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sirenedeslily · 4 months ago

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𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 ‎𐦍 𝐦atthew 𝐬turniolo

(⊹ֹ 𝐢𝐧 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 ) ──── ⟢ it’s the 2000s, and in stars hollow, rebellious matt sturniolo, tattooed and brilliant, somehow needs tutoring sessions. yn greenaway, somehow gets pulled into his world of distractions, leaving them both questioning what they really want.

you step off the bus, the cool air of stars hollow brushing your face, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and coffee from luke’s diner. the orange leaves crunch beneath your boots as you make your way down the street, your thoughts wandering. it’s autumn, your favorite time of year. the kind of day that feels like it’s plucked from a movie—a you’ve got mail kind of day. sophie—or soapy, as you call her— is waiting for you by the bus stop, her usual smile in place, earbuds in, head slightly bobbing to a beat you can’t hear.

“hey!” she calls as she pulls out her earbuds, falling into step beside you. she’s wearing a smashing pumpkins t-shirt under a plaid flannel and looks like she just walked out of a 90s grunge concert. classic soapy.

“hey yourself,” you respond, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “what are you listening to?”

“just some early radiohead. you know, getting in my ‘i’m too cool for mainstream music’ vibe,” she teases.

“of course. how very ‘ok computer’ of you.” you grin, tugging at your scarf. “i’m still stuck in the mazzy star phase. i think i’ve had ‘cry, cry’ on repeat for days.”

sophie gives you a mock serious nod. “that’s some deep emotional territory. you planning on staring longingly out a window while it rains?”

“maybe,” you joke, nudging her. “but first, i need to catch up on the weirdness that is stars hollow high. chris apparently got into a fight yesterday?”

“yeah, hockey drama,” she says with a casual wave of her hand. “it’s chris. the guy’s basically made of punches and sports equipment. it’s a wonder he doesn’t just carry around a hockey stick as an accessory.”

“where was matt during all of this?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

sophie shrugs. “nowhere to be seen, as usual. you know matt—here one minute, gone the next. probably off in some corner reading kafka or something, being all mysterious.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips. matthew sturniolo has a way of occupying your mind without even being around. the fact that sophie hasn’t seen him at school recently doesn’t surprise you. he’s always been the brooding type, always disappearing into books, into his own world.

“so, any big plans for today?” sophie asks as you both turn the corner near the town square.

“just the usual. i’m heading to the bookstore later with nick, and then i’ll probably drop by luke’s for cherry danish day, my favourite day! what about you?”

“band practice. dave’s got this crazy idea for a new song that’s somewhere between the smashing pumpkins and the strokes, so… we’ll see how that goes.”

you both laugh, the conversation drifting into casual chatter about school, music, and soapy’s band. eventually, you part ways—she heads to meet her band, and you find yourself walking toward the bookstore.

as you round the corner of the alley that leads to the bookstore, you spot matt sitting on a bench, a paperback in hand, legs stretched out lazily in front of him. his arm, the one covered in tattoos, is draped over the back of the bench, his rings catching the late afternoon light.

you hesitate for a moment, watching him. he looks up, catches your gaze, and smirks in that infuriatingly charming way he does.

“fancy seeing you here,” he says, closing his book without bothering to mark the page.

you cross your arms and approach. “not disappearing into thin air for once? i’m shocked.”

“ah, i have to keep some mystery alive,” he replies with a grin. “besides, i’m right where i want to be.”

his words hang in the air between you, heavy with something unspoken. you swallow and sit beside him on the bench, trying to ignore the way your heart picks up speed. his presence has always done that to you—ever since you first met him.

“so, what are you reading?” you ask, gesturing toward the book.

he glances down at the cover and smirks. “on the road.”

you snort. “of course you are. trying to live out some kerouac fantasy?”

matt chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “it’s not fantasy, greenaway. it’s more like… preparation.”

“for what?”

he looks at you then, his gaze steady, a little too intense. “for whatever’s next.”

you don’t know what to say to that, so you change the subject. “chris got into a fight at school yesterday.”

matt shakes his head. “yeah, heard about that. not surprising. chris has always been a hothead. someone probably looked at him wrong.”

you laugh softly, and for a moment, it feels easy—just sitting here with him, like old times. before the weird tension, before you started noticing the way his voice softened when he said your name, or how he seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once.

“i should get going,” you say, standing up and brushing off your chilton uniform. “nick’s waiting for me at the bookstore.”

matt stands too, stuffing his book into his jacket pocket. “don’t stay away too long, greenaway.”

there it is again—that weight in his words, something that makes your heart skip. you nod, unsure of what to say, and walk away, feeling his eyes on you until you disappear into the bookstore.

later, when you get home, sophie is already there with her band, setting up in the living room like it’s her personal practice space. dave rygalski is tuning his guitar, and you catch the faint scent of takeout wafting through the house.

“soapy, you’ve officially turned my living room into a recording studio,” you say, dropping your bag by the door.

“you’re welcome!” she calls over her shoulder. “we’re just waiting for your mom to get back with food.”

as if on cue, elle walks through the door, juggling several bags of takeout. “dinner is served!” she announces, smiling in that casual, effortless way she has.

you help her set the food on the kitchen counter, chatting about your day as sophie and the band argue over the tempo of a song. it’s loud, chaotic, and yet it feels completely normal.

not long after, your dad, spencer, walks in, his usual stack of books tucked under one arm, glasses perched on his nose. “what’s all the noise?”

“band practice,” you say, smiling as he surveys the scene. “it’s always band practice.”

spencer nods thoughtfully, like the existence of a band in his living room is something he’s fully prepared for. “well, carry on.”

dinner at the reid-greenaway household is filled with laughter and teasing, as it always is. elle asks about school, spencer throws in the occasional trivia fact, and the noise of the band practicing in the background creates a comfortable soundtrack to the evening.

eventually, the night winds down, and you find yourself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the memory of matt on that bench. his words echo in your head, mingling with the soft hum of ‘fade into you’ that plays in the background.

it’s saturday morning, and you’re walking down the familiar streets of stars hollow with “there she goes” playing on your old walkman. the sun’s just breaking through the clouds, bathing everything in a golden autumn glow. the crunch of leaves under your feet sets the rhythm as you make your way to luke’s, where a coffee run is a sacred ritual.

the bell jingles as you push open the door, and the warm, coffee-scented air greets you like an old friend. luke’s is bustling with early risers, and you make a beeline for the counter where luke is busy pouring coffee.

“mornin’, yn,” luke says in his usual gruff yet familiar tone, already reaching for three to-go coffee cups. he doesn’t need to ask what you’re ordering—three coffees to go is basically your weekend tradition.

“morning, luke,” you reply, slipping off your headphones. “you know the drill. extra caffeine. life-saving, consciousness-reviving levels of caffeine. honestly, i should just hook it up to an iv at this point.”

“you kids are gonna od on this stuff one day,” he mutters, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.

lorelai, seated at the counter, overhears and gives you a mischievous grin. “ah, the youth of stars hollow. running on pure caffeine and dreams. it’s like watching the next generation of me.”

you smirk. “i prefer to think of it as highly efficient multitasking.”

luke hands you the first cup of coffee. “you mean procrastinating on real work?”

you give him a mock-serious nod. “luke, when have i ever deceived you about the importance of procrastination?”

lorelai leans over, clearly entertained. “see? she gets it. chilton pressure plus caffeine equals survival.”

“don’t encourage her,” luke grumbles, handing you the next two coffees.

“too late!” you and lorelai say in unison, laughing.

with the tray of coffees in hand, you wave a quick goodbye. “thanks, luke! see you tomorrow for round two.”

as you step back outside, the cool air hits your face, and you continue your walk, heading toward the bakery. the sign above the door reads sweet street, the sturniolo family’s cozy little spot. as you approach, you hear the familiar sounds of sophie in deep debate with jimmy.

“i’m telling you, ‘siamese dream’ is the smashing pumpkins’ best album. it’s got the perfect balance of angst and melody!” sophie insists, her eyes wide with passion as she gestures animatedly.

jimmy, leaning against the counter, raises an eyebrow. “i don’t know, ‘mellon collie’ has its merits. it’s more experimental, shows growth.”

you push open the door and walk in, shaking your head with a grin. “if i had a nickel for every time i walked in on you two arguing about music…”

sophie turns, her eyes immediately locking onto the coffee tray in your hands. “you got my coffee, right? precisely how i like it?”

you hand her the cup with a deadpan expression. “in our years of friendship, when have i ever deceived you?”

sophie smirks, taking a sip. “true. you’re as dependable as jimmy’s music takes.”

“thank you for that… i think,” jimmy mutters, rolling his eyes but smiling all the same. he grabs a bag from behind the counter and hands it to sophie. “here, muffins for the road. you two are going to need fuel for your record store adventures.”

“jimmy, you are a saint among men,” sophie says dramatically, clutching the bag to her chest.

just then, marylou emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. her eyes light up when she sees you. “yn! i’m so glad you’re here. got a second?”

you exchange a glance with sophie, who raises an eyebrow. “uh-oh, that sounds ominous,” she says.

“i need a favour,” marylou says, leaning against the counter with a sigh.

you set down the coffee tray, immediately wary. “what kind of favour?”

marylou glances at soapy, who’s now munching on a muffin, before turning back to you. “it’s about matt.”

your stomach drops a little. “oh boy.”

“he’s been skipping school,” marylou says, her voice lowering. “a lot of school. stars hollow high is threatening to kick him out if he keeps it up.”

you blink, trying to wrap your head around it. “but he’s… matt. he knows more about hemingway and faulkner than half the population.”

“i know,” marylou says, exasperated. “but he’s not showing it in school. his grades are tanking, and… i thought, maybe, if you tutored him, you could get through to him. he listens to you.”

you glance at sophie, who’s smirking over her muffin, clearly enjoying the absurdity of the situation. “why me?” you ask, incredulous. “i’m not exactly on matt’s top ten list of people to hang out with.”

marylou gives you that mom look—the one that’s equal parts pleading and expectant. “he only seems to care about what you have to say. plus, you’re brilliant. you’re like your dad.”

you squirm a little under the weight of the compliment. “i don’t know, marylou. i mean, tutoring matt? what if he doesn’t even show up?”

“please,” marylou says, her eyes wide with hope. “you’re the only one i can trust with this. i’m running out of options.”

before you can say anything, you hear footsteps from upstairs, and nick comes down, his camera slung over his shoulder. he spots the coffee tray and grins. “ah, lifesaver! thanks, yn,” he says, grabbing his cup.

“ready to hit the record store?” sophie asks, stuffing the last bit of muffin into her mouth.

nick nods. “yeah, if we leave now, we can catch that new shipment kirk was talking about.”

you’re just about to grab your stuff when marylou gives you one last look. “yn, please. just think about it sweetheart, okay?”

you bite your lip, feeling a little torn. “i’ll think about it, i promise.”

with that, the three of you head out of the bakery, the cool autumn air swirling around you once again. as you walk, the conversation shifts to records and music, but your mind is still on matt, skipping school, and the weight of marylou’s request hanging over you like the last leaf clinging to a tree.

as you, nick, and sophie make your way through stars hollow, the crisp autumn air fills your lungs. leaves scatter across the street in shades of amber and crimson, a constant reminder that fall has fully settled in. the three of you are bundled up, coffees from luke’s in hand, weaving through the familiar streets toward your destination—the record store.

“tutoring matt,” soapy says, breaking the comfortable silence with a dramatic scoff. “i mean, it’s like trying to give life advice to a james dean character—lots of sulking, a cigarette somewhere, and an existential crisis about algebra. or better yet it’s like asking me to explain quantum physics to kirk. it makes no sense.”

nick lags behind, fiddling with his camera, capturing shots of the early fall leaves against the old buildings. “honestly, matt might actually listen to you. i’ve tried the whole ‘big brother’ speech, but he’s slippery.”

“too busy with his ‘rebel without a cause’ routine,” you quip. “i get it, geometry’s the enemy.”

nick chuckles as he snaps another picture. “it’s not just that. it’s like he’s checked out. he doesn’t care anymore. chris has his hockey, i have my photography, but matt… matt just floats.”

“floating,” sophie repeats, swirling her hand in a swooping motion. “that’s the sturniolo brand.”

you smirk but feel the weight of it. “and i’m supposed to ground him?”

“exactly, baby!” sophie says, throwing her arm around your shoulders.

nick snickers, adjusting the strap of his ever-present camera. “i mean, it makes a little sense. you’re the one who got him through that faulkner essay freshman year. and let’s not forget, matt knows more about ‘the sun also rises’ than our actual english teacher. he just doesn’t care about school.”

you shake your head, still trying to wrap your mind around Marylou’s request. “yeah, but tutoring matters is different. the guy reads moby dick for fun but won’t show up for class.”

sophie rolls her eyes. “maybe he’s like, secretly a genius. he’s too cool for high school, but deep down, he’s panicking that he won’t get into a college for misunderstood literary bad boys.”

you laugh. “that doesn’t sound like him. he’s more like ‘i don’t care about anything because everything is boring.’ why does it have to be me? he probably doesn’t even care about my existence.”

nick raises an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look. “are we talking about the same matthew here? because he definitely cares about your existence.. about you. he literally asked you about your thoughts on nietzsche last week, and we all know that’s basically his way of flirting.”

you blink at him, flustered. “that’s not flirting. that’s matt being… well matt.”

sophie grins, walking backward in front of you, her boots crunching against the fallen leaves. “oh, please. the guy’s got that ‘i’m too brooding for feelings, but maybe i’ll make an exception for you’ thing going on. i bet tutoring him will be just like dangerous minds but with more existential angst.”

you roll your eyes, taking a sip of your coffee. “you both are reading way too much into this.”

but before you can dwell on the idea of matt being interested in anything—or anyone—you approach the familiar, worn-down exterior of the stars hollow record store. the place smells like old vinyl and nostalgia, and as you push the door open, you hear the familiar chime of the bell above.

kirk is manning the counter, diligently arranging records in alphabetical order with the concentration of someone assembling a nuclear bomb. “ah, the trio returns! i assume you’re here for your usual eclectic mix of ‘stuff kirk doesn’t understand but pretends to be into.’” he greets, barely looking up from his work.

you smile as you make your way over to the bins. “you know us so well, kirk.”

sophie immediately makes a beeline for the indie section, eyes gleaming with determination. “i need some early pixies or maybe sleater-kinney. jenna—uh, someone i know—said it’s life-changing.”

nick raises an eyebrow at her slip. “you can say her name, you know. we all know you’re obsessed with jenna ortega.”

sophie, blushing but undeterred, begins flipping through the records. “i’m not obsessed. i’m… highly focused.”

you and nick exchange a glance before bursting into laughter. “highly focused, huh? you’ve been strategizing your next run-in with her for days,” you tease.

“she works at the theater!” sophie defends herself. “i’m just doing recon. casual recon. my plan is flawless—show up during the Friday night rush, bump into her, spill my drink—oops!—and then heroically offer to replace it. classic rom-com setup.”

nick shakes his head, grinning. “yeah, because nothing says ‘i’m interested’ like spilling soda all over someone.”

“you’re one to talk,” sophie shoots back. “mr. ‘i shared ice cream with dave at the founder’s day picnic and still haven’t made a move.’ what are your plans pretty boy?” nick’s face flushes immediately, and he ducks behind his camera, pretending to take a picture of the counter. “no moves. no plans. nothing.”

soapy cackles. “liar! you totally like him. what was it he said to you during the stars hollow harvest festival? something about ‘nice camera work’?”

nick groans. “he said he liked my composition, okay? it’s not a big deal.”

“right,” you tease, pulling out a talking heads record. “and then he asked you for your favorite lens, which is basically code for ‘i think you’re cute.’”

nick rolls his eyes. “that was… nothing. plus it’s complicated i mean lane literally dumped him not too long ago and not to mention the fact that it’s the early 2000s. i don’t even know if he’s into guys. i mean, what am i supposed to do? just ask him out at the town square while taylor’s running the pie-eating contest?”

you sigh rummaging through the sundays records. “just don’t overthink it, okay? dave’s cool. you’re cool. stars hollow’s already the weirdest place on earth, so who cares?”

nick lets out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “it’s not that simple. what if i make a move and it ruins everything? we have a good thing going right now. i don’t want to screw that up.”

sophie claps a hand on his shoulder. “just go in there with a plan. spill a drink, offer to replace it—works every time.”

kirk, who’s been listening intently while alphabetizing records, chimes in, “i once spilled milk on lulu’s book at the library. now we’re dating. so, yeah, maybe it works.”

the three of you exchange bemused glances before bursting into laughter. “thanks for the tip, kirk,” you manage between giggles.

“maybe. i don’t know. i guess i’m just not as bold as soapy over here with her grand schemes.” nick exclaims going back to their previous conversation.

sophie waves him off, pretending to be absorbed in her record search. “don’t worry. when jenna and i are dating and being all adorable together, you’ll be inspired by my brilliance. we’ll double-triple date! me and jenna, you and dave, yn and matt. picture it.”

nick rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now. “right. because triple dating with jenna ortega and my triplet brother sounds so realistic.”

“dream big, nick. dream big,” sophie replies, holding up a copy of surfer rosa triumphantly before heading to the counter.

kirk glances at the record soapy’s holding with raised eyebrows. “sleater-kinney isn’t for everyone, you know.”

“oh, trust me, it’s for me,” sophie responds, placing it on the counter with a grin.

as she finishes paying, you and nick continue to browse, flipping through records more for the vibe than anything else. but as you shuffle through the vinyls, you can’t help but think back to your conversation about matt. nick and soapy’s teasing aside, you know that tutoring matt could be… complicated. but there’s something about the idea that draws you in.

nick, picking up a fleetwood mac album, glances over at you. “so, are you going to do it? tutor matt, i mean.”

you sigh, half distracted by the thought. “i don’t know. it feels like a lot. he’s barely in school as it is, and i’ve got chilton, my dad’s constant pressure, and now this. i’m not even sure he wants help.”

nick shrugs, putting the record back on the shelf. “maybe he just needs someone to push him. and let’s be real, you’re probably the only person in town who can.”

“yeah, because ‘pushing’ matt sounds like a great idea,” you mutter. “it’ll probably end with him dropping out entirely and moving to paris to write nihilistic poetry.”

sophie returns from the counter, bag in hand, still riding the high of her record purchase. “look, yn, you’re the only person who even remotely gets matt. and if he’s not showing up to class or trying in school, maybe that’s because no one’s ever made it interesting for him. you’re different. you could get him to care.”

you let out a laugh, though it’s tinged with uncertainty. “or he’ll make my life miserable.”

nick smiles gently, a rare seriousness in his expression. “or maybe he’ll surprise you.”

you glance at your friends, feeling the weight of their encouragement, but still unsure. the idea of spending more time with matt is… intimidating, in more ways than one.

“i’ll think about it,” you say, but deep down, you already know your answer.

heading back from the record store, you spot dave rygalski crossing the street. nick freezes for a split second before quickly pretending to adjust his camera, but it’s too late—you and soapy already noticed.

“there’s your chance,” sophie whispers with a sly grin.

nick groans. “goodbye, ladies,” he mutters, clearly flustered.

you and sophie exchange a laugh as nick hurries off, and after a few more jokes, you all say your goodbyes and head your separate ways. by the time you’re alone, you’ve made up your mind: tutoring matt might not be so bad. worst-case, he throws a few sarcastic comments, and you both call it a day.

that evening, after a quiet dinner with your parents—spencer lost in some case files and elle chatting about her day at the bau—you head up to your room, prepared for a low-key night. but, as you’re about to settle into bed with your latest book, your phone buzzes.

it’s a text from matt.

still up for tutoring me?

you stare at the message, momentarily stunned. somehow, the fact that he’s actually asking you makes it all feel a little more real. a little more personal.

yeah, when? you type back, fingers moving faster than your brain can catch up.

tomorrow night?

you chew on your bottom lip, considering. tomorrow’s Sunday—usually a good day for catching up on homework, so why not?

okay. my place?

a pause. then, sure. see you at 7.

you toss your phone onto your bed, your heart doing that weird thing again—the fluttering thing it does when matt’s name pops up on your screen.

the next day passes in a blur of homework and chores, but by the time 7 p.m. rolls around, you’re sitting at your desk, textbooks and notes laid out, waiting for matt to show up. you tell yourself it’s just tutoring, nothing more. just helping out a friend who, for some reason, can’t keep up with school. simple.

but when the knock comes at the door, and you open it to find matt standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, you feel anything but simple.

“hey,” he says, his voice low, his eyes flicking briefly to your stack of books before landing back on you.

“hey,” you manage, stepping aside to let him in. he brushes past you, and you catch the faint scent of his cologne—something subtle, but distinctly matt.

“you sure about this?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow as he glances around your room. “i’m kind of a lost cause.”

“don’t be dramatic,” you say, rolling your eyes as you sit down at your desk. “you’re not a lost cause. just… distracted.”

“distracted,” he echoes, a hint of amusement in his voice as he drops his bag by the desk and sits on your bed, looking far too comfortable for someone who’s supposedly in need of academic help.

you shoot him a look. “yeah, distracted. now, come on, i’m serious. we need to figure out why you’re failing.”

he shrugs, leaning back against your headboard, one arm draped casually across his lap, the other—the tattooed one—resting on the bed beside him, fingers playing with one of the many rings he wears. “what can i say? school doesn’t exactly hold my interest.”

you sigh, exasperated but not surprised. “okay, but if you don’t pass, it’s going to cause all kinds of problems down the line. you’ve got to at least pretend to care.”

he gives you a half-smirk. “maybe i need someone to make me care.”

the comment is so typical of him, and yet, the way he says it makes your heart skip a beat. you stare at him for a moment, unsure whether he’s being serious or just trying to get under your skin. it’s always hard to tell with matt.

“well, i’m not here to play therapist,” you finally say, flipping open his english textbook. “so, how about we start with the great gatsby?”

matt groans but swings his legs off the bed and drags himself to the desk, pulling up a chair beside you. “fine. but only because i like gatsby.”

you raise an eyebrow. “oh yeah? what do you like about it?”

he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk, and looks at you with that intense gaze of his. “i like that gatsby’s not really a hero. he’s flawed, but he’s still this larger-than-life figure. everyone’s drawn to him, even though he’s broken inside.”

there’s a beat of silence after he speaks, and you feel the weight of his words, like he’s not really talking about gatsby at all. you look at him, but he’s already flipping through the pages of the textbook, like he didn’t just say something that makes your chest ache a little.

you clear your throat and focus on the book. “okay. well, let’s talk about the symbolism in chapter four—”

but matt interrupts you. “do we have to? i mean, do you really think fitzgerald was sitting there, thinking, ‘i’m gonna put a green light in here to mess with students 70 years from now’?”

you laugh despite yourself. “yes, actually. i think fitzgerald lived for that kind of thing.”

he smirks, leaning back in his chair. “‘course you would.”

you nudge his arm playfully, trying to ignore the way his casual smirk makes your heart race. “focus, sturniolo. we’re here to get you passing, not to debate the merits of literary analysis.”

“right, right,” he says, but his tone is teasing, and he seems more interested in distracting you than actually working.

for the next hour, you try to guide him through his homework, but matt being matt, he keeps finding ways to sidetrack the conversation. one minute, you’re talking about nick carraway’s unreliable narration, and the next, he’s asking if you’ve ever been to new york, spinning some story about how he’s planning to move there one day, maybe open a bookshop, maybe just live in some crummy apartment and write.

“you could come with me, you know,” he says at one point, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

you laugh, shaking your head. “matt, you don’t even know if you’re going to graduate.”

he grins. “details. minor details.”

by the time you finally get him to finish one of his assignments, it’s already late, and you’re more frustrated than you care to admit. matt’s leaning back in his chair, watching you with that same infuriating smirk, and you can tell he knows exactly how he’s been pushing your buttons.

“you’re impossible, you know that?” you say, crossing your arms as you stand up, glaring at him in mock-annoyance.

he stands up too, but instead of backing down, he steps closer, closing the gap between you. “i thought you liked a challenge.”

your breath catches in your throat, the teasing banter suddenly shifting into something heavier, something more charged. he’s so close now that you can see the faint flecks of silver in his blue eyes, the curve of his lips as they quirk up in that signature smirk.

“i do,” you whisper, before you can stop yourself.

the space between you seems to shrink, and for a second, you think he’s going to kiss you. and then—he does.

it’s soft at first, almost tentative, but then his hand finds the small of your back, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens. your heart races, your mind spinning as you kiss him back, losing yourself in the moment. his lips are warm and sure, and everything about it feels so right, even though you know it shouldn’t.

when you finally pull back, you’re both breathing hard, and matt’s looking at you with something like surprise in his eyes, like he wasn’t expecting this either.

“i—” you start, but you don’t know what to say.

“don’t,” he murmurs, his voice low. “don’t ruin it.”

you nod, still caught up in the haze of the kiss, and for a moment, you’re not sure if you’re standing on solid ground anymore.

matt pulls away then, running a hand through his hair, looking almost sheepish. “i should go.”

“yeah,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “okay.”

but as he turns to leave, you can’t shake the feeling that something just shifted between you—something big, and irreversible.

and somehow, you know things between you and matt sturniolo will never be the same again.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ gilmore girls au how we feelin?!?! i really tried to make the dialogue and energy as similar to the show as possible so please don’t ask me about half of the references cause i just went on google fr 😭😭 5.1k wc and i know not much really happened but idc i live for the trio :3 pls talk to me in da inbox

❝ 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @eternaldecisions @elizabebabe

❝ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @fawnchives @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss

#sirenedeslily ✶ ˖ ࣪#gilmoregirls!au ☕️⁺˖ ⸝⸝#matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo headcanon #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x you #sturniolo triplets x reader

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sordidmusings · 1 year ago

Text

Fixing What Ifs (Mihawk x F!Reader)

A/N: For this ancient request (told you they are not forgotten just severely neglected 💀). I really hope I captured the type of scene you were looking for! Debating on writing a follow up smut because sex as the culmination of pining?? That's that good good right there that is.

Listening to: Prove Your Love - Fleetwood Mac, Go Slowly - Radiohead, Love Song - Lesley Duncan

Word Count: ~4.5k

Warnings: Fem!reader, a gratuitous amount of mutual pining, kind of bantering?, Mihawk leans opla in that he has such sass, a few flashback scenes, Mihawk is a Man who does not know how to deal with being in love, but he’s trying like a lot, I mean he even kisses your wrist, probably idiots in love, there's one brief allusion to Buggy cuz I Need Him

Snippet:

“You say that as if we’re too old to have options.” He spoke quite steadily, but you noticed his golden eyes flicking to you, ravenously seeking your reaction. You knew he was trying to cover at least a little; your equal skills in observation were a beauty and a bane to him. It was your favorite source of bickering, giving you many lines to smile at when you were stuck in lonely nights tracking targets.

“You are in your forties,” you teased. Again, you took a sip to think. You meant to find some words to match his characteristic tone (“Joints still working well enough to properly share a bed?”), but instead what came out was “though you’ve aged better than I imagined in our twenties”. You blamed that you had finally looked over and taken in his face, sculpted angles all alive and aglow in the torch-light. There was also that defined chest that he maddeningly always insisted on showing everyone. You probably would too, looking like that.

“You should know by now I always exceed expectation,” Mihawk said without a hint of gloating, just simply stating an absolute fact.

“There’s still many places I’ve yet to see that proven,” you responded, words coy and teasing but smile easy and affectionate. Mihawk would need much more intimacy before he admitted how that smile stalled his thoughts. You would need much more boldness before you let him know you noticed when you managed to halt his breath.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“I’ve chosen another I want you to try. Push your glass this way,” Mihawk prompted gently. Years of knowing him let you pick up the hints of eagerness hidden under his usual drawl.

You watched Mihawk’s hands and forearms work as he opened another bottle to share. He had foregone his coat tonight, instead draping himself with a well-cut white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows and buttons undone to below his sternum, of course. Toned muscle danced under his skin with every twist and turn, leading you to great distraction throughout the process of him serving you. After enjoying the sculpt of his large hand while it gripped the full bottle to pour your glass, you changed your attention to the luxurious material of his shirt, fluttering over his chest and playing against tanned skin and his heavy gold cross. You wished you could find an excuse to pull at that hem, testing the softness of the material and making it reveal more for you.

The dark green bottle thumping back down on the bartop brought your attention away from your companion and back to your refreshed drink. You did feel a bit guilty that Mihawk’s description of the new wine was going near completely ignored (you at least caught the words “oak barrel-aged”, flattered he remembered your offhand comment about that preference from months ago). You just couldn’t get yourself to pay attention; your mind was swimming through multiple years at once any time it wasn’t grounded by his visage. Wistfulness had a stranglehold on you tonight, keeping you locked between painful yearning and bittersweet nostalgia. The comfort of hearing his smooth voice accompanied by the quietly unfolding lives of every stranger in the bar did reach you, however. You took solace in that while you went for your first sip.

“You’re much quieter than usual,” Mihawk prodded with dry displeasure. That displeasure was interrupted when he got to enjoy your usual show of flicking your tongue out to lick your glass and then your lips upon the first taste.

You took another, much longer sip of your drink to delay the need to respond. It was an easy choice of diversion; the wine was exquisite as always. You’d tell him as much if you were more in the mood for the gloating, simpering glow he’d get from earning a stroke to his ego from you.

“I thought you’d like that,” you offered quietly. You swept a fingertip around the slick rim of your glass, mindless in your feeling and seeing and doing. This absent state let Mihawk watch for every detail of the action to better imagine how that trailing fingertip would feel against his skin.

“Clearly you’re not as observant as you think,” he dug back, this time with much more amusement warming his voice, yet not quite enough to completely melt the snideness out.

Despite yourself, you smiled. Years of rivalry softened you to affection. Over those years of pushing yourselves and each other, bitterness became respect, respect became comradery, and comradery became admiration. In you, that admiration had long bloomed into devotion, petals bursting open in a stalwart stand against his consistent frigid air. Some days they withered, but then he would reach to you, hearten you, or defend you in a way that would have new buds growing more and more numerous until you had a field that could withstand winter's chill, turning to ice sculptures in each frost instead of decaying pulp.

“I blame your wines,” you chuckled, still taking yet another sip despite the accusation. “They have me stuck reminiscing.”

“I’d advise against that; it’s a trying endeavor. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Mihawk teased, doing a great job of masking his fondness with wry wit. He did venture to expose his curiosity, however. “Where and when does your mind have you trapped?”

“Our first meeting.”

Mihawk barely managed to keep from choking on his wine. He didn’t want to tip you off on how much that memory affected him. And it would be a shame to waste such an expensive drink.

“Why would you be thinking of that ridiculous affair?” There goes the effort at keeping you in the dark.

“What?” you asked with mock shock. “The only thing that was ridiculous was how little you trusted the top marksman to do her job.”

“You didn’t exactly scream competency,” Mihawk defended, hiding his fluster behind rudeness and the rim of his glass. The dim lighting of the bar would have hid it for him anyway; the few torch chandeliers did wonders for turning him to a living Baroque painting, but they were known for their shadows more than their breadth of hues.

“That is one thing you always did have on me,” you relented easily, more set on imagining the immaculately groomed and glaring warlord who first saw you than needing to keep a score with his modern counterpart at your side.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“They asked for me for a reason, you’re more useful elsewhere.”

“I’m useful everywhere you’ll find,” he dismissed easily, as sure of that fact as in the rising of the sun each day. You were a hard one to shake, but the way his namesake hawk’s eyes cut through you had you feeling exposed and vulnerable. It had you needing to make him just as small as the little pieces his endlessly picking gaze had shredded you into.

“Then go be useful as something other than my shadow. Some of us are actually working.” Even in your exasperation fueled anger, you sounded more like you were asking than telling. The ease with which he commanded was yet another skill you’d spotted on him so quickly in these few days together that had you feeling out of your league. You were beginning to think he took great joy in your mounting discomfort with the way he hovered around, always looking for another soft spot to peck at.

“You’ve been laying at this spot for days, Viper, with nothing to show for it,” Mihawk said, phrasing the truth quite unfairly. Viper was the code-name gifted to you in your work; the snakes could sit still as the dead for weeks, waiting for the one moment that prey finally crossed their path. That same dedication was what he was attempting to disturb now. “I could have rooted the rats out within the hour of mission's start.”

“Then it’s a good thing this task is mine and not yours,” you spat back, finally finding the will to sound truly mean. There was much you were uncertain of but your methods were a strong sense of pride and no one got to question them. “I’m sure the trafficking victims would do really well avoiding harm in the slaughter you’d start. They are known for being battle-ready after all; I’m sure they’re just playing victim right now so they can partake in a song-worthy escape and claim their glory.”

“You think I have no skill to guard and fight at the same time?”

“I think it’s not worth the risk to innocents just to feed one man’s insatiable ego,” you grumbled, spreading yourself out on your familiar and beloved blanket to begin this day’s long watch. You lined one eye with the one-of-a-kind scope of your rifle, taking comfort in settling into your power. “Better to wait until they show themselves and pick them off from miles away, letting them panic at the suddenness of death from a foe they’ll never see.”

Your memory never granted you Mihawk’s perspective on your first job together. You never figured out that he was hovering not from hatred of your perceived incompetence but an uncontrollable need to have you in his sight. He’d never had to contend with such an impulse before and found himself completely at the mercy of its whims. Garp was not happy with the freshly titled Warlord; he was meant to be helping eradicate the rebel legion that had taken this island over to ravage it for resources (humans included), not keep checking out their prized sniper like he’s a fifteen year old with his first female fixation.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“Surely I can be of much more entertainment to you in the present than in whatever foggy memories you have,” Mihawk said, successfully bringing you back to him.

“Yes you can,” you admitted with too much authenticity and affection for your tastes to just leave that flavor in the ari. After a moment of thought, you softly bumped your shoulder with his and added, “You’re practically a whole circus over there, how ever could I look away?”

You didn’t expect the long and tired sigh to deflate the man next to you, leaving his upper body draped on the bar. The sound seemed to have come from so deep in his lungs that it was born from his very soul.

“Please keep all talk of circuses and especially clowns to a minimum,” Mihawk pleaded into his forearms. He lifted head to look at you with one of the grouchiest and most sour faces you’d seen on him in a long time, before plopping it back into his arms. The whole thing was only made more endearing with the way the bar had pushed his hat askew.

“What’s with that look?” you laughed. “You usually save that one for Shanks.”

“I wish it was Shanks,” he grumbled petulantly. Your laughter always brightened him back up and he longed to turn and see the beauty of it on your face, but instead chose to keep to his brooding to prolong the sound just that much more.

If it wouldn’t send him up the wall, you would have told him how much you adored when his brooding turned pouty. It sapped him of his persistent decorum and made him feel closer - more touchable. The slouch it brought out in him always had you valiantly fighting the urge to wrap his curved chest in a firm hug. It was unfair how perfectly suited for one he looked, resting his elbows on the bar and opening him and his luxury shirt and his warm skin up for your reaching hands and arms. You shook your head after a mourning sigh and took another sip of heady wine.

“I wish it was Shanks too. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him.” The soft spot you always showed for the Red Haired Pirates only threatened to drag Mihawk’s mood low again. It was amended slightly by your cute, happy gasp before you said, “We should go visit them soon! I’ve got a bigger chunk of free time after the next two months.”

Mihawk was always amazed by how easily tiny little gestures from you perked him back up and got his heart leaping. All you did was choose to say “we”. He wished and wished that it was always “we”, but he’d take what he could get. Even if it meant dealing with the usual treatment whenever you were both with Shanks and his crew.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk was not fond of the look Shanks was sending his way. It was all too smarmy, built on equal parts smugness and giddiness. Disgusting.

“You dog! When I tried to imagine what could have the unshakable Dracule Mihawk off his game I never would’ve guessed it was our dear Viper,” Shanks teased cheerily, bumping his shoulder into the rigid one of the swordsman next to him. Mihawk was affronted - he nearly spilled his drink from Shanks’ boorish behavior.

“Didn’t know she was yours,” Mihawk grumbled, attempting to sidestep Shanks’ prompts to have him speak his infatuation aloud.

Shanks was fighting poorly to hold in his laughter; Mihawk was absolutely sulking while he watched Yasopp teach you more gun spinning tricks. You and the sharpshooter were always all joy and play, easily finding common ground in marksmanship but with the added fun of showing your separate specializations to each other. Each bout of laughter from your direction brought another brooding line to Mihawk’s furrowed brow. This standoffish air was his habitual defense against the raw ache he’d been tending to since the two of you met.

Every time I try to play, I end up wounding her, he lamented. Why can I not earn your laughter?

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk lightly shook himself of the memory. On instinct, he turned to look at you and found you already looking at him but not really seeing him. He quietly huffed through his nose at losing you again to your own mind. He decided to give you a moment before getting to the bottom of whatever it was that had you in your funk. Beyond selfishly wanting your rapt attention, he was worried for you. You were prone to take pause and think long, especially when in quiet company, but you seemed truly lost in your own mind, taken against your will.

Mihawk’s accurate read on you was more proof of the years tentatively building rapport with each other. That intimacy you shared, which lacked the intimacy you so craved, was what had you held hostage in one of the many examples of your entwining lives.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

The quiet in the air was broken only by Mihawk’s calm breathing, his occasional quiet sips of today’s wine, and the gentle rustle of a turning page. Your own breathing was silent, having gone so long and smooth it was imperceptible due to an instinct trained in so no need of your body could get in the way of your shot. Luckily, your targets were always at such a great distance that Mihawk’s casual lounging would never alert them that they were being hunted.

“It’s been twelve hours since you’ve eaten,” Mihawk told you in a bored tone, eyes never leaving the pages of his book. You made to ignore him and continue your work, but he had never been able to stand your attention off of him for long. “Almost three since you’ve taken a sip of water.”

“Sorry, Mom, I’m a bit busy at the moment,” you mumbled back evenly. You had long lost the majority of your bitterness toward his nitpicking, instead just glad he was around and saying anything to you.

“If I was your mother, I would’ve commanded you to just let me take the target out in the first place so we could leave this boring island,” Mihawk complained.

“You really gonna take a swing at them from two miles off?” you asked, smiling as you imagined the chaos wrought from such an action. It would be a catastrophe, but it would also give you quite the show. Over your time knowing him, you’d seen Mihawk’s innate beauty and untouchable prowess countless times, but it was never enough to sate you.

“You’re not the only one who can hit a target from that distance,” Mihawk reminded you and you hoped you weren't imagining the tone of a smirk shaping his voice.

“Yeah, but I’m the only one of us who won’t cause a tsunami in the process,” you giggled at him.

Again, your diligence robbed you of the chance to see the poignant longing overtaking Mihawk’s face when he smiled at you. He relished every step he’d gotten closer to being the source of your joy.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“You’ve disappeared again,” Mihawk complained after sending a haughty tut your way.

You offered an apologetic smile and were happy that he accepted it readily. All those memories, years of feeling, and liquid courage built a full storm inside of you until you knew you needed to allow yourself some time in the eye of it. Being surrounded by the roaring weather would be nerve-wracking but you hoped the calm at the center helped protect you from those shredding winds. You blew a heavy sigh over your drink, refusing to look from its dark, blooded tint when you asked, “Have you ever wondered what it would’ve been like if we were together?”

He didn’t answer right away. Usually Mihawk was a man who was quick with his words, as sure in speed and precision with their strike as he was with that of his sword. You respected that sureness and bold weaponizing of his thoughts, but you deeply appreciated that, with you, he would take the time to truly parse his words when he felt the need. It suited your nature better; your patience was as legendary as your ability to shoot the wings from a fly that was miles off from the end of your rifle.

“You should know by now I always exceed expectation,” Mihawk said without a hint of gloating, just simply stating an absolute fact.

“Mihawk, my dearest adversary and cherished… friend,” you hesitated on the word, never having claimed him as such to his face before. He rewarded your bravery with a gentle bump of his knee against yours and with the bare fondness that began softening his stare. “We have been playing this game, dancing this dance, for decades now. Am I really meant to believe that one question changes everything?”

“The right question can,” he asserted immediately. He opened his mouth to continue, but for once you were the one striking quick with your words.

“You are a man who does not hesitate,” you accused, staring cuttingly into his focused gaze, not backing down at the way it became shielded. “If you want something you take it.”

“And?” Mihawk prompted, tone the most biting it's been all night.

“And,” you repeated. “And…”

You sighed in defeat and turned back to your drink, closing yourself away. He was more than smart enough to know where you were going with that, but he insisted on making you be the one to say it. You wouldn’t allow him to make you insult yourself, especially after you had ventured to bring up the tenuous topic in the first place. If he refused to argue or even acknowledge your conclusions, then you’d let your drink be the friend to assuage those old hurts. The echoed sigh to your side did little to move you from your new stake out with your wounds and your wine.

Mihawk pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to call you foolish so his own mind would stop branding him with that word. He had been ever vigilant of you throughout the years, not only in an effort to soak you in every moment he could, but also to latch on the moment he noticed you offering him a true opening. You had finally bared your throat to him and he had managed to fail at your final test to check that he would not stoop to bite - that he would only beg to kiss.

While taking his next sip of wine, Mihawk extended an olive branch in the form of a thigh pressed firmly into yours. He was barely able to keep in the frustrated growl that pressed at his chest when you shifted yourself away. You did turn your eyes to him out of curiosity, however, but he missed the look completely, too busy reassembling himself. It let you watch carefully as the flaming lights turned his hat’s extravagant feather amber in their glow when he lifted it off his head to place on the bartop. It let him run his fingers back through his thick black curls, trying to shake his disappointment off with the teasing of his strands.

He looked over at you and finally caught on to your observing. Mihawk let his regret pour over his face, even letting his lips twitch into a momentary, rueful smile. You replied with a tired smile of your own. In the end, it turned sweet and loving; a bad habit of yours with the swordsman. You pressed your thigh back to his.

In a rare show of humility, propelled by the heat of your thigh warming his and the sweet crinkles your smile brought to your eyes (Just for me, he thought with doting greed), Mihawk took your hand and bowed himself low to touch his forehead to your knuckles. His thumb soothed gentle circles into it while he stayed lowered to you for a few long breaths. He was eager to enjoy the feeling of your skin and the decadent scent of your perfume, strong now with the proximity of your wrist. You had chosen something sultry and heady with its deep notes of orchid and amber and wood, all calling to him until he acted with thought a millisecond behind instinct.

He flipped your hand over, slowly and gently, cradling it palm up in his large hand. Still stooped, he had to move scant inches to brush the tip of his nose across the thin skin on the inside of your wrist, savoring the pull of your perfume going deep into his lungs and leading his mind to a content haze. He sealed the small caress with a feathery brush of his lips over your pulse, wishing he could make himself press harder to feel your heart thump against his lips. He longed to know if it raced with the same jumping cantor as his.

When he sat back up he was met with a vision from his dreams. You had fully turned your face to him and it was lit with a deep flush made more rosy in the fire-cast light of the bar. No ambient chatter nor clinking cutlery could keep his ears from delighting in the hitch of your breath in and the contented sigh out. Another smile indulged him, this one easily crowned his favorite with its happy chuckle, pressing cheeks, and bare affection.

“I am a man who takes what I want,” Mihawk confirmed your words delicately. He continued to hold your hand, now enfolding it in both of his. You felt bright tingling shooting from the contact and the press of your thighs. They made you twenty again, staring down the most handsome and insipidly arrogant man you’d ever met and cursing your heart for its clear choice. “I take what I want, not who I want. People aren’t for the taking, little viper.”

You laughed at the title, never feeling it sat quite right. You felt you wore it well at work only. The imagery it brought up of femme fatales and their hypnotizing looks and lethal wit made you feel like a young girl cloaked ill-fittingly in her mother’s best event wear, barely able to peek your head out of the wool coat dwarfing you. Mihawk noted your discomfort with the title throughout the years but never found the proper words to have you see that all who said it were reverent when they saw how well the word wrapped over you.

“What if-” again you hesitate. You scrunch your face in anger at your nature, but before Mihawk had time to bring a hand to your face and soothe it back into a smile, you force out the words. “What if I am for the taking?”

Mihawk’s thumbs stopped their massaging and you felt his thigh jump to tense against your own. Staring into his widening eyes and how they glowed so beautifully - too beautifully to be within your reach - you immediately wished you could suck the words right back into your lungs. You made it this far though, so you instead worried at your lip and clung your hand onto Mihawk’s stalled hold.

Finally, he unfroze.

“For the night only?” Mihawk probed, wanting answers but worrying about making you close off again.

“Do you only want the night?” You tossed back to him, unwilling to turn this propositioning into a confession of the long years you have built a deep and sturdy love for him, no matter your attempts to welcome others into its halls.

“What I want,” Mihawk said, gentle and deliberate in coloring his tone with humble honestly, “is to be what you want.”

You were taken aback by the confession, but you were even more awed by the look he was giving you. He was still slightly stooped, broad shoulders gently curved and bent towards you, pulled down under the need to lower himself below you but body still gravitating towards you with the magnetism he’s been weak to since you first crossed paths. Framed by those shoulders and his wild curls, Mihawk looked to you with the sadly tinted longing you had felt seize you in his presence all this time. While the furrow of his brow and glimmer of his eyes had your brain buzzing with more hope than you’d dare let it host before, your chest squeezed at the conflict you saw in him; you knew that torment in your very bones.

“You always have been,” you whispered on a trembling breath. Mihawk’s eyes went wild for a moment where his whole body tensed and you felt his urge to pounce on you steal the oxygen from the room. He thanked the gods for a majority of his life spent learning control and restraint, while he got himself in order and pressed the firm kiss he’d longed for to your wrist instead.

“Come with me,” Mihawk commanded through lips still pressed to your skin, though it was the closest you’d heard him to begging in your entire life.

You let yourself partake in a longtime wish by moving your other hand to card your fingers back into his thick hair, happy to find that it was just as soft as you had imagined. Their trailing came back around to have your palm cup his jaw. He leaned into the touch, tickling your hand with the rub of his precise facial hair when he allowed himself one small nuzzle into your loving hold. That hand guided him up to meet your eyes so he could see the love you held for him finally displayed openly in all its abundance.

“Wherever you ask me to, I will go,” you promised.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

#mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #opla mihawk x reader #opla mihawk #one piece #request #my writing #fem reader #x reader #one piece x reader #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #one piece fanfiction #mihawk fanfiction #opla

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phas3d · 1 year ago

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Ideal Type || Slytherin Boys

note :: just what i think, but they could honestly be with anyone

members :: mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire

Mattheo Riddle

Appearance:

Sharp eyes that could kill him, eye color doesn’t matter to him

Likes people with more meat on them

Goes crazy if he sees you wearing thigh highs or tight underwear so that you have a little bit of a muffin top, he loves that stuff

Loves dark hair, all of his celebrity crushes are brunettes or have black hair

Likes the y2k style and clean girl, he doesn’t know it’s called that but he likes it lmao

Loves long hair but will make an exception for a short black bob

Low rise jeans are his favorite thing ever

Pretty nails are also a pro in his eyes, shows that you’re hygienic - likes longer nails

Plump lips are a major plus

Likes outfits that show skin in some way, so crop tops, dresses, etc

Personality:

Slightly toxic, which is perfect for him since he’s ultra toxic 😍

He’s not willing to change his lifestyle just for a girl, so he needs someone who’s down to party and do the bad stuff he does

Loves confidence, wouldn’t date a girl who’s insecure

People with the wonyongism mindset are literally his dream type, makes him weak in the knees

If you yell back at him or call him out on his shit, oml he’s already planning your wedding

Loves to annoy you just to get a reaction, smth about you being angry draws him in

He likes social people who get along with others easily

A little bit cocky, but if you laugh at his jokes he instantly finds you more attractive

Dedicated and driven people, like not failing classes, having internships, having a job, all of that is so attractive to him

If you listen to: Kali Uchis, Tyler the Creator, Ariana Grande, Travis Scott, The Neighborhood, The Smiths, The Weeknd, BlackPink, Aespa, Beyoncé, you get so many extra points

Theodore Nott

Appearance:

Likes shorter people, which is easy for him since he’s 6’0 (183 cm)

Has a thing for people that are flatter, likes rectangle body types

Long hair is his ideal type but loves curly short hairstyles

Gets flustered when he sees you with your hair up, something about it is so appealing to him

Long lashes and falsies are so pretty in his eyes, loves it

Ballet-core, old-money, and minimalist are what styles he likes best on someone

Lovessss skirts and headbands

Likes people with glasses, but specifically people who wear contacts in public but glasses at home

People with the resting sad face are so beautiful to him

Personality:

Likes introverts or shy people, he likes knowing that you’re a homebody so he doesn’t have to worry about cheating

Nerds omg They’re his secret weakness

He loves book smart-street dumb people, it’s a sense of comfort knowing that you’re not involved in his life style

He’s a fuckboy who smokes and drinks, so you become a safe space for him

Quiet and soft voices are one of his biggest weaknesses

Elegance is also something he needs in a partner, someone who’s aware of their words and their actions

When someone covers their mouth when they laugh - So attractive to him

Caring and nurturing people make him want to cry, please comfort this man

If you listen to: Lana Del Rey, Billie Eilish, Mitski, SZA, Her, Adele, Yerin Baek, Matt Maltese, Radiohead, you get an extra point

Lorenzo Berkshire

Appearance:

Downtown girl, athletic wear, coquette, and other cutesy yet comfortable styles are his idea type

Really loves when someone can dress up in a nice ass outfit and then show up the next day in just a hoodie and bagggyyyy pants

Doesn’t really like tight clothes on his s/o, likes baggy or flowy clothes

Doesn’t care for body type, has dated people on the bigger size and people that were super thin

Loves any facial markings - moles, acne scars, freckles, but esp ance scars

Loves curly and wavy hair, doesn’t care for hair color but does prefer light colors like brown and blonde

Likes girls that look kinda intimidating because of how pretty they are, but are secretly a softie (basically him)

For example, people with a resting bitch face but the second they see something cute they light up

Being shorter than him is fine, but if he’s dead honest he’s always wanted to date a girl taller than him (185 cm+)

Personality:

Bubbly people make him fall so hard

People who are happy almost 24/7 and a little bit stupid and naive is what he loves

Doesn’t care about intelligence much, but doesn’t like people who are failing school

When you’re oblivious to flirting??? Omg he’s done

Wants to feel needed, so you being slightly air headed helps him a lot

Smiling makes him attracted to someone instantly, so constantly smiling and laughing makes him feel the same way

Loves people with a tad bit of sass to them, like eye rolls and stuff

Playful people who agree to do dumb shit with him suits his ideal lifestyle

Someone’s who funny, cause if I’m fr this man is not that funny. He def gets with someone who’s funny

He def had way too many crushes on manic pixie dream girls, so he kinda likes the chase

Likes people who are so free spirited that it’s hard to tie to them

If you listen to: Wave2Earth, Kpop, Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, Beabadoobee, Sarah Kinsley, Faye Webster, it’s an extra plus for him

#harry potter #slytherin #mattheo riddle #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott #theodore x reader #theodore nott x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #ideal type #slytherin boys #god I love these guys

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isuckatwritingsobenice · 2 years ago

Note

YBF Peter x reader who successfully escapes? preferably by train for more suspense. like peter is just watch reader get in the train right as it takes off, and he’s so mad but like he looks heartbroken and reader is just happy to be away, but even WORSE, reader runs away with another lover? and maybe that lover is on the train too?

( going back to your touch of glass fanfic, maybe that character is Alastor :0 )

i love you so much for this, MWUAH. But seriously Peter would be LIVID.

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior! Yandere! Mentions of harm! Implications of sexual themes! Mentions of money struggles! Abuse!

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝙉𝘼𝙑𝙄𝙂𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 *ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏 HH & YBFੈ✩‧₊˚ * Part two is here!

songs you can play while listening: Kill Bill Remix with SZA & Doja Cat. At my Weakest by James Arthur. Vampire by Olivia Rodrigo. Nobody by Mitski. Cold Shoulder by Adele. Mind by MillSoundBeatz. Creep by Radiohead. Me and your mama by Childish Gambino.

𝑺𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔

It had started off simple enough. Peter was always having problems with his central air in his apartment. So, the súper of his complex would come to fix it. That’s where Husk came in.

Peter, at first, would wait around watching you while Husk did what he needed to do. Going over prices with Peter, checking the vents in each room, doing his usual checkup on the apartment. Husk didn’t speak much, hardly ever. He didn’t even bat an eye to Y/n. Or so she thought. Because of this, Peter didn’t see Husk as a threat, mainly because he wasn’t. But his employer was.

Alastor was the owner of the complex, running things after his mother had signed all the rights of the property over to him. With his growing fame he was able to keep it nice. Every once in a while he liked taking a walk around the property. This is how he meets you. Husk informs Alastor he needs to fix Peters central air again, and Alastor insists on going. With a few phone calls, Peter tells Husk you’ll be at the apartment to let him in, Peters out for the day.

Alastor walks into the apartment and immediately he finds you, sitting quietly while showing Husk the problem. But he can feel it, somethings off, somethings wrong here. So he goes snooping, and what does he find?

Dirtied clothes, blood on the bedsheets, he can see bruises from where your clothes don’t cover, and he puts the pieces together. You’re being abused, simple as that. Now, Alastor can’t really evict Peter, he pays his rent on time, and aside from the central air unit going down more than he’d like, it’s not uncommon. So, he decides to try speaking with you.

Then you break, you begin sobbing the moment Alastor asks if you’re okay. Husk moves to lock the front door of the apartment while you whisper to Alastor everything goin on, all in a frenzy. Your panicking, scared. Alastor feels bad, or as bad as he can feel for you.

So he comes up with a plan. He sits with you, and he has Husk break other things around the apartment, not too urgent but enough to catch attention of the damage, this way Husk and Alastor have a reason to keep coming back.

“Here’s what we’re going to do” Alastor says, sitting you down. You nod listening intently. “Why don’t I get you a train ticket, wherever you want. You’ll need to take multiple trains though, this way he doesn’t find you.” Alastor says, looking around the apartment a second. “ I’ll go with you, and we can get you settled somewhere else. New name, new life. How does that work for you?” He asks, and you nod your head.

“Anything is better than here. Please just get me out.” You beg, and Alastor nods.

“Play nice for a month. I’ll work out the details, and I’ll come back with Husk for repairs.” Alastor says as he nods to Husk, who nods back. “In the meantime, try gaining his trust. We’ll schedule a day where we need to repair, one where Peter isn’t here. You’ll gather your things, or whatever you can take, and we’ll leave.” Alastor says and you nod, desperate. Finally, finally someone helps.

The month feels long. Having to cuddle with Peter, having to reassure him you love him. That you would never leave him, that he’s your world. It made you want to throw up inside, but at least his trust was growing.

Sometimes you’d cry to him to sell the act, telling him you just wanted to be happy together, that you wanted a family with him. That you loved him more than anything. Then, the day finally came.

“The super is coming to fix the loose pipe under the sink, I have to go out and run a few errands, so I need you to make food for when I get back.” He says, giving you a kiss goodbye before leaving. You wait a while, maybe thirty minutes before Husk and Alastor show up. Husk gets to work on the pipe while Alastor helps take your things to his car. Alastor had used Peters laptop to make sure the train was leaving on time, before the two of you got in his car leaving.

Husk had waited outside the apartment, watching Peter walk in from his hiding spot. From outside, things could be heard thrown around.

“Y/n? What happened to the food?” Peter asks, walking around the apartment. He checks the bathroom, you aren’t there. Bedroom, you aren’t there. He’s starting to panic. Did he get too careless? Maybe you just stepped out, you’ll be back right?

Until he hears a beep from his laptop. It’s dying. He checks the screen, seeing several tabs open. The train time is up on the screen, and he’s silent for a minute. All he can think is how dare you, how could you do this to him? Maybe your testing him, testing his love. Testing to see how far he’d go for you. He grabs his keys off the counter and dashes out the door. He’s going to get you. He has thirty minutes left. It’s three fifty nine, meaning the train should leave around four thirty. Its a fifteen minute drive from his apartment to the train station, if he speeds up it can get to ten.

Husk calls Alastor in a panic, the two of you just passing through metal detectors.

“Hello?” Alastor asks as he begins to fix his watch back onto his wrist.

“He just left the apartment. He’s pissed.” Husk said, slight worry in his voice. Alastor looks over you while you fix your shoes, not noticing a thing.

“We’ll be fine. The train leaves soon and it’s a line before we get on. He can’t get us there.” Alastor says calmly, not wanting to scare you.

The two of you go through security fine and are at the end of the line. Gates begin to close, and it’s only when you hear shouting that you get nervous. Alastor is allowed on the train before you, considering you had more things. But, in the distance, you hear frantic shouting and things crashing. You turn around and there’s Peter, running like a mad man through security, calling your name.

“Miss do you know him?” The worker asks you and you shake your head. Quickly, the train begins to move, and you panick as your things are finally locked on. You had taken too long to get on. Now running down the station you get close enough to the stairs to jump, ticket still in hand. The cart rattles a bit and the door opens. Alastor looks confused, but embraces you nonetheless.

“He found me.” You said, turning around. Peter stands at the station as you get further from him. He looks defeated, hopeless. Angry, hurt. He stares at you mouth agape, unsure what to do. His eyes aren’t on you only though, no, he’s glaring at Alastor. His arm around your waist, and the way he ushers you into the cart with a tender kiss on your cheek. He’s livid.

This isn’t the end, Peter thinks. Not for a long shot.

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m4ndysk4nkovich · 1 year ago

Text

mickey milkovich x nude, radiohead

i don’t think that anybody can disagree that 1x07 is the episode where we learn the most about mickey milkovich. no, i don’t mean he showed any development or anything like that, but we learned something about him that made him significant for the rest of the show. something that never leaves, something that is important to him. in 1x07, we learn that mickey milkovich is gay, and we learn that he is willing to sleep with ian gallagher (even when his father and sister are in the house).

in 1x06, mickey kind of has an interaction with ian that we later see and are like, “yeah, he’s totally gay”, but back then it wasn’t stated that mickey was gay. mickey steals shit from the kash and grab, and he tells ian, “you know where i live if you have a problem” kind of instigating that ian should come over.

but in 1x07, mickey has stolen the gun from the kash and grab, and ian goes to mickey’s house equipped with a tyre iron, ready to take it back.

the “i want the gun back, mickey” scene needs no introduction or explanation. we all know what happened. we all watched in awe as mickey stood over ian and both of their breaths evened out and they made contact and… bam! they’re getting undressed, just like that.

later on, we are no stranger to gallavich and fighting then fucking. it’s something many people know them for, the fact that they’ll literally beat the shit out of each other and then immediately get on each other. but here, it was supposed to be for shock value because shameless utilizes shock value. to those who didn’t know gallavich was going to happen, watching mickey, the thug who had literally just attempted murder on ian, undress and fuck ian was surprising. later on, we can understand why it happened, but we were supposed to be shocked.

so, here’s where nude by radiohead comes in.

terry wakes up from a nap and goes to take a piss in mickey’s room (there’s a bathroom in there, he isn’t just pissing in it, lol). in there, ian and mickey are naked under mickey’s covers. around them, we see a poster of a woman and we also see a drawing mickey made that says “fuck love”.

so when terry comes out of the bathroom and looks at them both, he doesn’t do what season 3 terry does, he simply says “put some clothes on, you two look like a couple of fags!” and it’s a comical scene because, what the fuck, terry, aren’t you a homophobic murderer? you woke up to grunts and crashes coming from mickey’s room, then when you came in he and another boy are naked in his bed… what do you think they were doing?

so when mickey does put some clothes on, he puts on a radiohead shirt.

the shirt says “you’ll go to hell for what your dirty mind is thinking” and those are the last lyrics of the radiohead song “nude”.

so for those who haven’t listened to the song, here’s my analysis of why this song is associated with mickey milkovich and how it ends up foreshadowing his entire character for the next four seasons.

“don’t get any big ideas

they’re not gonna happen”

literally this scene. mickey caves and gives ian the gun back because lets be honest, it was really just bait. ian leans in to kiss him, and mickey has a look in his eyes where you can tell he wants to, but he can’t. he built this wall up years ago and he’s already cursing himself for letting it come down. terry instructed him to get dressed, and he puts on this shirt. and he’s trying to put this carefully constructed mask back on but he’s struggling. and so, he pushes ian away, “kiss me and i’ll cut your fucking tounge out”. there’s no malice in his tone, it’s a threat, but it isn’t threatening.

“you paint yourself white

and fill up with noise

but there'll be something missing”

mickey hiding in the closet, marrying svetlana, being a father to yevgeny, trying to act like the perfect son of terry. he still has this mask on and he tries to hide who he is but alas, he can’t. he loves ian too much and when he gets married and pushes him away, he’s still gay and in love.

“now that you found it

it’s gone”

upon being married, he tells ian that they can still bang. maybe being married to a woman makes him feel a bit more secure because although he despises it and it’s crushing him, he can keep his whole “king of the southside” thing. now that he’s married and unhappy, terry’s satisfied, and that’s all that matters- well, at one point it was. so he tells ian that they can still fuck, but suddenly, ian isn’t as eager and easy as he once was, and he leaves. he’s gone.

“now that you feel it

you don't

you’ve gone off the rails”

he’s out, he’s with ian, he has ian. things are supposed to be fine- but they’re not. ian’s unstable and has been hospitalized, and mickey breaks. he gets shitfaced and cuts his cheek and cries into ian’s jacket. that wall he once built up? the chest he puffed up, the posters he hung, the tattoos he got, they all mean nothing. it’s all gone. the wall and mask are gone, he’s more fragile than he once was. ian’s broken and it’s simultaneously breaking him too.

“so don't get any big ideas

they're not gonna happen”

this line is so mickey in s5, s6, s7, and s10. ian calling him and mickey running to see ian. he has hope. but no, ian breaks up with him, mickey is arrested, and when ian visits he desperately wants ian back. he tattoos ian’s name on his chest, specifically over his heart, and he practically pleads for ian to stay. then, mickey and ian are fleeing to mexico, and for a second, he has hope again. he fantasizes about he and ian at the beach, ian’s freckled skin being sunburnt, them swimming in the ocean together. for once, he can imagine his dreams being true. but they aren’t. he and ian are getting their marriage license, but ian’s hand wavers over the dotted line and he gives mickey that look and mickey breaks (…ian’s leg. lol). he keeps getting his hopes up and everytime he scolds himself for it because he just ends up hopeless.

then finally, the moment we’ve all been waiting for,

“you'll go to hell

for what your dirty mind

is thinking”

it’s in the 1x07 scene i’m talking about. terry instructs mickey to get dressed, he does, and he puts on a shirt that says this. and in that shirt, he seems odd. the confidence we see him have in 1x03 is no longer there. he doesn’t necessarily look vulnerable, but he isn’t the mickey he pretends to be. he caves and returns the gun, which was just bait for ian to come anyway, and he refuses to make eye contact with ian, but when he does, it’s almost coy? he’s ashamed. he’s thinking of things he know would get him killed and he hates himself for it. terry will end him if he finds out, and yes, he has the posters, the reputation, the persona, the tattoos, the guns, etc. but in the end, it’s all an act, and we can see it. the way he licks his lips, the way his eyes won’t focus, his body language says so much.

#aria’s yapping again #i’ve lost 8 followers within the last day so i’m praying gallavich meta will save my blog #shameless #gallavich #gallavich meta #shameless meta #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #terry milkovich #shameless us #radiohead #1x07 #meta #please don’t let this flop #it took hours

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yoitsjay · 7 months ago

Text

Like Your Not Even There

Pairings: The bad batch x gn reader

Summary: The bad batch catches you dancing like nobody's watching

Warnings: fluff, crosshair flirting, no echo

Word count: 1,403

You couldn’t really remember when you had joined The Bad Batch. You had enlisted in the republic army as a combat certified medic, having been part of a planet’s military before it was taken over by the separatists, and you had left to offer the republic your support.

Because you weren’t a clone they didn’t place you with any of the larger battalions, though you’ve heard stories of how amazing the 212th and the 501st were. Instead you had been placed with a small clone unit called Clone Force 99 professionally, however they called themselves The Bad Batch.

At first you were very much an outcast, and the four clones were untrusting of you until one of them ended up severely hurt. It was Tech, who had ended up with a broken ankle as well as a broken arm. You were the one who had rushed out behind cover and shot multiple battle droids whilst dragging Tech behind a rock before you immediately started repairing the broken bones, and then managed to get him back to the Marauder whilst laying your own cover fire.

Crosshair, Hunter and Wrecker immediately gained trust in you, and welcomed you into their little family. It still took a couple months, but you fell into their routine on the battlefield and in the Marauder. You got first dibs on the shower because if you didn’t you wouldn’t use the good salve that wasn't technically republic approved but worked better than bacta did, and instead would just use Bacta. Which they didn’t mind but- it was the little things that mattered…

That currently took you to the present. The Batch was off on a restock mission while you got to enjoy a bit of much needed alone time. On a previous mission, one of the citizens you had saved had given you a portable radio, and Tech showed you how to hook it up to your data pad where you had a bunch of recorded songs.

So you had the excuse to play them on full blast, and you were dancing away in the cockpit of the Marauder with your music blasting, a ration bar in your hands, acting like a microphone as you bounced around the ship, singing the lyrics to whatever song was playing.

“The look, the lips, the hips, the tits, the hair, the eyes, the skin, the waist, you can see what i can do on this microphone so guess what i'm gonna do to you at home!” You sang out loud as Perfect (Exceeder) played on your radio.

You jumped around in the hallway, letting out a squeal as you entered the bunk room, reaching your bunk as you hummed more lyrics while searching for something underneath the bunk. The song then finished, but went on to play another one of your favorites from a new band you discovered recently by taking a sneaky look at Tech’s datapad.

My Iron Lung by Radiohead flooded through your speakers as you found the wrench you were looking for, taking a bite from your ration bar as you rushed back to the cockpit, sliding underneath the chairs to one of the control panels.

“Fath~ you're driving me away.” You sang out, humming as you held the wrench in your mouth whilst unscrewing the panel. You were tasked with fixing some aspects of the ship after all, but it didn’t stop you from singing and dancing as you did so.

You removed the wrench from your mouth, and started tinkering around, belting out more lyrics.

“From my life support, my Iron, lung~”

You continued singing and working before fixing whatever issue that was causing some issues with the fresher, humming the last bits of the song as you tidied up your toolbox before putting it back underneath your bunk.

“The head shrinkers, they want everything, My uncle bill, my belisha beacon~” you sang, wiggling your hips as the song faded out. You were a bit out of breath by now from all the dancing and bouncing around, but of course it didn’t stop you, and now you started organizing the little med area whilst dancing.

Distracted by everything you hadn’t realized that Hunter and the others had come back, the music followed by your singing being heard from the outside piquing their interest, as well as the fact that the ship was bouncing when you were.

Eventually you walked away from the med area just as The Bad Batch entered the Marauder. You were mid lyric and mid dance move when they saw you, however you hadn’t even noticed they were there as you danced right past them and into the cockpit.

The four boys just watched in fascination as you swayed your hips side to side, wrapping your arms around yourself as a more sensual song had started playing. Ocean eyes by Billie Eilish. Though when she sang ocean eyes, you switched the word and instead sang brown eyes, obviously mentioning the clones, or more specifically the batch.

upon hearing that Wrecker was the first to break the silence with a cheer, catching you entirely off guard. The boys watched you squeal, and rushed to turn off the speaker, running past to grab it, only to trip on a wrench that you had forgotten to put back. You expected to hit the floor, but instead you felt arms wrap around your waist, and spin you around. You were still at a tilt, but being held by not one- but two of the Bad Batch, being Hunter and Crosshair, with one of their arms supporting your back.

Your face flushed brightly, and they helped you back upright just as a joke song about gangbangs started playing. You squeaked, ducking under their arms as you ran to the speaker and shut it off, your face beet red as you stared at them.

“How long we-”

“Only a few minutes Mesh’la.” Tech interrupted, and you sighed in relief, only to blush more when Wrecker spoke up.

“Wow Y/n! you got some good dance moves! and a hella good voice too!” He exclaimed, and Hunter nodded in agreement. “Definitely.” Crosshair teased. You huffed in response, looking away from them as you tried to rid the blush from your face. “If you had commed me-”

Again, Tech cut you off. “We did in fact comm you, three times. But you didn’t pick up so we came back a bit early to make sure you were okay, which is when we found you like this.” He explained, adjusting his goggles as he stared at you. A soft ‘oh’ fell from your lips as you rummaged around in your pocket, pulling out the comm device, noticing all three missed messages or calls from Tech.

You huffed again, fiddling with your fingers for a moment as you opened your mouth to speak, only to say nothing and then shut your mouth again. “W-well… you got what we needed?” You asked after a moment, looking over at Hunter, avoiding looking at crosshair since he probably still had that smirk on his stupid face.

“yeah we did, and we got a new mission too so we best head out.” He explained, breaking the awkward standoff as Tech made his way to the pilot's chair. Wrecker walked over to you, slapping his hand against your back before pulling you into a side hug, making his way to the cockpit as well. That blush returned, and you slowly turned your head to see crosshair now standing right beside you.

Crosshair leaned down towards you, and nervously you tried to take a step back, your back bumping against one of the consoles. You gulped, seeing his smirk as he whispered in your ear. “Next time i want to see you dance like that on my lap.” He flirted, his words sending a shiver down your spine as you watched him back off and also head to the cockpit.

Hunter shook his head at Crosshair before extending a hand to you, offering a smile. “Sorry Mesh’la… but seriously though, you’re quite beautiful when you dance. Don’t be afraid to do it more.” He stated, hearing you snort.

“I would, but I'm afraid if I do, Crosshair might bust one.” You joked, taking your spot in the cockpit, crossing your arms over your chest as Hunter laughed, but said nothing else.

These boys… they’ll be the death of you one day.

Tag List:

#fanfiction #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #gn reader #the bad batch x gn reader #star wars the bad batch #star wars

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cocomanga · 7 months ago

Text

The Sweetest Beat - Set 2

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Fem!Reader,

CW: JJK AU. Daddy Kink, Noncon, Dubcon, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral, BDSM, Unprotected Sex, Edging, Drunk Sex, Aggressive Sex, Overstimulation, NPD Abuse/Trauma

Note: please block me if my work is not your cup-o-tea. I do not own any of the character art Please respect my blog art.

Reader is encouraged to listen to music mentioned for context :)

WC : 9K

<< The Sweetest Beat - Set 1

The Sweetest Beat - Set 3 >>

TSB - Masterlist ~ AO3 | Wattpad | Playlist

Synopsis: Megumi Fushiguro is the leader of a fresh new rock band. They're currently playing covers and gaining a following at an alarming rate, skyrocketing his career as an indie artist. But when his best friend introduces him to a beautiful someone and sparks fly, he's challenged to navigate her fear of loving freely.

..... Minors: You have no business here. Love you, but please don't ....

▶ SET 2 Hozier - Too Sweet Good Days - SZA Claire de Lune - Claude Debussy Guess - Lucky Daye Facts - H.E.R. Seigfried - Frank Ocean Stand Still- Sabrina Claudio Climbing Up the Walls - Radiohead Good & Plenty (Remix) Masego, Alex Isley, Lucky Daye

"Uuuhgghhhh!! Where are you, Dori!!!" Nobara whined, far too intoxicated to be hanging off of your shoulder.

People continued to spill out of the bar as you stood out front, waiting for Itadori to come back with the car.

"OMG Nobara, you're heavier than you look, girl." you whined back. "We can always take an Uber if he doesn't come back"

"No way! You need to get to that after party asap before one of these thots out here try to take your man!" She said, waving her hands around, motioning to all the girls standing outside the bar. She was so loud.

You covered your face in embarrassment. "Nobara calm the fuck down okay?!" you complained, in a whisper that was also far too loud.

It was pretty obvious they really were waiting for the band to come out. Fortunately for you guys, you knew where they'd be. As long as you didn't just get ditched by your ride. Itadori was supposed to meet you out front and drive you to the location of the after party. You were gonna follow the band, but apparently there are way too many people hanging around for that.

"Where the hell is heeeeee!!!" Nobara wailed, just in time for him to come around the corner WITHOUT the car.

You held your hands out toward Itadori while Nobara clung to your shoulder. "Dude, Seriously? Where's the car?"

"Come with me." Itadori grabbed Nobara from you, propping her up on his back as more people trickled out of the bar gathering at the front door.

Some of them, noticing Itadori, actually began following you as Nobara screamed from his back toward them, "Take y 'all's asses home!" It was kinda hilarious.

You followed him down the street a bit to the side of the building where one of the bouncers waited at the door, cracking it open, motioning for you to hurry as groupies scurried behind you.

"Thanks man!" Itadori said as he pushed you in first.

"I'm here to support you, brother." He turned to address the others, "Sorry girls, now is not your time."

He closes the door, which led to the emergency exit stairwell. you went up 2 flights and through another door back into the building.

He led you down a hall which was full of people.

"Oh my god," you said as you saw them all standing around.

"Yeah", the bouncer chuckled. "They say when the announcement was made online about Megumi bringing the band back home tonight, it went viral in a matter of hours. Most of these people got here too late, but they still wanna see the guys. They have another show here next week though so most of 'em will just have to wait."

"This is great for them, though, right?" You asked, genuinely happy for them that the response was so positive.

"It sure is", Yuji replied, "They'll be rock stars in no time at this rate"

He opened the door to the room where the band sat. "Ill be right outside if you need me, Bro."

"Thanks Todo". Itadori gave him dap as he shut the door behind you.

The room was pretty full. There was a large window directly across from the door that gave a clear view outside the front of the building where tons of people were still standing. There was a couch on the right side of the room, and a love seat directly across from it with a coffee table between them. Alcohol bottles, papers and miscellaneous junk was strewn about on it. Behind the loveseat was a bar counter which also held bottles and such, and had 3 bar stools nestled in front of it.

Behind the counter was a mini kitchen with a sink, cabinets and a fridge where Toge stood, drinking a beer. There was a bathroom door next to the kitchen.

Yuta and Maki sat on the barstools, talking, while Choso sat on the couch with a couple girls you didn't know. Music played in the room as they waited.

Hozier - Too Sweet

A gorgeous woman with long white hair bundled into a gigantic braid stood at the window watching all the commotion outside. "Well, we've still got a bit before he gets here, this crowd will likely thin out a little more by then, so give us a few minutes if you don't mind. We'll get you guys paid as soon as he arrives." … She peeked outside again "There's a lot going on out there so, its just as well. We'll wait it out a bit."

"He texted me. Says he's about 10 minutes away" Itadori responded as he checked his phone. He plopped down with Nobara on the second loveseat which was nestled against the wall next to the door that you entered through. "You okay"? He asked her as she adjusted herself on the seat.

"Yup, I'm good. Just need some water" Nobara leaned back on the couch, looking awfully tired and wasted.

"I got it." Yuta got up from the barstool and grabbed a bottled water that Toge pulled from the fridge.

You went over to sit on the seat across from Choso and his girls. You turned to Yuta, "Thank you." you said as he handed the water to Nobara.

Choso leaned in toward the coffee table to grab his beer. "What did you guys think of the show?" He asked, staring at you while he chugged it."

"Frankly, I thought you guys were fantastic. Your opening blew me away. The fact that you took on Dave Grohl with that level of conviction, and precision, was enough to let us all know you meant business".

Choso squinted with curiosity as he listened to you. "You know Dave Grohl huh?"

"Oh my god, of course" you laughed excitedly, "well, anyone who knows anything about rock should know him. I attended the Taylor Hawkins Tribute concert back in 22. THAT was insane. I actually own all 3 of Nirvana's studio albums, and 5 Foo Fighters."

Choso's head tilted slightly to the right. "Sounds like you got lucky this band just happened to know your playlist".

"Tch", you smirked. In order for you to execute my playlist sir, you'll need to add a couple songs from Janis Joplin, Bjork, Stevie Wonder, Nina Simone and maybe a few more intricate tracks from Thom Yorke under your belt."

He sat there, glaring at you holding a gulp of beer in his mouth as he looked over to Maki, who giggled at him.

"Although", you continued, "your vocals are insane too, Choso. How long have you been singing?"

He gulped his beer and shook his head, "Since I could talk".

You smirked, "Same" and flashed him a smile.

"Looks like the crowd's dispersing a little." the woman reported as she peeked through the curtain again. "Only a matter of time before they get tired of just standing around".

You looked around the room. It seemed everyone was present except... "Um, where's … ?"

A familiar scent lightly filled your nose as he leaned over the loveseat hovering his face a mere 2 inches from yours with a "Hey." He pushed himself up, circled around and plopped down right next to you, his legs stretching out surprisingly far. He lounged back into the seat pushing your thigh with his. He leaned to the left propping his elbow on the arm of the seat, and his head up with his hand as he fidgeted with his hair, leering at you.

You blushed pretty hard as you averted your eyes, turning your head to the right toward Nobara and Yuji. They looked at you like they were "cheesing" for a picture.

Suddenly, a tall blonde figure barges into the room. "See, this is the kind of shit that gets on my nerves."

The woman at the window greets him. "Good to see you made it Mr. Kento".

"Mei." he nodded. "It took too damn long, I'll tell you that. What the hell's going on out there? This is your first night isn't it?" he dropped a thick envelope onto the table in front of Megumi.

"Yup". Megumi grabs it and tucks it away inside one of the many pockets of his cargo pants. "Thanks."

"Cash App?" Toge chimed in.

Maki agreed, "Yeah, seriously".

"I don't have time for that shit." Mr. Kento snapped back. "Do you know how old I am? Use the bank in the morning, Kiddo."

"You have the receipt right, Kento?" Mei asked from the window.

"Yeah", he walked over and handed it to Mei.

"Looks like we all received a pretty penny tonight. We can certainly thank you guys for that." She said.

"We can go now, right?" Maki asked from the bar.

"Yup". Mr. Kento replied. "Lets get the hell outta here".

*~*~*~*~*

After signing a couple autographs for the crowd in the hall with Todo's help, and slinking past the stragglers outside, they managed to get to their van.

You rode with Itadori and Nobara.

Mei had reserved an Airbnb for them for the night. It was gorgeous. 3 bedrooms and a gigantic balcony overlooking the city.

You had never been in one before, and definitely not with a band. Does this officially make you a groupie?

Ugh... god forbid.

And... maybe you were. Megumi's presence certainly seemed to consume you. You felt so nervous around him it was starting to become annoying. Why couldn't you just get over it already? Yeah, he was so goddamn talented. Gorgeous. Sexy. You tried to shake it off. Whatever it was besides all that that made you want him so badly.

You all spread out in the condo finding some relaxing places to lounge while Choso turned on the radio to get some music started:

Good Days - SZA

Most of the night, you'd avoided Megumi's gaze considering the fact that you were still quite drunk, and you didn't wanna make a fool of yourself.

And you damn sure didn't wanna do anything you'd regret.

Or did you?

The guys ordered pizza and you and Nobara got to know the rest of the band. Toge and Yuta were absolute sweethearts, and Maki was just a beautiful badass. As hard as it was for you to deal with the guys in your previous band, you applauded her for not only doing that well, but surpassing them with her talents... well... not all of them.

You sat in the large open kitchen with Nobara, Yuji, Megumi and Toge, while the others sat in the living room discussing where they thought they screwed up at the show.

You turned to Megumi. "Are they serious? I didn't hear any mistakes. but then, I guess I don't know what your intentions were exactly... and I definitely know all too well how to be my own worst critic so I guess I get it."

Nobara chimed in, having slightly sobered up, but not really. "No way. It was perfect. I couldn't imagine having aaaaany issues with that performance. You guys are fuckin' zeniuses."

"That's not the way they see it." Megumi says as he finishes biting into a slice. He looks at you, "yeah, we are our own worst critics, but …" He shakes his head, "complacency can be a detriment to your career. We should probably all be perfectionists within reason. I think it's good to keep pushing forward."

You watched him as he spoke, genuinely impressed by his drive and tenacity. I mean, to do what he's done with this group should take a good portion of each, right?

You thought about how you'd tried so hard for so long and failed at the same. How, you'd hoped that your attempt at reaching your goals had resulted in such success. But that... that kind of thing takes support. Megumi had that, and then some. It was admirable.

You hadn't realized you were staring until Nobara kneed you from under the table. You snapped out of it in time to see him stare back from under his new slice of pizza as he propped it up by his elbow in his hand.

god, I hope he doesn't think I'm being weird …

Or... maybe you were just being a groupie.

Shit.

But the reality is, he sounded like a natural leader. He speaks with such conviction... it only made him even more attractive. You sat across from him at the table, trying not to stare as you rested your head on your fist, eating your slice of pizza. You also couldn't help but notice how he gnawed on his, stopping when he reached the crust, even though it had cheese inside.

Itadori had wandered over to the fridge and grabbed a few more beers. "anybody want one?"

"I'll take one." Nobara reached out her hand.

"No" Itadori refused her.

"Ha! Yeah, No." You chimed in, "You really don't need anymore.... I'll take hers." You reached out to grab it from Dori.

"Heeeey!" Nobara protested. "I'm not that druuuuunk".

Yuji rolled his eyes.

Megumi reached out his hand to take your beer. You gave it to him and he pulled a fancy keychain from his pocket, using it to open your bottle.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome".

Just then, a deep buzzing vibration captured your attention. Megumi's phone rang as it sat face up on the table. He looked at the screen, then looked at you.

Strange.

He picked up the phone with a clear expression of frustration on his face. "What is it?" he answered in monotone. You could hear the voice on the other end. It was a woman. His brow wrinkled as he listened... The first time you'd seen him like that all night. He didn't look happy.

You decided this was a good time to go wash your hands. "I'll be right back", you said to Nobara as you stood, grabbing your beer.

Megumi's eyes immediately followed you the moment you moved, and stayed on you, as he watched you leave the table and disappear into the bathroom.

*~*~*~*~*

You leave the bathroom after washing your hands and brushing your teeth with one of the little disposable toothbrushes left in a basket, cleaning up any lingering garlic from the pizza.

I'm loving this Airbnb thing. I'll have to try this again alone sometime, or with my bestie.

You'd finished off your beer while you were in the bathroom before you brushed, and without a doubt, you were definitely drunk. Probably not as drunk as Nobara for sure, but still.

She was sprawled out on the couch under a blanket, while the others played poker at the kitchen table. Toge had gotten on the piano, playing:

Claire de Lune - Claude Debussy

Beautifully, too.

You weren't up for a card game, especially since it looked a little too serious for you at the moment. It was nice and breezy outside, so you decide to slip past everyone and get some much needed fresh air, and maybe take a look off the balcony.

There was a large double door with tall floor to ceiling windows on each side leading to it. As you opened it, the fresh air blasted past you. You walk over to the edge and look out toward the city. The view was beautiful. You were on the 16th floor of the building. The street and nightlife lights glistened like neon confetti and extended out as far as you could see. It felt so good to have some fresh air.

How many drinks did you have again?

You took another look at the iron railing on the balcony and noticed its quite sturdy and tall, so you felt safe enough to relax a bit out there. The breeze was amazing. The weather was perfect. You decided to free yourself from the confines of the boots you wore all night.

You look down at the ground and noticed the slightly sparkling blush colored concrete was beautifully smooth. You bend over to remove your shoes, rubbing your toes on the hard ground. The cool temperature was a stark contrast to how hot your body was feeling from the drinks.

It was all so wonderful. Toge was a beautiful pianist. You felt so relaxed and free. You had an amazing night with some exceptional people, with whom you felt perfectly safe. You grabbed the railing of the balcony with your hands, stretched out your arms and leaned back, turning your face up to the night sky that mimicked the lights on the ground. You inhaled deeply, allowing the fresh air to fill your lungs as the breeze caressed your skin and wafted through your hair.

"Does it feel good?" Megumi's voice startled you... again. You turned to see him standing just to the left of the door, leaning against the wall. The balcony was designed on a curvature, a half moon shape of sorts. To the left and the right of the large entrance were blind spots, shielding anyone standing there from the inside. You didn't see him.

You turned to face him with a warm smile, grabbing the balcony railing from behind your back. "I thought you were still inside." you giggled playfully, your head swaying to the side as you pushed and pulled yourself against the railing, rubbing your calf muscle with your toes.

The high altitude caused the wind to catch your hair in its gusts, upwards across the balcony. Your eyes were heavily hooded, and you continued to giggle, likely due to a mixture of exhaustion and alcohol.

"No, I'm not inside yet..."

Megumi's figure was shrouded in the shadow that paralleled the harsh light glaring from inside the building. His features made him appear even more mysterious as he stood there quietly in the dark, watching you. His head was pushed back against the wall and his bottom lip disappeared into his mouth as his eyes took you in. He crossed his legs as his hands pressed down into his pockets.

You leaned back against the railing, stretching your arms outward along the top as he watched, grounding yourself as you slid your palms against the cool metal, yet allowing unspoken words and the feeling of his gaze to consume you. He had such a strong presence. His energy bordered on intimidating. But these moments were becoming addictive.

As his dark eyes traveled up and down your beautifully curved silhouette, you imagined what his touch is like. Are his hands warm? His arms strong? If he touched you, would he be gentle? Or rough? You pressed your thighs together, rubbing them against themselves.

Your gaze drifted from his eyes to his lips. As you slid subtly into hypnosis, you imagined his kiss. Your lips parted ever so slightly as your tongue peeked out from the corner of your mouth. Your body clenched from your core.

Megumi missed nothing.

You averted your gaze as you took a deep breath, which seemed to catch in your throat. Snap out of it. You told yourself as you turned slowly back around lifting your chin toward the sky, allowing the wind to supply more air to your lungs since for a moment, you had forgotten to breathe.

Just … deep breaths...

Probably just the alcohol.

Another deep breath.

Another song played from inside:

Guess - Lucky Daye

You supported your weight on our elbows as you leaned over the railing, just a touch. Yes, it was a way for you to distract yourself from Megumi's gaze, but it also granted him a slight peek up your skirt.

You could feel his eyes on you...

They felt so good...

That tangible gaze.

You really wanted him. And wondered if he wanted you.

Megumi's quiet footsteps approached slowly … the closer his steps, the stronger the sensation of his presence. Like a thick, comfortable blanket being wrapped around your shoulders. He stopped just shy of your back, mere inches away, yet close enough for you to feel his body heat.

You closed your eyes, allowing the sensation of his presence envelop you, as a faint shudder moved through your body.

Another deep breath.

He leaned in close to your left ear, reaching up to brush strands of your hair from your neck, pushing them behind your shoulder. Your skin burned hot where he'd touched. You enjoyed the tingling sensation over you skin, the goosebumps pressing forward, as his fingers glided across the nape of your neck, then down your arm. He gripped the railing of the balcony with one hand on either side of you, and leaned in even closer to your ear.

His warmth tickled your neck as he whispered. "You..." he began before taking a breath, "are so fucking beautiful". He took a step closer, lightly pressing his body against yours, trapping you between him and the railing. His right hand glided across your waist as he wrapped you up tightly in his arm.

His left hand slid down your thigh as he gripped the bottom of your skirt into a rumpled ball, lifting it up above your panty line as he pressed his bare palm against your flesh. You shudder as it curves around your inner thigh, his thumb pressing in, just close enough to your center to force a moan from your lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your head spun as his familiar scent clouded your senses.

He grips your thigh firmly in his large hand, as his right arm pulls you closer. "Don't leave tonight. Stay with me." Your body trembled, overwhelmed by the feeling of his large, hard outline on your back, and the sound of his sensual voice vibrating in your ear.

Your head fell back onto his shoulder as your eyes slowly opened to the night horizon taking in every sensation, the colors, the breeze, his touch. You fell under a heavy daze as he held you firmly his embrace.

"We..." you began, shaking your head slightly, in an attempt to clear your head of the haze. "...we just met... I c-"

Your words cut off as his hand reached up to grip your neck, turning your head towards him. His lips pressed against yours. Soft, and warm. He slowly parted them, the same air passing between you, as he slipped his tongue inside, his taste laced with Guinness.

You melted into his kiss, opening your mouth wider as if offering yourself up to him. The feeling of his hand gripping your thigh as his tongue caressed your lips and mouth sent shivers up and down your spine. Your legs trembled as if they'd give out from underneath you.

Megumi deepened the kiss, bending his knees to allow you easier access. Your hips began to move on their own pressing you harder against him as his thumb inched closer to your core.

His touch was better than anything you had imagined. More sensual, more passionate.

Suddenly, you hear laughter coming from the inside the building, growing louder as they moved toward the balcony.

Megumi grabs your wrist, pulling you toward the shadowy area he stood in. The far side of the balcony curved even deeper inward, creating a nook that rendered you practically invisible. The light from the entrance didn't reach it at this angle, and neither did the moonlight.

He guided your body as you turned around and, taking a couple steps back, you were stopped by the wall. His body was solid and strong as he pressed it against you.

The voices continued on the inside of the building, as they hadn't quite made it outside, yet another vibe floated on the airwaves:

Facts - H.E.R.

You were suddenly glad you didn't allow yourself to get so wasted you'd forget this. Yet, you were still feeling silly... dizzy... and this man was just the escape your lowered inhibitions needed. You wanted him to take advantage of this situation. Maybe even of you.

Tch... you really were a groupie.

Nevertheless... you wanted him... since the moment you saw him, you wanted him. If he weren't in this band... you'd want him. If you saw him at the fucking grocery store... you'd want him.

But... you want him past just tonight, right?

The door to the balcony flung open.

"Where the hell did they goooooooow?" Nobara was super loud, whining about finding you.

"Who knows?" Itadori replied as he held her on piggyback for the second time tonight. "They're adults. They'll figure it out. She's safe here."

"She better be, Tuzory! .. You know I'll - kick your ass and his if she isn't! - I still zon't want her to be pissed at me if I leave... I'm so tired!!"

Megumi kept his left elbow propped against the wall to the right of your head as he looked behind him, keeping watch to see if they'd notice you in the corner. You stared up at his face, marveling at how attractive he was. You could see the beating of his pulse in his neck, his skin there, appearing so soft and smooth. You couldn't help but touch it. You slowly lifted your right hand and traced the tendons in his neckline with your fingers from his jaw down to the base .

His eyes closed as he felt the sensation of your touch. He turned and looked down at you. His eyes traveling all around your skin, as if searching for the best place to touch you first. He lifted his hand up to your neck again, holding it in a firm grip. He lifted your chin with his thumb, turning your head as he leaned in to your right ear.

He rubbed his nose against your earlobe, then slid his lips down to the base of your neck, where he planted two open-mouthed kisses, his tongue making first impact.

"Well, Megumi's missing too, so I'd bet they're probably together somewhere."

As he kissed you, he pressed his right leg between your thighs. You could feel his hardness against you as your legs now straddled one of his. He pressed his body even closer to yours, grinning into your neck as he lifted his leg, grinding it against your middle ... you let out another soft moan as your body trembled and your hands gripped the sides of his tee.

"Together where, though? I'm so fucked up I didn't see where she went! I'm a terrible friend!"

Megumi quickly wrapped his hand around your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans, his head still buried in the crook of your neck. His tongue making long strokes across your skin as you fought to avoid giving away your secret place.

"Oh my god, babe... its ok. Its Megumi. It's not like we don't know him. She's in good hands. He'll take care of her, don't worry. And I'll take care of you."

Megumi's touch was extremely sensual. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he slid his tongue from the base of your neck up to your earlobe and sucked. It felt so good, you almost came.

"Fine lets go... then I'll just have to text her and make sure sh-"

Her voice trailed off as she disappeared back into the building.

Your body continued to tremble as Megumi released his hold on your mouth. He rested his hand at the base of your neck, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "You like this don't you?" He grabbed your chin turning your head to meet his gaze. All color but pink had flushed from your cheeks. Your eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated. Your breaths hitched. Your thoughts had become completely clouded. Yes, you were drunk, but yes, you wanted him. You wanted what he was doing to you. It felt fucking amazing and you needed more.

Megumi smirked, "Yeah. You're staying with me."

Damn you, groupie.

He leaned in and spoke into your mouth through your parted lips... "you're so sweet out there." he tilted his head, "but... you're a bad girl aren't you?" he opened his mouth and, maintaining eye contact, pursed his lips around your bottom lip, sucking it slowly as he pulled away. "mmm... I've got something for you".

His kisses were absolutely fucking delicious. He massaged your tongue with his, sucking your lips in intervals. His lips were so soft, and his tongue warm, gliding lusciously across your skin.

You wanted him to do it. Whatever he was planning, you'd grant him VIP access. The level of sensuality he's displayed to you is off the charts, and you wanted nothing more than to be his special, obedient little groupie.

*~*~*~*~*

The lights were dimmed inside, and the only bodies you could see were Toge and Yuta. Itadori and Nobara had gone.

Megumi opened the door and sauntered in. Toge was passed out on one side of the large sectional couch. "Everything ok?"

"What happened to you? We couldn't find you guys. You were on the balcony that whole time?" Yuta asked as he laid sprawled across the other portion of the sectional, watching TV under a blanket.

"Yup" Megumi replied with a mischievous grin. "Where's Choso?"

Yuta pointed to one of the room doors. "He took the girls in that room. Maki passed out in the small one. We figured you'd want that one". he said, nodding toward the master suite.

"Thanks".

You mouthed the words "Thank you" to Yuta as you followed Megumi inside the large bedroom.

Yuta winked at you. "G'night".

*~*~*~*~*

You felt totally refreshed.

"Thanks for letting me shower". You said to Megumi as you emerged from the bathroom which was nestled in the master suite.

"Of course. Here you go." He handed you a clean folded tee and a pair of boxers.

"Are you sure about this? I can just sleep in the robe". It felt so weird being there like that.

I mean, just you.

You'd been introduced to him by Itadori … and only knew Yuji by Nobara... and they didn't stay.

"No, its ok. don't worry about anything. Please. There's a laundry in here. I'll put your clothes in." Megumi always seemed to speak in a relaxed tone... he had a way of making you feel comfortable. But frankly, you wondered if that was simply because that's just how he was and really had nothing to do with you.

"Oh, okay... Thank you." you took the clothing out of his hand. As he turned toward the bathroom, you felt the need to speak up. "Um..." Megumi stopped and turned to you with curious eyes. "I'm feeling … kinda strange being here... I really don't want to impose, or give the wrong impression..."

He raised his eyebrows, "You're doubting yourself now.?"

"Uh... No, its just..."

"You're doubting me?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, "No... I... " you took a deep breath, looked down, and shook your head as you fidgeted with the neck of the tee he gave you.

He stared at you for a few seconds, then stepped towards you, sandwiching your hands and the clothes between his. "I want you here." He gently grabbed your chin and lifted up your head. "But... if you don't want to be here, I'll take you home".

Such a sweetheart. And so smooth.

He grabbed each of your arms, and looked you square in the eyes. "Hear me when I say this. I don't just want you here. I want you, here."

You slowly nodded, blushing as you looked down at his hand on yours. A warm smile forming on your lips.

What a charmer.

And with that, he disappeared into the bathroom.

You removed your robe, slipped on the shorts and put on the tee. It was terribly oversized, but very comfortable. It smelled like soap and incense.

The room was enormous and had minimalist bohemian décor. The walls were painted black, and had one large window that spanned the full length of the wall on your side of the bed. the bathroom was on the other side, along with the door that led to the living room. There was a 65" on the oak dresser opposite the foot of the bed, and various modern paintings were hung on the walls, in addition to houseplants, including a large 7ft Bird of Paradise posted near the bed. The headboard was vintage iron with an intricate design, and above the headboard was a large macramé piece laid on beautiful white driftwood. It was gorgeous. And cozy.

His fragrance wafting up from your borrowed shirt only made you feel more comfortable. The white goose down blankets and pillows were cool to the touch and plush. The fibers of the carpet felt soft under your toes. You opened the curtains and wooden blinds, and cracked the window slightly to let some of the evening breeze that you enjoyed earlier come in. The moonlight was beautiful as it shone brightly on the bed. there was a Bluetooth speaker in the room, so you programmed it to play your favorite relaxing playlist,

You laid there sprawled out on the bed, waiting for Megumi. As anxious and excited as you were to get close to him, your heavy eyes and your body's exhaustion seemed to win the contest...

*~*~*~*~*

When your eyes opened again, it was completely dark in the room except for the moonlight. You felt relatively well rested, and you had sobered up some, but you checked your watch to see that it was now 4am. Megumi was sound asleep next to you on the bed, one of your favorite songs played quietly in the background:

Seigfried - Frank Ocean

Damn. You thought.

It's official. He's perfect.

You turned his direction, laying your head on your hands. The moon glowed softly across his skin, his eyelashes casting a small shadow on his cheeks. His lips looked soft, and you were reminded of those amazing kisses he gave you earlier. He was so beautiful.

You watched as his chest moved up and down, air being supplied to his lungs, his breathing soft and light. You remembered how heavy his breathing was as he played at the show. How hard he worked. He must be exhausted.

However...

I'm here with him.

you thought...

Maybe he won't mind...

you thought.

Just a little... I mean, he asked me to stay here...

He made a move earlier...

you thought...

He's so perfect... but...

I'm not.

You shifted closer to him under the blanket. You got so close, his bicep rested between your breasts as you clung to him. His arm was so firm. So warm. So strong. The arms of a drummer. The length of his arm stretched as far down as the middle of your thigh. You lifted your left leg, covering it as you inched closer. You rested your head on his shoulder, and slowly lifted your leg to prop it up over his body. your knee brushed against it.

His... dick. A faint shudder went through your body.

He had fallen asleep in his boxers and a white tee. You extended your leg down gliding it against his bare skin. He didn't have his pants on now. It felt amazing being this close to him. Touching him.

I wonder if he'll be pissed at me.

You were close before, but... not like this. It was nothing like this.

The feeling of his warm, muscular arm between your breasts was comforting to say the least. You could feel the curves of his muscles against your soft skin. His forearm which extended between your legs was now brushing up against your middle. Your breathing was becoming heavier.

You'd better be careful.

His breathing remained peaceful and steady.

He must have been extremely exhausted.

You reached your hand over and laid it gently on his chest, your fingers rising and falling over every curve of his muscular torso. You moved your hand downward, gliding it up and down his abdomen and his right arm, as his left arm was buried under your body.

Your hands explored slightly past his lower abdomen. As you begin to lift up his shirt, a wave of excitement takes over... More bare skin. You retraced all the places on his chest that you touched above his shirt... Aaaahh... the friction created from skin on skin ... felt so sensual. His was so smooth...

I hope he doesn't wake up.

I'll be so embarrassed...

but... he feels so good.

I'm just massaging him, right?

We're both adults.... and he invited me to sleep here...

If I hadn't passed out...

Another beautiful song:

Stand Still- Sabrina Claudio

"just a little more..." you whispered, under your breath.

Your hand traveled lower toward his abdomen, rubbing across his abs juuuuuust under the band of his boxers... you bit your bottom lip, closing your eyes as your hand inched lower... you began grinding your body, your breasts and your middle, against his strong arm that was nestled between your breasts and your thighs as he lay there asleep.

He felt so fucking good.

damnit... if only he would finish me off...

Your thoughts growing hazy as you whined to yourself like a child.

… Fuck, I want him...

Avoiding the risk of pulling too hard at the band of his boxers, you lift your hand to explore over his shorts...

I just wanna see... what its like...

You could feel his steady breathing under your head as you rested it further on his chest... your hand moved down lower... he was soft... but... you moved it down lower...

You could feel the tender muscle under your fingertips,

soft, and … supple...

He...

is pretty big.

And he's not even hard...

You squeezed it a bit between your fingers, then you cupped it with your hand and .... he's getting bigger....

… he's

… also not breathing the same...

you froze....

His hand gripped your thigh from between your legs.

… Shit! …

Your eyes screwed shut as your face scrunched into a grimace. You raised your head up slowly, and averted your eyes the second they reached his face.

He was wide awake.

Fucking groupie.

"Oh my god... Megumi... I'm sorry"

… Mostly …

… you backed off as you turned beet red, completely avoiding eye contact. Now it really was time to go. You turned to leave the bed...

He quickly grabbed your arm, pulling you back, up against his chest, almost completely on top of him.

"Where are you going?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear. His smile, almost making your heart stop.

His cock was now almost fully erect.

wtf? You thought, as it grazed you slightly.

You still wanted to die though.

"I really am sorry." You whispered, "I don't know what I was thi-."

"I know what you were thinking" Megumi's eyes darkened as he held your arm firmly, keeping you from escaping. "you really are a bad girl, aren't you?"

Embarrassment blended with arousal, and seared through your veins as you mustered up the courage to look him in the eye. Half terrified, half excited... You spoke just above a whisper... "and... what if I am"?

Megumi's eyes widened. After a long pause, he responded with a perfectly blank stare. "Bad girls … get punished".

As he uttered those words, It felt as if your heart skipped several beats, and thumped deep into your chest, your breathing quickening. "Then... I am a bad girl." you said, your gaze glued to his.

Megumi cut his eyes at you. He averted his gaze for a moment, forcing a smirk away as it formed on his mouth. "You want to be puni-?" …

"Yes." you replied, before he finished.

He leered at you as he slowly shook his head, rubbing his mouth with his hand, gliding his index & middle fingers across his lips. "Now I know why you wanted to leave. You weren't worried about me. You were worried about you."

You looked away as your face flushed red. Your brow furrowed at the sound of that harsh revelatory statement.

"But I already told you, didn't I?" he leaned in, still gripping your arm, mere centimeters from your ear, "I've got something for you". He planted one of his juicy kisses on your earlobe.

Climbing Up the Walls - Radiohead

He reached up and grabbed you by the neck, his grip a little more firm this time. His right leg wedged between your thighs again, but now, you could feel his cock as he hovered over you. He was rock hard. And fucking huge.

He forced you on your back as he drew closer. "I'm more than happy to give you what you want". His thumb slowly grazed across your bottom lip, and he suddenly slipped it into your mouth sliding it around your wet tongue. He watched your face as your arousal became more intense, goading him on.

With a mischievous grin, he released your neck, his face following his hands as he slid them down your body. He gripped the hem of your shirt, lifting it up slowly to reveal your beautifully supple skin. He kissed your belly as he raised your shirt over your breasts, blocking your line of sight.

Your hands grasped the headboard and you squirmed underneath him, suddenly feeling the warm sensation of his tongue gliding across your nipple. He pursed his lips around it, sucking hard. His body was heavy and solid, pinning you to the bed. You squeezed your legs together as your hips began to move on their own.

He responded by pressing harder against you, stimulating your clit. You could feel yourself getting wetter... you moaned even louder as your back formed an arch against him. You could hear the sounds of his sucking and kissing from the slickness of his tongue as he alternated between your breasts.

He lifted your shirt up higher removing it, revealing your expression.

Your face flushed as red painted your cheeks. You continued to writhe underneath him as your breathing hitched through parted lips. You closed your eyes and turned to bury your face in your arm.

Megumi grabbed your face, leaning into it, turning it towards him. His dick was thick and heavy as it rested on your thigh. "Mm-mhm … you don't get to hide. Let me see that pretty face you're making". He urged, planting another open-mouthed kiss on your lips, his tongue sliding inside your mouth, massaging yours more aggressively than before. His lips sucked yours repeatedly with wet caresses.

His tongue drove you crazy. You were so hot for him you couldn't think straight. And after that little fiasco of yours, now, he knew it.

"Today's lesson: Be careful what you ask for." He reached for the tee he took off of you, ripped a strip from the bottom and tied it to your wrists. He lifted them, tying them to the headboard.

His large hands traveled from your wrists and slid down the length of your arms. As they reached your breasts, and he cupped and groped them, twirling your nipples around his thumbs as he squeezed.

His hands, god, his hands... The calloused hands of a drummer. The contrast between the rugged roughness of them, against the soft, supple skin of your breasts made you feel so sexy.

It was so stimulating, It made you want to scream. Your body trembled and squirmed. Your moans came out in waves petitioning for more. His name dripped from your lips... "M-Megumi …"

He stopped suddenly...

No... Why did he stop? "Wha-?"

He leaned in close to your ear, grazing it with his lips, his cock pressing against your middle, teasing your clit. "Say it again."...

"What?"

"My name. Say it again".

… "Megumi..." You felt his dick twitch between your legs your leg.

His pupils dilated as he excitedly took in the expression of need on your face... "you know... I wanted you from the very first moment I saw you. I thought, 'you're so beautiful' … and so sweet." He gripped your jaw once more, whispering into your mouth. "Sweet voice... Sweet lips..." He kissed them again, "Sweet body..."

"But when I saw the way you watched me from the bar... the fire in your eyes, the way your body moved when you looked at me... I wanted to make you cry."

He continued, seduction dripping from his lips, "I wanted to see you writhe as I slid my rock hard cock between your thighs. I wanted to make that sweet girl scream for me."

It suddenly became much harder to breathe. A deep tremor erupted from your core, your chest rising and falling hard as his deep voice and hot breath tickled your ear.

Megumi slowly pressed his lips to yours, then lowered his hands, to remove your shorts, a wet line stretching from them to your core as he pulled them off.

"Wow," a smirk formed on his lips, "you're drenched".

You turned your head again, closing your eyes.

He turned your face toward him again. "I told you not to hide that from me". He slid his right hand down your body, slipping it between your legs, massaging your hot center slowly with his four fingers. "Aaaah, you're so fucking wet for me" he rubbed faster... "I love seeing you like this. I wanna see more..."

"Haaa-aaah!" Your moans grew louder as his now slick fingers glided across your wet core. Your hips began to move against his hand, jerking as he teased your sensitive, throbbing clit.

Megumi kept his face close to yours as if recording your every emotional response as he fondled your folds. "You gonna cum for me sweetness?" He then plunged his two middle fingers deep inside your hole as he watched your face twist in erotic agony.

Your jaw dropped into a silent scream as your eyes fluttered shut. Your head pressed back into the pillows, your body convulsed, clenching tight around him with your back arched, your legs flailing around as you released all over his hand.

"aaah... yeah... that's it..." Megumi grunted and moaned in your ear as he watched you come, his eyes screwed shut as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His long thick fingers stayed plugged inside your heat as your body shook. He curled his hand around your pubic bone, pressing his palm against your swollen, sensitive clit.

As you continued to pour over him, seeping on to the bed, he pulled his fingers from your opening and lifted them to his mouth sucking them as he held your gaze. "god, you are so fucking sweet". He laid his hand on your quivering thigh, the vibration making him even harder as he heightened his own experience from witnessing yours.

You felt like you would lose your mind. Or maybe you had already. Your body continued to tremble even after he'd removed his hand from your core. Your hitched breathing and stifled moans echoed in your own ears as your vision vaguely settled onto his beautiful face.

He whispered. "Wow..." His brow wrinkling as he tilted his head, "You're still feeling it aren't you?" Megumi watched as you trembled uncontrollably. "You really are something..." he continued, "But guess what, sweetness?"

He kissed your lips and whispered, "I'm something else".

Megumi shifted his body, positioning himself onto a kneel between your legs. You could see his enormous horizontal print carved into the fabric of his boxers, the area at his tip, soaked.

"You were curious, right?" He said as his hand gripped his cock over his shorts. He removed them slowly, a makeshift striptease that had your heart pounding out of your chest; the strong urge to look away tugging against your desire.

The band of his boxers struggled over his thickness, releasing it as it finally slid past the length. He was so big, you were embarrassed to look. You tuned your head again into your other arm, shying away from the sight, yet dying to feel him.

"You did this to me." he leaned back in to you and kissed you softly on your cheek. "And now you have to take responsibility."

His tongue slid down your neck and chest, traveling to your breast bone, the trail of saliva leaving a cool sensation in its wake as he made his way lower. His kisses peppered your breasts, his large calloused hands gripping them as he buried his face in between.

Before him, you had never felt kisses so sensual, so decadent. Your skin seemed to melt like hot wax under his lips and tongue as they danced gracefully along the supple skin of your breasts. And the sound... the soft, wet, quiet smacks and sucking, the sensations were enough to drive you wild.

Megumi really was more than you imagined he'd be. And you could not get enough of him. His face traveled lower toward your belly, his hands continuing to squeeze and press your breasts as his thumbs tweaked your sensitive nipples.

His amazing hands... rough, yet so gentle, caressed your skin as they slid down, firmly gripping your waist. His thumbs massaged circles around your smooth belly, his tongue tickling your button.

Good & Plenty - (Remix) Masego, Alex Isley, Lucky Daye

Blended into the atmosphere as he lifted his face, making eye contact with a glance and a sly grin. His his hands moved lower still, between your legs, avoiding your center. They curled around your inner thigh, pressing them outward and down. His thumbs pulled your folds to each side, widening your opening.

Megumi pursed his soft lips into a large "O" around your sex, his slick tongue flattening against your slit as he licked slowly upward from your hole to your hood, kissing then sucking your clit as he reached the top, repeating his motion over... and over... and over.

His hair tickled your lower belly and thighs. His head swayed to each side as his tongue glided smoothly across your slick heat. Low groans vibrated in his throat as he continued gathering your wetness and fucking your opening repeatedly with his tongue.

You wailed in pleasure pulling desperately against the headboard as you remained bound, up top by your wrists and below by Megumi's firm grip on your thighs.

As the sensations overwhelmed him, he shifted the position of his arms, wrapping them under your thighs in a full muscular lock, as he pressed his mouth harder into your center, sinking his tongue deeper into your hole. He bucked his hips forward into the mattress as he edged, his arms shaking almost violently against you.

His groans, his strong muscles flexing around your legs, you could tell he was close, peaking just from the taste and feel of your sex.

The thought of it made you even wetter as you edged. His moans were music to your ears, revealing his thirst. It brought you to the point of no return as you cried out in desperation, warning him of the impending wave driven by sheer erotic fervor.

"Mmmm... come sweetness... Come all over me."

A shockwave overtook you as your back arched into his mouth. You convulsed and trembled vigorously as you released, your head going completely cloudy, your eyes screwed shut. Your body tremored head to toe as you gasped for breath.

Megumi lifted himself up, wiping his mouth with the palm of his hand as he leaned in for a kiss, sharing your arousal.

He lowered his weight onto your body, whispering in your ear, his fingers running softly through your hair. "You're even more beautiful when you cum..." His eyes searched your face lecherously, patiently waiting for some semblance of coherence... "Just a little more..." He said, echoing your words from earlier, when he was supposed to be asleep.

He reached down and gripped his shaft, sliding the head around your oversensitive clit, teasing, then pressing it down between your slick folds. Then, with inexplicable ease, he sank halfway in past your swollen entrance. You wailed in ecstasy, clenching as you feel him pause before reaching the hilt.

Megumi's breaths became deep and staggered as he waited to claim you fully, calming himself down before finishing the job. He pressed his arms down against the sides of your body, as he lay on top of you, slipping his hands under you, to grip your ass firmly.

You turned to look into his eyes, breathless. The second you made eye contact, he pressed his throbbing cock further inside, stretching you to your limit as he climbed to the top of your walls. You gasped as he continued to watch your face. Your erotic, pained expressions exciting him all the more, his dick, throbbing inside.

"That's what you wanted, right?" He breathed, pressing in deeper with a ragged groan without waiting for an answer. "fuck, baby you're so tight."

A slightly painful, yet overwhelmingly sensual wave of ecstasy gripped you. He felt incredible. You've never been so satisfied, so full. You became more comfortable with his size by the second, your lips quivering as his warm body continued to envelop you.

"You feel so fucking good." Megumi slowly rocked his hips, grinding his cock into your sweltering heat. "Open up a little more for me."

You obediently spread your legs wider, relaxing your floor to welcome him as he slowly began to pound his length in and out of your pulsing core, his shaft massaging your walls, throbbing, and pressing, searching for that special sweet spot.

He reached up to grip the headboard for leverage, his right hand wrapped tightly around your neck as his muscles flexed and the veins in his arms came into view.

"Aaahhh" he breathed, "just like that..." His tongue flicked out, gliding slowly across your neck, "Yeah", he hissed. "I'll teach you to be a good girl for me."

With heavily hooded eyes, you watched him hovering over you as he continued to rock his hips, you, and the bed at a steady pace, beating into you like a bass drum, his hand firm around your neck, locking into eye contact, his lips parted slightly as he released stifled breaths. He's here. Fucking the living shit out of you, like you knew he could. Like only he could.

You could feel your climax surging from deep inside you as his dark blue eyes burned into yours. Megumi fucked his cock into you again, and again, and again, as the same air exchanged between you and you both edged toward release.

He had successfully claimed your body and your heart as he dripped sweat onto your cheek, the droplets mimicking the clear salty fluid that slowly filled your eyes, seeping from the corners, tickling your face as they fell.

"Groupie" is officially an understatement.

Set 3 Preview: You could hardly contain your gasp as you saw him. You blushed hard and licked your lips again, your core clenched so tightly you rubbed your thighs together as you body tingled all over. You turned away, gently rubbing the nape of your neck.

Megumi missed nothing. "You're hiding from me again." He scolded. I told you not to do that. You like what you see?"

Your heart pounded hard in your chest as you replied softly, "Yes."

"Then why don't you be a good girl and show me how much you like it?" ...

(My ADHD had me editing this repeatedly... XD)

Thanks for reading! ✨🥰✨

Notes: As always, I welcome any and all critiques, suggestions, and comments regarding my work, since I truly feel all of those may make me a much better writer! I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read my little stories, and if you'd like to be tagged in releases, don't hesitate to comment below! 😊💖🎶

Fanart Art: Courtesy of @Pinterest Ombre Caution/DNI & Animated lines: Courtesy of @cafekitsune

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 2 months ago

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Dieter Bravo's Christmas Special Merry Christmas @schnarfer!

In a shocking revelation... since I just acted like your Secret Santa had a question for you... I'm your Tent Pitchers Secret Santa and I couldn't be more excited to give you your gift! Getting to know you has been one of the best gifts I could get this year. Shout out to @mothandpidgeon for her eyes and ears and her fellow wingedness. Also, this is a sell on The Adventures of Owl, Moth & Mallardy. 🦉🦋🦆 Also big shout out to @devineconjuring for her beta work and support in this insanity where I make her read terribly formatted scripts. Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the ornaments! Now, please keep in mind the formatting is a bit wacky because the script format is NOT Tumblr friendly so I had to do screen shots for some scenes. TW: Some drug and alcohol use is in here. This is absolute insanity. I cannot stress this enough. It is Dieter after all.

Dieter takes his mark. The lights are way too bright. Who decided that he needed to be under so many bright fucking lights?

He holds his mug of hot cocoa—and whiskey—and takes a drink that burns his throat. He swallows the fiery yet smooth liquid down and blinks his big doe eyes at Camera A. The one they put a picture of a scantily clad lady dressed like Santa on so he can remember it’s the main camera.

Why did he ever agree to do something like this? He remembers the meeting a couple months ago, taking the elevator up to one of the top floors in a boring brutalist-style building smack dab in the middle of downtown Los Angeles. His team and the network’s shaking hands and comparing dick sizes and bank accounts as they planned to exploit the American capitalist dream, all in the name of holiday cheer. He was about to tell everyone no and to fuck off—until they dropped that they could get the Muppets. He’s always wanted to meet Kermit–he thinks he would be a positive influence in his life.

So, Dieter Bravo agreed to do the Christmas special and signed his name on the contract.

Now he’s here in this itchy, hot sweater under these bright lights.

The festive music fades out into a commercial break. Dieter rushes off stage behind the big, red velvet curtains to his dressing room.

“How much time do I have?” He asks the stage assistant as he guzzles down a drink of cold water.

“You have to be on stage in seven minutes, Mr. Bravo. Radiohead is doing their cover of Grandma Got Ran Over By A Reindeer, and then you’re doing the animal showcase.

“Right, right. Gotta pee,” Dieter says with a nod as he swings the bathroom door open.

“I’ll just uhh—leave you to it,” the shocked assistant says as Dieter pulls his pants down with zero shame.

Ugh, he’s so tired. He knows just the thing that will help him. His own snow, glorious little snow that he keeps in a vial in his bag.

One hit, one deep sniff, one nose tickle, and he’s GOLDEN. Until—

He steps out on stage and sees a gigantic owl. His eyes go wide, his pulse quickening—not just from his magic white powder.

He cautiously walks over to the friendly-enough-looking zookeeper and takes his spot, his big brown eyes darting back and forth from the owl to the exit sign.

“AND WE’RE BACK IN 5-4-3-2…1”

Fuck.

He stares wide-eyed at the camera.

“Wel—welcome back to my special… it’s special. Guys, holy shit, there’s an owl. That’s a bird of prey. BIRDS. We all know all the birds died in 1986.”

“Um. You’re wrong about the latter, but as for the former, you’re right. Owls are a bird of prey, very good!” The zookeeper answers.

“I don’t trust birds, man,” Dieter says, leering at the wide-eyed owl with fear. “They can fly too far and they’re always listening. My mom told me that’s who Santa uses to watch over us during the year to make sure we’re being nice.”

“…okay,” the zookeeper replies, his smile faltering for a moment as he tries to adjust to Dieter's energy. “But owls are actually sagacious creatures. They help maintain the ecosystem by controlling rodent populations.”

Dieter leans closer and squints at the owl, totally cool with all the commotion surrounding it. “Yeah, well, that’s what they want you to think! I bet it’s just some kind of spy. You know? Like a furry little CIA agent with feathers.”

“Okaaaay. Let’s just… get back to how amazing owls can be,” the zookeeper says, trying to regain control of the segment. “This magnificent creature here is named Psyche. She’s a great horned owl and—”

“Great horned owl?” Dieter interrupts, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “Does that mean she has horns? I thought only goats had those.” He shoots Psyche a sideways glance, who blinks lazily back at him.

“No horns, just ears that look like horns!” the zookeeper explains, trying hard to remain upbeat while Dieter spirals further into his conspiracy theories. “And Psyche—”

“More like ‘Psyche the Spy’s key,’” Dieter cuts in again. “What is she reporting back? ‘Hey Santa, this guy is weird?’”

“Uhh,” the zookeeper blinks at Dieter, then towards the director.

Dieter leans into Psyche, feeling braver and braver the longer he’s near her. “What’s in your head, little horned one?”

Psyche moves her head, her large yellow eyes meeting his.

“WITCH!” Dieter shouts, arms flailing as he runs to hide behind a large tree flocked with white snow, decorated with red and gold baubles and beautiful ornaments depicting animals.

“CUT TO COMMERCIAL!” The exasperated director harshly whispers into his headset. “And send that zookeeper a giant bouquet of flowers tomorrow.”

Dieter watches from next to the director as three of his childhood heroes read from a gilded Night Before Christmas book. Wow, Kermit the Frog is here–and he’s about to join him.

This is it. Over forty years of fandom, and NOW–NOW–he gets to meet Kermit. His heart feels like it’s going to fly out of his chest with each step he takes across the stage towards his three heroes.

Dieter is now only two steps away from the wall. Soon, he’ll be with them, able to hug and touch them. THE FUCKING MUPPETS. He moves to stand behind the wall—but his foot runs into something that lets out a soft oof.

He looks down. There’s an actual human man huddled behind the wall with—with their hand UP KERMIT’S ASS.

“Dude! What the fuck? What!? You sick fuck?! What is happening? GET YOUR HAND OUT OF KERMIT’S BUTT!” He shouts, yanking the puppet off of the man’s hand.

“CUT!!! CUT CUT CUT SEND TO COMMERCIAL! CUT!” The director yells. “And send that puppeteer a giant bouquet of flowers tomorrow.”

“It’s okay, Kermit, I’ve got you,” Dieter cries into the floppy, green fabric.

“Dieter,” the director gets his attention. “This was a terrible idea. Please, go get some rest. Prepare your team for the barrage of reporters who will be calling.”

“But, who’s going to finish the show?” Dieter asks, holding Kermit’s body closer to him.

“We—we called in a replacement. Phoebe! Get out here!”

Phoebe Waller-Bridge walks out in a beautiful red dress, wearing black tights and black boots. Quite Fleabag coded.

“I’m ready!” She cheerily announces.

“Wow,” Dieter says, enamored by her presence. “Yeah, you’ll be way better than me at this. I’m going to take a nap. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Dieter! Now, send in the hot priests to dance!”

Love you 🦉

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo

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toomanytookas · 1 month ago

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Discovering Tunes Through Fic: A Rec List

A sequel of sorts to my Discovering Lit Through Fic list from earlier this year (which I desperately need to update)! It's always fun to find mention of a song or musician/artist/band that you love in fic, and I also enjoy how such inclusions can lead to finding new things to listen to (some of these songs made my spotify wrapped entirely because of these fics!).

This list brings together works that I have encountered in my reading travels that have somehow incorporated songs or artists within the work (separate from being inspiration or source of title). If you see an artist or song that is your jam or piques your interest, be sure to give the fic a try—the music was selected with intent, so the work is probably your vibe!

Alpha sorted by character then author then title. I will update as I read more!

Dave

Audience of One - @katareyoudrilling Carmen Fantasy - Pablo de Sarasate

Down Bad & Good Luck Babe - @schnarfer Talk Show Host - Radiohead Angel - Massive Attack

Dieter

Down This Chain of Days - @ghotifishreads Don’t Stop Me Now - Queen

Your Favorite Kryptonite - @kedsandtubesocks Everytime We Touch - Cascada

Making Out to Pablo Honey - @mothandpidgeon Radiohead

Eros & Psyche - schnarfer This is Love - PJ Harvey

Home - @yopossum Dangerous Woman - Ariana Grande

Frankie

Hold Fast - @jeewrites Lil Boo Thang - Paul Russell RV 297 (Winter) - Vivaldi

With No Strings Attached - @jolapeno Elvis

On Call - @luxurychristmaspudding A whole host of songs, which can be found in this playlist

Pickup Truck - luxurychristmaspudding Pickup Truck - Kings of Leon

Tommy’s Party - luxurychristmaspudding Peach Pit

Jack

Whiskey & Westworld - @prolix-yuy Hank Williams George Strait

Javi P

Paranoid Heart - @goodwithcheese On My Own - Les Misérables George Strait Indigo Girls One More Last Chance - Vince Gill

Go Your Own Way - schnarfer Go Your Own Way - Fleetwood Mac Son of a Preacher Man - Dusty Springfield

Joel

Aint That a Bite - @almostfoxglove Rock Around the Clock - Bill Haley & His Comets

Cover Me Up - almostfoxglove Running Up That Hill - Kate Bush Cover Me Up - Jason Isbell

Over Again - @burntheedges A bunch of wonderful early 2000s (and adjacent) tracks, as found on this playlist

Interstellar Overdrive - @hypnotisedfireflies An incredible 70s soundtrack throughout, see this playlist!

Happy Tuesday - @maggiemayhemnj I Only Have Eyes For You - The Flamingos

Symphony - maggiemayhemnj Oh, Lady Be Good - Ella Fitzgerald BWV 156 (Ich steh mit einem Fuß im Grabe)

Difficult - schnarfer Every You Every Me - Placebo

Strike - @secretelephanttattoo The White Stripes Red Hot Chili Peppers

Marcus P

All About the Bass - katareyoudrilling BWV 893 Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten - Arvo Pärt Tabula Rasa - Arvo Pärt

Headshots - secretelephanttattoo Just Like Heaven - The Cure

Max P

Warm Hands, Cold Heart - secretelephanttattoo Hypnotize - The Notorious B.I.G Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt - We Are Scientists

Tim

Undercover - secretelephanttattoo Mr. Brightside - The Killers

If you know of or have written works that fit this theme, I'd love to hear about them! Please feel free to shout them out in the comments. Also if you're an author I've read and I accidentally left a work of yours that fits this theme off the list, please forgive my swiss cheese brain and let me know so I can add you!! 💕

Date updated: 29 December 2024 Date published: 29 December 2024 Images are my own.

#reclist #been working on this since september and it's been haunting me #so i'm casting it out of the drafts before i delete it instead #hope some folks find it fun! <3 #please don't be shy to let me know if i've forgotten something i promise it wasn't intentional #m: reclist

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casterousaudrey · 1 year ago

Text

To have loved and lost

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: Astarion/Gender Neutral!Reader

Theme: very angsty, death of a lover, revenge.

Note: The people have spoken and I shall answer. I tried to make this as lore-accurate as I could while maintaining my main idea! Sorry if there are errors. I was initially going to write this as a hurt/comfort but angst was just calling my name 😪. I HIGHLY recommend listening to these songs while reading hehe.

Now playing: ※ Cover me in Roses - Holden Laurence ※ I want you - Mitski ※ No surprises - Radiohead ※ What was I made for - Billie Eilish ※ Video games - Lana Del Rey

It wasn't supposed to happen how it did. Beating Cazador was supposed to be easy, Astarion had you and your other companions to fight alongside him. The difficult part was supposed to be deciding whether he would take this power for himself or let it go along with the thousands of vampire spawns with it.

So why was he frozen in place with your lifeless body an arm away, as your other companions tried to keep Cazador and his other lackeys at bay. You were always the protective type, you cared- probably more than you should for other people. He never understood how you could be so kind to people you just met, he who tried to kill you when you first met, he who takes all your offers to drink your blood, and he whose only goal was to kill Cazador, that was before he got closer to you.

He wasn't used to affection that didn't have a price, after all the times he fed on you he didn't hear a single condition on what you should get in return, all he heard was "I'm just happy to be helping you" Or "I can see in your eyes that the hunt wasn't good today, just swing by my tent if you need me ok?". He was- confused, and albeit sickened, after what he experienced being that kind only made him weak and even made him into a slave for Cazador. At the same time he couldn't help what he was feeling, how could he deny how he felt calm when he was in your embrace after particularly hard days, your skin on his with pleasure he never felt before, your kisses felt like the touch of the sun bringing back warmth into his pale and cold body, and your eyes that held no disgust for him.

But in the end, he was right, your kindness made you take a blow from Cazador for him and you paid the price. The last thing he remembered was you running to the blast that was aimed at him, gaining multiple attacks from the numerous minions Cazador had. Astarion couldn't move, he was stuck in place by Cazador and he already accepted the blast that was coming his way but if he knew that you were going to stand between him and Cazador maybe he would've fought harder, maybe your body wouldn't have been facing him with your eyes only focused on his. The moment you got hit- he swore he saw a tear leave your eye. He still doesn't know if it was out of worry for him or fear for what would happen to you.

The blast made your body fly to him as the impact knocked both you and Astarion to a nearby pillar. He was numb, even more than he was in all the years he served Cazador. After regaining his composure Astarion tried to take a glimpse at your body, but it only made him hold his breath and look away.

"Astarion are they ok? Say something!" He could hear Shadowheart screaming for him but there was still a distinct ringing in his head, he couldn't understand what was happening, he couldn't process what just happened. Shadowheart killed the remaining lackeys Cazador had while Karlach was able to kill most of them, Maybe they also saw what happened, and maybe they were also in rage. Who could blame them, You were the best of the group, and everyone's morale solely depended on you keeping it up.

He finally gained the courage to approach your body- crawling to where you were as he turned your body upright. He finally processed what had happened, you are dead, you sacrificed your life for a vampire spawn and he never felt sadness the way he did right now. Your eyes were closed, your chest not moving to breathe, this couldn't be the end. He loved you too much to let you go now, and he regretted not saying those three words earlier. "I love you" He whispered although now it didn't feel like what he imagined it would be, it felt meaningless.

In his grief he tried to find a solution, he racked his brain for any kind of answer, and in desperation, he found one. He'll turn you into a vampire, just like what happened to him when he died. Although he hoped this would happen in different circumstances he can't doubt himself now. "Hold on darling, okay? I got you. I'm here." He cradled your body in his arms as he wasted no time to bite your neck. In all his years as a spawn he has never experienced truly turning someone else, and why would he, the pain he remembered when he turned was not the pain he wanted on anyone else.

A bite and a drop of his blood was all that it should've taken. He bit his arm and had taken more than a drop of his blood in his mouth. He held your face as his blood made its way down your throat. For a moment he was glad, he knew it would work, this was how he turned! How could it not? But with the bite mark on your neck and the smell of his blood still lingering on your lips, you still weren't moving or responding at all. "What's the matter, love? Why isn't it working? I need you to live please!"

He cried and cried but through his tears, he wondered if maybe just biting you and giving you more blood would work. Frantic he started to remove the armor you had to gain access to more parts of your body.

Bite.

Your wrist, the same ones he remembers so tenderly to have kissed when you made love.

Bite.

Your leg, it would always tangle with his on nights that you found peace in each other's arms.

Bite.

Your thigh, what he would give to hold it tight once again as you sat on top of him.

Bite.

Your neck again, where he would bury his face, and suddenly all his problems would disappear.

He took in even more of his blood that once again made its way deep down your throat.

...

But nothing, it wouldn't work. He tried to reason with himself that maybe just maybe it would take a while for you to turn but he knew deep down that wasn't how it worked.

"You see boy, you are weak, you are nothing but a vampire spawn with no ability to protect anyone. Did I not teach you better than this?" Cazador who was already on his knees still managed to talk Astarion down.

Shock turned to grief and grief into rage.

"In all my problems and all the times I failed it was always you who was behind it..." Astarion made sure to put your body down gently whispering an 'I'll be back sweetheart' before standing up and striding towards Cazador and grabbing him by the back of his head "You just weren't satisfied with the years of pure shit you put me through were you?" Out of all the cruel things Cazador has done Astarion would argue that this is by far the most gut-wrenching thing he had ever experienced.

"Astarion, maybe if we bring them back to a church fast enough the clerics could-"

"The clerics can't do anything about this now!"

Karlach was quick to stop talking, normally she would not be easily swayed but she knew that he was right, You were as good as dead and in Astarions mind his world had also ended.

"You are a fool to believe that you could ever have a happy ending, Astarion. From the moment I turned you to the moment you lured your first victim you should've known that no Gods would ever take pity on your soul." The hand that was holding the back of Cazador's neck tightened. "You're right, No God would help me, but maybe your little contract can"

Astarion threw Cazador on the ground as the decision was set in his mind. "What do you think you're doing?" Finally, a hint of fear in Cazador's voice was what Astarion needed to continue what he was about to do. He needed to ascend to find another solution that his abilities as a spawn couldn't possibly find. "Karlach, I need your help- your eyes rather, to see the scars on my back. Use the parasite to connect to my mind so I can see the scars on my back and copy it onto his."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, but I would, years of trying to push me towards the edge and today... You finally did it and I applaud you" Astarion picks up the blade beside him ready to carve the contract onto his back.

"You know I can't let you do that" Karlach tries to reason as she sees how truly hurt Astarion is.

"That wasn't a question! All the power that he's lusted after will be mine"

"At the cost of a lot of lives. It's not worth it, Astarion" Shadowheart knows nothing could sway him now, not after what Cazador did.

"My darlings' life was worth more than thousands! I'm just trying to even out the score"

Karlach debates for a minute, If she lets Astarion do the ritual thousands would die but if she doesn't Cazador would surely find a way to ascend and hunt down Astarion. In the end, she lets Astarion see the scars on his back, she could feel the blade in his hand with a tight grip and his grief covered by the lust for power that he can obtain.

"Yes, yes I see it." Astarion smiles a wicked grin as he removes Cazador's top which reveals his bare back soon to be marked with a contract.

The moment the blade came in contact with Cazador's back it was followed by his blood-curdling screams with the sound of flesh being carved out rather brutally. Shadowheart had to look away until the screams came to an end and the contract was finally set on Cazador's back.

"Ungrateful child. Wretched child."

"It's time to take your place."

Astarion picked up Cazador's staff which gave him the power to place Cazador to where he would be sacrificed. He could feel it, the power was an inch away from his grasp. All he needed to do now was plow the staff into the ground to obtain all that power.

As he raised the staff with closed eyes all he could think of was you, the images of all the times you spent together flashed before his eyes, at first he was happy then enraged after realizing that he might never see your smile again. It was all he needed for him to plow the staff to the ground as a red aura emanated from the floor and to the spawns. He recited the chant for the ritual and finally, he felt stronger and even more powerful.

One by one they all died and Astarion could feel the power flowing through him, he was high on whatever power he just received and as Cazador died the ritual was complete. Shadowheart and Karlach could only look in concern and fear as Astarion smiled.

He was free at last, but how free could he be when the chains of your death still hold him hostage? He let go of the staff as it started floating on its own and started following him. He slowly walks towards your body, still no change, but he picks you up anyway and gives a small kiss on your forehead. "Come on sweetheart, I'll get you fixed up, I promise. I'll find a way."

He started to slowly walk out of the lair, not caring if the other two would follow or not. Your body cradled closely to his chest. He looked to your lips which would feel so tender against his- now unmoving, and your eyes- he was convinced had some sort of magic in it now closed. His head filled with thoughts of the endless power and control he could have and what that power could do to bring you back to life. He looked menacing just from the way he walked, anyone who stood in his way would be destroyed. In his mind, this is what grieving felt like, an emptiness to what should be full, the weight of the world on his shoulders, and the Gods laughing at his despair.

As he approaches the elevator, the gurs stand in alert ready to confront Astarion about what he's done but for their sake, he hopes they would stand down. For a grieving monster is more terrifying than they think.

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