had spoken earlier offered you a big smile. His ears were adorned with metal, and you spotted some jewelry glinting from his nose, lip, and eyebrow too. His hair sort of reminded you of a dalmatian, a light blonde base with spots of dark black streaking through it. Overall, fit right in with the scene, except for his smile, which seemed to be made of sunshine and rainbows or something cheesy like that. You swore you needed sunglasses just looking at him.

“I’m Osaki Shotaro, uh, guitar, and I sing!” He informed you cheerily. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Jung Sungchan, drums,” the tallest one nodded. “And our band is called Roses for Eyes, by the way. Since Taro here forget to mention that.”

He slapped his friend on the shoulder, making Shotaro wince.

“Right…” Shotaro rubbed his neck. “You-You can also call me Taro, too, by the way. Everyone does. Like boba tea!”

“Cool.” You nodded, looking at the other two expectantly.

“Eunseok, I’m the bassist,” another introduced himself. “Sing a bit, I guess.”

The last one, with dark black hair save for a single hot pink streak in his bangs, gave a small wave. “Park Wonbin. Guitar and I sing too.”

“I like the pink,” you commented, then pivoted on your heel. “Okay, I’ll show you your green room.”

“So what do you think?” Yangyang asked you as he fiddled with his equipment, and you helped him go over his checklists.

“I think it sounds fine,” you replied, checking that step off.

“I meant about the new weekly.”

“Oh, they seem fine,” you shrugged. “You worked the night they were here last time, right? What did you think?”

“Their sound’s good.”

“And Kun obviously liked them.”

“Do you think they’ll be a pain to work with?”

“Hm?” You thought on your sparse interactions with the members of Roses for Eyes, the introductions, and then Shotaro had asked you where the restroom was. “No, I think they’ll be fine. I don’t know, Yang, it hasn’t even been their first day. There’s time yet for them to turn into assholes.”

Footsteps approaching made you glance over your shoulder. It was the drummer… Sungchan, you were pretty sure. He seemed to be heading straight for you, and you looked at him with your eyebrows raised.

“Do you need something?” You asked him expectantly, listening to Yangyang call out that the next step was clear.

“Not me, but yes,” he answered sheepishly.

You held his eye contact, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s Taro,” the drummer continued. “He’s good, I just wanted to give you a heads-up that he kind of uhm, loses things a lot? Especially his in-ears.”

“Has he lost them already?” You checked your watch. “Your soundcheck is in five minutes.”

“Yeah…”

You sighed and held the clipboard out towards Yangyang, “You got this?”

He saluted you, “Yes, ma’am.”

You turned back to Sungchan, “Where’s the last place he saw them?”

“I told Sungchan not to tell you, I’m sorry,” Shotaro apologized as the two of you retraced his steps starting from the van they had arrived in.

“I told you guys—If you need anything, let me know,” you grunted, climbing over a spare amp in the back to look under the seats.

“This is just so embarrassing,” he complained, rifling through the glovebox.

“Hey, it’s your first performance as our new weekly, it’d be weirder if it went over perfectly.”

“I meant you having to search through our nasty van with me for them. Just being a few minutes late to soundcheck, I could deal.”

“It’s fine, Shotaro, I’ve done worse, promise.”

His big eyes peered at you inquisitively over the headrests of the front seats. “Like what?”

“I think we’ve scoured every inch of the inside of this thing,” you declared, wiping sweat off your brow with the hem of your shirt. “Have you checked under it?”

Shotaro was still staring at you.

“I’ll look.” You sighed and hopped out of the back of the van.

“No, I’ve got it!” He suddenly scrambled into action, dropping to his hands and knees on the gravel next to the vehicle to scour the ground underneath it.

You, meanwhile, kept your eyes peeled for the immediate vicinity of the parking lot around it. Finally, off in the direction towards the building next door, something caught your eye. You wandered over, picking up a square, black case. Flipping it open, sure enough, there was a pair of in-ears, one bright green and the other bright purple.

Walking back over to the van, you stopped next to the guitarist, who was still looking under it. “Shotaro.”

“Huh?” Thunk. “Fuck!”

“Watch your head,” you said dryly as he carefully extricated himself from under the van this time. You shook the case at him. “These yours?”

He lit up as soon as he saw the equipment. “Yes! Oh my god! Where were they?”

“Over by the neighbors.” You jerked a thumb at the building.

“Ohhh, right! There was a cat over there that I took a picture of when we got here. Do you want to see it?” He was already digging around in his pocket for his phone.

“No. Focus.”

“Right.” He reached for the case, but you snatched them out of his grasp before he could touch it.

“I don’t think so.”

Shotaro’s face turned endearingly confused. “What?”

“We’re not doing this again,” you declared. “These are mine now. When they are not inside of your ears, they’re mine. You will come get them from me before every performance and return them to me as soon as you get off the stage. If you do not need to take them somewhere else before next week, they’ll stay here with me the whole time. Deal?”

“So, Sungchan mentioned this isn’t the first time I’ve lost them?”

“Uh-huh.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Deal!”

Roses for Eyes wasn’t half bad, from the bits and pieces that you heard while you were running around doing other stuff. You could easily understand why your manager chose them for the weekly spot. Your regulars seemed to like them, too. They had an infectious energy, kept the crowd engaged, and had good chemistry with each other on stage. After the debacle with Shotaro’s in-ears, the rest of the performance went over relatively smoothly, then you just had an open bar and dance night until midnight to deal with. Easy.

It was Yangyang’s turn to have his playlist hooked up, so you were planning on mingling to get some feedback from your regulars on the new weekly.

“Y/N!” A voice yelled out your name from elsewhere backstage, and you turned around.

It was Shotaro running at you, his guitar slung over his back. You held out your hands both in a gesture for him to slow down, and also to protect yourself in case he crashed into you. He managed to skid to a stop just in time, breathless and with a wild smile.

He held his hand out towards you, something crumpled up in his fist. “Here!”

You opened up your palm, letting him drop two familiar neon objects into it. His in-ears. “Ah, right. Thank you for remembering.”

Taking out the case that you still had in your pocket, you tucked them away, snapping it shut again. “You’re sure you won’t need these again before next week?”

“No, we don’t have anything planned.”

“Well, if anything comes up, I’m here most days. I’ll keep them in the office, so if I’m not here, you can get them from Kun or someone else with a key.”

“So what uh, what did you think?” His teeth played with his lip ring nervously.

“About what?” You checked the time on your phone.

“You know, our set?”

“God, I told Yang during soundcheck that Wonbin’s mic should’ve been turned up, but he didn’t listen to me, so we could barely hear him. But we’ll fix that next week. Is the guy always so quiet?”

“Yeah, yeah, he is.” Shotaro was still looking at you expectantly.

“Did you need something else, Shotaro?” You asked. “I was going to go talk to some people.”

“No, uhm, sorry for keeping you.”

“It’s fine.” You patted his shoulder. “And hey, we’re open until midnight tonight. You guys are welcome to stay and hang out. Staff gets half off at the bar, that includes you.”

He nodded and flashed you another smile. “Cool, thanks, Y/N.”

The next week, you were in the back office when there was a knock on the slightly ajar door, and a familiar head poked in.

“Hi.” Shotaro beamed at you. “Kunhang said you were in here.”

“Hi, Shotaro.” You minimized the window that had been up on your screen as he wandered around to your side.

“What are you doing?”

“Payroll. Which you can’t see,” you informed him, opening the top right drawer of the desk.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You handed him his in-ear case that you had just retrieved. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He accepted the case, but didn’t leave the office.

“Do you guys need something else?”

“No, uhm, finish your work,” he started towards the door. “But I uhm, is that new? The septum piercing?”

You touched the ring absentmindedly. You’d gotten it done over the weekend, you’d forgotten that it was new by now. “Yeah, it is.”

“I like it. Looks good on you.”

Before you could even say thanks, he had darted from the office.

Done with the payroll, you went out to the main floor, taking down the stools from the few high-tops scattered around the perimeter and setting them up at the tables. Roses for Eyes were just starting their soundcheck, providing background music of the sounds of them tuning their instruments.

“Hey, Y/N,” Eunseok’s voice came over the speakers.

“Yeah?” You called back over your shoulder as you continued setting up.

“So, did you like our set last week? Anything we can do better?”

You swore you heard snickers, but when you turned around, they were all standing at attention. “Everyone generally liked your sound. Good music to dance to. But you need some more variety in your setlist. Have a vibe-shift or two. Show people you can do more. If you can.”

Sungchan laughed as he spun a stick around with his fingers. “Is that a challenge or what?”

You shrugged. “It’s only a challenge if it’s hard.”

They all erupted into incredulous laughter, and you couldn’t help but grin too, glad that they didn’t seem put-off by your comment. You were genuinely trying to give them advice, not put them down. The band returned to their soundcheck, and you went back to your own tasks. You figured they were done when you heard a long stretch of silence as you were doing inventory of your in-house merch behind the merch counter.

“Hi.” It was Shotaro again, peeking at you from over the counter as you squatted down to count the t-shirts stacked up down there.

“Hi, Shotaro.” You held up your hand expectantly, and he deposited his in-ear case onto it. You tucked it into your jacket pocket. “Thank you.”

“Need any help?”

“This isn’t your job,” you pointed out, tapping a few buttons on the tablet balanced on your knees.

“You’re really good at that.”

“Counting shirts?” You snorted. “I’d be a lot better if I wasn’t talking while I did it.”

He chuckled. “I meant not answering the question you’re asked.”

You looked up from the shirts at him. “Hmph.”

“Did you hate our set that much?”

“Why does it matter what I thought?” You asked him frankly.

“You’re still doing it.”

You took a closer look at what he was wearing today, a neon pink longsleeve under his black t-shirt. “Your shirt matches Wonbin’s hair. Cute.”

He looked down at his sleeves, pulling them over his hands. “Ah, yeah, I guess. Do you like it? I—Hey, wait a minute!”

You laughed to yourself as you stood back up. “If you really want me to answer your question… No, I don’t need any help. I’m done now. Thanks, though.”

After Roses for Eyes’ set, Shotaro didn’t even have to find you, you were waiting just off-stage. He couldn’t hide his surprise, eyes going wide. “Oh, Y/N! Hey!”

“Hi.” You held out your hand expectantly, the case already open atop it.

He stuffed the in-ears back into it. “Thanks.”

“Thank you.” You snapped it shut and pocketed it. “And good set. I’m glad I got to actually see it this time.”

His face lit up. “Wait you—Is that why—? Thanks! You really—?”

“Hey, Taro, come on, we got places to be,” Sungchan grabbed his arm. “You got your in-ears?”

You arched an eyebrow, taking the case back out from your pocket. “You need these?”

Sungchan shook his head as Shotaro took it back from you. “Thanks…”

“Don’t lose them before next week,” you warned.

“I won’t.” He beamed.

The next day, you were at the venue early putting up some new decorations when you swore you heard the back door open.

“Ten?” You yelled out. “That you?”

“No!” An entirely different voice called back, right as the owner had descended the stairs into your view, propping his silver sunglasses up on his dalmatian hair.

“Shotaro.” You tilted your head at him curiously. “Pretty sure I haven’t been here that long. It’s not Thursday yet.”

“Not quite.” He grinned as he set a familiar case on the counter that you were currently standing on to reach the ceiling. “I didn’t lose them.”

“I’m very proud of you.” You pointed in the direction of the back. “Office is unlocked, you can put them on the desk before you head out.”

“What are you doing?”

“Decorating. We’re doing a Y’allternative Night tonight.” You held up the paper cowboy boots that you were prepared to hang up. “It’s all deejayed, no live music or we would’ve offered you guys a slot, sorry.”

“Can I help?”

“You really want to help me decorate?”

“Yeah.”

You sighed, looking down at the stack of decorations on the counter, and the others haphazardly strewn on the stage. “Ten was supposed to help but he hasn’t shown…”

“Is that a yes?” He asked hopefully.

“I can’t pay you for this,” you warned.

“That’s fine!”

“Put your in-ears away first.”

“On it!” He grabbed them off the counter and dashed away.

“So how long have you been working here?” Shotaro asked you as the two of you worked to decorate the venue.

“Few years.” You handed him the next cutout. “Mm, to the right. Yeah, good, higher. There.”

Shotaro was easy to work with, attentive, loved even the smallest bit of praise, and followed directions incredibly well. Kinda like training a dog, you figured. Though, you’d never had a dog.

“How long have you been with your band?” You asked.

“Oh, I’ve known Sungchan since I was like, seven,” he explained, scooting with you along the counter. “I used to be taller than him, you know.”

You snorted at that, genuinely trying to picture little Sungchan and Shotaro, the latter just a smidge taller.

Shotaro was grinning as he continued, “We spent like every day after school in middle school playing Rock Band. Begged our parents for real instruments for Christmas in high school. Then Sungchan met Eunseok in gym class, and I met Wonbin in art. So I guess it’s been… almost ten years? At least since we took over Eunseok’s garage after school for our first band practice.”

“That’s cool,” you replied genuinely, handing him the last decoration. “I like hearing that sort of stuff from the acts that come through here. Everyone’s got such unique stories.”

“Uhm—” He cleared his throat. “Is this good? For the-the thing?”

You looked at where he was holding the paper lasso. “Ehh… Turn it to the left a little? …Perfect, tape it.”

Shotaro hopped down from the counter and the two of you stepped back to admire your handiwork.

“Not bad.” You held your hand up for a high-five, which he eagerly accepted. “Thanks, Shotaro.”

The back door was thrown open then, Ten yelling into the venue, “I’m here!”

“Finally,” you scoffed.

“Sorry, sorry, I had to take Louis to the doctor,” your coworker rambled, obviously flustered as he rushed in. “Stupid asshole ate my charging cable.”

“His cat,” you informed Shotaro quietly, taking in the guitarist’s concerned look. Turning back to Ten, you asked, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, one super expensive vet trip later, he’s fine, of course.” Ten seemed to notice Shotaro then. “Oh, hey, Taro. Are you guys performing tonight?”

“He was just dropping off some equipment and was nice enough to help me with the decorations,” you explained. “Speaking of—You remembered to pick them up on your way in, right?”

He pointed over his shoulder to the back entrance. “Yes, they’re in my car, will you help me with them?”

“I think we’ve got it from here, Shotaro, thanks again—”

“Uhm, do you remember how long it took last time?” Ten interrupted you pointedly.

You sighed ruefully, recalling very well. Clasping your hands together in front of you, you turned to the frontman, “If you’re not busy, would you mind helping us fill hundreds of balloons and also assemble a few cardboard cutouts? Please?”

Only one person could operate the balloon inflating machine at a time. One person would fill them with helium, then hand them off to another to tie them and release them to float up to the ceiling. Getting them back down would be hell. The third person was wrangling the custom-ordered cardboard cutouts out of the packaging and assembling them. That person was of course you. You had lost the rock-paper-scissors, and never had it in you to just pull rank when it came to this kind of stuff.

“What the hell?” You muttered, trying to cut the package open for the third time, barely crinkling the tape instead. Yanking on it, you cursed, “I swear this fucking tape is made of fucking Kevlar! What the fuck?!”

“Let me try?” Shotaro offered, abandoning his post tying balloons to join you. You huffed and let him gently take the box cutter from your hand, moving over to grant him access to the end of the box that you were struggling with.

“It’s probably that box cutter! Blade’s too dull!” Ten called out as he continued filling and tying balloons. “I think it’s older than Kun!”

Shotaro had just tried to slice upwards along the tape, but as soon as the box cutter hit resistance, it stopped, and his hand recoiled with the force. His fingers flew back down along the blade, and he dropped both it and the box immediately, letting out a long string of curses.

As soon as you saw the red welling up on his finger, you yelled out to Ten, “First aid kit!”

“Shit! Oh my god, you’re going to get fucking tetanus or something and die. Or lose your hand!” You panicked, latching onto Shotaro’s elbow. You dragged him into the nearest bathroom—the women’s room—and started running water in the sink. You yanked up his hoodie sleeves then yours, sticking both his hands under the stream. They were both bloody messes at this point.

Shotaro lit up as he looked at your inked forearms. “Cool tattoos, what—”

“So not the fucking time for a tattoo tour?!” You gestured to his own hands incredulously.

Ten brought the first aid kit in, and the women’s room that only had two stalls anyway was starting to feel cramped now.

“Go see if there’s any blood on the floor or something,” you shooed him out probably too harshly.

With him gone, you focused on washing and drying Shotaro’s uninjured hand before taking a look at the other. Only one of his fingers was cut, thankfully, but you knew the state that box cutter was in—old, rusty, and had probably never been cleaned once.

“I’ll be fine.” Shotaro was surprisingly calm as he watched you.

“You know there’s no cure for tetanus, right? Fuck, Kun’s going to kill me if our weekly can’t perform because I gave the frontman tetanus and he died.” You stressed.

“Oh, I thought you were just worried for me,” his voice was teasing, and if you hadn’t watched him injure himself and flinch in pain with your own two eyes, you would’ve wondered if he had any pain receptors, as he didn’t seem to be bothered whatsoever by you squirting soap onto the cut in that moment.

“Yeah, that too.”

“As an afterthought,” he snickered.

You pushed the shoulder of his uninjured hand. “Shut up and clean your cut.”

“Really, I’m touched.” He was still smirking as he obliged, gingerly running the tip of his thumb over the area to work the soap around the cut, the water finally running clear. You turned the sink off then grabbed paper towels and his hand, starting to dry the cut off. “Will it make you feel better if I tell you I’m upped on my tetanus booster?”

“Are you?”

He shrugged.

“Then no, that does not make me feel better,” you scoffed, inspecting the wound now that it was dry. On the bright side, the box cutter being as old and dull as it was meant that the cut wasn’t very deep. The bleeding had already stopped. As you went to grab the band-aids from the first-aid kit, you realized Shotaro was still watching you, this time with a funny smile on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re always so… cool. In like this unreachable, detached way. Is it bad to say I’m kind of enjoying seeing you like this too?”

“Panicking and pissed off that you’re not taking tetanus serious enough?” You shot him an unamused look, ripping open a band-aid. “Yes, I’d say that’s a strange thing to enjoy.”

“Strange,” he repeated happily. “Not bad.”

“I suppose that is what I said.” You wrapped the band-aid around the cut. “There. All better. Unless you get tetanus and die.”

“I pinky promise I won’t get tetanus and die.” He held the pinky finger of his injured hand out to you.

You eyed his hand. “I super don’t think that’s how this works.”

Shotaro shook it more insistently. You sighed, linking your pinky with his. “If you get tetanus and die, I’m going to kill you.”

“I super don’t think that’s how that works.”

Thursday rolled around, and you were actually grateful when a spotted head of hair poked into the back office that evening.

“I’m alive!” Shotaro announced cheerily.

“So you are.” You smiled, taking out his in-ears from the desk drawer, as well as the brand-new bag of Sour Patch Kids you had tucked in there. “For you. I can’t pay you with money for helping out, but I really do appreciate it, Shotaro. And I’m sorry that you got injured helping me, too. If Sour Patch aren’t your thing, let me know what you do like and I’ll pick some up for you next week.”

Anybody else would’ve thought you’d just given him a handmade sweater the way he clutched the bag of candy to his chest and looked at you with big eyes. “These are my favorites! How—Did Sungchan tell you or something?”

“Took a wild guess.” You finished up the online order you were placing for restocking your in-house merch. “Also, do you guys have merch?”

“Huh?” Shotaro was looking right at you, but clearly hadn’t heard a word you’d said.

“Merch. Shirts, CDs, stuff for people to buy. Do you guys have any? We can keep it in stock here.”

He blinked, finally processing your question. “We sold out of all our shirts on tour… and we were talking about getting new designs the next time we got some made anyway. We’ve only got a few CDs left now. So… no…”

You clicked your tongue, logging out of the computer and standing up. “Well, whenever you get to it, we can keep them stocked here for you guys. Oh, and I know a few good artists who do that kind of stuff, if you’re looking for someone.”

As you talked, you had started ushering Shotaro out of the office, shutting the door behind you. He stopped in the narrow hallway outside it, made even more cramped by the cardboard boxes of miscellaneous props, merch, and decorations stored back here because you had run out of room in your actual storage closet. He was so close you were certain you could accurately count the piercings on his ears and face if you were patient enough. You tried to take a step back, only to hit your head on the office door that you had just closed.

“Fuck!” You hissed under your breath, clutching your head. “Shotaro, you mind? Don’t you have a soundcheck to do or something?”

“Sorry! Are you okay?” He winced sympathetically, still not moving away, if anything, getting closer as he tried to check on you. “That didn’t sound good—”

“I’m fine!” You insisted. “Soundcheck! Go do it!”

“Right!” He gave you a thumbs-up, then shook his giant bag of candy. “Thank you again!”

After he had sprinted away, you let out a relieved groan, leaning back against the door and looking up at the water-stained ceiling.

“Is that sanitary?” Eunseok’s voice announced Roses for Eyes’ arrival that particular afternoon, as you sat atop the bar counter, scrolling on your phone in one of your few moments of peace and quiet around Venue:Hell.

“Kiss my ass, Eunseok,” you replied without even looking up.

“Yeah, I’ll get in line,” he retorted, making Sungchan and Wonbin laugh.

That finally prompted you to slide your gaze up, just in time to see the three of them laughing over by the stage as Shotaro flipped them all off over his shoulder, making his way towards you. He had two cups in one hand, one with a bright green straw in it, and the other without a straw, and you saw that the other three band members each had a plastic cup with a straw sticking out of them as well. You silently watched Shotaro approach, raising an eyebrow at him once he’d stopped in front of you.

“We were getting boba on our way here, and thought we’d grab you one, too.” His cheeks were a bright pink as he held the unopened cup out to you, and fished a packaged purple straw out from the front pocket of his black jean jacket.

“Who’s this ‘we’ that you’re talking about?” You asked humorously. “They all apparently think getting me boba is kissing my ass.”

Shotaro straightened up, puffing his chest out. “Actually, yeah. Fuck ‘em. I got you one because I thought it’d be nice to get you one too since you do so much for us every week. It’s uh-It’s honey milk tea, because I didn’t know what flavor you liked.”

“Thank you, Shotaro.” You accepted the cup and straw from him graciously, to a chorus of snickers from the spectators on the other side of the floor. “Honey milk tea is more than acceptable.”

“But it’s not your favorite?”

“I don’t have a favorite.” You set the cup on the bartop beside you to stab the straw into it.

“You—Hey, are those mine?” He seemed to have finally noticed the sunglasses perched atop your head.

“What? These?” You teased, tapping the plastic accessory arm on one side of your head.

“I was looking for those today!”

You took them off, offering them out towards him. “You left them here last week.”

Shotaro took the glasses just to turn them right back around, take a step closer to you, and place them back on your head, a fond smile on his face as he did so. “I think you look better in them, actually. You can hold onto them for a little longer.”

You swallowed, your chest suddenly feeling too tight for your heart, and six eyes suddenly feeling like way too many to be in the room with you two right now. You chuckled, trying to keep up the congenial tone as you once more pulled them off. This time, you folded the arms and tucked the sunglasses into Shotaro’s jacket pocket for him. “Thanks, Shotaro, but I can’t take your sunglasses. They’re really rockstar sunglasses anyway, not for someone like me.”

At that moment, you grabbed your boba tea and hopped off the bar, scooting out from between him and the counter. You avoided looking at the others, beelining for the back office.

When Shotaro had to come get his in-ears from you just a few minutes later, you gave him the same pleasant smile as usual, handing him the case. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He tapped the case against his palm, the sound dampened by the fingerless gloves he was wearing that day. “What did you mean? When you said someone like you.”

“Wh—About the sunglasses?” You’d hardly expected him to confront you about that comment at all, much less alone now, just you and him in the office, no peanut gallery. While six eyes had felt like too many, this felt far too intimate. You somehow felt more exposed than before. “Like I said—They’re cool rockstar sunglasses, that’s what you are. You should wear them you know, up on stage, being all cool and stuff. I’m crew; no point in me wearing them while I’m sitting back here where nobody can see them.”

He frowned, but thankfully didn’t try to give them to you again. “I think you’re cool, Y/N.”

With that, he left the office.

“Hey—Woah.” Yangyang stopped midsentence, blinking at you from the office doorway.

“You’re losing your ears, puppy,” you snickered.

“I’m not a—!” He whined, catching the wolf ears that were sliding off his head just in time. “I’m a werewolf!”

“Sure,” you snorted, spinning your desk chair around to face him. “So what did you need, Yang?”

“Ten has a question about how we should set up the line out front.”

“Alright.” You stood up, smoothing out your long black dress. Today was Venue:Hell’s Halloween event, Hallowfreaks, so the whole staff was dressed up. You didn’t have time to think about a costume this time, so you just took out your Morticia Addams costume from last year.

Meeting Ten out front, you couldn’t even compliment his own “werewolf” costume, as he immediately tilted his head with interest upon seeing yours. You looked down at your dress, wondering if you had somehow spilled something on it unknowingly.

He didn’t leave you in the dark long, though. “You did a matching costume with Taro?”

“What?”

“Shotaro.”

The singer whipped around at the sound of his name. And there was no doubt as to who he was dressed as: His spotted blonde and black hair was slicked back and it looked like he had even used some kind of spray to make it fully black, he had donned a pinstriped suit and dress shoes, and drawn on a mustache to finish off the Gomez Addams look.

The initial recognition at his name being called turned to excitement as he realized what your costume was as well.

“Wait, seriously?!” He laughed, jumping up and down with elation. “That’s awesome!”

“I thought you guys would’ve done a group costume or something.” You crossed your arms.

“We were thinking about it, but Sungchan wanted to do a couple’s costume with his girlfriend. We thought it would look weird onstage if the three of us had a group costume without him, so we just all did our own thing.”

“Sensible.”

“C’mere, we’ve got to show them!” He grabbed your arm, and you let him drag you elsewhere backstage, into the green room where his other three band members were waiting around before their soundcheck. “Guys!”

“What’s this?” Eunseok grinned, pointing between the two of you.

“Taro, you didn’t mention you were doing a couple’s costume with Y/N,” Sungchan teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Not planned, you little shits.”

“Kinda weird that it happened, though,” Wonbin pointed out through a yawn. “Like, you know? What does it mean?”

“It means I was too lazy to buy a new costume and wore my one from last year, and Shotaro… I don’t know, something.”

“I like the movies,” he added quietly.

“He likes the movies!” You repeated triumphantly.

But the others were long gone, laughing and joking among themselves. Shaking your head, you turned back to Shotaro. “I’ll grab your in-ears.”

“I’ll come with.”

The venue was buzzing with excitement for the holiday, but the back office was quiet as always. You passed Kun in the hallway, giving him a quick nod as he rushed off to do something.

“Your in-ears,” you handed him the case, and a small bag of candy, “and Happy Halloween.”

“Sour Patch Kids!” His face lit up.

“Some place on my way to work was handing them out to people walking by. They’re not my favorite, so I figured I’d give it to you.”

“You don’t like them?” He questioned, ripping open the small package.

“They’re fine.” You shrugged, leaning back against the desk. “But you love them.”

He smiled as he grabbed a gummy. “Thanks.”

“This is Roses for Eyes’ first special event here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.” He confirmed. “Sungchan’s really excited.”

“Why’s that? He really like Halloween or something?”

“This is the first performance since we’ve had this gig that his girlfriend is going to be here for,” Shotaro explained. “She’s been on the road for the past two months.”

“She’s in the industry too?”

“Yeah, she does tour management.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible. “Good for them.”

“Yeah…” Shotaro looked at you carefully. “But why’d you say it like that?”

Not neutral enough, apparently. You purposefully avoided meeting his gaze. “Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know. Like you had another opinion.”

“I meant it. Good for them.” You hoped at least that much came across as genuine. “I’ve been around the scene for long enough to see plenty of relationships like that end badly. Especially ones between talent and crew.”

His big eyes watched you carefully as he chewed, swallowed, and cautiously asked, “Personal experience?”

“What did I just say? I’ve seen it. Not had it happen to me,” you replied firmly. Pointing to the door, you said, “Now go do your soundcheck, Shotaro.”

You were waiting backstage for Roses for Eyes after their set. The stage was being prepared for the next live act, and the band was still energetic.

“Good job, guys,” you congratulated them as Shotaro handed over his in-ears.

“Thanks.” Sungchan patted your head as he hurried by, apparently with somewhere to be.

“He’s got to find his girlfriend,” Eunseok informed you, wiping his face with his shirt, and taking half his No Face facepaint off in the process.

You narrowed your eyes at Shotaro. “Missing something?”

“I gave you them!” He defended himself.

“Your guitar.”

He patted his front and back, eyes going wide. “Shit!”

Wonbin and Eunseok burst into laughter as Shotaro darted back onto stage, apologizing to the staff and band still setting up. The other two wandered off, presumably to put their own equipment away. Shotaro snatched his guitar from the stand and ran back over to you, panting as he tried to catch his breath.

“Okay, that’s the first time that’s ever happened,” he promised.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“I saw you in the back, during some of the set,” he was absolutely beaming at you.

“Yeah, with Kun here tonight, I can actually get some breathing room. I was able to stop and watch a bit.” You patted his arm. “Like I said, good job, mon cher.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling down at his feet. “Thanks, cara mia.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth as you did.

“What? What’s so funny?” He asked with a chuckle.

“It is pretty funny that we accidentally did two halves of a matching costume. Everyone had a right to be weirded out.”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed. “Weird coincidence, right?”

“Anyway, you should put your guitar away before you lose it again and I have to confiscate that as well, okay?”

“Okay, okay.”

“I’m going to put your in-ears in the office. If you guys don’t have anything better to do, Hallowfreaks is going on until 2 a.m.”

“Don’t tell me you’re working that whole time?” He asked in disbelief.

“Where else would I be?”

Winter rolled around, and you were once again crouched behind the merch counter doing inventory. Seasons change, but the pain of doing inventory never does.

“Nah, it’ll be Taro,” Yangyang insisted.

“I think it’ll be Sungchan trying to embarrass Taro,” Kunhang replied.

“Mm, could be Eunseok trying to piss Y/N off while simultaneously embarrassing Taro,” Ten gave his input on whatever the hell they were talking about near Yangyang’s sound equipment.

You poked your head above the merch counter now that you’d heard your own name. “Hey! What are you guys talking about?”

Three heads peeked around the black curtains. Ten answered your question, “We’re betting on which one of them will say something first when they get here today.”

“And none of you said Wonbin because he’ll probably be half-asleep anyway,” you guessed.

“Yep!” Kunhang nodded.

You just sighed loudly and went back to your task. A few minutes later, the back door opened, followed by the overlapping voices of Sungchan and Shotaro in a quiet but heated argument about… something indistinguishable to you. It was ended by an alarmingly loud smacking sound followed by dead silence, which prompted you to peer over the counter, a little concerned. The guys would playfight or bicker sometimes, but it always devolved into laughter.

The four of them were silent, but the angry tension was choking. You tried to quickly duck your head back down, hoping nobody saw you. But of course Shotaro did. It was only a few minutes later, after they put all their stuff down in the green room, that Shotaro was leaning over the merch counter on his elbows to talk to you.

“Hi, Y/N.” He offered you a smile, but you noticed it seemed a little strained this time.

“Hey, Shotaro,” you greeted him, not addressing the band’s entrance. Having just finished up with inventory, you stood up, groaning with relief.

The singer’s smile turned genuine then. “You’re wearing our merch.”

You looked down at the front of the hoodie you were wearing. “Oh, yeah. Don’t worry, I paid for it.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” His eyes shined as he looked at you. “I’m—I didn’t think you’d…”

“I’ve gotta rep the home team, right?” You gestured to the building around you. “It’s super comfy, too. Come on, let’s get your in-ears.”

In the office, you grabbed the case from the desk, watching Shotaro fuss with his lipring with his front teeth, bouncing from his heels to his toes.

“Look,” you sighed. “You don’t have to tell me what it’s about… but is everything okay with you guys?”

He pulled at his fingerless gloves. “You didn’t hear what Sungchan was saying?”

“No, nothing.”

“We’ll be okay,” he reassured you. “We’ve had worse fights. I mean, not since I was like, twelve, but it’ll be fine.”

You let your uncertainty be visible on your face. “Alright, you know him better than I do. Like I always say, if you need something, let me know.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate that you’re concerned about us.” Shotaro held a hand out for his in-ears, and you placed them in his waiting palm.

A little while later, you went out to start setting up the stools to find Shotaro alone on stage tuning his guitar. You went about your business as he seemed absorbed in his own task.

“I looked it up,” Shotaro called out to you before he played a chord, then adjusted one of the tuning pegs. “There’s no cure for tetanus.”

You looked at him over your shoulder, pulling a stool down from the high-top. “I know.”

Another chord. “I know you know.” More tuning. “You said that when I cut myself with the box cutter.”

“And…?”

“How did you know that?”

“My sister’s a doctor,” you answered simply, continuing to set up the furniture.

The guitarist stopped completely, staring at you. “Wait, really?”

“Why do you look so surprised?” You chuckled, leaning against one of the tables. “Can’t believe I’m related to a doctor and work in this place?”

“No, not that.” He shook his head as if trying to shake himself out of a stupor. “You just never tell me about that kind of stuff.”

“We both lived at home when she was in med school. I helped her with flashcards and stuff when she’d study.” You shrugged and went back to setting up. “Random stuff stuck.”

The other members of Roses for Eyes came out on stage then, cutting the conversation short as they started their soundcheck.

Poking your head into the band’s green room that particular evening, you were surprised to only find one member. Sure, a couple might be out on a food run, or wandering around the venue distracting your staff, but more often than not they were all in here between soundcheck and their set.

Regardless, you really only needed one of them at the moment. “Shotaro.”

“Yes!” He immediately shot up from where he had been sprawled out on the tiny couch, facing away from the door. His dalmatian hair had finally faded, and he was now completely platinum blonde with a shorter, spikier cut.

You quickly shot your boss a text back as you also flicked through the upcoming events spreadsheet for the venue. Not even looking up from your phone, you asked, “Got Valentine’s Day plans?”

Something collided with the edge of the table as Shotaro fell off the couch at that exact moment. You glimpsed the tail end of him scrambling to his feet, rushing to answer you, “No! Not at all! Uhm, what were you—”

“We’re putting on an Anti-Romantics Event for singles that night,” you explained, reviewing the details for the event on your screen. “Mix of live stuff and deejayed. Some games, raffles, that kind of stuff too. The headliner slot is yours if you guys want it.”

Shotaro nodded fervently. “Yeah! We can do it!”

You raised an eyebrow, looking around the empty room pointedly. “You’re not going to ask the other guys? I figured at least Sungchan might be doing something, you know…”

“Right. I’ll uhm, I’ll double-check with them.”

“I’ll pencil you guys in. Just let me know as soon as possible, okay?”

“Y/N?” Shotaro’s voice echoed as he yelled your name from the main room, obviously just wandering around shouting for you. Tonight was Venue:Hell’s Anti-Romantics Event, and Roses for Eyes had ended up accepting the headliner spot. Apparently, Sungchan’s girlfriend was really chill.

“In here!” You yelled back from inside the women’s bathroom, hunched in front of the mirror with an eyeliner pen and pile of used makeup remover wipes.

“Shit, sorry! I mean, uh—Never mind!”

“I’m doing my make-up,” you snorted. “You can come in.”

The swinging door opened hesitantly, and as soon as he was able to see that you were telling the truth, Shotaro entered fully. You wiped off your latest fail with a groan, grabbing all of the used wipes and tossing them in the trash.

“What are you doing?” He asked curiously.

“I’m trying to draw a broken heart on my cheek,” you explained. “But I can’t draw on my own face for shit.”

“Can I…?” He reached for the eyeliner. You handed it over, leaning back against the sink. He gently tilted your chin up and away from him to give him better access. You looked off to the side to avoid staring directly at him as he leaned in. “So you didn’t have any Valentine’s plans?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“I figured.”

He chuckled, his warm breath washing over your cheek. “Ouch.”

You rolled your eyes. “You already told me you didn’t have any plans.”

“Right.”

“I like your necklace.” You picked up the heavy chain from where it was sitting on his chest, several miniature heart lockets hanging from it.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “I think your makeup is nice.”

“I’m a sucker for a theme.”

Shotaro took a step back to look at his handiwork, nodding proudly. “Not half-bad, I think.”

You turned to check on it in the mirror, lighting up when you saw a much more legible broken heart than all the ones you’d attempted. “Oh, that’s so much better! Thank you, Shotaro!”

“You’re welcome.”

Eyeing the rest of his outfit, you were struck with an idea. You grabbed him by the shoulders, spinning the two of you around so his back was to the sink. “Your turn.”

“Hm?” He watched you with interest as you took the eyeliner pen from him and tossed it into your makeup bag, rooting around in there for something else. Finally, you secured a compact of blush and brush, holding them up eagerly.

“Trust me?” You requested.

He smiled fondly, relaxing back against the sink. “Go for it.”

You dusted the bright-colored blush across his cheeks and nose, focusing the majority of it in the center. When you were done, you had a victorious grin on your face. He now looked like a perfect little pop punk Cupid. The rest of his outfit was his usual mishmash of black and bright neon colors—this time solely hot pink—accessorized with more black, spikes, and metal chains. The blush was just the icing on the cake, especially when you saw that he had put a teeny, tiny silver heart stud in his nose piercing.

“Perfect,” you announced with finality, putting the makeup away.

Shotaro blinked his eyes open uncertainly, and you gestured for him to look in the mirror. He laughed, nodding his approval. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you were doing.”

“Let me know how many numbers you leave with at the end of the night,” you quipped.

“What?” All the humor was drained from his features as he looked from the mirror over to you.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re the frontman of the headlining act at an event for singles on Valentine’s Day, and I just made you look ten times more edible than usual.” You patted him on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

“I don’t want anybody’s number.”

You were slightly alarmed at the rate that this conversation had taken a nosedive, quickly trying to gloss over the tense moment. “Of course. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“You really think I’m edible?” He asked with a knowing smirk.

“Mm, I guess I did say something like that,” you answered noncommittally, grabbing your makeup bag. “I’ll go get your in-ears for you.”

“I’m not them.” Shotaro’s biting words stopped you in your tracks before you could even grab the door handle.

“What?”

He was still leaning back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest as he held your confused gaze. “Whoever you’re comparing me to in your head. Whoever you think I’m going to end up being exactly like. I’m not them.”

“Shotaro…” You breathed out his name, unable to think of a quick deflection this time, hoping he would just let it go.

“You’re not stupid, Y/N. I know you’re not.” He stood up, stepping closer to you. “You always stop yourself right before… I’m sure you think you’re not leading me on or whatever, but I know you know how stupidly head over heels I am for you, because I don’t try to hide it.”

You winced, your stomach dropping to the floor. So he really did want to have this conversation. “I’m sorry. I should’ve said something. I thought… I don’t know, that I needed better words before I said anything. But saying something would’ve been better than doing this to you. I’m so sorry, Shotaro.”

“Tell me. Whatever words you do have, even if you think they’re bad,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“Because I still want to know everything about you, even if it’s the reasons you’re rejecting me,” he chuckled cynically, his eyes still shining as he looked at you.

You sank your teeth into your bottom lip as you tried to think of where to start. You knew you owed Shotaro this much, at least. Finally, you decided on, “I dated the lead singer of a band a few years ago, when I started here. I was young and stupidly in love with him and really believed him when he told me I was special. He was cheating on me the whole time.” You watched Shotaro’s eyes go big. “Every time he went on tour, even at concerts here. I think the worst part wasn’t even how many times he cheated on me, but how many times I caught him doing it and believed him when he said it meant nothing and he’d never do it again.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Shotaro. Really,” you reassured him. “I-I don’t know if I can trust myself to not… realize when something like that is happening again. To not realize when I’ve lost myself like that. I’m sorry.”

You rushed out of the bathroom then, unable to bring yourself to hear what he said next, whatever surely sweet, reassuring, reasonable thing he would say. You couldn’t hear it, not now. You were stuck, and now you’d gotten Shotaro stuck too.

Grabbing the in-ears from your office, you were glad to almost immediately catch Kunhang in the hallway. “Hey, give these to Shotaro for me.”

He thankfully didn’t question it, and you set off to keep yourself even busier than usual. Which wouldn’t be hard, as Kun wasn’t in that night, meaning that you were overseeing the whole event on your own. You didn’t even see Shotaro again until he was on stage performing with the rest of Roses for Eyes. You were helping out behind the merch table, as the limited-edition event merch you’d gotten was apparently very popular and the bunching up of people around the counter was clogging up the small area.

“They’re killing it tonight,” Ten commented loudly to be heard over the crowd and the music, nodding towards the stage.

“Yeah,” you agreed mildly, watching the performance out of the corner of your eye as you straightened up the stock.

“They’ve been doing really well with the weekly slot, too.”

“Mhm.”

“I heard they’re planning a mini-tour in the summer, though.”

“Cool.”

“Taro mentioned anything to you about that?”

You flashed him a sharp look. “Why would he have told me anything?”

“Because you’re their contact for the slot here?” He gave you a bewildered look back. “They’d have to tell you so you could tell Kun and find someone to fill the slot while they’re gone?”

“Right. Yeah. No, nobody’s said anything to me.”

“And also, he’s got a huge crush on you.”

“God, shut up,” you groaned.

“What? It’s adorable to watch him follow you around like a lost puppy,” your coworker snickered. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?”

“I’m telling you to shut up about it.”

“Come on, taking the theme a little too literally, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes, opting to not engage with the conversation at all since he apparently wasn’t going to move on. The presence of the headliner on stage was finally drawing some of the crowd away from the merch line.

Giving Ten an unsympathetic smile, you started backing away from the counter, “Alright, I think you’ve got it from here.”

Ten was still grinning and shaking his head as he let you go without a fight, helping the next person in line. You continued running around the venue, helping with anything that popped up.

As Kunhang was announcing the winners of some of the raffles later in the night, you had eyed trouble at the bar. Sicheng, your bartender, was obviously trying to decline service to an insistent patron while a line of other guests bunched up around the bar.

“Is there a problem here, Sicheng?” You asked, stepping into the situation.

“Oh, Y/N,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s had too many, can you—”

“I’ve got it, you keep serving people,” you reassured him. With his attention on the next people, you turned back to the other man. The guy had clearly had too much to drink, pink-faced and swaying in place. “You’ve had enough, man. How about we get you a water, okay? Or a soda?”

“No, I want another beer!” He insisted.

“No can do, sorry,” you informed him firmly. “Water, soda, or nothing. Alright?”

“Who the fuck are you to tell me no?”

“Manager of the building you’re in right now.”

“Well, manager, tell him to get me another beer.”

“No,” you repeated. “Look, dude, I know tonight can especially suck, but there’s other things to do besides drink. You are cut off. Let’s get you a water, hm?”

“No.”

“Did you come with friends? I can help get you back to them.”

He got up in your face then, and you stepped back, unwittingly jamming the bartop right into your own ribcage. “I said no, bitch.”

“I’m going to ask you to leave if you don’t calm down and get out of my fucking face,” you informed him through gritted teeth. “Come on, dude, don’t make this a bigger deal than it has to be.”

Before he could say anything else, someone grabbed the guy by the shoulder, pulling him away from you. At first you hoped that it was come friends of the guy, finally caught on to what was going on, but your blood turned cold when you saw who it really was.

“Hey, get out of her face,” Shotaro told him, rather calmly, but firmly.

In the next second, the drunk guy had swung, his fist impacting with Shotaro’s face and making his head jerk back. The crowd around you three gasped and backed up, and you felt both anger and panic flood your veins.

“You’re done!” You announced loudly. “Out! Get the fuck out! Sicheng! Call security!”

Your bartender was already on it, his walkie-talkie up by his mouth and his request for back-up coming through your own earpiece very clearly. You watched the venue’s guard who very rarely had to leave his post by the front door lumber up, grabbing the guy by the collar and pulling him through the crowd.

Shotaro was stood in the same spot, slightly hunched over as he held onto the edge of the bar, cradling his cheek. You sighed, grabbing his arm. “Come on.”

He let you guide him away from the crowd, the din of the music fading as you took him into the back office, shutting the door behind you. You gestured to the desk chair for him to sit in, and he obliged. After getting out the small first aid kit that was kept in here, you leaned back against the desk, pulling his hand down from his face to inspect the damage.

“We have security, you know,” you said quietly, cracking a cold pack and massaging it in your hands to get the reaction going.

“Didn’t seem like they were helping you,” he replied.

You grabbed a couple tissues from the dispenser on the desk, pressing them to where blood was welling up from a cut on his cheek. “Because I hadn’t called them.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was handling it.” Tossing the bloodied tissues in the trash, you applied a band-aid to the open wound before holding the cold pack out to him.

He accepted it, looking down at his lap guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“C’mere.” You stood up and stepped closer to him, reaching for his face with both your hands.

“Hm?” He looked up at you curiously. You turned his head so you could gently press your thumbs against his cheekbone and the area around his eye where he’d been hit. “Ow…”

“Sorry. I don’t think he broke anything. You’ll probably just have some bruising for a while,” you declared softly, pulling his hand that was holding the cold pack up to his cheek. “And a nasty cut from his ugly rings.”

He chuckled a little, and you smiled back. “Learn that from your sister?”

“No, just had to break up a few fights here before.”

“Really?”

“We weren’t always such a classy establishment,” you joked, sitting back down on the edge of the desk in front of him. “We’re called Venue:Hell for a reason, and not just because we’re underground.”

“Here I thought you guys were just trying to be edgy.”

You were still replaying it in your mind, of how quick it happened, from Shotaro grabbing the guy to him getting punched. “You thought that guy was going to hit me or something, right?”

“He was getting up in your face…” He hissed and pulled the cold pack down from his face for a moment, then put it back up, wincing. “Even if he didn’t, he shouldn’t have been yelling at you like that.”

“Occupational hazard,” you shrugged. After a beat, you added sincerely, “Thanks, Shotaro.”

“Why do you call me Shotaro? To keep me at a distance?” He asked, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Everyone calls me Taro, I even told you to call me Taro. But you never have.”

“I’m pretty sure you said that I can call you Taro, not that you wanted me to,” you pointed out. Seeing the distress on his face, though, you said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it meant so much to you.”

“It doesn’t, really. But when it’s you… it hurts. Everything feels like the best thing that’s ever happened to me and the worst at the same time.”

“I…” You trailed off uncertainly. What were you even supposed to say to that?

“Like, I make you laugh and I’m fucking on Cloud Nine. And then I somehow take it too far, or say something that makes you run away and I kind of feel like I’m literally dying.” He slumped back into the desk chair with a sharp laugh, still pressing the cold pack to his face.

“That sounds awful, I’m so—”

“No, stop it. It’s not awful, and I want you to stop apologizing to me.”

“Okay.”

Shotaro sighed, looking down at his free hand as he futzed with his jewelry. “That guy’s rings were pretty ugly.”

You let out a sputtering laugh, happy for some of the tension in your chest to dissolve in that moment. “Yeah, they really were.”

That night, you got home from work in the wee hours of the morning, not even bothering to turn your apartment light on, simply tossing your backpack in the direction of your couch and shuffling towards your bedroom. You got ready for bed on autopilot, exhausted as you always were after work.

Wiping off your makeup in the mirror, you hovered over the broken heart on your cheek, recalling just how fast that conversation had gone downhill, then Shotaro getting punched later in the night. Letting out a deep breath, you finished up in the bathroom and shut that light off. After changing into your pajamas, you lay in bed alone, staring up at your ceiling. Alone. You’d be going back to Venue:Hell in less than ten hours. And after that, you’d come home again. Alone. Then go back to work. Then come home. Then go back. Then come home. Work. Home. Work. Home. Work. Home. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.

The line rang, and rang, and with every ring, your urge to hang up grew. Of fucking course he didn’t want to talk to you—

“Y/N?” Shotaro’s voice was foggy, and it was apparent you’d woken him.

“Taro, hey,” you said quietly, already regretting this. “I woke you up, didn’t I? Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he grumbled, and you heard the sounds of him rolling over and readjusting in bed. “Is everything okay? You’re not still at work, are you?”

“No, no, I’m home.”

“Okay, good.”

“Uhm, I just—” You were cut off by a very loud yawn from him. “Sorry, it’s really late and you’ve got to be tired. We can do this later.”

“No, go ahead. You apparently thought it was important enough to call me at fuck you a.m. in the morning,” he chuckled sleepily. “We can do it now. I won’t interrupt again. Promise.”

You took a deep breath, still staring at the inky dark expanse of your ceiling. “I just was thinking… some more… And I do really like you, and if you still… want to… Do you have plans later?”

You heard something thunk, and a loud clunk right by the mic, making you wince away from your speaker, then the distant sounds of him cursing as he scrambled around.

“Sorry, dropped you,” he apologized, sounding much more awake now. “You mean like, not for work?”

“Yeah, like, hanging out. Not at work,” you confirmed. God, is your heartbeat always this fucking loud?

“Yes, absolutely. Yes! Fuck!” He agreed giddily, and you couldn’t help but grin too.

“Okay, uhm, I have to get the venue set up for a show at seven tonight, but we could do lunch before or something? If that works for you?”

“Totally! Yes!”

“Cool.” You smiled at your screen as you checked the time. “It is way too fucking late. Just text me when you wake up and we can sort everything out then.”

“I will. Absolutely.”

“I’ll talk to you then.”

“Yes.”

“Thanks, Taro. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

After some much-needed sleep, you slowly got up, sitting at the edge of your bed, letting your feet graze the carpet below. You were home now, alone, and later you’d be going to work. But before that, you were going to be doing something else. Going somewhere else with someone else.

Speaking of, your phone rang, an incoming call from Shotaro. You picked it up, still rubbing sleep out of one eye. “Mm?”

“Was it real?” He asked in lieu of a greeting.

“What?” You chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

“Do I need a lobotomy right now, or are we actually going on a date?”

You burst into laughter, holding your phone away from your mouth as your laughter devolved into a coughing fit, blindly grabbing for your water cup from your nightstand. After recovering enough, you finally answered, “Hold off on the lobotomy for now.”

“Oh, it was real,” he let out a sigh of relief. “God, I seriously woke up and couldn’t tell if I had dreamt that whole conversation or not.”

“No, I really did call you at ‘fuck you a.m. in the morning’ last night, sorry.”

He snickered. “I said that?”

“You did.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to call me at fuck you a.m. any night, especially if it’s going to be something that good.” His grin was audible through the phone. “So what time should I pick you up?”

“We haven’t even decided where we’re going?”

“Lunch,” he said confidently. “I’ve got it. You did the hard part, let me do the rest.”

You looked at the time on your phone. “Two hours?”

“Done. Send me your address.”

“Hey—Oh my God,” you cut yourself off laughing, covering your face as soon as you saw Shotaro standing there with a bouquet of flowers. “You seriously—Oh my God.”

“What? What is funny about this?” He held them out to you even more insistently.

You accepted them, still shaking your head. “Nothing. Come in so I can put them in water.”

He obliged, quietly closing your door behind him.

“I just honestly don’t think a man has ever brought me flowers,” you admitted, opening your cabinet to try to find some kind of vessel. “I was caught off-guard. I didn’t mean to laugh in your face, I’m sorry. You’re very sweet, Taro.”

“Seriously?” He watched you bring down an old empty water jug and fill it up from your sink, then plop the flowers in there.

“Seriously.” You paused in front of him, eyes focused on his left cheek, where a bruise had blossomed out far beyond the edges of the bandage you’d applied last night. Frowning, you delicately touched just under his cheekbone. “How is it?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured you, letting you continue to inspect the wound. “Barely even feel it.”

“Liar.”

He beamed. “Maybe.”

“You know that I’m going to be kind of bad at this, right?” You asked in a lull in conversation at lunch, picking at your food with your utensil.

“At… eating?” Shotaro asked in turn, his cheeks full with his own food as he looked at you with wide, confused eyes. “You seem to be doing pretty alright to me.”

“No,” you chuckled and shook your head. “At… this.” You pointed between the two of you. “It’s been a while, and I didn’t have the best experience last time.”

He swallowed and nodded, offering his hand out across the table, palm up. “I know.” Hesitantly, you put your own hand in his, and he squeezed yours gently, a soft smile on his face as he gazed at you. “Like I said, you already did the hard part, that’s why I’m taking care of everything else today. I get how difficult it must be for you to be doing this right now.”

“Thanks.” You squeezed his hand back.

“You really don’t have to do this,” you sighed as you and Shotaro walked down the sidewalks together after lunch.

“What are you talking about? Of course I have to make sure my girlfriend gets to work safe,” he scoffed, elbowing you.

“Hey hey hey!” You smacked his arm. “We’ve been on one date, kinda. What’s with the g-word?”

“‘The g-word,’” he repeated with a snicker. “If it makes you feel better, you can call me the b-word.”

“Bitch?” You blinked at him innocently.

He elbowed you again. “Rude!”

You laughed loudly, clutching your stomach as you had to stop to catch your breath. “Come on, you walked right into that one.”

“Yeah, I did.” He agreed, watching you with a fond smile on his face.

“I’m serious though, you can’t just be throwing words like that around after one kinda-date.”

Shotaro grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as you kept walking. “And what is the difference between a date and a kinda-date?”

“I don’t know. We were just like… hanging out. You know?” You shrugged. “I don’t know, I told you I was going to be bad at this!”

He laughed. “I brought you flowers, paid for your lunch, we’re holding hands… I’m failing to see how this isn’t date behavior.”

You looked down at your entwined hands, skin heating up. “Point taken.”

You’d made it to Venue:Hell and approached the back door, taking your keys out of your pocket.

“You know what else people do on dates?” He asked slyly, tugging on your hand so you’d turn around and face him. “Kiss goodbye.”

“Talking like I’ve never been on a date ever,” you scoffed, hooking your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him closer. You smiled when you saw his cheeks turn bright pink—no blush necessary this time. Shotaro’s hands landed on your waist as you grabbed the back of his neck and slotted your lips together. The cool metal of his lip ring pressed against your skin, made even colder by the crisp weather outside. He met you beat for beat, never taking over, following your lead until you finally broke apart. The kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the boba tea you’d grabbed after lunch.

“Ah, shit,” he chuckled, hanging his head.

“What?”

“Now I don’t want to go.” He snuck another kiss to your cheek, just grazing the corner of your mouth.

“You’re a menace.” You sighed, in a similar predicament. With warning in your voice, you said, “You can hang out—”

“Yes!” He cheered.

“—until somebody else gets here,” you finished your sentence pointedly, turning around to unlock the door. “Because some people actually work around here, and you’re not performing tonight.”

“Pretty sure you’re the only person who actually does any work around here,” he teased.

“I know, which is why I can’t have you distracting everyone else even more.” You unlocked the door and disabled the alarm, leading Shotaro in by the hand.

“I’m not a distraction!”

“All you’ve been doing for the past six months is distracting me.”

“I help you!”

You clicked your tongue. “And get injured in the process.”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, following you into the office. “It’s the thought that counts?”

“Let me change your band-aid, while you’re here,” you offered, pointing to the desk chair. “You’ve still got the same gross one on from last night.”

Shotaro peeled off the old bandage and tossed it in the trash while you grabbed a new one from the first aid kit.

“I’m going to have to tell Kun,” you said carefully, opening the new band-aid. “About this.”

He stayed still as you applied the new bandage, then asked, “Me getting punched or us going out?”

“Both.” You groaned and rubbed your face. “Ugh, I don’t even know which one I should start with. Don’t say anything until I tell him, please.”

“I will not tell anybody else until you talk to Kun,” he promised, the phrasing making you narrow your eyes.

“You already told all your bandmates.”

He folded immediately. “Can you blame me? I was excited!”

“The whole building is going to know by soundcheck on Thursday,” you lamented, covering your face.

“I’ll tell the guys I was kidding.”

“They’ll think you’ve lost it.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

“As much as I appreciate your willingness to have your best friends think you’re an absolute weirdo loser who would lie about something like that,” you patted his shoulders, “I won’t ask you to do that.”

“I appreciate that.”

You heard the distinct clang of the back door closing, and sighed regretfully. “That’s your cue.”

“Fine, fine.” He stood up, pecking your forehead. “Pick you up later?”

“I get off at midnight?”

“So?”

“Don’t be late,” you hummed, grabbing the door handle.

It was Kunhang who had arrived, clearly surprised to see Shotaro there. “Oh, hey Taro. What are you doing here?”

“He forgot something.” You used the most reasonable excuse.

“Maybe we should just start stapling stuff to you, man,” Kunhang laughed.

“Great idea.” You grinned, patting Shotaro’s arm as you continued ushering him towards the door.

In the stairwell, concealed from your coworker’s gaze, he leaned in, whispering right next to your ear. “I did almost forget something, actually.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, and he cupped your cheek, rings cold against your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct as you let him tilt your chin, connecting your lips. Your blood roared in your ears as you scrunched his t-shirt in your fist.

The back door opened, and you couldn’t reel back quick enough. To your horror, it was Kun standing there, blinking at you as his keys dangled in one hand.

“Excuse me,” he cleared his throat, scooting right between you and Shotaro in the narrow space of the stairway. He looked back, speaking directly to the singer with you, “Nice shiner there, Taro.”

Shotaro touched his bruised cheek on instinct, giving your manager a thumbs-up with his other hand. “Thanks.”

Kun said nothing else, whistling to himself as he walked further into the venue. You looked at Shotaro with wide eyes, practically shoving him out the door as he burst into laughter.

“Goodbye, Taro!” You said loudly over his cackles.

“See you later,” he whispered back, shooting you a wink right before you slammed the door in his face.

As you turned the corner, you were alarmed to see Kunhang peering at you from his station. “What?”

“Since when do you call him ‘Taro’?”

Upon entering the back office, you saw Kun sitting at the desk, working on something on the computer. He held a familiar pair of silver sunglasses out to you without even taking his eyes off the screen. “I think Taro left these here.”

“Yeah, those are his,” you confirmed, accepting the frames from him. “Uhm, a patron at the event last night had too much to drink, and ended up punching him, by the way.”

Kun looked over at you at that information, lifting both his eyebrows in disbelief. “Taro got into a barfight?”

“He didn’t hit him back, or start it, really. Sicheng and I were trying to cut the other guy off, but he was getting pissed off.”

“Ahh, he thought he was helping you.” Your manager nodded in understanding.

“About that, we’ve only been on one date, and—”

“I don’t need to know all the details. I just don’t want to have to enter the building like that ever again, okay?”

“Heard.”

He cracked a grin then. “I will say—I like him a lot better than the last one.”

“God, don’t remind me,” you groaned and shook your head.

“And that’s the last time I’ll ever bring him up. I’m glad he’s gone.” Kun held his hands up in surrender. “Now go find something to do.”

“Ten’s not scheduled for tonight, so I’m on the front.”

“Go do that.”

“Heard.” You clicked your tongue and gave him a casual salute, heading back out of the office.

Kunhang found you again setting up the barricades for the queue out front. He squinted at you, then laughed, “Oh, those looked like Taro’s sunglasses for a second.”

“They are,” you answered nonchalantly, pushing the frames back up where they were sliding down the bridge of your nose.

“Why are you wearing his sunglasses?”

“Because he forgot them here, it’s bright as hell out, and I don’t have another pair on me.”

“That’s… reasonable.”

“You said that weird.”

“Well, here’s the thing—” Your coworker stopped where he was rearranging the barricades, facing you. “I don’t think you’ve noticed but I’m like… 99% sure the guy has a huge crush on you.”

You kept a straight face. “Really?”

“Yeah, the poor guy is like… so down bad it’s not even funny anymore. Kinda a bit sad, actually.” He sighed. “So I just think that you wearing his sunglasses… it’s gonna mess with his head, you know?”

“You think so?” You scrunched your nose, pretending to think really hard about it.

“Yeah.”

You eventually shook your head. “I don’t know, I don’t think he does…”

It was ten till midnight, and you looked between the time and the back door.

“If you’ve got somewhere you need to be, you can go,” Kunhang nudged you with his knee.

“Yeah, you’ve been checking your phone every ten seconds,” Yangyang snorted, scrolling on his phone. “Seriously, we’ve got it. We’ve done a bajillion dance nights, and Kun is here in case something goes horribly wrong.”

You ignored them, instead looking directly at your sound tech. “Hey, Yang, weird question: Do you think Taro has a crush on me?”

He burst out laughing, grabbing his sides as he keeled forward, barely catching himself on Kunhang’s leg. Still giggling, he sobered up enough to say, “Well, duh. Y/N, oh my God, I never pegged you for an idiot. What the fuck? Did you seriously not—”

The back door opened then, and you immediately spotted Shotaro descending the stairs, looking around the crowded room.

“That’s spooky,” Yangyang muttered. “Do you think he like, heard me somehow?”

“He was here earlier to see Y/N,” Kunhang said pointedly. “See? He totally—”

You simply raised your hand and waved until Shotaro saw you, immediately perking up and making his way across the venue. Your coworkers had half a mind to shut up as the guitarist stopped in front of you three.

“Hey guys,” he smiled at the other two, then pointed at the sunglasses perched atop your head. “Those are mine.”

“You forgot them here,” you informed him smugly, leaning back in your seat and taking them off. You let them dangle by the arm off the tip of your finger as you held them out to him.

“I told you I forgot something,” he teased, taking the sunglasses back. He turned the shades around, leaning in as he tucked them back into your hair. “They look better on you anyway.”

You left them there this time, grinning up at him. “I think you’re right, actually.”

“You good to go?”

“Yep.” You got to your feet, tossing your dumbfounded coworkers a goodbye over your shoulder. Shotaro’s hand found yours, keeping you close as you weaved through the crowd.

It was Thursday again, and you were backstage, monitoring the band as they got ready to go on. There was a hustle and bustle like usual, and right as they were preparing to step onto stage, you called out expectantly, “Taro? Forget something?”

“Oh, right,” he grinned and shook his head, jogging over to you. He held your face with two hands, kissing you right there backstage, his lips still sugary sweet from the Sour Patch Kids he’d been snacking on moments prior.

After he’d pulled back, you held up his in-ears and pack, which he’d given you when he needed a very last-minute run to the bathroom. “I meant these.”

You could hear the snickers from his bandmates as he took the equipment from you, rushing to put it all back on. “Yeah, that too, I guess. What if I said I’ve been losing things on purpose this entire time as a genius ploy to—”

“Go perform already! I’m sick of you!” You rolled your eyes dramatically and pushed him away, back towards the stage.

“Fine, only because you asked so nicely.” He winked, dashing back over just in time to run out on stage with the rest of the band.

“What the hell?” Ten was just off to your side, staring at you, accompanied by Sicheng. You didn’t want to know who was at the bar right now.

“What?” You tilted your head innocently, walking over to them.

“Taro just kissed you?” He looked around, bewildered. “Sicheng, that was crazy, right?”

“Huh?” Your bartender glanced between the two of you, seeming just as lost. “Have they not been dating this whole time?”

⤷ masterlist

[ilovejoostklein]

hii, a little request. could we get sum eurovision singer!reader with joost?? maybe after their endless flirting they end up having a one night stand in their hotel room😵‍💫 and after eurovision ends reader is caught by some fans attending joost’s concert in vancouver or they are seen attending a club together and being all cozy😫 sorry if it’s to much, feel free to decline🫶🏻

i got you! 💙

-

Little Stars

You’re Joost’s favorite girl at Eurovision

nsfw: smut, some fluff

-

The entire competition served more as an ego boost than as a popularity boost to your career. You were always an extrovert. As a child, you always got the same cliché comments that you’d either be a great lawyer or a performer, and you decided to choose the option that wouldn’t cause you to have a lifetime of boredom. It certainly helped that your parents stuck you in every extracurricular activity, dance, gymnastics, volleyball, to have an outlet for your energy and love for being the center of attention.

You’d discovered your singing talents from your father, who was an amateur singer. On weekend mornings, when the morning dew would still be on the plants, pale golden sunlight illuminating the streets of your city you’d rush down the stairs to join him when you heard the gentle strumming of his guitar with the song of the morning birds. 

You two would sing a song together, the neighbors always taking a moment to listen from the windows or their doorsteps, people walking by smiling at you or taking a moment to talk. Your parents were adamant that you were born to be on stage, your family and neighbors nicknamed you their little star. 

You first gained popularity after posting a few covers on YouTube when you were a teenager. It wasn’t much in terms of internet fame, a couple of thousand followers, and your most popular video getting a little over 100,000 views but it was surreal to you at the time. You always stuck to ballads, your voice strong and from your high stamina, you could belt out notes that lasted miles. It wasn’t until you showcased your dancing talents that your popularity seemed to ignite. 

At first, it scared you a bit, but the attention was overwhelmingly positive besides the few comments from older people in your country who damned the youth and their nerve to have fun. You realized that your singing could only take you so far, millions of other people had nice voices, but few could captivate an audience like you with your stage presence. Before you knew it, you had enough money to hire a manager and move yourself and your parents to a nicer part of town. Your name spread across parts of Europe, and you became somewhat of a celebrity, selling out small venues and playing a few festivals. 

You came from truly humble beginnings, and you suspected that was why so many audiences connected with and favored you, and a large reason why your application to Eurovision to represent your country was accepted. You were beautiful, incredibly talented, and had a larger-than-life charisma. In interviews and press conferences, it was the best thing, especially in the unique and rather tense climate of this year’s competition, but backstage was a completely different person. 

You quickly gave yourself a reputation of being a flirt. You wore skimpy, bright outfits adorned with glitter and rhinestones with every practice and rehearsal. When you weren’t about to perform, you still wore mini skirts and the tiniest top imaginable. You walked around with your body practically on full display, some parts of your skin being hardly covered with fishnets or tights. You lived up to your nickname as being a star, the other contestants hearing it from your parents, but being grown up and leaning into your sensuality you were more like Venus now, your presence scorching, bright, and exigent. 

Beside you in the sky of stars was Joost. If you had been a little star, he was the sun itself. You two had taken a liking to each other almost immediately and nearly became attached at the hip. It was far from platonic, but you found yourself amused at how you two could be able to flirt with each other so shamelessly and without constraint without doing more than hugging. 

“Hi, baby.” You greeted him in one of the lounge areas for breakfast. It became an inside joke between you to constantly use silly pet names. It was very early morning, and the sun and blue skies were hardly present. “Can I sit with you this morning?” You smiled. 

“You already know the answer, honey.” He smiled back. You loved how his smile would take up his entire face, you felt you could never get tired of looking at it. “I can’t wait to see you tonight.” 

It was the day of the rehearsal before the finale, and the nerves hadn’t quite gotten to you yet. You nodded, watching as he fixed your plate with your usual breakfast order that he picked up. It was a sweet gesture that warmed your heart, you were beyond thankful to have someone who took you into their arms the way that Joost had. 

You two sat down together at a corner table. You watched as sunlight blanketed his features. It reflected into the ridge of his nose and illuminated his eyes, you found yourself staring into them, never seeing eyes that reminded you of the crystal blue waters of the beach you grew up by.

“Your eye contact scares me.” He chuckled, the direct comment making you feel your heart drop to your feet. “It’s ok, gives me an excuse to look at you.”

“You have nice eyes.” You said, ripping a piece of your croissant that Joost had fried in the microwave, despite you asking it to be lightly warmed. “This is super cold, by the way.” You said, pushing the first piece into his mouth. 

The bread burned his tongue a bit, but he was able to ignore the pain when he felt your fingers in his mouth. He bravely ran his tongue over the pads of your fingers, sucking down gently all while keeping his eyes set on you. You were speechless for a moment, seeing and feeling his sinfully pink tongue on your fingers before you were able to pull away. 

“You drooled on me.” You looked down at your hand, seeing there were still crumbs on your fingers, and pushed them into your mouth. You watched Joost’s eyebrows raise as he stiffened in his seat, feeling himself getting far so excited so early in the morning. 

You tasted him in your mouth, the sickeningly sweet syrup from his waffles and the bitterness from his coffee. “There’s crumbs on my fingers.” You said, “You don’t lick your fingers to get food off?” 

“No,” He spoke, his tone a bit hushed, “I like to lick my fingers.” 

You blushed at his comment, always catching the innuendo but never pushing it further. The two of you sat in silence for a moment to let the tension cool, as you always did when it became too unbearable. 

“You’re the only performer who changes your outfits.” Joost was always the first to break the silence. “How short will your skirt be tonight?” 

You laughed, “Shorter than last night.” You answered, his dimples giving away his amusement. “Your outfit is one of my favorites though.” 

“Ah.” He said happily, “What do you like about it?”

“The color is nice.” You complimented, seeing in his face how much he loved the attention. “Is it hard to take off?”

He withdrew a bit, smiling knowingly but deciding to beat around the bush as you two formed a habit of doing. “Not really.” He said. “It’s very easy, I don’t need any help at all.” His answer was excruciating.

You rolled your eyes, “Well, I need a lot of help with mine.” You began, “There’s so many hooks and zippers, it’s so annoying.”

Joost hummed in absentminded agreement. You saw on the vacant expression on his face, and how he went back to eating his breakfast that you’d give him too vivid of a picture. All he could imagine now was being alone with you in the dressing room, undoing all the hooks and zippers you were talking about. He’d want to rip apart those fishnet stockings you always wore, the thought of seeing the gentle threads snap apart from his hands revealing your soft skin drove him wild. The imagery became too much eventually, and he felt a bit of shame when he saw your gentle, unknowing face across him. 

“You know you’re gonna win, right?” You said suddenly, making his expression drop into something deathly serious.

“It would be nice.” He mumbled nervously, his nerves entangling themselves together even tighter than before. “You think so?”

“No, Joost.” You glanced at the clock on your phone, realizing you’d spent too much time at breakfast. “I said I know you’re doing to win.” 

The night of the semi-final had solidified Joost’s obsession with you, but he realized he was in a long line of admirers. It was like he was in a trance, your voice like a siren’s, and the way your outfit glittered and reflected onto the bright light, it was surreal. He wanted to congratulate you after, but he saw that a crowd had already formed around you, specifically that the Croatian performer, Baby Lasagne, another favorite, had beaten him to it. 

Joost watched from afar, how you smiled constantly and looked so animated talking to him. His hands grazed your bare arm a few times, and every time it felt like it tugged on his heart in a horrible, unfamiliar sensation. It pained him a bit to know that you were known as a flirt, wondering if the way you looked at him and clung by his side meant anything at all or if it was all a part of some game. 

He saw you again walking down the hall when he felt a tap at his side. He knew it was you immediately, turning around he couldn’t help but bring you into a hug that left your feet dangling as he rambled on about how well you did. 

“Are you kidding?” You said, holding onto his neck before he set you down. “You’re fucking amazing Joost, I loved watching you.”

He scoffed, looking down at you still in your outfit, it was like he was dreaming. He yearned to keep his hands on your waist, but his better senses got the better of him, and his arms returned to his side. 

“I think everyone loved watching you more.” He began, remembering how he had to watch another man try to charm you the way he’d been for the past few days. “I don’t have people crowding me after I perform.”

You raised your eyebrows, remembering how the Croatian performer came up to you to talk you up, offering to take you for a drink and inviting him back into his room, an offer that you left to a ‘maybe’ just to keep him hanging. You saw Joost at the end of the hallway, now realizing that he didn’t just happen to be there but he was watching.

“You sound jealous.” You teased, seeing a blush begin on his face, like red wine spilling on pristine sheets. “Anyways, I’ve got to get going.”

Joost hated when you did that, knowing that you had nothing to do but sit in your room, drink obnoxiously expensive liquor, and talk about equally as obnoxious things with your friend. He wished he had it in him to ask to go back with you, but the fear of rejection always struck too hard and quickly for him to take advantage of the moment. 

The day of the finale, it didn’t come as a surprise to anyone but Joost that he’d won, and you’d been the runner-up. You didn’t have much of a competitive spirit, the experience of Eurovision alone already felt like a victory in itself. When it was announced that he’d won, you two hugged in front of what felt like a sea of cameras and you were able to sneak a kiss on his cheek before he went up on stage to be awarded. There was far too much commotion directly afterward to see him again, it was physically painful to feel him slipping away from you and realize that this, like all good things, was all finally ending.

Joost found you again in the early hours of the morning, holding flowers at your door dressed down in a simple t-shirt and jeans from his short night out to come to personally congratulate you. He noticed you weren’t at any of the after parties, and even his own which admittedly stung a bit. He had an evening flight the next day, so he could stand to lose a bit of sleep if it meant seeing you one last time. 

You answered the door in a robe, from your exposed skin it seemed like nothing else was underneath. You smiled and laughed to conceal the overwhelming feelings that filled your chest from the gesture.

“You’re so sweet, Joost.” You said as you took the small bouquet from him. “I have some champagne in my room if you want to share, it for the winner.”

Joost felt a weight lifted off his shoulders, freeing him from the torturous game you’d forced him to play as he finally was alone with you. Whether or not he’d leave with anything didn’t matter, he just wanted a moment with you that wasn’t in the halls or the lounges. 

Your room was serene and surprisingly organized, unlike his with bottles piled on the coffee table and clothes all over the couch. The lights were low, and soft music played in the background, by the look of the skincare products on the vanity it seemed that he’d interrupted your bedtime ritual. 

He watched as you poured a sparkling glass of champagne for him, clinking your glasses together before taking a sip. It was a bit sweet for his liking, but it made sense if it was coming from you. He knew you were the type to overindulge, like a child of Dionysus you lived for worldly pleasures and your enjoyment alone. He wondered if he would be a part of those pleasures if you’d fall into him like you did your other vices. 

“I’m going to spend a little bit more time here.” You said, “I’ve never been to Sweden before.” 

Joost nodded, knowing that you came from a small city and that all this travel was probably the best thing in the world for you. “I leave tomorrow.” His tone was a bit disappointed. “I would’ve liked to stay a little longer though.”

You hummed in agreement, “So,” You began, setting down the half-finished glass of your drink. “You only came to give me flowers?”

He felt his grip tighten on the delicate glass, looking down at you, he noticed that the fabric of the robe had fallen forward a bit, exposing a bit of your naked chest and body. “No.” He confessed, “Just an excuse to see you, the flowers were mine.”

“It’s rude to regift.” He hated your teasing, he hated the ever-present sensuality in your voice. “Alright, well, you saw me.”

You watched as Joost’s eyes widened at you, a desperate look on his face from how insufferable you had become. He knew that you had seen right through him this entire time, and he felt that you were now making a mockery of him. Even if he was the one with the dishonest motives, if he was the one staring down your robe, he felt that he was completely naked in front of you.

“You’re too much.” He mumbled, fumbling with the intricate buckle of his belt and swirling the champagne in his cup. “You don’t even come to my fucking party.”

You smiled at him, but not like you had been doing before, “Is that belt bothering you?” You asked before reaching over, your hands gently moving his away. “Let me help you.”

You undid his belt with a bit of a struggle, finally pulling it off and letting it fall to the floor. Joost felt his breath get caught in his throat, looking down at you as you undid the button to his jeans that now felt suffocating and pulled down the zipper. The sound of his clothing coming off echoed in his mind and made him grow rigid. He tried to relax, trying to see you for what you were, someone who was just as crazy for him as he was for you, instead of someone who had the upper hand. 

You couldn’t bear to deny yourself anymore, the tension finally snapping loose as your fingers dipped underneath the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down in one desperate, fluid motion. Joost began to step away so that he’d be able to sit down on the chair across from you, his pants and underwear pooling at his ankles as you followed shamelessly. 

You mused at his size, wrapping your hand around the base you couldn’t help but take it all in. Joost was pretty, all of him was so fucking pretty. His dick looked perfect in your hands, just big enough that you knew it would hurt and prove itself to be a challenge that you were eager to take on. His skin radiated warmth, it was softer than any other man you’d touched. You nearly salivated the longer you pumped him in your hand, drawing out soft groans before you finally took him into your mouth. 

It was as if you were a groupie how enthusiastic and sloppy you were. He watched through half-lidded eyes as you took all you could, your hands pumping at the base of what you struggled to fit. Your tongue was sinful, swirling around his shaft and sensitive tip, sucking him off so well he began to lose all rationality, wondering how crazy it would be if he asked you to be his girlfriend after all of this. 

Joost grabbed the glass of champagne and began drinking again, the rush of sweetness on his tongue paired with getting head from his new favorite girl was heavenly. His ego had completely taken over, he was a winner and deserved to feel like it. He wanted to have you for as long as he could. He didn’t want to finish like this, so he poured himself another glass and pulled your head away gently so that you’d face him. 

“Kiss it.” He said, the glass sparkling and bubbling alongside his eyes that now were drowned out by his pupils. “Look at me while you do it.”

Your body grew numb at his request, seeing him rip the control that you once had as he sat in your room, drinking your champagne with his fingers tangled in your hair telling him to kiss his dick for him. He knew you liked to put on a show, using it to his advantage he watched from above, glass to his lips before you listened. 

You felt passionate desire pour out of you as you mindlessly kissed and licked on his dick. You pressed sloppy, wet kisses all over, sucking down gently on the tip as he watched quietly, suppressing his moans and taking sips of his drink. The only sounds were coming from you, you moaned from the pleasure it gave you to be touching him, and how much you loved the feeling of your saliva and his pre cum dripping all over your face. 

Your lips were plush and greedy against him, the sight itself better than the sensation. When he’d finally had enough, he pulled you up so that you’d be sitting on his lap, your face was a bit too messy, so he took a makeup wipe from your vanity and gently cleaned your face. 

“Here,” Joost offered the last sip of champagne from his glass, “Wash your mouth.”

He pressed the cool glass to your lips and watched as you drank until there was nothing left. He finally pulled you into an impatient kiss, but it was much softer than you expected. He kissed you tenderly, his arms holding your body taut, so much that you felt his heartbeat against yours. You could tell even if this was all unintended and in the heat of the moment, the feelings you shared underneath were all genuine. 

You held his face in your hands, his stubble rough against your palms. You wished you could stay like that forever, but the ache in between your legs would never allow you. You lowered one hand so that you could untie the knot on your silky robe and let it fall off your shoulders. Joost felt the shift in the fabric and moved one hand up to cup your breast and squeezed down, pulling away from the kiss to look at you. 

He left a trail of kisses on your neck, sucking down on the sensitive skin before leaving a mark right below your ear so that he’d give you something to remember him properly. It was crimson, deep, and loving, you wished that he’d even left more. You loved the feeling, and you let him know with the way you squirmed in his thigh and whined with every kiss. 

As much as he enjoyed moving slowly, the time was passing by too quickly and he was animalistic in his desire to fuck you. It felt as if he’d been putting out for a lifetime, his better judgment was non-existent. He paid just enough attention to your breasts, he’d hate to neglect something so perfect, kissing them lovingly, before kissing down your stomach down to your thighs.

Joost kissed in between your thighs slowly. His lips lingered too closely to where they should’ve been teasing you to the point it felt cruel. As you watched his languid motions, how much intention and care he put into every touch, you could tell how crazy he was for you, how your flirting had driven him to this madness. Your hand ran through his hair as he continued to press soft kisses against your skin, making him look up at you with a pleading expression, 

“Can I?” He asked in a strained whisper, you blushed a bit seeing him soften so much and ask the most obvious question. 

“Please.” You could hardly speak seeing him like that, he was unrecognizable from the man you’d known before. “I’m yours.”

He wondered if you could peer into his mind into his deepest desires. Joost ate you out as his thoughts raced, somehow without the overt focus it felt so much more natural and perfect for you. He was operating on pure instinct now, his mind elsewhere, thinking ahead to when he’d get to fuck you as his mouth preoccupied itself. He moaned against you, his warm tongue lapping against your clit desperately. The sounds you made only made him more determined, so much so that he couldn’t feel the ache in his jaw and weakness in his tongue. 

His thoughts then floated to the image of when he’d make you cum. The taste of you was addicting, better than an ice-cold shot of his favorite liquor and the first cigarette out of a fresh box. The taste of you dripped down his chin like biting into an overly ripe peach, messy, sticky but inexplicably perfect. He kept your trembling thighs apart with his strong hands, like the skin of a fruit as delicate as a peach he was careful not to hurt you, but you seemed to become more beautifully vocal when his fingers would dig down into your flesh. 

“I’m close.” You mumbled, not wanting to lose your high, the feeling of your orgasm building steadily in the bottom of your stomach. “Please don’t stop Joost.”

He forced himself to listen, if time wasn’t against him he would’ve edged you to the point of tears until you would be coming undone, ripping at the seams for a well-deserved orgasm rather than one so easily given. His soft lips pressed down on your clit, sucking down gently he knew you weren’t going to last too long, but just to make sure he traced your entrance with two long fingers and  fucked your desperate, soaked pussy. 

You lost yourself in the bliss that washed over you. You’d never felt anything quite like it, it was ecstasy in its purest form. He fucked you through it, gentle whispers guiding you back to reality as you clenched and writhed against his hand to ride out your orgasm. 

“That’s it, dotje.” His voice was so delicate and comforting against the intensity that overcame your senses. “I’ve got you.”

You felt tears in your eyes from how tightly they’d been shut. Looking down as the feeling subsided into a nearly sedated, dreamy sensation you watched as Joost withdrew his hand from you. Wincing at the loss of his fingers, desperately needing something inside of you again you watched as his two fingers, completely drenched in your slick arousal went into his mouth. 

You wished you had it in you to tease him and remind him about the time you’d had breakfast together, but it was all a distant, meaningless memory now. You were entranced watching him lick his fingers clean, he stared you down as he did it, his tongue swirling around to taste every last bit of you. 

“You taste so good.” His voice too was unrecognizable, his lust for you so apparent that you found yourself feeling much more bare than just in the literal sense. “Open your mouth.”

His fingers were warm, you’d finally returned the favor and sucked down to taste yourself like he wanted. After he was satisfied, he wiped his hand against his torso carelessly, reaching into the pocket of his jeans that were tossed on the floor to pull out his wallet. He always kept condoms, although he hadn’t acclimated himself to a rock star lifestyle yet he was glad that he’d made a habit of always carrying some.

“Can I go on top?” You asked sweetly, only for him to shake his head with a smile. 

“No.” He said plainly, tearing open the holographic packaging. “I want to be romantic.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Joost made you feel at ease, he was undoubtedly a special person who would always have a small piece of your heart. You wished that he didn’t make you feel so warm inside, a fling and one nightstand should’ve made you feel nothing but lust. 

Even if he had been joking, it had been romantic. He laid atop of you, kissing you just slow and deep as he fucked you. He filled you up so perfectly that you could do nothing but hold him close and moan into the never-ending kiss. You tensed a bit at first, but he was gentle, touching you sweetly to relax your body so that he could bottom you out. 

Joost lasted a bit longer than you anticipated, you even grew a bit sore from how much he stretched you out and your body soon became weighed down with a drunken feeling. The champagne had long worn off, but nothing was comparable to getting fucked by such a man who wasn’t only gorgeous, but completely on top of the world. 

It made you feel a bit shallow, wrapping your legs around him as he began to kiss your neck to give your lips a break. You tugged on the longer part of his hair possessively, eliciting a low groan from him. Just like you’d boosted his ego, he was now doing the same for you. Even if you didn’t win the competition, you’d have the person who did wrapped around your finger. 

He came inside you without any verbal warning, but his body gave him away. You felt entranced by it, the way he panted and moaned Dutch praises tangled with English ones. His cock twitched when he finished, a bit disappointed you couldn’t enjoy it fully and all you felt was the warmth. 

What followed was a bit disappointing. Your head was a wreck for the days after, thinking of how Joost left in the later morning hours after spending what was left of the night cuddling with you. Your remaining time in Sweden was beautiful with your friend, but you’d promised to fly back to Vancouver to see her family so that they could give you proper congratulations. 

You’d confided to your friend on a drunken night in Stockholm about your night with Joost, which failed to surprise her. As you lay in the living room of her parent's house, watching her nieces and nephews play and talk your ear off about Eurovision you noticed her running into the house. 

“Check your phone.” She was far too excited, making you nervously take your phone from the coffee table. “Hurry!”

You looked at her messages to see tickets to a festival, looking at the line your heart nearly sank at seeing Joost’s name. You were silent for a while, your face still and statuesque you’d unintentionally offended your friend. 

“Uh,” She began leaning down to look at you. “Do you not want to go or something?”

You shook your head, “Of course I do.” You said quietly, not wanting the kids to butt into the conversation. “I just hope I can see him, not just watch.”

You certainly got what you wanted. After watching the show, it felt like you’d been falling in love for a second time with the way he performed. You loved seeing him get to see him being himself without constraint, even if he was completely out of his element in Canada he was too charming for anyone not to like him. 

You found Joost after his show, not needing to say anything, your arms wrapping around his torso as you two stood behind the stage as the next performer went on. You realized you were still in the open for everyone to see, but even if you noticed groups of people slowing down to stare at you two you hadn’t cared.

“There are people taking pictures.” He whispered, nodding over to one of the passing groups, presumably Eurovision fans. 

You shook your head, cupping his face for what felt like the last time as the sun-kissed all his features for you. You didn’t want to do anything else but admire him for as long as you could. 

[bchan95]

Sincerely, Me (Bang Chan x Reader)

Chan dedicates a song to you publicly to announce your relationship.

You shuffled into the aisle right behind the V.I.P. section. As you sat down, you looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. The blaring overhead light slightly tinted in your big sunglasses, and your arms crossed your chest, holding yourself into place as yelling fans filtered in on both sides of you.

Seeing Chan live was always a hassle. He wanted you to be protected, to have bodyguards around you in the crowd to keep you safe, but since your relationship was still a bit more on the low, you didn't want to appear too out of place in a sea of his biggest admirers. The two of you settled for a guard strategically placed with you in sight and his stylist on speed dial.

"Baby, call me when you get to the car after the show okay?" Your boyfriend said hastily as he downed another glass of water while waiting for his turn in the makeup chair.

"Chan, I always call you. I'll remember," You said with a giggle, letting your hand fall into his as he rubbed small circles onto the top of it.

"I know baby, but... just make sure you do okay?" His smile beamed up at you, a flight of pearly white.

You nodded, leaning in and kissing his forehead and then his lips before letting go of his hand and walking out of the dressing room. You were quickly whisked into a side door and dropped right past security. You slyly flashed them your badge in your pocket before walking down the stairs to the floor seat your boyfriend purchased.

Even though you'd seen this show twice already this run, your nerves were through the roof. Suddenly you were taken back to the moments in your teens, waiting for your favorite celebrity to jump on stage. You felt your heartbeat quicken as the music boomed through the speakers, mixtures of squeals and singing ringing through the rows as the fans hyped themselves up for the upcoming performance.

You admired the rows of bracelets that lined their wrists, the way they linked arms and sang at the top of their lungs together, crying tears of joy as they waited for the boys you know so fondly moved around the stage in a hurricane of speed and sound.

You felt oddly comfortable in this moment. Able to blend in so seamlessly with everyone else. You knew better than to think it would always be this easy. You knew that if you and Chan lasted as long as you hoped you would that eventually he'd have to tell everyone.

Part of you yearned for public acknowledgment. The thought of being able to hang on his arm in clubs, at awards shows, and even on vacations without the fear of being seen was tempting.

Another part of you worried about what would come with confirmation. Your boyfriend gave up his whole life for this career, and you didn't want to be the one to tear it apart. You wanted him to be successful, to continue to be able to produce songs he loved with the people he cared about the most.

You must have been lost in thought for a while, as the only thing to bring your eyes back to center stage was the sudden dimming of the lights and the loud screams tearing through your eardrums. Your breath caught in your chest as you rose out of your seat and joined them in their screams.

The booming sounds of the song rang through the speakers and you heard the familiar howl of your boyfriend. You giggled, clapping with everyone as they cheered them on. Chan found his place in the center of the stage to greet the crowd.

"What's going on Sydneyyy?" He smiled as they met him with a big smile. He nodded at them, throwing up a thumbs up to show how impressed he was.

Your eyes met for a second and you swore he winked at you. You shook your head, thinking that he wouldn't be that careless tonight. Still, your heart warmed at the thought of his risk and you yelled out their names in time with the rest of the crowd.

The set moved quickly, and as they ran through their solo sets you could feel your feet wearing on you. You sat down as the stage flipped over to black for a moment. You cursed the moment you decided to quickly throw on your Converse instead of your Docs, feeling your toes throb through the thin material of the shoe. You rolled your ankle back and forth, pressing your thumb to the side to release some pressure. Your efforts were put on pause as you heard a voice from above.

"Ma'am, follow me."

You looked up to see the smile of a bodyguard that you know well. You looked up at him in confusion, a furrow in your brow. He didn't say anything more but just stretched out his hand to you. You took his hand hesitantly and let him guide you out of the aisle. You watched as fans eyed you down as you moved closer and closer to the stage. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat as you followed his lead to the front row in a center seat next to his parents.

Chan's mom smiled at you as you moved closer to her. You nodded and smiled back at her. Why were you moved to the front so suddenly? Surely fans took videos of this girl being taken directly by Stray Kids security to the front of VIP. Chan's dad's giggle shook you back to the present, him chuckling over your shell-shocked reaction.

You opened your mouth to speak, but you were quickly drowned out by screams as someone reentered the stage. You heard a familiar accent yell out to the crowd again.

"Ahhh so it's time for my solo stage..."

You looked up and watched your boyfriend take the center once again. He looked over at you with a wide smile, clear as day in the summer sun. You felt shivers take over your whole body as he maintained eye contact as he spoke.

"I have a special song that I wrote..."

The crowd screamed again and you could feel his parents' eyes on you. You could have sworn you felt the flash of his mom's camera on your cheek but you were too focused on his dark brown eyes to fully notice anything else anymore.

"I wrote it with someone special in mind," his eyes comb through the crowd before landing on yours again. He winked in your direction.

"This one's for my baby."

You could have sworn you felt your heart leap out of your chest as gasps and screams took over the crowd before the base kicked in. Your boyfriend places on his big sunglasses, a big smirk stretched across his lips. You felt frozen as you watched a performance you've seen several times before with a new perspective.

A song you thought your flirt of a boyfriend wrote just to make his fans go crazy, was about you? You caught him giggling on Bubble, and bringing the fantasy to life with fans every night... why wouldn't he tell you?

Despite your racing thoughts, you managed to bring a small smile to your face, clapping along to the familiar beat. Chan continued to put on his same charming choreography as he sang so sweetly. He pointed out in the crowd to several random fans before returning over to your side of the stage, beaming ear to ear.

"Baby I'll show that you’re the one," he sang, almost giggling through the lyrics. "Like a diamond ring such a pretty little thing you’re blinding everyone."

You felt yourself blushing as he winked at you before quickly moving back across the stage. Your nerves were swapped for a swelling amount of warmth in your chest as you sang along. You finally looked over at Chan's mom, her phone in hand as she filmed you. Your cheeks burn red as you shake your head and return your gaze to the stage.

Watching your rockstar of a boyfriend was always a treat, but something more bubbled to the surface when you knew he was singing directly to you. You have a lot of things you want to say, but you aren't really sure where to start. Ignoring the flight of what-ifs, you just allow yourself to enjoy the rest of the set.

As Chan ended his song, you quickly heard the sounds of disgust coming from the members reentering the stage. Filled with "oohs" and "ewws," they relentlessly teased Chan, shoving him back and forth like a ping pong ball.

Finally, they let him go, moving on to the next song with ease. You let yourself settle back onto your feet and simply just enjoyed the rest of the show. You sang with his mom, danced around with Hannah, and giggled at his dad's failed attempt at singing as you celebrated the boys.

As the final song ended the boys came back to the center of the stage to do their ments. You held back tears for everyone until it came to Chan. He came to the side of the stage and stood right in front of his family.

"...And I want to thank the ones I love the most for coming to the show tonight. Mom, Dad, Hannah... and my baby you know I love you. Thank you for making tonight even more special to me in one of my favorite places in the world," Your eyes widened as he continued. "I truly couldn't do it without you all."

He bit down on his lip as you stared at him. He had just done it. So casually in front of thousands of fans. He did what you never thought might not happen until you had announced an engagement. If even then. This acknowledgment brought tears to your eyes, as you smiled into the pink sky.

The set went dark and you hurried to grab your belongings and follow his family out of the venue doors and into the hallway below the stage. You finally let yourself fully take in the moment when away from all of the people and the cameras. Hannah's arm wrapped around you as you quietly wiped tears from your eyes. You look over at her to find her smiling.

"You guys are so sappy..." She joked, leaning into you as you two walked.

The family followed security to their car and you made your way to the tiny black car Chan called for you. As you felt the air conditioning hit your face, you brought the phone up to meet your gaze. You typed in the number you knew as well as your own and pressed it to your ear. It rang twice before you heard a familiar laugh.

"Baby, so what did you think?"

[fancyfeathers]

What a Camera Cannot Capture (Yandere Harbinger Lyney x reader)

the inspiration for the came from the voice line from Lyney when he was talking about how he was Arlecchino’s successor. So here you go, older Lyney who has become a Fatui Harbinger.

The performance by the well known magician Lyney had just reached its conclusion minutes ago, you were now getting your coat on and getting ready to leave, the last person to leave actually. You were buttoning up the buttons on your coat and reached into your pocket to grab the scarf you had shoved in there only to find it was not there. 

“Looking for this?” You heard the voice behind you, almost with a sing-song tone. You spun around to see the star of tonight’s show, Lyney holding your knitted scarf in his hand. How did he- oh wait, he’s a magician, sleight of hand was his thing. He tosses it back to you and as startled as you were, you caught it as he chuckled. “I wasn’t going to steal it, just playing with you.”

“I figured, but thank you for giving it back.” You replied as you wrapped it around your neck. You turned to the door once more but he called you back.

“You know, I’ve noticed you at almost every show, same seat in the front row.” He spoke as he circled around you, a skip in his step. “Don’t tell me I have an admirer, is that the case?”

“No, no, not in the slightest.” You laughed at his question, but he didn’t laugh with you, if anything he seemed sad. “I’m a photographer for the Steambird, my boss wanted me to get photos for an article covering Fontaine’s entertainment industry.”

“Well then, I hope you caught my good side...” His eyes drifted down to the camera case you held in your free hand and he smiled as his eyes drifted up to your face. He reaches over and before you knew if he was spinning you around and dipped you, his hand on your waist, his face only inches from yours. “…Like this”

He stood you up and spun you out of his embrace and you felt so flustered and your face must have been twenty shades of red. “Y-ya, exactly.”

“Well then, mon chérie, you must be off I suppose.” He walked over and opened and held the door for you. “Do consider paying me another visit at another show sometime, perhaps I could show you around backstage, the behind the scenes.”

“Perhaps, Monsieur, perhaps.”

—————————

“What do you mean your camera is missing?!” You sat in your boss’s office, feeling like a rotten child being yelled at. You had gotten back from the show last night and this morning when you went to get your camera out the case this morning to look at the photos it was gone.

“I-I don’t know, I opened it and it was gone.”

“Well you better find it because without it we lose this article and you lose your job, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

After that you ran out of her office, nearly in tears as you made your way to the Aquabus Station and took the Navia Line to the Opera Epiclese. You curled up in your seat, praying to whatever god could hear you that you would not lose this job because if you do, archons know what you’ll do then. Once the aquabus reached its stop you literally ran to the Opera Epiclese, your hair getting messed up with your speed and the wind blowing against you, people probably thought someone was dying by the way you looked. You opened the doors to the opera house and rushed into the theater proper. You looked around the opera seat, scouring for where your camera may have fallen. By the time you were finished looking through the seats you must have looked like an absolute wreck with your rush, panic, and tears. 

You sat down in one of the seats and wondered what you were going to do. Then you hear voices from backstage, they clearly talked like they thought no one was there. You walked up the stairs onto the stage and walked over to the doors that led backstage. The door was slightly ajar and you slipped in and ducked down under a piece of furniture and listened, call it a reporter’s curiosity.

“My Lord, please excuse me but I doubt that camera has possible evidence against us.”

Camera?

“I know but it was better to be safe than sorry.” 

That voice… It was Lyney. What in Teyvat was going on?

“Shall we dispose of the photographer behind these photos? Tracking her down would not be difficult.”

Your breathing stopped… dear gods, they were talking about you. 

“No no, that won’t be necessary, she meant no harm by it, besides I have other plans for her.” You heard the voice of Lyney speak, followed by footsteps approaching you but not quite near you, making you think you were still hidden. “You can come out now, mon chérie.”

You could not breathe after you heard that, it felt like you were choking on your own fear. 

“Now now, don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.” You felt your shaking legs push you up for the ground and you finally got a clear view of everything. The two other people next to the magician make you feel sick, two Fatui agents. Lyney gestured you to come here and you stepped forward, every step made your legs feel like they were led. You stood in front of him, not making eye contact, you felt terrified. Lyney looked to the two agents and addressed them. “You two may leave now.”

There were mutterings of acknowledgement before the shuffling of feet, leaving you and the magician alone. You felt Lyney’s hand reach down and tilt your head so you would look at him. “Let’s get you relaxed, come on.”

He took your hand and led you further backstage until he reached a door and opened it with a key. He held the door open for you while you stepped in, it was his dressing room. Lyney slipped in after you and you did not even notice the sound of the door locking as Lyney urged you to sit down while he got some tea for the two of you. You sat down on the velvet couch in the large dressing room while Lyney prepared tea for the two of you. Your eyes drifted around the dressing room, it was so beautiful, and so many flowers that must have come from Lyney’s fans. Then you noticed as Lyney brought the tea tray over and set it between you, you saw on his mirror that it was lined with articles, more specifically photographs from the articles, your photographs you have done, even some photos of you. 

“I wish my father could have met you.” He said as he handed you a cup of tea and slowly you brought the cup to your lips and took a sip. “She died before she got the chance. I always talked to her about you though.”

“…how long have you been watching me?” You questioned, parting the cup from your lips.

“Straight to the point I see.” He gave a light laugh and sighed while he counted in his head. “Six years, almost seven.”

You nearly spat out your last sip of tea at that, but forced it down as a look of shock and horror came across your face. “S-seven.”

“Just about, since I started about a year and a half before father died.” Lyney spoke as if nothing was wrong when this was clearly messed up. “I’m guessing you have quite a few questions, so please go right ahead.”

“You’re a part of the Fatui?”

“Ah, yes I am.” He answered as he picked up a macaron from the tea tray to eat, but ended up setting it on your plate. “I was raised in an orphanage run by my father who was a harbinger and I ended up joining them with my sister when I got older. Now since my father passed I have taken her place.”

“You’re… a harbinger.”

“I am, but I’m not going to harm a single hair on your head.” He spoke as you raised the macaron he set on your plate to your lips, not trying to refuse and anger him. You started to feel dizzy and almost sick, your hands started shaking so badly and the pastry fell out of your hand and onto the floor. “Oh dear, are you not feeling well? I didn’t expect it to work that fast, I guess I should have taken Dottore’s word on that.”

“W-what… what did you give me?” You tried to stand up but Lyney’s hand came onto your chest, urging you to lay down on the couch.

“Shhh, just relax, it’s a harmless sleeping drug. You’ll wake up in a few hours.” You rampantly shook your head no, you were scared earlier about your job now you’re scared for your life. “Do you have any more questions I can answer before sleep takes you, my love? If you have any when you awake I’d be happy to answer then.”

“Why me?”

“Oh mon chérie…” his hand came up to stroke your cheek as your vision started to fade. “You’re just so beautiful, your curiosity, your passion for your work. See when my father ran the House of the Hearth she had my mother by her side, albeit a bit unwillingly on my mother’s end, but they ended up being happy in the end. Now that I’m the father of the House, don’t you think I should have a wife at my side?”

Your head felt like it was full of cotton, you could not even think as your body fell limp, your breathing shallow as you struggled to stay awake. 

“Just relax my love, I promise everything will be okay when you wake up.”

A photograph can capture the visual, not what disappeared. So what will happen when the magician makes the photographer disappear?

[marcelloshdz]

double duty

summary: when you're asked to host and perform on saturday night live, you and marcello hit it off quite well. marcello x female!singer host. requested by anonymous.

“i’m so excited to be here!” you cheered as you walked through the hallways of NBC studios. you were pulling double duty on saturday night live this week, and you were absolutely over the moon. you’d been a fan of the show for as long as you could remember, and this was quickly becoming a “pinch me” moment. you were walking with some of the producers and writers on the show, getting a little tour of the studios. the writers had already pitched you some amazing sketch ideas, and you couldn’t wait to work on them and see what ended up in the final show.

the week quickly became very busy, but you were also making sure to take the time to soak it all in and truly enjoy your time there. you were having so much fun working through the sketches and meeting and making friends with the cast. you were a huge fan of the current cast, and you couldn’t believe that you were getting to work with them.

it was wednesday afternoon, and everyone had just settled into their seats for the table read. as you made your way through the scripts, your cheeks were hurting from laughing. everyone had written such incredible sketches, and you couldn’t believe that you were getting to be part of them.

the first hour passed by, and you’d made your way to a sketch that you were in with marcello hernandez, playing a couple. admittedly, you’d been a bit nervous about working with him, as you’d become a fan of his (and developed a bit of a crush) in the three years he’d been on the show. you sat at opposite ends of the table as you read through the script, stifling laughs and playing off of each other very well. you looked around the table as the cast was laughing through the sketch as you and marcello and the other cast members that were part of the sketch read through the script. once you reached the end, the two of you exchanged the briefest of glances, and he shot you a soft smile. you smiled back, feeling your face flush as you moved to the next sketch. 

the rest of the week flew by, and it was finally show day. you’d been hanging around the studio all day running through the scripts a few more times before rehearsals. you’d also been rehearsing your songs, settling on your set designs and costumes. you were performing your two most recent singles, ahead of your album release coming within the next couple of weeks. 

you finished rehearsal of your first song, ready to take a break as they ran through weekend update. as you left the stage, you ran into marcello. he shot you a wide smile as he continued walking up to you.

“hey!” you said with a smile.

“hi. i liked your song.” he said softly.

“thanks.” you said awkwardly, standing there in a brief silence before he spoke again.

“so, i just wanted to let you know that our sketch got moved. we’re gonna be the first one back after update, instead of going before. that’ll give you more time to get ready before your first performance.” he said. 

“get ready, calm my nerves, all the same.” you joked.

“nah, you’ll be great.” marcello reassured you. you smiled again, whispering a small thanks before you had to move to rehearsal for the next sketch. 

before you knew it, it was finally time for the show. you stood backstage watching the cold open before moving behind the famous door. your heart raced in your chest as the announcer read through the names of the cast members during the intro sequence, followed by your name as host and musical guest. 

“ladies and gentlemen, y/n!” rang through the speakers. you pushed through the door and down the stairs, taking your place at the edge of the stage. you smiled wide, waving at the audience and taking in all the cheers. 

“wow, wow, wow. thank you very much. my name is y/n, and i am so grateful to be here hosting saturday night live!” you began your monologue, hitting all the jokes in the right places, and getting amazing laughs from the audience.

you ran through the first few sketches, getting many words of affirmation backstage from the cast and crew between set changes and commercial breaks. before you knew it, it was time for your first performance. 

“ladies and gentlemen, y/n.” you’d brought a close friend of yours to new york with you for this week, and the producers were kind enough to let them introduce your first song. 

you made it through your first song without a hitch, taking in all the applause that erupted around you. you were then rushed backstage, and allowed to take some time to take a break during the commercials and while weekend update was on. you met up with marcello for another quick little run through of your sketch before it was time to go back on stage. 

the premise of the sketch was you bringing him over to meet your friends for the first time, and him making a weird first impression. basically, a different version of his now-famous “protective mom” sketches with pedro pascal. hearing him calling you his girlfriend gave you butterflies in your stomach. way more than you’d like, but you’d never admit that out loud.

heidi gardner, ego nwodim, and bowen yang were also in the sketch, playing your friends, and taking the sketch to new heights. the jokes were getting laugh after laugh from the audience. you and the other cast members were even having trouble keeping it together. 

once the sketch finally concluded, you took in as much of the applause that you could before being rushed off the stage to get back and change for your next performance. just as you were stepping out of your dressing room, marcello found you and pulled you into a tight hug.

“you killed it! thanks for doing the sketch with me.” he said excitedly.

“thanks for trusting me! i know you had a heavy hand in writing it, and i’m glad it was picked for my episode.” you pulled away from him, giving him a wide smile before being whisked off to your spot on the performance stage to get ready for your next song. 

they began counting down from the commercial break, and you took a couple deep breaths before they came back. 

“once again, y/n.” you heard marcello’s voice announce from the main stage. your heart fluttered in your chest at the way your name sounded in his voice.

you finished your second song, and the episode began to wrap up. once it was over, everyone gathered on the main stage for good nights. you said your thank yous to the cast and crew, thanking everyone who came in for cameo appearances, and wishing everyone a good night. 

later that night, marcello found you at the after party. you both already had a couple of drinks in you, and had loosened up after a stressful week.

“hello again.” you said, sitting up on the barstool and giving him your full attention. 

“hey. i just wanted to congratulate you on a successful week. when you were confirmed for host, i gotta admit, i was really excited.” he said. 

“oh yeah?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. he laughed and nodded. 

“ooooh yeah. i’ve been listening to your music for a while. my sister is a fan, and she’s played a lot of your songs for me a few times.”

“mmm, she’s smart.” you laughed. “i didn’t know you were gonna be introducing my second song. that was a nice surprise.” you said, marcello taking a step closer to you.

“i’m glad you thought so. i asked specifically if i could do it.” he said with a smirk.

“wow, aren’t i special?” you asked, reciprocating his smirk. you sat up on your barstool as marcello continued to close the space between you.

“very.” he said softly, fingertips drumming along your thigh. “so, i never do this, but,” he took a deep breath, “would you maybe wanna hang out some time? outside of all of this.” he said.

“sure. i’d like that. i’ll be in new york for a few more days before heading back to LA, so we could get together before i leave.” you said, nodding excitedly. you exchanged numbers and made your plans.

“we’re heading into an off week, so i have all the time in the world.” he said with a smile. 

you and marcello spent the rest of the night together, talking and getting to know each other. it could’ve been mostly the alcohol, but you were so comfortable with him.  you enjoyed being around him, and you loved talking and laughing with him. 

at the end of the night, marcello walked you outside to your uber that was taking you back to your hotel. 

“thanks again for a great night, and a great week. i really enjoyed getting to work with you.” you said to him as you stood on the sidewalk. 

“and i you.” he said with a smile. just then. your uber pulled up and he opened the door for you to get in. “text me when you get to your hotel.”

“i will.” you said. before climbing into the car, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, his face immediately turning a bright crimson. “see you later.” 

you watched from the window as marcello stood on the sidewalk, smiling and waving as your uber drove off. you let out a sigh of content, still not believing that tonight was even real, and that you’d already made plans to see each other again.

you turned to your friend, who raised an eyebrow at you.

“what are you smiling like that for?” they asked.

“just over the moon about tonight.” you said, evading a direct answer.

your uber ride was quiet as you rode back to the hotel. once you were finally back in your room, you took your phone out and text marcello to let him know that you were back at your hotel. he immediately replied, telling you that he couldn’t wait to see you again, and he wished you a good night.

you wished him a good night as well and got ready for bed. you slept peacefully that night, excited that you were going to see marcello again in just a few days. 

[anothermansjeans]

Bau team having to be at an award show for some reason and you win an award and make a speech:

Shout out to donatella versace for making this dress and to that pretty fbi agent whos taking it off of me tonight *winks*

Spencer: 🧍

Bau: 😲

(LIKE IMAGINE THIS BEING THEIR FIRST EVER MEETING LIKE... HE WOULD DIE)

OKAY SO I DIDNT HAVE THEM AT THE SHOW (im so sorry i will write them at an award show at some point this is just what came to my mind as i wrote) BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

cw: innuendos, pretty fluffy, spencer light (i'm sorry)

wc: 599

singer!reader masterlist

++

You were one hundred percent sure you were currently dreaming. Here you are, sitting in Crypto.com Arena in downtown Los Angeles, sitting at a small table with your manager, and your best friend, Katie. It was the night of the Grammys, and your album, favorite, was nominated for best pop vocal album. Never in your life did you imagine you'd be nominated, but here you were.

Early in the day, you had been very nervous regarding the whole thing. You were sitting in your hotel room with anxiety creeping up on you and Katie sat next to you and held your hands.

“Hey, it’s okay, you'll be okay!”

You let out a shaky laugh, “I don't know, K, I’m freaking out. I won't win– I shouldn't have even asked Spencer to be here. He came here to do nothing but sit in this hotel room and watch me not win.”

“Y/N, babe, he loves you and he doesn't care if you don't win. He was very happy to be here, even if he can’t be at the arena.” She sighed, giving you a knowing look, “now, shut the fuck up before he hears you speaking like this.”

You groaned and put your head in your hands. “I just don't want to feel like this.”

Her sigh was soft, and she gently rubbed your back, comforting you. “How about this,” she began, “I’ll give you a dare you have to do if you win. That way you'll be too worried about that and not on the whole Grammy thing.”

You gave her a skeptical look, “what dare?”

She gave an evil look and leaned into you. “Well you're wearing a one of a kind Donatella Versace,” you have an acknowledging hum, “and you're going to look hot as fuck,”

“Yes, and?”

“And if you win, you have to throw in a shoutout to Donatella and the man taking it off of you tonight.”

“Oh my God,” you smacked your hand over your mouth, concealing some of your giggles, “okay…”

And the rest of history. You sat through the ceremony, listening to the live performances and the other category winners, only holding your breath when they made it to yours.

“And the Grammy goes to…” Breathe in… breathe through… breathe deep… breathe out… “favorite, Y/N Y/L/N!”

And holy shit, you won.

You shakily looked over at Katie, who had the biggest grin, and even with her here, you wish Spencer could also be next to you as well, giving you a hug and kiss before encouraging you on stage. After the congratulations from the people around you, you walked up the stairs and over to the microphone, letting out a breath.

“Um, thank you so much, I- wow,” you laughed, looking down at the award in your hands, “thank you to my management, and my producers, and my best friend, and my muse for this album. And a huge thank you to the fans; without you I wouldn't be employed.” You gave another laugh, looking out to your friends and thinking of the man currently thinking of the man sitting on a hotel bed watching this speech. “Also…” a smirk was plastered on your face, “shoutout to Donatella Versace for making this dress, and the pretty FBI agent who's taking it off of me tonight!”

The crowd went crazy over it, and when you saw Spencer later that night, he was a blushing mess. It also helped that Penelope made sure to text you that everyone was watching and instantly had something to say to Spencer.

++

singer!reader taglist: @itsleilabxtch @wietske27 @taylorswiftilovecowboylikeme @marshatesthisreality @ladylincoln @delightfulmakerpiegiant @chericherrypie @punksnotdeadbutiam @stillhere197 @laddywitch @httpstoyosi @obi-wansgirl @amandareids @mynameiskelly

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!!

[bteezxyewriter12]

After Coachella

Pairing- Hongjoong x Named Reader

Word count- 2.1k

Includes- Coachella Hongjoong, rough and wild sex, wall sex, cock riding, table sex, missionary, dirty talk, squirting, multiple orgasms, fluff

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @bykeynote

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝Hongjoong Masterlist

Hongjoong POV

Getting off the stage, I grab my girlfriend's hand, pulling her with me as we're ushered back towards our trailers

It was such a rush being on stage and performing at Coachella and that high hasn't worn off yet

Neither has the desire to fuck my girlfriend

I wasn't able to fuck her before we went on stage

I could tell she liked the outfit I was put in by the way she kept touching my chest, kissing my neck, saying how hot I looked

Unfortunately we had to go on stage and I was horny the whole performance

While performing, I went from being excited, to honored, to awed to horny and back over and over

I was able to keep thoughts of her naked and on my dick out of my head for most of this performance

But the second I was walking off stage, it's all that's been in my mind

Seeing the trailers coming up, I turn to Seonghwa

"Keep everyone out of that trailer for now", I tell him, pointing to the right one that's a bit away from the others

He raises his eyebrow but nods, "Yeah"

Veering off from the group, I lead my jagi to the trailer

"Joongie, everyone is going that way", she says, looking behind her at the group

"Yeah but we're going this way", I tell her

Opening the trailer door, I pull her inside and up the stairs

"Joongie-", she starts but I stop her, pulling her right to me, my lips crashing into hers, heat and fire flooding my body, my head becoming dizzy

Fuck, I love kissing her

She immediately responds, kissing me back, my tongue already down her throat

I pull down her pants and panties as she shoves down my jacket

I let it fall to the floor while she kicks her bottom clothes off

She grabs my belt, undoing it, getting my pants open

I take over throwing my shoes off then getting out of my pants and boxers

"Someone's horny", she teases

"You're damn fucking right", I growl, picking her up and pushing her against the wall, "You got me all riled up right before performing and I had to wait to fuck your sweet pussy"

I pull her shirt off, her bra following, needed her naked, needing to see her perfect body

"It's not my fault, they put you in such a fucking hot outfit", she whines, grabbing onto my shirt

Taking my chin in her hands she moves my head to the side, pressing kisses to my neck, sending shivers up my spine

Her fingers trail down, slowly moving along my chest, lighting a fire in each cell of my skin

"It's not my fault my boyfriend is the sexiest man on this fucking planet", she murmurs

I groan hearing her

It blows my mind she thinks that about me

Honestly San, Seonghwa and Mingi are the members most ATINYs think are sexy

They love their muscles and abs

I don't have that but she doesn't care

From the moment I met her, she's only ever seen me

She doesn't pay attention to San when he's walking around without a shirt

She doesn't pay attention to Seonghwa or Mingi when they're put in sexy outfits

It's only me

No matter what I'm wearing she always says I'm the hottest, is always on me, always kissing me, fucking me, always telling me she loves me

She only pays attention to me

And I'm grateful for that because she is the only girl I ever pay attention to

I don't notice girls like that anymore because no one holds a candle to my jagi

I don't want anyone but her

"It's not my fault my boyfriend makes me horny every second of every day", she whispers in my ear

"Yeah well my girlfriend does the same to me", I growl, turning my head back to her, "And right now, I'm gonna make you scream louder than ATINYs did"

With that I move my aching cock to her hole and sink into her tight pussy

"Joongie", she moans, her head leaning back against the wall, her hands gripping my shirt hard as my cock opens her so widely, so pleasurably around me

She moans louder at every inch that goes in, her pussy drenching, leaking and pulling me into her

"Hongjoong yes", she cries, her legs tightening around my waist, fingers twisting in my shirt, "Fuck baby, oh my god"

When I only have a little bit left of me, I thrust hard, slamming my cock into her spot, her body shaking, her pretty scream reverberating in the room

I stay inside her warm, tight wet pussy for a minute, just reveling in how she feels, how she throbs around my cock

I swear she was made just for me

My dick is big but it fits inside her perfectly

Snugly

I was made to be inside her, she was made to be around me

"Please Joongie", she whines

I give her what she wants, pulling out then thrusting back in

Moving faster, I get a harsh pace going, fucking her cunt wide open, her pussy swallowing my cock and latching on each stroke, intense pleasure exploding in my body

"So good jagi", I moan, pumping my dick into her, smashing her spot over and over

Her pussy waters my cock like a waterfall, leaking all over my cock and my pelvis

Her hand slides up my neck, into the back of my hair, pulling so hard, my head tilts back

She crashes her lips to my neck, kissing everywhere, making me groan as shivers of pleasure run down my back straight to my cock

"Baby, fuck", I moan, banging her hard against the wall

Her other hand pulls my shirt, exposing one of my shoulders, her lips kissing all over, fire racing all over my skin

Her tongue licks my sweat from my shoulder to my neck, moaning as she does, her fingers twisting in my hair

Her pussy throbs hard, so close

"C'mon baby. Cum for me", I urge her, wanting nothing than to feel that pleasure

I crave her orgasms

"Please jagi, gimme", I whine, burying my face in her neck, kissing her skin as I increase the speed of my hips, sliding one hand down between us, rubbing her clit rapidly

Her pussy tightens up right away, feeling unbelievably good

"Hongjoong!", she screams, climaxing, her body shaking as pleasure slams right into me

"Ffff...", I whimper, pulling her away from the wall and sitting down on the bench seat so I don't fall down from how intense it feels

"Good girl", I praise her, "Fuck you're so tight, so good"

As soon as she finishes, I lift my head from her neck and shoves me down on the seat

Her hand leans back on my thighs, her hips moving as she starts bouncing on my cock

"Fuck Joongie", she murmurs, tilting her head back as she moves, "Fuck, your cock is always so good baby"

I watch the gorgeous sight of my girlfriend moving on me, sweat filling her hair, beads of it rolling down between her wiggling boobs

She moans loudly, the sound of her utterly soaked cunt squelching so loudly each time she takes me in

That sound is so erotic and I could listen to it forever

My eyes move down to her gorgeous pussy, her swollen lips spreading open for my cock, her hole straining and leaving a huge mess of cream all over me

Fuck, I live for this, live for her creaming me like a fountain

Her legs move faster, hopping up and down my cock like a sex crazed bunny, my head smashing her spot with each drop down, tears falling down her face from how much pleasure she's in

It turns me on so fucking much that she feels this good because of me

That she wants me this way over and over, every day

I've never had a girl match my desire for her the way she does

She's my everything and I love her with all my heart

She moves faster, her cunt spasming quickly around me, becoming so tight that bliss runs up my spine from pushing through her pussy

"Joongie", she whines

"Mmm baby", I moan, gripping her thighs hard, lifting my hips up, making sure I'm buried deep inside her every time she takes me back inside her, "Fall apart for me jagi. Right on my cock baby"

"Yes Hongjoong", she whimpers, her body shaking as she squirts all over me

I move her up and my cock as she squirts, fucking her through it, her squirt flying everywhere, soaking my lap, my shirt, some hitting my chest

She screams my name over and over, the sight of her coming unbelievably beautiful

"So pretty baby", I praise her, "Fuck, you're always so beautiful"

She slumps against me when she finishes but I'm not done with her yet

Sitting up, I tilt her head up, kissing her hard and passionately, her reciprocating

Her fingers dig in my hair, her tongue down my throat, her body pressed against mine

Standing, I lay her on the little attracted to the wall table, moving quickly, slamming my cock into her tight pussy

God, I just fucked her open and she's still so fucking tight for me

Her hands pull my shirt up and I move my arms through the sleeves, tossing it behind me once it's off

Standing up, I look down at her, watching her boobs move, her cunt cream my cock more as I thrust into her again and again

"Hongjoong, oh god, Hongjoong!", she cries, her body arching for me

"Yes baby", I grunt, moving my hips fast, the feeling of her pussy opening around me so good, the feeling of her cunt clenching, choking my cock phenomenal, chills running up my back

I slide my hands up her body, touching her sweaty skin, savoring the way her skin shivers under my touch

There's red all over her neck and her fingers and I realize that it's the dye from my hair

I sweated it onto her skin and it looks so fucking hot, making me feral

"Louder jagi", I demand, mercilessly fucking her, "I want to hear you louder"

"Hongjoong!", she screams, her body wiggling from how hard she's taking my cock, her little hole completely wrecked

"Louder!", I shout, lost the pleasure, "Scream for me jagi"

She does, getting louder and louder with each hit to her spot, her hands squeezing the edge of the table

The sounds of her screams are so fucking beautiful, I wish I was recording them

I will, another time

Her pussy locks around my cock in a death grip, squeezing tighter with each stroke, bringing both of us closer

She grips my wrists, pulling me down on top of her, my face burying in her neck, her legs moving higher up around my waist

I pound into her, growling, "Scream my name"

She takes me so deep, coming around my cock hard, my name the only thing breaking the quiet

"Hongjoong! Hongjoong!"

She's so tight, spasming so hard throwing me into ecstacy

I sheath my cock in her blissful pussy, coming so hard, my mind blanks and I can't tell which way is up

And I'm screaming her name too

She holds me against her as we both ride the pleasure, our names so loud in the trailer

The pleasure starts fading and exhaustion hits me hard, my body slumping into her

Her fingers run up and down my back, my skin shivering as I smile into her neck, then give her a soft kiss

"I love you", I tell her

"I love you Joongie"

Moving my arms around her, I pick her up, her arms and legs wrapping around me, her head laying on my shoulder

I start heading to the small bedroom at the back to trailer, bending down and grabbing my pants along the way

Sitting on the bed with her, I take my phone out of my pants then drop them on the floor

I send Seonghwa a quick text

"Short nap. Call and wake us in a hour"

I move us on the bed, laying down with her, pulling a blanket over us

I shift her so she's half on top of me, her head still nestled against my neck

She's already asleep, her breathing soft and even

I must have worn her out

She definitely wore me out

My phone rings, the text from Seonghwa a thumbs up emoji

Dropping the phone on the bed next to me, I wrap my arms securely around my jagi and close my eyes for a much needed nap

[lovesickhughes]

Saw your requests are open and just had to send an ask 🤭🤭 How would our bedsy react to the reader performing in Coachella?? 😫🤭💗

a/n: thanks for sending this in !! sorry it's a bit short ! i also didn't proofread, hope you enjoy 🥰🫶🏻

tags: connor bedard x reader

warnings: suggestive material

word count: 0.6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

breathlessly, you viewed the thousands of fans cheering and screaming after coming to the end of your latest hit single from your upcoming album. these were the moments you lived for; being able to see countless amounts of people connect to music that came from the depths of your heart. you were given the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to perform at one of america’s largest music festivals, coachella, headlining for the weekend of concerts.

growing up, you would have never expected your life to end up in the state it was in now. ruling the music charts week after week and touring worldwide, who knew one upload to youtube covering your favourite song would have led you to today.

you felt endless amounts of adoration for your fans and the support you received publicly, but what you loved even more, was the special someone who was your number one fan behind the scenes.

connor and you had been established for just under two years, meeting when you visited chicago to attend a blackhawks game while you were in town touring. the star hockey player and you had been asked to join together to promote the team and hockey league, and as you were about to leave to finish the last minute necessities to prepare for your performance the next day, connor had pulled you aside and asked for your number.

within weeks media outlets were buzzing with the newest, hottest couple, and when you hard launched your relationship with connor after posting a picture of the two of you leaving his game, wearing his jersey, fans went to their greatest extent to support you even further.

you blew kisses to the crowd and waved to the bodies that reflected you, backing away with adrenaline shooting through your veins from the exhilarating feeling of performing. when you exited the stage, the backstage crew swarmed in assistance, taking off your ear piece and microphone back from your waist, and another member handed you a water which you exhaustedly thanked her for and began chugging.

amongst you, remained several more crew members bouncing from area to area as the next performer was set to begin their routine, you heard yells from each corner of backstage to the other, and the crew member who had been assisting you the entire weekend began to lead you to the trailers where all the artists were residing in for the weekend.

you thanked her again, bidding her a goodbye before stepping up the small metal stairs and opening the trailer door, only to be welcomed to the familiar face that lit up the room.

"hey," you exasperated through a smile, immediately walking over to the small couch that had been built in. connor immediately opened his arms to you, rushing to plant yourself in his lap, resting your arms around his neck, where his own arms found their way to your hips, he smiled before leaning into you to give you a quick peck to your lips.

"hey, good job babe, you did really good, the crowd was having a time out there." he spoke as his hand ran up and down your back, igniting goosebumps all throughout your skin. "i really liked this set, i like how you changed your typical intro song to that other one, it really got people going."

"aweh, thanks babe- yeah, it was really fun this time, it just felt so good to be up there, y'know," you shrugged, leaning more into the hockey player beneath you.

"and," connor dragged out, "i really liked this set's outfit. just something about it, makes me wanna..." he trailed out, brushing your hair out of your face and meeting your lips. you inhaled as you kissed him back, readjusting on the couch so now you were straddling his waist, and his hands gripped your hips tighter. he began to trail kisses from your jaw, down to your neck, then collarbone, and then shoulder. he stopped before he looked up at you and met your gaze, "and as much as i love it, it's gonna have to come off." he declared.

[tinkerleaf]

Drunken Ballads

This one is so funny to me. Don't judge me for the song choice, I've been blasting it for days. Synopsis: reader gets tipsy, dazai and chuuya to the rescue Genre: comedy? Words: 675 Pairing: dazai/reader/chuuya Warnings: cursing, a little suggestive, alcohol

The Armed Detective Agency didn’t allow you to drink too often, and there was a reason for that. There’s a story that the office tells the newbies before they get carried away, just to keep them from acting out the way you did one special night.

After a particularly hard mission, you felt you needed a little something to relieve the tension you felt. You decided to go to a nice bar that offered cute little cocktails because you deserved it. It had been a rough week for you, and nothing hits the spot better than getting drunk.

At the time, you had only meant to get a little buzzed. Unfortunately, you were wasted.

Something that this bar was known for was its large stage for karaoke and other forms of live music. There was a dancefloor in front of it, and behind that stood a plethora of couches and tables. Lots of people were there, it was quite popular.

This was the first time you had ever been to this club, and you failed to consider who owned it. Some of the Port Mafia members were scattered throughout the place, but you wouldn’t have realized it anyway due to your condition.

A certain redhead placed himself in a black leather chair at the opposite end of the room. He didn’t know you were there yet, but it wouldn’t be long before he did. He sipped on the last bit of his wine, and before calling someone to fill his glass, he choked. He almost dropped it when he saw you on the stage, singing “…Baby One More Time” (specifically the Tenacious D version).

“No fucking way…” He couldn’t lie, you were doing great, but you were certainly drunk out of your mind.

“Hey boss, isn’t that-”

“Nope.” He lied. He knew this would be awful for your image if people realized who you worked for.

The mafioso didn’t respond, other than to roll his eyes.

Halfway through your little “performance”, Chuuya reluctantly dialed a number he hadn’t rung in a while.

There wasn’t an answer. Instead, he finds Dazai walking up to him with a smug look on his face. “They sure know how to put on a show, huh?”

“The crowd’s loving it.” He glances over to his former partner, “Apparently so are you.”

“Oh, shut up. I’m just waiting for them to fall off the stage.”

“You didn’t have to call me by the way. I already knew about their after-work plans, but I had no idea it would be this entertaining.”

When you finally made eye contact with the two, you knew you were in trouble. You quickly stumbled down the side stairs and attempted to escape without them noticing. This was an awful plan, however. Your current state was equivalent to a fawn, wobbling to keep balance.

A strong arm pulled you close. “Where do you think you’re going like that?” Chuuya asked. “You can barely walk!” His cologne was intoxicating.

“You’re so handsome…” You slurred quietly.

“Damn, they really are wasted,” Dazai retorted, earning a scoff from the other man. He moved some of your hair from your face, “Guess it’s time you come back with me, sweetheart.”

You smiled, “You both can take me home.” Dazai laughed, while Chuuya’s eyes widened.

“Get them out of here. Make sure they get home safe.”

“Of course.”

The rest of the night was a blur. All you could remember was Dazai taking you back to your apartment and then waking up in your bed the next morning. He left a note on your nightstand, along with a glass of water and some painkillers.

Upon walking into the office later, you had a serious migraine. You couldn’t afford to stay home, however, due to the massive amount of paperwork you had to fill out from the last case.

Sitting at your desk, Dazai had quite a smirk on his face. “How you feelin’?”

You held your palm at him. “I don’t want to hear it from you right now.”

[am-i-interrupting]

Hey there! Can I get some headcanons for Alastor and Rosie with a female Best friend/ s/o respectively (cause y'know, Al's an 'Ace in the hole' lol) who's a singer and does covers of modern music in old-timey styles like postmodern jukebox?

Rosie and Alastor frequent different speakeasies and clubs often together.

Soon after Alastor’s return they restarted the tradition and that’s where they met you.

You were performing a cover of a song neither had ever heard before.

You were good. You were amazing. Fantastically.

Rosie was immediately smitten.

You walked down off the stage, placing a delicate hand in a demon’s outstretched one to help you down the stairs.

You practically floated around the floor and even convinced several people to dance with you.

“They’re rather good.” “Yes, indeed.”

When you approached their tables, dragged your hand along the back of both their seats and placed an outstretched hand between the two of them.

Alastor declined it, noticing Rosie’s specific brand of infatuation. In fact, the bastard baited you both and reached for your hand only to grab Rosie’s and place it there.

He can be a wing man if he wants to be.

The three of you met after that initial performance and were often found together.

Often Alastor would be on the end of Rosie’s thoughtless rambles about you as she flitted around. She called your voice angelic a lot.

Rosie would attend every single one of your performances. Alastor would attend them when he could or particularly wanted to. He wouldn’t rearrange his plans to see them unlike Rosie.

 When the Hotel was rebuilt and the welcoming party was being planned, Alastor immediately suggested you be a performer for the night.

Alastor may or may not have sent his shadows to place a note and a specific outfit he’d noticed Rosie really liked on your bed the day of.

One would imagine Rosie would have dressed for the occasion as well. I’m imagining this fanart because I’m in love with them both.

Alastor, of course, welcomed you with a specific brand of hostility.

He made sure you were comfortable, had everything you needed, any instrument you required would appear with a shadow playing it, and he did make sure to compliment you.

You didn’t see Rosie until you were onstage about to preform on stage.

She was sitting beside Alastor, so beautiful.

You felt almost scandalized seeing her in something that revealed her arms, much less her back and legs.

You immediately went flushed and walked off stage, put a hand in Husk’s shoulder where he was sitting at the bar nearby and took his drink from him (not registering that it was not one he was drinking but instead using to mix a drink for Angel so. . . good luck) and basically started chugging.

You patted his shoulder, gave him his bottle back (he just stared at it and looked at Angel who burst out laughing), then went back to the stage.

You started singing. Song after song, all on stage which was odd for you.

Then you caught Rosie’s eye at the end of a song and Alastor’s shadows started playing a different rhythm.

Feeling the effects of Husks’s drink take hold, you got off the stage.

You went to Rosie and held out your hand specifically to her. Still, Alastor pulled the same move of puppeting her hand, just for old time’s sake.

You moved so you were behind her and pulled her close to you, feeling her warmth and skin against yours and maybe you were in Hell but it was heaven.

You led her in a tango and then she led you and then you were— you both led each other.

At one point, body moving before you mind could process, you kissed her exposed shoulder.

She flushed a bright red.

Charlie went to Alastor and asked if you two were dating. Surprised to hear no.

Everyone watched on anyway because not often did people see Rosie dance and with you two so in sync it was mesmerizing.

You ended the dance with spinning which led to a dip.

Rosie actually, spurred on by the feeling of your hands on her back and the adrenaline of a dance, hooked her leg over yours and used her arm around your shoulders to pull you into a kiss.

Angel absolutely whistled.

You both pulled away flustered.

Maybe you ran off, maybe you didn’t.

Either way, Rosie turned to Alastor who gave her a thumbs up as she sat down. A smile on her lips as her hand traveled to it.

To Alastor, though, that wasn’t the most shocking part of the night.

For him, it was when he heard Charlie saying she was going see if she could commission you to do cover some of her favorite songs and compile them into a playlist.

And upon questioning her, he was informed you covered modern songs.

[girliism]

(18+)

rockstar!patrick zweig gives the best performance he thinks he’s given since tour started. maybe it was because he was gonna get laid tonight or maybe it was because every time he looked over to the side of the stage he’d make eye contact with you, and you’d smile back at him.

patrick was never a kept man the longest he’d ever had a girlfriend was about 3 months, so what was this feeling he got when with you.

the second you enter the house hosting the after party you’re immediately smacked by the smell of weed and loud music. “i’ll be in the kitchen.” you break away from your friends.

you’ve got two drinks in you and is nursing another when patrick walks up behind you. “come with me, let’s go talk.” he says pulling your hand is his as leads the both of you up stairs.

the music get muffled when patrick closes and locks the door to the room hes lead you in. “i though we were gonna talk.” you push away from his neck kisses walking backwards towards the bed.

“we are, me and your neck were just having a very lovely conversation.” he’s stalking towards you backing you into the edge of the bed. “well, why don’t you have one with my lips.” you internally cringe shaking your head. why did i say that.

patrick laughs finding you cute. he brings his hands down to the sides of your thighs caging you to the bed. “you did good today.” you say eyes locking with his. “yea? think i deserve a reward.” you nod and his lips are on yours kissing you eagerly.

the kiss is a messy clash of teeth and spit. patrick hovering over you pulling at your shirt silently asking to take it off. you raise your arms letting him pull it off leaving you in your lacy black bra. but not for long cause he’s ripping that off you as well.

patrick’s mouth immediately finds home on your breast going back and forth between them licking, biting and sucking on your nipples. “shit” patrick starts leading his kisses from your boobs down to your belly stoping at the top of your skirt.

“wanna taste you.” his green eyes pricing into your his long fingers hooked in your waistband just waiting to pull them down. you whine and buck up into his hands. patrick smirks at your desperation pulling your mini skirt and underwear off in one go. like the gentleman he is he also removes your boots before yanking your legs open eyeing you cunt.

“fuck, she’s gorgeous.” you wanna close your legs and hide away from patrick’s predatory eyes but the grip on your ankles doesn’t let you. “stop staring.” you mumble bringing your hand down to cover yourself.

leaning back to pull his t-shirt off before laying down between your legs whispering to himself. “gonna do more than stare.” patrick’s pushing your hands off yourself so he can lick a fat strip up your pussy. little gasp and moans fall from your lips as he starts eating you out.

patrick eats you out like a starved man. face completely smushed up in your cunt strong arms looped under your legs to hold you open. “oh fuck, so good.” you moan combing your hands through his hair grinding down onto his face.

patrick’s got the perfect face for pussy eating. soft lips that kiss and suck at your clit, big strong nose that bumps up against your clit when he shakes his head side to side.

“so close, gonna cum.” you whine legs coming to squeeze around his head when he hums into your pussy sending vibrations up your spine.

“want you to cum on my tongue.” patrick says into your pussy shoving two fingers in you pumping in and out while sucking harshly on your clit. you cum hard with a silent scream hands pulling hard at his scalp.

staring up at the ceiling breathing heavy as you body calms down you look to see patrick licking his lips clean. the bulge in his pants is impossible to ignore. you bring your foot up to rub at it through his pants. “do i get your cock now?” you ask still kind of out of breath.

“you get whatever you want.” patrick says taking a condom from his back pocket tossing it to you before pulling his pants off.

“fuck.” patrick’s large cock bobs between his legs as he crawls over to you. it’s hard and heavy you’ve never had a dick that big inside or you. would it even fit?

sensing your nervousness patrick places soft kisses on your neck. “i’ll go slow, ok” you hum back. bring his face to your so you can kiss him again.

patrick sighs into the kiss feeling your soft hands roll the condom onto his dick. you’re still holding it rubbing his up and down your pussy moaning into his mouth when you push the tip in.

looking down to watch as your sensitive cunt pulls in his cock the feeling of your walls stretching around him makes him wanna cum just from that. “god, your sucking me in so tight.” he’s moaning “s’too big.”

patrick pushes all the way in bottoming out before pulling out only to fuck back into you hard and fast finding a nice rhythm to fuck you too. “been dreaming about this since i met you.” he’s got your leg bent up to chest. mean cock bullying into pussy.

you’re a drooling mess whines and whimpers coming out of you. nails digging into patrick’s back as you mumbles things a long the lines of his name and different curse words. thank god the music is loud enough to drown out your moans and screams.

“got the prettiest moans need to put them in a song.” patrick’s head coming down to suck at your nipple

“faster faster.” you whimper hand coming down to rub your clit, patrick’s hips beat into yours. “gonna cum for me again pretty girl?” he’s whispering and moaning in your ear and you’re arching up into him. patrick’s lips connecting to yours again as you scream into him mouth orgasm hitting both of you at the same time.

you both lay there together, a condom full of cum thrown in the trash bin patrick drawing lazy shapes on your arm. “you leave for tour again tomorrow.” you break the peace silence with a statement patrick’s been trying to ignore.

“don’t think about tomorrow, let’s just have tonight.”

you wake up the next day alone in a random bed in a random house. typical. you start dress when you notice something on the nightstand. at least he was nice enough to leave a note.

sorry i left you there manger wanted us back early to clear out our hotels… had fun last night :) was nice meeting you.

-pat

the walk back to your dorm was definitely shameful to say the least not only did you have a one night stand but you had one with a rockstar who lives off one night stands. you got a little sad as you reach your door realizing you’re just gonna fade in his memory as one of the many girls he’s fucked.

after washing away the shame from last night all you want to do is nap before you have to face your friends and their questions about what happened.

*knock knock*

you tired to ignore the knocking thinking whoever’s at your door will just fuck off but it only got loud. “alright i’m coming” you groan opening the to see. “patrick?”

“hey.” he’s got that slanted smile on his face. what the fuck?? “how do you find my school? how did you find my dorm.” so utterly confused as you stare at him standing in your doorway.

“you have your college as a bumper sticker plus you’d be surprised on how many people will open the door for a famous person.”

“yes but why are you here…”

“came to say goodbye and to ask for you number.” patrick felt sick this morning he couldn’t stop thinking about how he just left like that never to see you again. so he forced the bus driver to drive up to your college so he could do this.

“you want my number ” you had already made peace with the fact that you were probably never gonna see him again but now here he was. patrick nods his head swapping phones places his number in yours.

“you better answer my calls. you don’t want me dying from boredom on tour right.” patrick yells to you walking backwards towards the exit. “also gotta give me a tour of your dorm next time yeah.”

all you can do is watch him leave with a stupid smile on your face. god you’re already so down bad.

(another long part hope you like it i liked making this felt kinda cute but how are reader and patrick gonna do now that he’s gone….)

[bawbawbridgie]

HPCC year 8 performance notes:

part 1, act 1

part 1, act 2

part 2, act 1

Part 2, Act 2

- sam and jake walking closer to steve!draco and looking him up and down and saying (what I assume) some very unkind words to him

- “my dad had a statue 🙄🙄” SASSY ELLIS!ALBUS AGAIN

- a slight second of holding hands before they do their deep breaths together in godrics hollow

- david!harry absolutely breaking down and steve walking in then straight away turning back around to walk out

- OK WAIST HOLD/HUG WHILE HIDING FROM JAMES AND LILY

- one of the best versions I’ve ever witnessed of harry and ginny in albus’ room before they work out the blanket

- ‘and ur wife doesn’t need her fighting her battles for her’ tom!ron: oh 😶

- ellis and harry sitting veryyyy close together in the church

- ‘maybe we should..?’ ‘YOU ARE NOT VOLUNTEERING SCORPIUS!!!’

- claire!ginny placing her hand on harrys shoulder 😭😭

- david!harry falling on to the ground and ellis and claire catching him

- max!yann and tasha!polly skipping across the stage holding hands

- now people… we get to the palace scene and let’s just say IT HAS A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FEEL TO IT NOW AHHH LETS GO THROUGH IT TOGETHER SHALL WE!!!

- its actually kinda the same up until rose comes interrupts

- so ellis is sitting on the stairs with harry leaning on the hand rail in front of him, he still places his hand on his shoulder while saying the line

- A LONG PAUSE BUT THEN harry responds ‘yes’ while still leaning then kinda works out what he just asked and slowly moves directly in front of ellis off the handrail for ‘isn’t it?’

- BEFORE EVE SAYS HI, ELLIS SAID ‘WELLLLLL’ AND WAS ABOUT TO GO INTO A WHOLE TALK AND I WISH WE GOT THAT

- eve!rose says ‘hi’ harry turns around but is off to the side again near the rail and ellis stays sitting down and just twists his body to turn towards the audience more, away from harry

- ‘you good albus?’ ellis and harry look at each other, start to smile and nod together without actually looking at eve

- eves cute little giggle is so adorable and her run was like she was off to go tell somebody about it

- THE HUG UGH THE HUG

- harry hugs ellis by the waist so ellis’ arms are on harry’s shoulder when he hugs back

- THEN when harrys pulls away, he slowly drops his arms through ellis’ robes and he just kinda lingers there for a bit RIGHT. IN. FRONT. there is barely any space between them right now and they are just standing there looking at each other in love HELP ME

- harry: ‘in this um… new version hehe of us..’ *finger guns activated*

- ellis: *clears his throat and also does the finger guns* ‘… i’ll see you at dinner:))))))’

- ellis stands there in awe as harry waves while backing away

- harry starts to walk off BUT after a few steps he turns back around and waves again UGHHHH they are soooo ‘right side of my neck’ by faye webster coded right now

- last scene is perfection as per usual, making me cry with that last hug again 😭😭

[nishithedevil]

Alright hi, this is my first time actually publishing a fanfic on here. Hope you guys like it. Tell me if you guys want a part 2 of this or any other ideas i should write

Capital Prince and District Princess

Lucy Gray x capital gn reader

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

so basically Corio gets Jessup Diggs and the reader gets Lucy Gray as their tribute. I've been sitting on this idea ever since i saw the movie on the premier, and ig here we are finally.

My brother, Corio and I sit down next to each other as the professor starts assigning student mentors to their district tributes.

"I hate this, Corio. This feels unbearable." I whisper to him as he nudges his my knee with his for a bit of silent comfort.

As the professor reaches district 11 without uttering my name, a breath of relief almost escapes me. However, the respite is short-lived when he announces Corio's name for the boy from district 12, and then...

"And last but not least, Y/N Snow will mentor Lucy Gray Baird from district 12. That is all"

At that moment I freeze and looked up at the tiny screen, seeing Lucy Gray Baird slowly walk up to the stage. Her decision to place a snake in that girl's dress caught everyone off guard, and I abruptly rose from my seat in astonishment. She was definitively one hell of a performer, singing and bowing dramatically before being taken away. A hushed stillness enveloped the entire room. What had they entangled me in?

The professor folds the paper up, removes his glasses and goes to leave the room, muttering good luck to us. After him, I bolted out of the room and settled on the stairs outside. Corio follows, approaching quietly, and places a comforting hand on my back.

"I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't know they would pick you as a mentor to one of the tributes. I mean at least our tributes are both from the same district, that could be fun" he remarks, giving my back a reassuring pat before rising to his feet.

"C'mon, grandma's probably prepared dinner for us" he urges, descending the stairs at a leisurely pace. I hesitate for a moment, then quickly stand up to follow him, concerned he might leave me alone even for a brief moment.

--------------------------------------------------------

Uncertain of what course to take, I opt to go and welcome my tribute. I dress myself in a tasteful yet not overly extravagant manner, even securing a rose. It might seem foolish given the circumstances, but the anxiety is too overwhelming to do otherwise.

I arrive at the train station and wait with the peacekeepers. A few minutes after later the train arrived and the peacekeepers opened the train doors one by one, even taking some tributes by force when they didn't want to come out. All of them who weren't too distracted with that were glowering at me, like they were ready to jump me. I patiently looked around for my tribute, and right when I turned around I saw Corio's tribute step out of the train and extend his hand. A tiny hand grabbed it and out came Lucy Gray. She silently thanked him and straightened her very colorful dress before glancing around. Her eyes landed on me and I stiffened, not knowing what to do. She approached, studying me with a slight tilt of her head. For some inexplicable reason, I found that gesture to be rather adorable.

I composed myself, clearing my throat before speaking. "Um, hi. Hello, I'm Y/N Snow. I'm your mentor, Lucy Gray Baird." I manage to say. Extending my hand, to present her with the rose.

"Uhm, this is for you, as a warm welcome to the capital. Despite the circumstances." I nervously rub my hand against my neck.

She maintains her gaze on me, then unexpectedly seizes my wrist, drawing me closer.

Before I could say anything, she finally speaks "Are you supposed to be here? Since I don't see any other mentors here" She asks as she lets go of my wrist and takes the flower, putting it in her hair.

A warmth rushes to my face, much to my frustration.

"Uh no, I suppose not. But I wanted to meet you formally and introduce myself. I want to get to you know more, that's all" I explain, clearing my throat once again, the warmth lingering despite the station's breeze.

By this point Lucy Gray has been standing pretty close to me, close enough that if I took one step closer we'd be basically hugging. She wasn't very tall, just below my chin, which meant something considering I'm not particularly tall either. Up close, I noticed the softness of her skin and observed that, despite the initial appearance of messiness, her hair was neatly taken care of. The scent of flowers, a mix of vanilla and floral notes, wafted from her.

She sizes me up with a thoughtful hum before a Peacekeeper abruptly grabs both her and Corio's tribute, escorting them forcefully towards a waiting van. Despite my protests, my cries fell on deaf ears. In a somewhat foolish move, I decide to follow them, uncertain of any better course of action.

I wait for the peacekeepers to turn their back and I slip inside the van right before they close the doors. I breathe out, desperately trying to calm down. When I do I turn around and see all the tributes looking at me. We stare at each other before a few of them sit up and fling themselves at me. I'm forcefully slammed against the van wall, feeling the oppressive weight of an arm on my neck. Meanwhile, another produces a knife from some hidden pocket, escalating and leaving me in a state of heightened vulnerability.

I struggle until I hear a voice speak up from beside me. "Stop rough-housin' my mentor. It's not their fault they're better than your mentors and came to greet me"

Our eyes shift to her and then back to each other, a moment of shared uncertainty. Eventually, they release their grip on me, and I instinctively crouch down, rubbing my neck and wheezing as I breath out a breathy thank you. Lucy Gray only pats my back in a comforting gesture as the tense situation begins to ease.

Abruptly, the van comes to a halt, prompting us to exchange glances. The door swings open, and the van tilts, causing everyone to tumble. I desperately grasp for something to hold onto, with Lucy Gray attempting to secure my foot, but our efforts prove futile. We all land on the grass, and fortunately, my fall is somewhat cushioned. I groan and begin to lift myself off, when I open my eyes and see that I'm on top of Lucy Gray. I blush furiously as I realize the position we're in.

I hear her groan and watch as she attempts to sit up, successfully doing so, freezing me in place. As she opens her eyes, a realization sets in – our noses are barely touching. We're so close that I can feel her breath on my lips. My face flushes with embarrassment, and she smirks at the proximity before smoothly sliding away and standing up. Patting her dress to rid it of as much dirt as possible, she extends her hand for me to stand up. Reluctantly, I look up at her, then to the side, and begrudgingly take her hand to stand up, patting myself down as well.

While fixing my hair, I glance around and suddenly recognize our surroundings. We're in a zoo cage. Further away, a reporter and two cameras are set up, with a small crowd of spectators observing us. The realization of being on display in such an unusual setting adds another layer of bewilderment to the already strange situation. It hurt my heart, how they treat these people as actual animals just for being less fortunate. Considering my family, I'm used to this kinds of stuff and know my way around these reporters, so I turn to Lucy Gray.

"Listen, I want to help you win this, and after the stunt you pulled in the districts, everyone wants to hear you sing. I don't want to force you, but the more the public likes you, the more sponsors you'd get. And the more sponsors you have, the more chances you have at winning." I turn to look at her, and she wears a cute expression, biting her lower lip as she contemplates the situation for a few seconds. After some thought, she reaches a conclusion. Without hesitation, she grabs my hand and says, "Let's give them a show, then."

I smile and walk up to the reporters with Lucy Gray in hand. "Oh and what's this? Is this one of our student mentors? with their tribute? And what pray tell are they doing inside with the tributes?"

The cameras turn towards us, the reporter pointing the microphone towards us.

With confidence, I step forward and declare, "My name is Y/N Snow. This is my tribute, Lucy Gray Baird, the songbird from District 12. I pledge to do everything in my power to ensure her victory."

"Ooh, very enthusiastic, even after the stunt she pulled in her district." He says before being interrupted by me.

"Hey kids, come here, come and hear Lucy Gray's singing." I wave over the few kids around the cage.

They rush over, and Lucy, catching my glance, crouches down and begins to sing to them. The cameras focus on her, and the reporter adjusts the microphone, making a comment that I can't quite catch. The impromptu performance captures the attention of the onlookers and the media, turning the unexpected situation into a unique and captivating display.

Hearing her voice in person was even more magical, and it was so beautiful, so delicate. I was mesmerized.

Reality snaps back as Lucy stops singing, and the reporter directs the peacekeepers to remove me. Before they escort me away, Lucy Gray grips my arms, pleading with me to bring her food the next time I return. A smile creeps across my face, reassured by the trust she places in me. She desperately clings to me, whispering those pleas, and I lean in, whispering, "Don't you worry about anything, Lucy Gray." The peacekeepers then lift me away, but my gaze remains fixed on her. In that moment, a determination sets in as I begin to formulate a plan to genuinely help her win and navigate through this chaotic ordeal.

[mephinomaly]

[TL] Backdoor - an Original Scenario written by Akira

Backdoor is a short original story written by Akira-sensei to accompany the release of the Crossroad animated series. I recommend watching it before reading this, especially if you haven't read the original Crossroads.

Please enjoy my translation below!

—

Backdoor

I break in from the backdoor. I feel like a super cool outlaw from one of those movies. Avoid the countless traps, blindly shoot the enemies like bang bang bang! Feast your eyes, idiots of the world!

I am the great Oogami Koga…!

"..."

By the back door is a guy with blond hair who’s sorting the trash out, probably works here part time. Since I came in and started acting like a weird middle schooler, he looks at me, surprised.

“Hey, you–” Part-time-kun (tentative name) puts his hand out with a totally bored expression. “One thousand yen. It’s the entrance fee.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“Next time come in from the proper entrance, ‘kay?” Part-time-kun (tentative name) doesn’t lecture me any further and exchanges my 1000 yen bill for a sleek plastic card.  If I show this at the bar, I can get a drink and stuff. I thank him. “Enjoy your night～♪”

Part-time-kun (tentative name) is side-eyeing me, and at this point in time I’m so embarrassed all I want to do is go home but I pull myself together and head inside. 

I’m in a cheap underground livehouse in the downtown area, near Yumenosaki Private Academy, the school I’m going to attend. 

My sanctuary is here.

My god is here.

***

The livehouse I've been hanging around in lately is built a little weird. The entrance to the stairs is in a back alley. At the bottom of the stairs, there’s two corridors, one leading left, the other right. There’s a lot of soundproof doors, standing one after another. The majority of these small rooms are booths, meant to be hired out by amateur bands to practise in. If you look through the window of one, it’s normally empty since nobody really uses them.

Well, these days people don’t practise by actually picking up an instrument, playin’ until their fingers hurt.  I’ve been doin’ that too lately, sittin’ at home ‘n staring blankly at my computer screen. I dunno. 

At the end of the empty corridor, there’s the employees only room, the kitchen, and the back entrance which I found by accident when I was trespassing. 

I’ve been short on cash lately because I’ve been buyin’ like, introductory books to playin’ the guitar ‘n stuff so I’ve been sneakin’ in that way ‘cos then I don’t hafta pay the entrance fee. No-one’s ever around anyway. 

“I won’t be able to come in that way next time,” I complain as I walk down the corridor in low spirits, stopping when I find the soundproof room I’m looking for. 

The biggest, most extravagant door is in the middle of the corridor. At the back, at the heart of this place— is the livehouse, or I guess you could call it a music hall. 

“♪～♪～♪”

I open the weighted door and my entire body is blasted by music. 

This is it. This electrifying feeling.  

At the back of this relatively wide space is a really nice stage, and that’s where bands that have signed up to perform do so. The entrance fee also covers one drink, but you can order more food and drink and enjoy the show at the same time. It’s your average livehouse. I dunno though. I’m underaged, so I stick to a non-alcoholic tomato juice whilst enjoying the show.

Since this place is close to Yumenosaki, a lot of the customers are scruffy-looking students. I never thought young me would come to a place like this. I’m just in ordinary clothes. This place pays attention to its customer base, so there's not a drop of alcohol or a single cloud of cigarette smoke to be seen. Only super cool music is playing. It’s echoing. 

“～...♪”

My God is in the middle of the stage, singing enthusiastically. The lyrics are in English, and I understand almost none of them. The lyrics are probably about wishing for world peace, or religious sacrilege; something complicated but meaningful. When I asked what he was singing about later, he said something like “I’m so happy because my cute little brother has recovered from his cold!”

Is he stupid? Or am I the stupid one for being so entranced by him?

But. I didn’t know that sort of thing back then, so I was genuinely moved by him.

Illuminated by the dim stage lighting, his pale corpse-like skin stood out in the shadows— him.

Crimson eyes like hellfire. 

Black hair that melts into the darkness.

From between his seductive lips that are sexier than any girls’, comes a masculine, deep voice. 

He looked simultaneously like an angel that could rescue the world and a devil that could destroy it too. Whether angel or devil, his singing voice was powerful enough to completely change the very fabric of this world.

“～...♪”

The name of the person I respect the most in this world is Sakuma Rei. 

My God.

***

I was born and raised in an unremarkable environment. 

We’re middle class. My dad’s an office worker and he earns a pretty decent wage, and my mum’s a housewife, which is rare nowadays. 

They bought a nice detached house in a nice place. Both of my parents like kids and like taking care of others, so I grew up pretty pampered. I’m aware that since I was spoiled, I grew up to be a selfish, cocky brat. I was given whatever I wanted. I didn’t know what I really wanted though since it would be handed to me before I could even think about it. When I got to an age where I didn’t need to be looked after, my parents got a dog to satisfy their overflowing need to help others (?). His name’s Leon. He’s the best dog ever. 

I fussed over him too, but not in the way my parents did. Everyday, they’d treat him like he was a baby, doting on him, probably the same way they treated me. It made me sulk a bit. 

I could tell that my parents’ interest had shifted from me to Leon. Leon isn’t bad. He was bought to be loved. He’s a pedigree, he was born for this, to be doted on. He’s a really good boy and whenever I felt sad he’d snuggle up close to me and put his face next to mine. So I wouldn’t be lonely. So I knew I wasn’t alone. 

But I felt that the amount of love I had received up until this point was steadily decreasing, and it made me anxious. 

—Alas! Miserable, spoiled Oogami Koga-kun!

But I wasn’t shameless enough of a person to say “pay attention to me instead of the dog!” Leon deserved to be loved as much as I did— I wandered around town, searching for someone other than my parents who could love me.

I was starved, yearning. I looked like a stray dog scavenging around for something to fill me up. My parents aren’t bad. Neither is Leon. I’m probably not bad either. 

I’ve already finished compulsory education. I had reached the age where I could fend for myself. So I should have. I’m sure other people are doing that. We leave the watchful eye of our parents, tackle teenagehood, and find out who we are. Find what we want to do with our lives. After countless trial and error, I found what I was looking for— Sakuma Rei. His music satisfied what my soul had been craving. 

***

The performance ends, and Sakuma Rei disappears behind the stage. 

I’ve never been on stage before, so I don’t know what it looks like back there. There’s probably a passageway that leads to a green room or something. The livehouse is weirdly dark and it’s hard to see much of anything, so it really looks like Sakuma Rei vanished like a ghost. 

The person who fills the gap in my heart, vanishes. 

So I grow anxious again and begin blindly searching for him everywhere. I make my way through the livehouse, pushing through the swathes of people who came here to see Sakuma Rei.

—Sakuma Rei, Sakuma Rei, Sakuma Rei.

My soul wants him. 

Of course, I’m not part of his family. We’re not even acquaintances, let alone friends. He’s probably never even heard of me. But I didn’t mind either way. I found him, met him, fell in love with him, and had my yearning quenched. That alone made me thankful. Sakuma Rei, without a doubt, saved me. That’s all I wanted. I was just a sheep, one of hundreds who came here. To me, he was the night sky, something I thought I could never reach. I didn’t mind just watching from afar. That’s how I really feel. If I never got to see him closeup, I’d be fine with that.

And yet. 

“What you’re drinking looks good.”

Suddenly, the tomato juice I’d ordered, which I didn’t end up liking because it was weirdly sweet, is taken from my hand by someone next to me. 

—The hell, bastard? That’s mine. When I go to look up at whoever grabbed my drink with a belligerent expression, I realise it’s Sakuma Rei. 

“If you’re not drinking it, I’ll have it. Singing’s got me workin' up a sweat.”

Naturally, my body stiffens.

That’s Sakuma Rei.

If I reach out my hand, I could touch him.

I’m so surprised by what I originally thought was something that could never happen, I have nothing clever to say and instead, like an idiot, I freeze with my mouth ajar. 

“What’s up? Oh, you’re at that age where you think indirect kisses are embarrassing, right…?” Sakuma Rei says with a somewhat apologetic expression. Then he says something absurd.

“Oopsies, sorry～…Don’t worry, I take full responsibility for stealing your first time. Mhm.”

That was the first conversation we had, and it’s not exactly something I can brag about to anyone. 

Ever since then, ever since that moment, I’ve been at the mercy of this arrogant person.

***

I step through the backdoor.

The unmotivated-looking blond employee is slacking off on his phone again today– he’s a playboy called Hakaze and is actually the manager of this place. He’s also supposedly one of my senpai from Yumenosaki. He glances up from his phone at me with a gross expression.

“Look look. I just got another girl's number. I’m typing out my first message now.”

“Shut up, I don’t know you. Don’t talk to me, playboy.”

About two years have passed since I had my first conversation with Sakuma Rei, Sakuma Rei-senpai, a conversation I’d rather not remember. 

I’ve got a bit taller and a bit stronger. 

I practised intensely so my guitar and singing skills have somewhat improved. 

Whilst I was growing, Yumenosaki had gone to the dogs.

Yumenosaki Private Academy’s an idol school steeped in a rich history and tradition. But inside, it was rotting. 

I wanted to be like Sakuma-senpai, so I followed him without thinking and took Yumenosaki’s entrance exam like an idiot. I was blinded. I didn’t know anything. Every Yumenosaki student is shit. Naturally, I noticed that since I frequented the livehouse in order to see Sakuma-senpai. 

A rotted miniature garden where those with dead eyes spend their sad youth reeking of corpses. Sakuma-senpai was weirdly energetic despite the backdrop of death, so I got it wrong. No. I think I was just an immature, stupid brat, so I didn’t notice. 

Sakuma-senpai had those same dead eyes. 

In the mountain of dead bodies, he was clinging onto life. He was the only one who didn’t want to die, he was the only one praying for something to happen.

No-one could save him. 

A bespectacled monk boy from a temple came along and evoked anger in him, trying to make him into a human— into something more than human.  The stupid, lost dog just wagged his tail and followed the hand that fed him. 

We didn’t realise that the person that was always grinning like a fool, and living what appeared to be a happy life, was actually suffering more than anyone. He desperately needed help. You can see why we didn’t notice; he looked like he was having fun.

When he stood on stage with me and Shitty Glasses as Deadmanz, he lived each day like it was his last. He looked genuinely happy—he looked like he was alive. But that was only a short-lived dream. Once he steps off stage, the spell breaks, and he turns back into a corpse.

A revolution takes place at the rotted Yumenosaki.

Sakuma-senpai was seen as a cause of evil and exterminated by those who claimed to be on the side of justice. The evil monsters had been defeated, and everyone lived happily ever after. It’s creepy when a corpse moves. Yeah, nothing will change if you don’t exterminate all the gross monsters, right?

—Fuck you, you bastards!

***

“Wan-chan, will you be singing today too?” The bored-looking playboy asks, on his phone as usual. Guess he doesn’t really want to talk to me. “You should stop because you’re dampening the mood. People think you're one of Sakuma-san’s henchmen, so people think you’re evil too and will persecute you like he was.”

“I don’t care. I… I’m.” I growl, the shallow first person pronoun Sakuma-senpai sometimes used slips from my mouth [1]. I cling onto what I’ve got left of him. “I just wanna sing with all my energy. I don’t care what the rest of you do.”

“But you’re creating problems for the livehouse. A customer pokes fun at you or Sakuma-san, you get angry, and you start a fight—I really don’t want things like that happening.”

“I won't create any problems, I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Will you really? But you’re like the rest of the customers— You always look like you’re going to start arguing with other Yumenosaki students. You come in from the back entrance like, everytime, to avoid any trouble, right?”

“I still pay the entrance fee.”

“Why do you go out of your way to perform here even though you’ve got to jump over so many dangerous obstacles to get here? It’s super bothersome.” Playboy's grumbling as usual. He pulls out a key and throws it to me. “Here. I’ll give you a key to a room so you can change clothes and get ready. If you swear to not cause any more trouble, you can become our new breadwinner, Wan-chan. I actually want to cheer you on,” the playboy said and laughed insincerely. 

I hate his demeanour, so I snap back. 

“Don’t call me ‘Wan-chan’.”

“Sakuma-san calls you ‘Wanko’. I call you ‘Wan’ as in, ‘number one’. Honest, honest to god.” [2] Playboy’s face goes serious for a split second and he waved his hands around like he was trying to hide his embarrassment. “You can be my number one breadwinner, like Sakuma-san.”

“Don’t hafta tell me twice.”

Just like Sakuma-senpai, I’ll become the best guy in the world. My voice alone will excite the crowd. A flirtatious glance will have women swooning. With a single look, even the strongest of men will bow down to me. In an instant, their souls are gripped, I captivate everyone. I’ll become like Sakuma Rei too. But the journey is a long one. “Let’s go. I’m singin’ tonight.”

I reach my booth, key in hand, and change into my costume. I take out my guitar, who’s as important to me as my parents and Leon are. Once I’m ready, I head to the stage. To tackle this head on.

“Shake, you fools! Imma show you what real music is!”

I sing. My guitar does too.

Just like Sakuma-senpai did.

Right now I’m blindly copying him, but I pray that one day, I’ll be able to be just like him.

I hope this song reaches him, wherever he is. 

***

Once, I was starving, yearning. But when I found Sakuma Rei and his music, my soul was satisfied. 

—Now it’s my turn. 

“Rock ‘n’ roll…!”

Come on, idiots of the world. I’ll open your eyes with my music. I’ll become your God. 

~~~~

Translation notes:

[1]  in the line above this one Koga says ‘俺...俺様は’ or ‘ore…ore sama wa’. Oresama being the first person pronoun rei sometimes used, and its very egotistical.

[2] number one is pronounced as, in this case, ‘nanbaa wan’