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anjee0 · 4 months ago

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A Melody from the Heart

Chapter 1 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Eminem x Female!reader (Feel free to put in your own oc insert as well if you wish)

Description - Y/n is struggling artist who decides to perform at an event hosted by MTV where a bunch of celebrities will be watching in person. Marshall is invited and is immediately captured by Y/n's beautiful voice. Now all he wants is for her to be on his next song.

Warnings - Throughout the series there will be: Smut, Mild swearing (More warnings to be added in the future)

Y/n quickly finished applying her mascara to her eyelashes as she got ready for work. Before she left, she quickly checked her Spotify profile to check if any of her songs had increased in streams.

One song had.

By two streams.

It had bumped up from 502 to 504. She sighed, accepting two streams was better than nothing.

Y/n's dream since she was probably about 4 or 5 was to be a singer. She always imagined singing in front of a large crowd at a concert on a giant stage with vibrant colourful lights and those fancy smoke machines. She didn't grow up in a healthy household, her father was a deadbeat and her mother was always getting high on the couch. She dropped out of high school at 17 and ran away. She was able to make a decent living, always hopping from one job to another as her music career on the side continued to struggle.

She swiftly walked down the plain concrete pavement, trying to ignore the gross smell of garbage everywhere that lingered throughout all of New York. Whilst walking, the corner of her caught a line of posters taped on to a fence.

The posters all appeared to be for some sort of event called the: ‘The Rhythm of New York’. The posters were dark blue and on it read some information.

You've probably heard of our event: ‘The Rhythm of New York’ plastered all over social media. We are looking for 10 lucky musicians of all musical talent to come and perform. You will receive a nifty cash prize of $5,000 for performing and also be featured on live TV. Book an audition by calling the number at the bottom of the poster, we will tell you further details from there.

There was a number at the bottom like the description said in a simple white font. Y/n quickly took a picture of the poster before realising that she'd be late if she didn't get moving.

She eventually reached the diner and right on time too. She was immediately greeted by her friend, Maya, who was standing behind the counter with a beautiful smile on her face.

“Morning Y/n.” Maya said.

“Morning Maya.” Y/n responded, giving her friend a smile. She went to the back and got her apron on and clocked in.

Y/n immediately started on her regular duty of cleaning down the tables.

“Hey, have you heard of this thing called ‘The Rhythm of New York?” Y/n asked.

Maya gasped a little too dramatically. “Heck yes! It's gonna be the best event of this year!”

“What, are you going?”

Maya looked at her friend in a confused manner and started laughing hysterically.

“What's so funny?” Y/n asked, her voice laced with confusion.

“Girl, have you not been on social media recently?”

Y/n shook her head slowly. “No, I've been kinda busy with my music and then I've been taking extra shifts too.”

“Okay, fair enough. Come here.”

Y/n walked over to Maya as she pulled out her phone and looked around.

“Let's hope Tom doesn't catch me, or he's gonna get mad.” Maya whispered.

Maya opened TikTok and opened the search bar. And on the trending searches, ‘The Rhythm of New York’ was there. She tapped the search suggestion and clicked on the first video as she handed the phone over to Y/n.

Y/n watched the video with anticipation as a girl with curly brunette hair and blue eyes entered the screen.

“Okay so if you haven't heard, MTV is hosting an event in New York called the ‘Rhythm of New York.’ In this event, a lot of musicians and other celebrities have been invited.” The girl explained ecstatically. “MTV wants 10 or so people to come perform in front of these celebrities which sounds so nerve racking but fun!”

“Oh, so it's a celebrity event?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah, I heard Beyoncé and Billie are going. If I could sing, I would audition. Wait, hold on…” Maya smirked at Y/n.

“I know what you're thinking. You want me to audition. And I was gonna audition.”

“Was?”

“I saw a poster while I was walking here so I thought I'd ask you something about it. But if there are gonna be celebrities there? Then I'm out!”

“Girl, why?! This is your chance to turn your 200 monthly listeners to 20 million! Maybe even more, who knows? And the cash prize is $5,000! And you'll be on live TV!”

“I know, that's a good cash price and I'd love to go on live TV. But performing in front of a bunch of talented musicians? What if I mess up?”

“You won't. I've heard your songs girl and they are beautiful!”

“Okay, and what is MTV gonna think when a 32 year old woman with a struggling music career who also works at a diner wants to audition. They're gonna think-”

“Nothing.” Maya interrupted.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing. They're gonna think nothing. They're not gonna care how much you're struggling when talent like you shows up on their doorstep.”

“Yeah, but-”

Y/n was interrupted by a jingle, indicating that their first customer of the day walked through the doors.

“We'll talk about this later.” Maya said.

“Dad, come on! This seems really fun!” Hailie exclaimed as she shook her dad by the shoulders.

“Hailie, get off my shoulders. Listen, I get where you're coming from but in all honesty? I cannot be bothered to fly all the way to New York.”

“Paul thinks it'd be good for you. Plus, you may see someone who might be a good feature in your song.”

“That will probably not happen. Did you hear they were holding the event at The Studio of Webster Hall? I was expecting MTV to hold it at a slightly bigger venue.” Marshall complained.

“What? The Studio of Webster Hall is a beautiful venue. It doesn't matter if it's big. But come on dad, please?” Hailie begged.

“I won't have anyone to come with me.”

“I can come with you.”

“Don't you have your podcast?”

“My fans will understand. Come on dad, this will be really fun. Plus, Stevie and Alaina are busy, we haven't been able to hang out lately.”

“Okay, fine.” Marshall sighed, a bit embarrassed on how he could easily give in when it came to his daughter.

“Yes!” Hailie cheered.

“Only if you behave.”

“I will, I promise.”

Marshall smiled lovingly at his daughter before pulling her into a hug.

Y/n laid down in her bed as she stared at the picture of the poster on her phone. She contemplated whether or not she should take Maya's advice and call the number. She had all the crucial information needed and now all was left was the decision making.

She dialled the number as her thumb shook and it hovered over the green call button. She finally clicked it, she could feel her heart pumping out of her chest and her stomach twisting and turning.

“This is the Rhythm of New York helpline. Press 1 if you wish to audition.” A robotic female voice said at the end of the line.

Y/n pressed 1 on the keyboard without hesitation. Cliche hotel lobby music started to play for a few minutes before it stopped and a cheery female voice started talking.

“Hi there, I'm Kelly, how can I help you today?”

“Uh hi…” Y/n responded, her voice shaking with nervousness. She mentally slapped herself for sounding so anxious. “Uhm, I want to audition for The Rhythm of New York please?”

“Of course sweetheart. What's your name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Okay, and state your age, gender and occupation.”

“Uh, 32, female and I work at a diner. But I also make songs on Spotify.”

“Oh, that sounds nice. Tryna make it big, huh?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I don't blame you. This is a great opportunity for you.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks.”

“I have a few questions I'll have to ask you, is that okay?”

“Go ahead.”

“What song do you plan on singing at the event?”

“Is it okay if I can sing one of my own songs?”

“That is more than okay. What is it called?”

“A Melody from the Heart.”

“Is there any explicit language or topics in your song?”

“One two swear words. I say shit like twice.”

“Is it okay if you can find a way to alter those to different words?”

“Fine by me.”

“Are you aware you will be on live TV?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, are you aware of the date and timings, yes?”

“October 29th and is it 8pm to 12am?”

“Correct. And I assume you are free that night?”

“Yes, but is it okay if I can leave as soon as I finish performing?”

“Uhm, yes…” Kelly responded, confused. “May I ask why?”

“I have to get to work right after.” Y/n lied. In all honesty, she would just want to get out of there as soon as she could. The idea of her possibly talking to a celebrity had her nearly fainting. “It's okay right?”

“Of course, sweetie. I understand you.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“So what you'll need to do is make an audition tape of you singing your song. In the tape you have to state your name-”

“Sorry, could you slow down please? I need to write this.” Y/n interrupted as she quickly found a notebook and pen.

“That's fine. Make an audition tape of you singing. In the tape, state your full name, age and what song you're going to sing. Then send that tape to our email. Type up the information stated in the video on to the email. Make sure to type up your email address and regular address.”

Y/n scribbled all the information into her notebook. “Okay thank you Kelly. When do I have to submit this?”

“Within two days.”

“Oh, and how long is the waiting list?”

“Around 100 people as of now.”

“Oh.”

“Don't worry, Y/n. Even if you don't get it, just know you tried.

Y/n hung up the phone and immediately called Maya, who picked it up as soon as it started ringing.

“Hey Y/n, you okay?” Maya asked.

“I'm good. I just called The Rhythm of New York helpline and got myself registered.”

“Wait, you did?! Oh my gosh, yes!” Maya exclaimed. Y/n could see her smiling through the phone.

“Yup, and I gotta make an audition tape. Is it okay if you can come over? You know, for moral support?”

“Yes, of course! Is that even a question? I'm coming over right now.”

Maya came in a matter of time looking ecstatic as she jumped all over the place.

“Calm down Maya, the downstairs neighbours are gonna kill me.” Y/n laughed.

“I'm sorry, I'm just so happy for you!”

“I haven't even submitted my audition tape.”

“And they're gonna want to have you as soon as they listen.”

“Thank you for the motivation. You are honestly so sweet. Anyway, I need to start this. But I gotta practise first. And I gotta replace a few of the swear words.”

“What song are you singing?”

“A Melody from the Heart.”

“Ooh, your own song! Okay, that's good!”

Y/n spent the next few minutes practising to make sure that she could ace the audition tape. Her and Maya also spent a bit too long trying to figure out what words would sound better to replace ‘shit’. It was harder than it sounds.

When Y/n thought that she was ready to record her tape, Maya immediately stopped her.

“Girl, are you seriously gonna make your tape in a baggy shirt and shorts right now?”

Maya was right. Y/n looked like a hot mess. She was wearing a pair of red shorts and a baggy black top. Her hair was a mess too.

“Okay I guess you're right. What should I wear?”

The girls then spent the next 20 minutes scouring through Y/n's closet, trying to find a nice outfit. They settled on a long white silk dress. Maya insisted on doing Y/n's hair. She ended up settling on a nice sleek bun. Maya then put on a little bit of makeup for her, wanting to be Y/n's personal stylist.

“I look amazing!” Y/n exclaimed. “Thank you Maya. What would I do without you?” Y/n immediately pulled her friend into a tight hug.

“Of course, I wanna always be here for you. Are you ready to make that tape?”

“You bet I am! I just gotta practise one more time.”

Y/n finished one last practice of her song and took a deep breath as she nodded to Maya, indicating her to turn on the camera.

“Hi, I'm Y/n Y/l/n and I'm a 32 year old female auditioning to sing at The Rhythm of New York. I'm going to be singing one of my own songs that I wrote myself called, A Melody from the Heart.” She tried to sound confident, and she mainly did. Although she did accidentally let a bit of nervousness slip through her voice.

Y/n started singing her song, being careful and mindful, making sure she hit all her notes perfectly and got the lyrics correct. She made sure to keep her song clean and Live TV friendly. She sounded angelic and her voice was absolutely beautiful. Once she was done she nodded to Maya, a sign to her to turn the camera off.

“Do you wanna listen to it?” Maya asked.

“Yeah let me see.”

Despite sounding absolutely perfect, Y/n would keep asking Maya to record her again and again until she was happy with the results. It took around 3 or 4 tries before she was finally happy and decided that she was done.

“I think this is the one. I just gotta send it to them.” Y/n confirmed.

“That's good. It's getting late, I gotta get going. I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck, girl.” Maya responded.

“Of course. Thank you again for the help. See you tomorrow.”

“You're welcome. Bye.”

Y/n bid Maya bye before sending her video to MTV's email and typing the necessary information on the email. Once she was happy, she clicked send and held out a breath she didn't realise she was holding.

Y/n got changed out of her clothes and took off her makeup. She redid her makeup and had dinner before brushing her teeth and getting into bed.

#eminem #eminem x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader #slim shady #slim shady x reader #8 mile #b rabbit #b rabbit x reader #jimmy smith jr #jimmy smith jr x reader

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skipitty-bop · 11 months ago

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@kydeliusofevirwinter playlists part 2 AAAUGGHHH I LOVE CHARACTER PLAYLISTS

MUDD AND GUM GUM PLAYLISTS HAVE BEEN MADE! (+ dr ahem!)

just made them recently so theyre pretty short, but i update playlists whenever i hear a song and think of the character!

#i also have a bezzler one but it has literally one song so i wont tag it lol #its on my spotify profile tho if u wanna cjeck out the singular song #i also have OC playlists on there if youre interested in checking them out!#and other miscellaneous playlists

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maximoffwitch · 16 days ago

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omg the spotify wrapped game sounds fun! how about emily prentiss x reader with #56 💕

The Bottom

pairing: emily prentiss x reader

warnings: depression, bad mental health

summary: you feel like you're sinking to the bottom, but emily's there to pull you back up

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this one's a lil bit ouch but hopefully it's hurt/COMFORT. i need emily prentiss to give me a hug on my bad mental health days. (not proofread as usual....)

#56 on my wrapped was the bottom by gracie abrams

You stared at the text message lighting up your phone, the guilt settling in your gut. When you hadn’t responded to her good morning text, your girlfriend sent you multiple follow up messages, checking up on you. Especially in your line of work, Emily got quite nervous when you didn’t respond.

You knew you were being unreasonable, and even a bad girlfriend, but you just couldn’t put the words to your feelings. You were having a bad day, all your thoughts turning on you and clouding your mind. From the moment you woke up, you knew it was gonna be a rough day—an ache in your chest and a heaviness in your mind. Calling Hotch, you succinctly told him you weren’t feeling well, that you’d come in only if there was something urgent. Being the profiler he was, he could detect there was something off with you, even through the phone, and told you to get some rest and that he’d inform the team. When Emily heard this, her worry only continued to grow.

When your phone started to vibrate in your hand, you saw that Emily was now calling you. As your thumb hovered over the green accept button, you bit your lip, your indecisiveness making the decision for you, as the call went to voicemail. Sighing, you cursed yourself. Emily didn’t deserve this.

You got up from your spot on the couch, threw your purse over your shoulder, and got in your car to drive over to Emily’s apartment, where you knew she’d be, likely pacing a hole in her carpet as she ranted to Sergio.

When you arrived at her front door, you took a deep breath before lightly knocking on her door.

“One sec!” You could hear her movements, her feet padding towards you. As she swung open the door, your breath hitched. No matter how long you’d been dating her, Emily would always take your breath away. She was wearing a plain black hoodie and an old pair of Yale sweatpants, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, and yet she looked effortlessly flawless. Somehow, that made the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Hi,” she greeted, a small smile ghosting her lips as relief washed over her face.

“Hi,” you echoed, mirroring her smile, albeit sheepishly. Clenching your fists by your side, you tried to ground yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Emily nodded after a brief pause, a look of understanding written in her eyes. “You wanna come in?”

“If you want.”

“I do,” she responded patiently, knowing all too well this game of back and forth you liked to play.

“Okay,” you agreed, unclenching your fists. “I’d like that.”

Emily smiled again, angling her body slightly so you could move past her. As you sat down on the sofa, Emily followed close behind, taking a seat beside you, leaving a little room between you, giving you the space you needed. It was quiet for a moment as you tried to gather your thoughts.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how to… not be this way."

Emily turned her body more toward you, her expression softening, the concern in her eyes unmistakable. She didn’t speak right away, though. She let the silence sit between you both, giving you room, just enough room to let whatever was going to come out, come out. And when you looked up at her, she wasn’t judging. She was waiting, in a way that made you feel like you weren’t burdening her at all.

You sucked in a breath, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I feel like I’m drowning. And no matter what, I just keep sinking to the bottom.”

Emily didn’t say anything. She just reached over, her fingers just barely brushing over yours. The small comforting gesture made you feel lighter, like it was an acknowledgement of this weight you’d been carrying.

You looked down at her hand atop yours and fought the urge to slip out of her grasp. "You could do better," you whispered, voicing the intrusive thoughts that had been taking over your mind. “You should walk out. It’s now or never.”

Emily’s expression shifted, her brows knitting together in confusion, but also concern. You couldn’t meet her gaze, too afraid to see the judgement you were sure would be there. The last thing you wanted was to be a burden for her to carry, to drag her down with you.

But before you could get lost in your thoughts again, Emily’s voice brought you back.

“Is that what you think? That I should walk away?” She asked, her tone even, no hint of anger, just a quiet understanding.

You swallowed, your chest tight. “You don’t deserve this.” Deserve me. “It's hard to ignore all of my problems. I have a lot of baggage, and you..” You stopped, closing your eyes, feeling the weight of your own self-doubt crush you. “You should walk out while you can.” Before I drag you down.

Emily squeezed your hand, firmly but calmly, grounding you. She didn’t try to move towards you, but the simple touch was enough to let you know that she was here, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t say that,” she said quietly, her voice steady, but you could detect it was right on the edge. “You’re not a burden to me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You met her gaze, her words slicing through the fog in your thoughts. Emily could see the hesitancy and doubt in your eyes, and her expression softened.

“(Y/N), I’m not going anywhere.” She scooted closer to you, your hand still in hers. “You don’t have to do this alone either. I know it feels like you’re at the bottom, but there’s a way out. I know there is.”

You wanted to argue, to tell her that it wasn’t that simple, that you couldn’t just will yourself out of whatever this was. But her words settled around you, offering a small comfort you had been craving–not an escape from the ache, but a promise that you didn’t have to carry it alone.

“You said it’s now or never,” Emily continued. “And I’m here now, and I’m not leaving. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Her words were simple, but they managed to break that last resolve you were holding to own. Before you could stop the tears from pooling, the dam broke and you flung yourself at your girlfriend, wrapping your arms around her and burying your face into her neck.

Emily immediately took you in her arms, and you leant into her touch, a feeling you didn’t even know you were missing.

“I’m so used to doing this on my own,” you admitted, mumbling into her skin. “I don’t know anything else.”

“I know,” Emily said, her grip on you tightening. And she did know. For the longest time, she too had been adrift, drowning to the bottom every now and then, but then she’d found you, and she loved you. You had become her anchor, and now, she hoped she could be that for you. “I’ll be right beside you. Now and forever.”

Closing your eyes, you let her flood your senses — her words, her smell, her touch, enveloping you completely. You didn’t know what tomorrow held, or even the next day, but you knew Emily would be next to you. And somehow, that was enough.

#my writing #2024 wrapped fics #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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hillbillyoracle · 1 year ago

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You Should Get A Radio

I want to convince you to get a radio. It can be a pretty cheap one - you can sometimes thrift them even - just something to listen to the music and shows that are literally streaming completely for free all around you right this very moment.

Libraries get a lot of love - deservedly so. They are such a frugal resource for entertainment and the community at large. I would argue that radio is very similar.

Find New Music

Radio can introduce you to music you never would have run across otherwise. Spotify and the like have a goal of getting you to listen for as long as possible. This incentivizes the alorgithm picking your music recs to stay very safely within your known listening profile. But since a radio station is broadcasting to a large number of people, not you individually, you're more likely to run into music you personally wouldn't have picked but actually enjoy.

Not to mention that if you're in the US at least, you're very likely within range of a public broadcasting station which not only has local and national news, but various music shows as well - World Cafe is a treasure. College radio stations, if you have one nearby by, can be hit or miss, but in general, it is a great way to find local and very niche music you wouldn't hear played anywhere else. If you're in a city, you very likely have a couple of hyperlocal low power FM stations - many who serve communities who don't speak English and who have their own unique music programming. I also enjoy a lot of the adult contemporary and "oldies" stations I can get near me.

The Ads Aren't Targeted

On most stations, you'll hear some ads. Some stations you'll hear more than a few. But none of those ads are based on an ever growing mass of information being collected about you and your listening habits to decide what specific ad you're most likely to actually act on. They're just...an ad. When you turn it off, it can't follow you around until you actually buy it.

Also, if you're listening to local stations, a lot of the ads are for local businesses in your community; places owned by your neighbors and the people you live with. For me, it's been a nice way to be reminded of what places exist in my community since I usually go to my regular haunts and nothing else.

Frugal and Fun

Radios can be pretty cheap. I see them in thrift stores pretty regularly around here and you might be able to try Marketplace for one. Mine was a birthday gift and I paid a little more to upgrade the antena later. Mine uses rechargeable batteries but I think they make ones that are just straight up rechargeable now.

Since I can't control the music, I'm not turning to it to skip through music or pick a different playlist or look up a given artist I want to hear because I just remembered they existed. I'm more present, whether I'm just listening to the show or pairing it with something else (recently it's been knitting or solitaire games).

Similar to the way that libraries can be one way you decrease your reliance on subscription culture, radio is another. Especially for public broadcasting stations, the programming is always changing, there are new shows every week, and there are often ways for you to get involved. It's another form of entertainment that often gets overlooked.

It's Screen Free

Not much to say here. It's just a big plus to me. I'm trying to take more breaks from screens and make the time I do spend on screens less addictive. I like that I can throw on a radio station and listen to a show without ever having to resist the urge to check email or something.

Vital in Emergencies

Have you thought of how you'd get information during an emergency if the internet goes out? Radio is a great option and still regularly saves lives. In the event of emergencies, local radio stations are often some of the very first people to get information on where shelters are being set up, where resoruces are being distributed, and how to stay safe through the course of the event. Depending on the event, emergency managers will actually bring in radio equipment to keep broadcasting going if there's been damage to a tower and even set up temporary/mobile station up to get the word out if there's not a local station they can partner with.

On days when the weather isn't looking so great, I often have the weather band radio turned on so I can get the latest NWS forecasts and hear when a watch is issued - phones usually only get warnings unless you go out of your way to sign up for more. And out where I live, I usually don't even get those since cell signal is spotty.

It's a great investment in your safety that you can also enjoy whenever.

Conclusion

Buy a radio. Especially if you're looking to get away from subscriptions and cut costs. You can own your radio - you can't own Spotify. It's also just something I think everyone should have since it's such a vital resource in emergencies.

ETA: I am a young millinial. I grew up with radio and remember a time before the internet so I'm not saying any of this as if I'm discovering it. It's more I've been not only enjoying it a lot lately but reminded that a lot of people aren't aware of everything it offers so I wanted to share that in case it was news to anyone.

#I don't know what to tag this #radio #frugal #social sobriety #low screen #no screen #it's just a very good idea okay #cord cutting

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mt-oe · 10 months ago

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𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙨 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝘼𝙧𝙚—bandmate mizu hcs

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

I've been listening to an old playlist I made when I still had time to listen to various genres of music and nostalgia hit me in such a good way.

Hope that you will find much fun in these headcanons as much as I had fun writing them <3

Enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warnings: not proofread, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

note/s: manager reader; mizu has a crush on you

✦ She plays both electric guitar and bass. She'd be sporting a white Epiphone 1961 Les Paul SG Standard, a graduation gift from her step father. Since it had so much sentimental value to her, she never really got around to replacing it. But when she got her first job, she spent the first few months saving up for her bass which was a Fender American Performer Mustang Bass.

You'll never see her in the studio without it. She even keeps it by her side when everyone's taking a small snack break. It's like they're her babies.

One time Taigen tried playing with it while Mizu was in the restroom and everyone was surprised at how fast she came out of the comfort room to smack him on the head with a force so heavy the smack sound echoed around. With that incident, everyone knew not to touch her instruments.

✦ Dresses up either in the typical oversized shirt and baggy pants...or like Kurt Cobain. You cannot change my mind. End of conversation.

✦ Mizu would be the type of member who has argued or fought with every one at least once. It didn't matter how insignificant the issue was. If she didn't like what she saw or what was happening, she doesn't hesitate to speak up about it. This, of course, led to arguments and fights that you often had to mediate.

Why you? It's because she never really listens to anyone else. If anyone else broke up the fight, she'd fight with them as well.

"Mizu," you sighed out, crossing your arms and staring at her with an unamused look.

When you arrived at the studio, Ringo had immediately informed you that Mizu and Akemi were arguing yet again. The atmosphere inside was so thick, you could probably cut it with a knife. This led you to pulling Mizu out of band practice to have a talk with her.

She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms back. Her head was turned towards another direction, not really able to look at you. "It's her damn fault. Her and her old man," she simply replied, making you sigh yet again.

"I know you're annoyed at her dad for interrupting our practice again but you know you can't argue with Akemi all the time," you responded, unfolding your arms and placing a hand on her shoulder. "We need both of you in this band, y'know?"

Her body tensed up slightly when she felt your hand make contact with her shoulder, a blush forming on her cheeks ever so slightly. Fuck you're so cute. She glanced at you before pushing herself off of the wall, rubbing a hand over her face, seemingly annoyed. "Fine, fine. I'll apologize," she grumbled

You smiled at her, making her glance at you again. "Thanks, Mizu."

When both of you returned inside, she immediately apologized to Akemi like a brat who was scolded. But Mizu knew she'd argue with Akemi again the next time her dad barges in the studio. She's just trying to please you for now.

✦ If she isn't playing, she'll be sitting all by herself, researching about where to buy instruments and paraphernalia or watching recordings of another band's recent gig. Ringo would often join her when he spots her. His sudden appearance often makes her jump. At first, it would just be Ringo talking about his day, then what he ate, then the new songs he discovered from the smart shuffle feature of Spotify to which Mizu would either respond by not saying anything or just nodding.

When Ringo spots her looking for better instruments, he'll start talking about second-hand equipment and old but gold repair shops. Although it seems like Mizu isn't listening to him, you'll spot her checking the seller's profile or going to the shop itself on her free time even if she had no intention in buying anything.

✦ Has the most random playlist among everyone in the band. While everyone had a main genre they stuck to, such as Taigen with grunge, Akemi with pop, and Ringo with country, Mizu just listens to whatever. As long as it sounds good, she adds it to her playlist.

And mind you, she just dumps all the songs in ONE playlist.

You tried listening to it once and hearing AC/DC's Back in Black after listening to Twice's TT followed by bouquet by Ichiko Aoba was not something you'd expect to hear in that order.

She gets embarrassed when she finds out you listened to her playlist but doesn't make it obvious. The next time you look at her profile, you'll find a playlist named "you, it's always you" and it's just filled with love songs and songs about having a crush.

✦ Along with the previous, their opponents during battle of the bands competitions often underestimate her. The other competitors would be so confused because why is this dude listening to Tchaikovsky backstage instead of practicing his rifts?

Mizu was simply chilling backstage, earphones in, listening to her random ass playlist again when a shadow looms over her. She looks up and sees Akemi, staring at her and saying something she could not hear.

She removes an earbud, raising an eyebrow at their vocalist in a seemingly annoyed manner. "Your music is too loud. We can hear it from the dressing room," Akemi points out, crossing her arms. She leans forward and looks at Mizu's phone before letting out an amused huff. "Don't you think listening to Hamilton before the competition is a bit weird?" she asks with a smirk.

The other bands sitting around and eavesdropping on the two whispered, glancing at them. Hamilton? Really? Before a battle of the bands competition? Bud is already throwing away his shot, they thought.

The guitarist simply grunts at her, shrugging her shoulders at her. "This is none of your business. Go warm up or something," she replies before putting her earbud back in and closing her eyes as she leaned back against the chair. Akemi rolled her eyes before walking off, probably to find the rest of the band.

When they get up on stage, everybody already thinks the guitarist doesn't know shit. But man, the look on everyone's faces when she starts playing Chopsuey? Goddamn.

Goddamn.

✦ Unlike the others members, she doesn't actively try to build connections with other bands. Once the competition is over, everyone except Mizu is out their mingling with other bands. You're out there talking with your fellow managers, Ringo is talking about food with the other bands for some reason, and Taigen is out there attracting the other women which leads to Akemi dragging him by the ear. Mizu is just...there.

She finds interacting with other people unnecessary. She also has her moments when she recognizes and wants to talk to someone from another band but she's too awkward to talk to them. What she'll do is just stare at them from a distance and wait for someone to introduce them to her.

"You're burning a hole through their heads," Taigen comments, sitting down next to Mizu on the equipment crate and propping his leg up. Mizu grunts in acknowledgement of his comment but continues to stare at the other band. "They probably think you're a weirdo," he laughs.

She glares at him for a brief moment before looking at the band at a distance again. "They had a gig in the bar near our studio. Pretty impressive," she explains. Taigen nods, now staring at the band too.

The both of them watch as you approached the band of interest, cheery and bubbly. Almost immediately, you were already chatting it up out there.

A manager's skill probably.

Mid-conversation, you felt someone watching you so you turned around, eyes meeting with the two. Your smile widened, making the two of them stand up, knowing what was about to happen. They watched as you talked with the other band again. Suddenly, they looked at Taigen and Mizu's direction and approached them with you by their side.

"And these are my bandmates!" you introduced, moving over to their side. Just as Mizu was about to shake the vocalist's hands, the vocalist from the other band immediately patted her shoulder. "You're that person from one of our gigs! So how was it?"

The introvert in her was thanking you so much.

✦ She's a lady killer, but she's also very awkward when women approach her. As much as Mizu is pretty, Mizu is undeniably very handsome as well. Let's be honest, who wouldn't be attracted to a tall, well-built guitarist with an aloof aura and the sexiest deep voice you've ever heard?

The problem was, she didn't really know how to interact with them. The moment someone tries to hit on her, she's either frozen stiff or already planning her escape.

Mizu could not do anything but stare at what had landed on her feet.

It was a bra. With someone's number on it.

"Call me! Please!" someone from the audience screamed. She looked around in confusion before looking at the article of underwear by her feet with her eyes narrowed. Slowly, she bent down and picked it up, holding it by the straps.

Holy shit these were big.

What the hell was she supposed to do with this? Throw it back to the owner? Poor Mizu was lost. She continued to hold it up awkwardly, trying to figure out what should she do. If you hadn't told her to toss it you, she'd probably still be staring at it by the next song.

And you'd think people would stop doing that, but no. In fact, the amount of women hitting on her backstage increased. The little incident on stage somehow increased her charm with the ladies. Because holy shit...she plays both guitar and bass, both tall and well-built, looks so fucking good in a relaxed fit, can be both pretty and handsome at the same time, has an aloof and mysterious aura, AND she's awkward?? Sign me up. Sign me the fuck up.

✦ Unintentionally gets good venues for gigs. That's why you always bring her with you when talking to the owner of the venue. None of you really know how she does it, but she does?

"For the last time, I'm telling you. We've already booked enough performers for this month," the owner grumbled, glaring at you and your persistence.

You frowned at him, clasping your hands in front. "Please! We just need a gig to fund a new amplifier," you begged, giving the owner doe eyes. To no avail, the old man wouldn't budge...is what you thought.

Mizu saw your frown and knitted eyebrows and decided that it was a good time to approach you. She looked at you before looking at the owner with narrowed eyes, almost like a glare. "Is there a problem?" she asked, stepping forward and closer to the owner, stopping only once she was almost face-to-face with him. Her sharp blue eyes stared at his, piercing through his soul.

The owner stepped back a bit, looking up at her before shaking his head. "No no, we were only uh...talking about which time slot you wanted next week!" he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.

Upon hearing this, you immediately perked up and gently pushed Mizu aside. "What? Really?!" you exclaimed, holding on to the guitarist's arm in excitement. The owner nervously glanced back at Mizu, who was still looking at him with the same intimidating stare, before nodding in clear defeat.

After you had negotiated with him, the two of you left with a smile. "That went supeeer well!" you laughed out, looking over at Mizu. "What'd you do anyway?" You grasped her arm, shaking it slightly.

She shrugged, looking anywhere but at you to conceal her blush. "Beats me. I just looked over to see what you were frowning at."

✦ She doesn't like singing even if she sounds pretty good. Everyone in the band, except you, has heard her sing and has tried to convince her to be the lead vocalist for at least one song but is always greeted with a "no" or a "shut the fuck up". She WILL do the back up voice but she feels too insecure about how deep and husky her voice is so it's rare.

You didn't know she didn't like singing though and on one faithful occasion...

You opened the door to the studio and was immediately greeted by the sight of Mizu sitting on the floor with her guitar in hand. The two of you arrived pretty early so the rest weren't there yet. Her guitar was unplugged and it seems like she was looking up songs on her phone.

"Hey..." you greeted her quietly, to which she nodded. "What's up?"

She looked up from her phone before sitting up straight and propping her phone on her thigh, getting ready to play. For a moment, she did not do anything but stare at what was on her phone before looking at you.

"Want to hear me sing?"

You looked at her with wide eyes, a smile slowly tugging on the corner of your lips. Despite her question catching you off guard, it was still a welcomed surprise. You nodded and sat down on the floor next to her, leaning against her slightly.

Her breath hitched upon feeling you so close to her before she slowly relaxed and started strumming on the unplugged guitar. At first, she started strumming a bunch of random chords to calm her nerves. Once you heard the first few chords, you immediately recognized the song.

"If I could begin to be half of what you think of me, I could do about anything..." she sang, strumming on her guitar softly. "I could even learn how to love."

The way she was singing the song so shyly yet so tenderly warmed you up.

Each strum.

Each word.

Each pluck .

It was like she was singing the song with someone special in mind. You leaned closer to her, resting your head against her shoulder, not minding how much it was moving.

She moved her shoulder a bit lower so you could fully rest your head against it, still singing. "Look at you go. I just adore you." She glanced at you for a moment before continuing. "I wish that I knew...what makes you think I'm so special."

A small smile also tugged on her lips as she looked at you. You looked so peaceful. You felt so peaceful. Like you were enjoying your time with her as she continued to sing. "When I see the way you way you look shaken by how long it took, I could do about anything.."

"I could even learn how to love like you"

#bes mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu #mizu x reader #bes mizu #bes x reader #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu imagine #mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai

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midnight-drip · 4 months ago

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taking advantage of this post to show y'all my newsies playlists

crutchie:

spot conlon:

bowery brigade:

"I'm so normal about [Character]"

-someone who is currently making a playlist about said character (aka a LIAR)

#lmk your thoughts gang #I have one other character playlist currently #it's for a friend's oc #idk. if y'all wanna check it out I'm pretty sure it's on my spotify profile #it's called “pure joy”#newsies #bowery beauties #bowery brigade #crutchie morris #spot conlon

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kaiijo · 1 year ago

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LOVER — RORONOA ZORO

roronoa zoro + i take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover content: gn! reader

request a character and prompt for my spotify wrapped event here!

dinners between pirate crews don’t usually occur since your alliances are fragile and you’re all prepared to fight at a moment’s notice. but given the collaboration between the strawhats pirates, the heart pirates, and the kid pirates, it’s safe to say that you’re all a bit more reassured that no one’s about to slice someone’s head off.

you accept another glass of wine from robin as usopp rambles on about how he took out at least thirty marines in your latest high-sea tussle. across the table, zoro snorts and gives you a dead-eyed stare that has you giggling behind your cup.

you and zoro have been dating for quite some time, having begun only a few weeks after you joined luffy’s crew. neither of you have been inclined to tell the rest of your friends in order to avoid merciless teasing as well as mitigating the damage should your relationship go south. if it does, only the two of you will know about it and stew over it — the least amount of risk, you both agreed.

franky glugs down another stein of beer, laughing jovially, “alright, alright, i’ve got an idea!”

“oh? and what’s that?” robin asks, resting a hand on her chin.

“let’s play a game. gotta spice things up!”

“hey!” usopp protests. “my stories are super spicy!”

“yeah, right,” kid snickers, “they’re also lies.”

usopp glares and is about to retort but franky beats him to the punch, saying, “truth or dare!”

“really?” deadpans law. “isn’t that for kids?”

“aww, you need to loosen up, cap!” shachi says, nudging law. “i’m down.”

franky says, “i’m sure everyone knows the rules. only thing is if you refuse to answer a truth or do a dare, you drink!”

luffy perks up. “yeah, alright! that sounds like fun! zoro! zoro! truth or dare?”

your boyfriend smirks. “dare. do your worst.”

“i dare you to eat one of your swords.”

zoro’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “no way!”

“gotta drink then,” you say to him.

“not a problem.” zoro lifts his stein to his mouth and you watch with appreciation as his bicep flexes and bulges under the tight t-shirt he’s wearing. he easily chugs down his beer, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

zoro dares sanji to throw out his collection of dirty magazines that he found under sanji’s bed; sanji asks nami who she would date if she could date any crew member (“ew, none of you.”); nami gets bepo to perform one of uta’s songs and bepo asks franky what’s the best kept secret he’s held from you all.

franky smirks at law and says, “alright, law, truth or dare.”

“truth.”

“if you could hook up with anyone on the deck, who would it be?”

law frowns at the question and you’re sure he’s going to drink instead but when he says your name, the ship erupts into chaos. nami and ikkaku elbow you, their grins suggestive and encouraging; sanji glares at law; shachi, penguin, and bepo gape; and kid and luffy howl with laughter. you sit there in stunned silence, your face on fire, and you can’t look at law.

you chance a peek at zoro and find that, in all the ensuing chaos, he’s nowhere to be found. you catch the door to the belly of the thousand sunny swinging closed and you immediately stand, heading downstairs. you ignore everyone’s questioning shouts in favor of searching for your boyfriend.

“zoro?” you call. “zoro!”

you wander the halls for a few minutes, checking the kitchen, the men’s quarter, the gym. you find him quickly, though, inside the energy room. he’s sitting on a crate, expression sour, and you plop down next to him. “you okay?” you ask.

“i’m fine.”

you study him — his profile, the slope of his nose and the sharpness of his jaw, the way the low light of the room makes his tan skin look golden. you sit quietly with him for a few moments, listening to the engine of the ship run. zoro holds himself rigidly, unnervingly still, but you can feel the irritation rolling off of him, can still see the tension in his body.

you reach over, brushing your hand against his brow to smooth out the furrow. he looks over at you, still scowling but a little less intensely now. you say, “i’m guessing what law said bothered you.”

he shrugs. you sigh, “it’s just a game, zoro. i’m sure he didn’t even mean it, probably said the first name he thought of.”

zoro grunts derisively, “he definitely meant it. look at you.”

you can’t help the pleased feeling the rushes through you but you don’t let it show as you let your hand fall to his shoulder. “it’s just a game. doesn’t mean anything.”

“yeah,” zoro says. there’s a beat and then he says, “i hate hidin’ this.”

“really?” you can’t hide your surprise. zoro’s the one who initially brought up keeping this from everyone.

“i’m sick of it,” he says. “sick of the fuckin’ love cook always saying shit to you. i hate when guys flirt with you and i can’t fuckin’ do anything because the rest of the damn crew is there and luffy’s makin’ me watch his scarf down twenty plates of roast beef.”

you snicker at the memory, which pulls a small smile at of zoro. you rest your head against his shoulder and he mutters, “hate that the fuckin’ doctor said you.”

“we could tell them, you know. i think it’s okay now.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you say. “i’m, like, super in love with you so you’re stuck with me.”

zoro snorts, “yeah, yeah. love you too.”

“are you ready to endure all the teasing from franky, robin, and nami?”

“for you, yeah.”

you tilt your head up and kiss his jaw. zoro grins, leaning down to catch your mouth with his.

When you break apart, you ask him, “I would’ve placed money on you going to the gym. Why’d you come here?”

“Oh. I got lost.”

“You two okay?” asks robin as you and zoro resurface. the game seems to have finished and everyone’s back to drinking and chatting, though they all turn to you when they hear robin.

“yeah, we’re good,” you tell her. “we actually have something to tell you.”

“what is it?” nami asks.

“we’re together,” zoro says. “have been for a while.” and then, unexpectedly, zoro’s arm wraps around your hip and pulls you close.

the ship erupts into the chaos again with you and zoro in the middle. somewhere among all the yelling and gasping, law taps your shoulder and apologizes, which you wave off with an easy smile and zoro gives a firm nod.

nami shakes her head. “i can’t believe you two kept this from us!” and then, she turns to you. “zoro? really? you could do so much better.”

you wind yours arms around zoro’s waist, crushing him in a sideways hug. “nope, i don’t think so. he’s all mine!”

nami gags and robin smiles calmly. “i’ve always known.”

you and zoro stare at her. “what?”

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes #kaiijo's spotify wrapped event #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece x you #roronoa zoro x you #zoro x you #roronoa zoro imagine #roronoa zoro fic #zoro imagine #zoro scenario #zoro fic #one piece imagines #one piece scenario #one piece fic #op x reader #op x you #op zoro

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silentscrying · 2 months ago

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🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track three: something about a beat

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, hopeless stupid pining, alcohol, mentions of deceased parent, maki is Fed Up, anxiety, unbearably cute dogs. || sfw. 9k words.

“OKAY, IT’S UP,” Nobara says, grinning at you over her laptop. You’re sprawled across the living room at Takuma’s place, surrounded by a random combination of your band and his while others are in classes. After spending last night mixing the single, Takuma helped Nobara set up an artist profile for the band, and now your music is available on streaming services. Just like that.

“That’s so weird,” you say, grinning as you pull up Spotify on your phone. Next Fix by Cursed Technique. Strange to see your face on there, a photo taken of all of you by some freshman when you last performed at The Fix. Nobara sends the link in your group chat, and Toge responds within seconds.

freak no. 1: FAME freak no. 1: FORTUNE freak no. 1: wait it’s not opening freak no. 1: nvm i’m just stupid

“Does he ever pay attention in class?” Nobara mutters. Maki snorts.

Yuta is also in class, but that means he’s locked in, all his devices on Do Not Disturb. You don’t think Toge’s turned DND on a single time in his life.

“I’m going to Kinji’s!” Kirara shouts from the front entryway, and Yuji leaps to his feet and disappears down the hall, barreling back out of his room seconds later.

“Wait! Can you give this to Panda while you’re there?” He hands her a drive, and Kirara rolls her eyes and takes it.

“You need to slow down every once in a while,” she says, ruffling Yuji’s hair. “Okay, bye. I’ll be back in a few hours.” The dogs follow her to the door and return the living room when she’s gone, curling up on either side of Megumi, who’s busy writing some paper in the corner.

“What was that?” Nobara asks.

“Demo drive for the radio station,” Takuma says. “Panda plays our stuff sometimes. I bet he’d play yours, too.”

“That’d be sick,” Nobara says approvingly. She turns to bother Megumi, poking at him until he takes his headphones off and talks to her, and Yuji strolls into the room and flops down directly on the floor.

“Comfy?” you ask, poking him with a socked foot.

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Ah, look what you did, Kugisaki,” Megumi says, and you look up to see Shiro trotting toward you with her tail wagging, having abandoned her post at her owner’s side.

“That was not my fault! You’re the one who moved.”

“Because you kept poking me!”

You immediately slide off the couch onto the floor, letting Shiro sit in your lap. “Um, excuse me,” Takuma says, offended. You crane your neck to look up at him behind you on the couch. His face is lit up by his computer as he works on a string of code he tried (and failed) to explain to you, and there’s laughter in his eyes despite the affronted tone of his voice.

“Favorite,” you inform him with a wide, cheeky smile. He very maturely sticks his tongue out at you.

“Toge message,” Nobara informs you all, reading off her phone. “He says omg we have four listeners do you think they’re writing slutty fanfiction about us already.” She glances at you. “Petition to remove him from the chat—oh, look, he started sending the wolf memes again.”

Hanging out like this has become natural so quickly you almost forget you haven’t been friends with Shibuya Incident for ages. You feel almost as much at home in the tapestry-covered living room here as you do in the plant-filled kitchen of your own house down the street.

Maki checks her watch, sighing. “We should get going soon. The guys will be back in half an hour.” Then you have rehearsal, even though you’re not one of the three bands performing tomorrow night. When you do take the stage next week, you want to be ready.

Nobara is trying to read Megumi’s texts over his shoulder, which isn’t working out well for her, and he tells Maki, “Yes, please, take your invasive little gremlin home.” He puts his hand right on Nobara’s face and pushes her away, and she screeches and tries to tackle him, but he’s already sitting in a beanbag chair in the corner, so it doesn’t really do much except make Kuro jump on top of them both.

You glance up at Takuma again, still stroking Shiro’s fur while the others start to stand, ready to head home. “You rehearsing today too?”

“I’d hope so,” he shrugs.

“Yes, dipshit, in two hours. If you ever read the group chat,” Megumi says.

Takuma doesn’t seem fazed by Megumi’s irritation and just shrugs. “We have a new song for tomorrow.”

“You didn’t tell me!” You poke at his knee in retribution for his secrecy. “I wanna hear it!”

“You will,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

“Skipper, help, I don’t wanna walk our gremlin home by myself,” Maki calls from the door, and you reluctantly pat Shiro on the head and stand. She follows you to the entryway and sniffs at you while you cram your feet into your sneakers.

“Maki Zenin.” Nobara turns up her nose and crosses her arms over her chest. “If you hated me so much, why didn’t you just say so?”

“Bye!” Yuji shouts from the living room, and you all call out varying goodbyes and noncommittal sounds before making your way out the door and down the block, the afternoon air chilly against your cheeks.

Nobara waits all of ten seconds before spinning around and walking backward, grinning at you mischievously. “I bet Ino wrote a song about you.”

“Oh my god. Shut up,” you laugh. “He didn’t.” You can’t imagine you’ve given him all that much to work with. What would he write, that you like coffee and drums and Megumi’s dogs?

“Why else wouldn’t he show you? Don’t you guys text each other song lyrics like the little romantic fucks you are?” Your face is flaming, and you’re suddenly very grateful for the cool of the wind against your skin. The idea of him writing a song about you plants something weird in your gut—not something bad, just something unexpected and warm and blooming.

You try not to show it and your friends see right through you, Nobara turning back to skip up the drive with a satisfied grin and Maki rolling her eyes at the both of you.

“I’m gonna write a song, too,” Nobara declares, unlocking the door and pushing her way inside. “Skipper and Ino, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S—”

This time, you and Maki speak in tandem. “Shut up!”

—

“There’s a joke here,” Gojo says, tapping both of his index fingers together while he thinks. “About being a drummer and a journalist. Something about a beat.”

You laugh, jotting another note on the lined paper of your small spiral notebook. “I hate to tell you, but I’ve heard that one before.”

You’re not sure features qualifies as a specific beat, more of a broad category, but your staff isn’t nearly large enough to assign people to smaller specialties. Plus, it’s a college publication, designed for experimentation and growth. Nobody wants to be boxed in yet. That’ll come later, out in the monotony of the real world, and you’ll be confined to some hyperspecific beat like neighborhood crime or high school basketball.

“No!” Gojo cries, dragging his hands down his face like it’s the end of the world. “I can’t believe somebody plagiarized me before I even said it.”

“That’s not how that works,” Utahime cuts in dryly, sliding three shots across the counter to the waiting group of sophomores and then effortlessly throwing together another cocktail.

Gojo leans toward you, shadowing out your notes, and stage-whispers, “You see what I have to put up with?”

You do, actually, see what Utahime has to put up with. She long ago put down a line of blue painter’s tape to divide her side of the bar from Gojo’s, and she preaches frequently that there will be dire consequences if he crosses it.

Of course, he crosses it at every opportunity, and here he is, still.

It’s also just how the two bartenders split up the work, the customers, and you write that down too, that it’s an effective division of labor. “Don’t read my notes,” you tell Gojo as he squints at your writing upside down. “It’ll wreck the journalistic integrity.” He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout that reminds you violently of Toge, who’s taking photos of Utahime as she works.

You glance over to the stage, where Angel is performing the last number of her set, a bouncy, belty song that you recognize from a video she posted earlier this week. The crowd loves it, dancing around and singing along, but still, you think she’ll have a tougher time making it through as the only solo artist remaining in the competition.

You whoop and cheer as she hits her last note, holding it for an ungodly amount of time, and Gojo eventually has to abandon his teasing to do his job. When Toge thinks he’s got enough photos, the two of you slip back into the crowd, Panda commentating on the change of artist as you catch up to your friends.

“And now, here’s your alt rock duo, your boys, the Kamos,” he says as you come to a stop beside Yuta. “Give it up!”

Nobara very loudly gives it up.

“Hi.” Yuta nudges you. “How’s the reporting going?”

“Good.” Noritoshi and Choso settle in on stage, tuning their guitar and bass and making girls swoon in the front row but somehow remaining entirely oblivious to it. “You’re not going home tomorrow, right?”

Yuta shakes his head. This weekend is fall break, which just means that there were no classes today. You spent the first day of your three-day weekend cramming for midterms.

Toge’s heading out after this and Nobara will leave early in the morning, but Maki and Yuta will be here for the weekend. You wonder about Takuma and his band, but you can’t ask right now—they’re all backstage, waiting to go on after the Kamos.

The boys in question, when they’re not doing covers, have incredibly nonsensical song names that have little to nothing to do with their lyrics. The first track of theirs you ever heard was called Song About the Time My Dog Got Lost for Three Hours.

“Okay,” Choso says after their cover of a song by The Smiths. “This one’s called Please Don’t Tell Your Mom I Was At Your House Past Curfew.”

He and Noritoshi then proceed to play the most upbeat, energizing alt rock shit you’ve ever heard. You love these guys, and the crowd does too, the way they don’t take themselves too seriously but they’re genuinely talented. But it’s making you nervous for Takuma and his band, because only one group goes on tonight. Only one.

No, you think, shrugging it off. They got this.

When Shibuya Incident finally walks on stage, the ensuing roar of applause before they even do anything eases whatever worries you might have had. They were slotted at the end of tonight’s set for a reason. Everyone loves them.

Without prelude, they launch into a song you recognize from their EP, a fast-paced track with a pretty simple chord progression that gets entirely flipped on its head in the bridge. You let Yuta spin you around as you dance with the rest of the crowd, the lights and sound washing over you. Yuji’s in his element, Kirara is fucking killing it, and Megumi—as always—is the rock the band stands on, unerring tempo and steady presence keeping everyone on track.

After the song finishes with a crazy riff from Kirara, and the crowd takes a minute to freak out and then slowly wind down, Takuma grabs the mic to address the audience.

“Hi again,” he says, scanning the clusters of people from his place on the low stage. His gaze lands on you and your friends, and he smiles a little wider. “That was Godspeed. We’re gonna slow it down a bit for our next song. It’s a new one. We’re calling it Curious.”

Nobara practically launches herself over Toge to get to you and shake you by the shoulders. “What did I say?” she hisses.

“Oh my god,” you say, shoving her off. “They haven’t even started yet.” But you look back at Takuma to find he hasn’t stopped looking at you.

To your surprise, the instrumentals don’t start first. Most of Shibuya Incident’s music opens with a riff or a fill or at least four bars of introduction. But this time, Takuma leans into the mic and starts singing, just a low “ooooh,” and the rest of the band comes in one by one—Megumi, then Kirara, then Yuji. Kirara’s harmonizing on a higher note, and the effect is a slow, dissonant build that makes you lock in, all anticipation.

Then Takuma tugs the mic from the stand and sings,“I see your eyes, curious, curious, you wanna know why the sky’s so goddamn blue. I hear your voice, curious, curious, you’re asking me if I’d ever fall for you.”

And as you listen, Nobara’s smile just gets wider and wider, and Takuma keeps making fleeting eye contact with you, and you realize abruptly that she was right.

This song is about you.

Takuma’s said it to you before, in passing, how he likes the way you look at the world—through a journalist’s lens, curious about how everything works, always searching for unseen answers.

“Wish I could see my life like you do,” he and Kirara sing in unison. “Wish I could walk the streets each night… wonderin’ if the full moon sees you, but I just keep lookin’, lookin’ down at the time.”

You’re transfixed, just like the first night you saw Takuma perform live, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the stage if you tried. Someone should write a story about him, you think. This man could be on the cover of Rolling Stone and you wouldn’t question it.

God, you’re so far gone, aren’t you?

When the set is over, the last song finishing with a long, drawn-out chord, Takuma thanks the crowd and hands the mic off to Panda to take over. As the band disappears one by one into the backstage area, he lays out the voting process.

“The voting period will last ten minutes, assuming no technical difficulties,” he says. “QR codes, as usual, are posted around the bar. If you’re a competitor, you can’t vote. Make sure you’re logged into your .edu accounts or you won’t be able to access the form…”

Your fingers are tapping nervously at your thighs, the crowd around you already glued to their phone screens. The band isn’t back out on the floor yet—Panda will call all three artists up at the end of the voting period and announce the finalist live.

Sweat is starting to pool in the palms of your clammy hands, and you wipe it on your jeans, anxious. To you, there’s no question. But it’s not up to you.

“Relax,” Yuta says, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It won’t even be close, Skip.”

After the longest ten minutes of your life, Hana Kurusu, the Kamos, and Shibuya Incident join Panda back on stage, a dramatic spotlight bouncing between each artist as Panda draws out the announcement. “And the artist from tonight moving on to the finals in two weeks is…”

“Just say it,” Maki huffs beside you, and Yuta chuckles and nudges her with a shoulder. She tries to hide the slight upturn of her lips, but that’s not going to slide past you.

You’ll tease her later. For now—

“Shibuya Incident!”

The reaction is explosive, both on the floor and the stage. Yuji practically leaps onto Kirara’s back, and Takuma’s face goes slack in surprise before a shy smile works its way across his spotlit features, Megumi being his nonchalant, unaffected self in the midst of it all. Nobara is screaming, and you’re yelling at the top of your lungs, Toge whooping and snapping photos as the Kamos and Hana crowd the band, congratulating them on the victory.

Takuma looks out into the crowd again and you wave, smiling unabashedly, so fucking proud and excited and thinking maybe, maybe, if you make it too, you’ll be facing off against each other, and wouldn’t that be something?

Maybe you shouldn’t be so thrilled. He’s the competition, after all.

But if he wins for going up there and singing curious, curious with his eyes locked on yours, you suppose it wouldn’t be all that bad.

—

Most of Saturday passes in a barrage of classwork and inconsistent, snacky meals in between, the diet of a harried college student, ramen and chips and whatever actual food Yuta leaves for you in the fridge. He’s back from work by three, and Maki wraps up her own work around the same time you do, late afternoon creeping into evening. The three of you are curled up in the living room, the TV on while Yuta and Maki try to pretend they’re not looking at each other.

You need to get them alone.

you: are you busy takuma: not at all takuma: what’s up? you: mind if i crash your house?

You glance up and swear Yuta has somehow, in the last two seconds, moved closer to Maki on the couch.

you: i think yuta and maki need some ~ALONE TIME~ takuma: TEA takuma: sorry kirara told me to stop saying that in response to everything that happens ever takuma: it’s fun tho

“I’m going to Takuma’s,” you announce, and Maki raises a brow at you.

“Again?”

“Sue me for having friends.”

Yuta’s brows crease a bit at the word friends, but he doesn’t comment. With a furtive glance back, you grab your shoes and slip out the door, successfully leaving Maki and Yuta alone in the house for an indeterminate amount of time.

Please, you think. One of them has to make a fucking move soon.

Takuma answers the door before you can knock. “Hey.”

“No pups today?” you ask as you step past him into the entryway, kicking off your shoes.

“Sadly,” Takuma says. “Fushiguro took ‘em with him, wherever he went. Ah, man. Did you only come over for them?” His tone is teasing as he closes the front door behind you, trading the October cold for the warmth of the house. “Afraid I’m a letdown.”

“Takuma,” you scold at his self-deprecation. “You’re basically an excited puppy yourself, so—”

“Hey!” he squawks, and then thinks about it and tilts his head, conceding. “Fine. Maybe. Yeah, okay.”

“What have you been up to?” you ask as the two of you make your way to the living room.

“Procrastination. Guitar instead of homework, mostly. You?”

“Same,” you sigh. “Well, not the guitar part. But I should have been way further ahead on my homework by now.” You shrug. You’ll get it done; you always do.

You settle in easily on the couch, and the two of you boot up the Wii and play a few rounds of Mario Kart because someone left the disc in. And when you’ve both beaten each other enough times to lose count, Takuma mentions something about your single and you realize you haven’t checked the stats.

“You can see more on a computer,” he says, and you follow him up to his room, where he cedes control of the device to you. You pull up the artist profile and grin at the steady upward climb of listeners. It’s not a ton, but this only went up on Thursday.

“We haven’t even done anything to promote this,” you admit, spinning in Takuma’s desk chair to face him. “I don’t even know how people are finding it.”

He immediately looks down, which means he knows something. You nudge him with your foot. “What? What does that face mean? Takuma.”

“I maybe gave Panda a drive of the mix,” he shrugs, talking fast like the meaning of the words might elude you if he mumbles enough. “And he maybe played it at the radio station earlier today. Several times.”

A wave of affection crashes into you so fast that you jump up and throw your arms around him without thinking, laughing into his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that!” You pull back, grinning. “That was really sweet. Thank you. Seriously.”

“Ah, it was nothin’.” He reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck, a gesture you’ve come to recognize as self-conscious.

“Not nothing,” you say softly. He smiles.

After a moment, he glances at the window and seems to come to a decision. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself.”

“Wanna go out on the roof?”

You blink, processing the words, instinctively looking to his window. You’ve never really realized it before, but it opens out onto a flat expanse of shingles, a perfect lookout right outside Takuma’s bedroom.

Your grin is answer enough, and he unlatches the window and pulls it open. He glances back at you, up and down, and you feel yourself blush before you realize he’s taking in what you’re wearing. He grabs a thick jacket from the closet and tosses it to you, then shrugs one on himself and leads the way, gripping the window frame with one hand and pulling himself outside. After a moment of consideration, he reaches back in and grabs his acoustic guitar by the neck from its place against the wall, pulling it out with him.

When the window shuts behind you, you’re immediately grateful for the protection of the extra layer. Even with your hands balled in the sleeves of your hoodie, it’s chilly out here.

You’re surprised by how much of the campus you can see spread out in the distance. It’s early evening, but the days are getting shorter, the sun a misleading blaze of heat in the otherwise cold hour.

“This,” you say, “is fucking awesome.”

“Right? I called dibs on the room as soon as we toured. For this.” He grins, leaning back on his palms, legs spread out in front of him. You lie back on the roof, letting the cool surface seep through your hood, staring up at the sky.

“So Maki and Yuta,” he says, shaking his head fondly. “Are they finally a thing?”

“I don’t know, but if they’re gonna do anything about it, it’s not gonna be while anyone else is home.” You shrug, or at least do whatever approximation of shrugging you can when you’re bundled in a bulky hoodie and jacket and lying on a roof.

Honestly, Yuta and Maki are some of your favorite people on this planet, and you can’t imagine anyone else who really deserves them. They’re the de facto mom and dad of your group—as in, Yuta is the band mom and Maki’s the gruff father who won’t admit his affection for the pet he didn’t want to get but ended up loving anyway.

“Man, I’m glad I wasn’t around when Kirara and Hakari were in their pining phase,” Takuma chuckles. He pulls his legs in, sitting cross-legged, and picks up the guitar, idly tuning it as he speaks. “Then there’s Itadori, probably picks up girls everywhere he goes and has never once realized it.”

“What about Megumi?” You let your head loll to the side, looking at Takuma with the guitar settled in his lap.

“Fushiguro? I don’t know, man, he doesn’t tell us anything. He has like, resting yearning face. I’ve got no idea. I don’t even know where he is right now, just that he’s supposed to be back really late.”

“That means the dogs will be back?” you say hopefully.

Takuma shakes his head, strumming another chord, and another, fingers moving deftly across the frets. “I’m not enough for you, huh?”

“I said no such thing.”

He plucks out a happy little melody on the guitar, looking at you. “Wanna learn?”

You sit up, your hood falling back off your head in the process. “Really?”

In answer, he hands you the guitar, scooting closer to you to show you where to place your fingers. You’ve been around your bandmates enough to know the basics, but you let him teach you anyway, giggling a little when he guides you through a three-chord progression and says, “Damn, you’re a natural.”

He leans back and stares at the sky, listening to you play. Eventually you add a few other basic chords into the mix, varying your strumming patterns, already feeling the strain in your fingertips from the unfamiliar press of the strings.

“So,” you say, still idly messing around on a G chord. Takuma props himself up on his elbows, looking over at you. “What was the incident in Shibuya? Have you been to Shibuya?”

He snorts. “Nope. Honestly, it was more to make people ask the question. You know in the Marvel movies, how Hawkeye and Black Widow are always talking about Budapest?”

“And nobody knows what the hell happened there,” you say, laughing. “Ah. I see.”

“I’ve never even been to Japan,” Takuma admits. “Fushiguro has, though. Maybe he had an incident in Shibuya. Who knows?”

G, C, D. D, C, G. You play the chords over and over, strumming softly, slowly, letting your finger catch on each of the strings, then five of them, then four.

“This is a really nice guitar.”

“Yeah.” There’s a beat of silence that makes you glance up, weighted differently than the usual pauses in conversation. Takuma is sitting up now, knees pulled loosely to his chest. “Was my dad’s.”

“He taught you to play,” you remember aloud, recalling your conversation in the coffee shop. But now you’re hung up on that word: was. Part of you doesn’t want to ask, but part of you feels like his words are a sort of quiet invitation, like he wants to tell you, but doesn’t want to force it. “I… is he…?”

“He died when I was twelve,” Takuma admits, eyes fixed on the sky. “Uh, car accident. It was stupid, some issue with the other guy’s car. Couldn’t stop it.” You’ve never heard his voice like this before, taut, oddly thin. Carefully, gently, you set the guitar on the roof beside you, watching him.

“Were you…”

“In the car?” Takuma sniffs. “Ah. Yeah.”

“Oh,” you breathe, and that’s what it is, more of a breath than a word. “I—Takuma…”

When he laughs, there’s no humor in it. It’s a hollow kind of chuckle, one that says everything he can’t. “It’s why I learned to skate, actually,” he says quietly, not meeting your eyes. “I’d get everywhere that way. I didn’t—want to drive, I guess. Got my license late and everything. I think people thought I was just a slacker.”

Whatever words you might scrounge up feel inadequate for a grief this large. You don’t want to pity him, and you don’t want to dismiss him, and that’s always the problem with hard conversations, isn’t it? What a line to walk.

“You’re not a slacker,” you say eventually, and he raises a brow at you. “I mean, maybe you procrastinate coding projects to a worrying extent, but you always get it done.” You smile thinly. “You don’t give up in any way that matters, Takuma. I like that about you.”

He chuckles. “Nanami said something like that, once.” His eyes go far-away again, just for a second. “He’s kind of the closest thing… like… I don’t know. I’ve known Nanami for a really long time. He was my dad’s friend. And I guess he sort of became a father figure, after…”

He shrugs. “It’s probably a big part of why I decided to go here. That, and it’s not too far from my mom’s. I don’t know that she’d have been thrilled if I went somewhere farther.”

“You’re not home,” you say carefully, a question but not question. “For break?”

“She’s on a business trip,” he says. “So not much point. But I’ll see her at Christmas, at least.”

For a while the silence stretches out comfortably between you, like a weighted blanket. You can’t ignore it, but it isn’t unwelcome. At some point you scooted closer to him, and now you sit side by side, only the layers of your jackets separating you.

“Thank you for telling me,” you say eventually, soft, unwilling to break the quiet. He nods.

“You didn’t go home either,” he points out, an unspoken question in the spaces between words. “Is it just ‘cause you’re from so far away, or…”

“Yeah. A Friday off didn’t feel like enough of a break to warrant a flight back.” But that’s not all of it. His silence tells you he knows it, too. He’s been so candid with you all night. You can share this part of yourself, you decide.

There’s something about Takuma, anyway, that makes you want to tell him things. You want to know him, and you want him to know you—you now, here, at school, but also you there, home, in the past.

“I haven’t been home since July,” you admit, hugging your knees to your chest, mirroring him. “My town is… small. I liked it when I was little. But the older I got the more I started to feel, just—I don’t know, stifled?”

Your hometown used to feel huge, like you could explore it forever on your Razor scooter and never find all its secrets. But you grew, and the town didn’t grow with you, and suddenly you were standing outside your high school realizing you knew every corner of the self-proclaimed suburban city, every street and coffee shop and alley. You’ve always been curious. And at some point, there wasn’t anything left in that place for you to be curious about.

“I love my home. I love my parents. It’s just… I needed to get out. I don’t think they ever really understood that.”

It’s easier to admit things when you’re looking straight ahead like this, out over the lines and curves of buildings, picking out street lamps, watching a few stray cars make their way around slow corners.

“Is it what you wanted it to be?” he asks quietly. “Here, I mean.” He nods out to the vast stretch of campus, spread across the city. So many corners you’ve been here years and haven’t found them all.

Campus is weird on break, you muse, looking out over the darkness. A whole parallel world for you to explore, the shadowed version of the place. A video game map on single-player, a dead server. Hardly any lights on in the windows, no kids out on the street. Like a ghost town. But it still doesn’t feel empty to you. There’s so much promise in it.

“Yeah,” you answer after a moment, soft. “Yeah, I think it is.”

A ghost town that isn’t lonely, somehow. You could write a song about it, you think. Friends with all the dead in my ghost town. The phrase plays itself out in your head, and it sounds like something moodier than your band usually goes for. It sounds like Shibuya Incident.

You wonder if this is what it means to be in a relationship—not a romantic one, necessarily, but a friendship, or any kind of bond between two creative people. If it’s this, the sharing of intellectual property with another person to the extent that their voice and yours start to blend.

It’s in the way Nobara can finish your sentences when you’re throwing out potential verses, scrambling for rhymes. How Toge and Yuta can anticipate each other’s movements, match chord progressions without talking about them. How Maki slips into your tempo seamlessly, every single time.

And now your lyrics sound like something his band would play. Maybe Takuma’s songwriting will start sounding like yours, too.

You don’t think you’d mind.

“Can I tell you something?” Takuma murmurs after a moment, sounding hesitant.

You rest a cheek on your knees, hands clasped together in front of your shins, facing him. “Mhm.”

“That song last night,” he whispers, and he’s not looking at you, just staring out at the rapidly darkening campus. “It was about you. And how you—I don’t know, the way you look at things. Like they’re always so full of potential. I wish I could do that. You just see things and want to know more. I like… watching you, being curious.” He pauses for a beat and then quickly adds, “Not in like, a creepy way! Just—I don’t know.”

A chuckle slips through your lips against your will, the darkness hopefully hiding the color in your cheeks. Maybe you can blame it on the cold. “Watching?” you ask, teasing. “I can’t imagine I’m all that intriguing. There’s a lot of cool people around here, y’know.”

“Skip,” he murmurs, and now his eyes are locked on yours. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

Every nerve in your body is hyperaware of his proximity, and his hand reaches up to cup your jaw, the touch ghosting over you, barely there, hesitant. A nonverbal question. Is this okay?

You lean into the warmth, letting his breath wash over you, mingling with your own in the space between your lips, smaller and smaller and smaller.

He’s watching you, closely, giving you a chance to pull away. So many words exchanged tonight, but you don’t need any for this.

You don’t pull away.

It’s slow at first, and soft, and hesitant. The shingles dig into the heel of your hand as you lean forward on one arm, a grainy feeling on your fingertips, in the grooved imprints left by the guitar strings. You find your free hand moving up to his shoulder, pushing, guiding him down until his back is pressed against the roof and you’re over him, lips locked with his. You look at him, and he’s so full of potential. You want to know everything about him, you want to know how he works, you want to ask questions. And you do, with your tongue along the seam of his lips, and your hand tangled in his hair, and his breath mixing with yours in the air. It’s near full dark now, feeling later than it really is, evening in autumn.

You’re not cold anymore.

He deepens the kiss, body coming up to meet yours, and you feel like maybe this roof is the top of the whole world, because how could you ever feel higher than this?

“Takuma,” you murmur, and you kiss him again, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this way before, but you’ll do maybe anything in the world to feel this way again.

And then a sharp, deep sound makes you jump, scrambling to sit up on the shingles, breathing heavy from the kiss and the noise. Did that come from inside or out?

“What—”

“Oh, crap,” Takuma groans, pulling open the window. “Someone’s home.” He looks back at you, cheeks flushed from the cold or the kiss or both, looking a little helpless, a little apologetic, and you can’t help the small laugh that bursts from you at the absurdity of the situation. You feel like a teenager getting caught by your parents.

“We should…” He nods toward the window. You hand him the guitar, then crawl back over to the window and slip inside after him, the warmth a stark relief from the temperature you’ve gotten so used to. Your heart is a jackhammer, rapidly pecking away at the once-stable structure of yourself.

You kissed him.

You kissed Takuma.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out with still-cold hands.

utah: [1 Image Attachment] utah: dinner?

Admittedly, the pasta does look amazing, and your stomach grumbles as if on cue.

“I should go,” you say awkwardly, holding up the phone for Takuma to see.

“Uh, yeah, uh—for sure, no problem, I should go see what’s up down there anyway,” he says after a beat of hesitation. “I’ll see you, uh…?”

“Around?” you finish, laughing slightly.

“Yeah,” he echoes with an amused half-smile as you make your way down the stairs. “Around.”

—

You’re freaking out.

It’s 4:31 on Monday afternoon, you’ve been listening to the same song on repeat for an hour, and you’re freaking the fuck out.

After Saturday night, you didn’t talk about it. You kissed him on the roof and your heart turned into a hummingbird and you were warm all over, and then the front door slammed and you nearly jumped out of your skin, and Megumi was back early and Takuma had no idea why, and you pet the dogs and then slipped out, wanting to give them their space.

And you haven’t talked about it. You haven’t had time. Sunday was a mess of cramming for midterms and your housemates returning from break and you threw yourself into your studies and tried not to remember, but now…

The stupid fucking switch in the back of your brain has flipped itself on and you can’t turn it off, all worry and criticism and hypothetical worst-case scenarios and you’re giving too much too fast, Skipper, you know better than this!

How many people in your tiny town fell in love young and grew to resent each other? How many of your high school friends grew up with divorced parents? How many breakups have you seen in your two and a half years at this university, how many tears and shouting matches in public halls, how many friend groups falling apart because two people fell in and out of love?

The thing is, you know you’re panicking about nothing. Takuma hasn’t asked anything of you. It was just a kiss. He is not your boyfriend. This is not a contract.

But if you talk about it, it could be, and you don’t understand why that scares you so much. Do you have commitment issues? What the fuck is your problem?

You probably wouldn’t have a problem at all, if you’d just had the time Saturday night to figure out what the kiss meant. But now that a whole day has passed and you haven’t seen him and you don’t know for sure, your mind keeps wandering down paths it should have stayed away from.

What if it’s a friends with benefits situation and you’ve just read too much into it? Maybe this is all he wants, making out, spending late nights together getting physical. Maybe that’s all. A heated makeout session on a roof doesn’t mean he feels the way you do. And do you even know how you feel? Fucking hell.

It’s the anxiety talking, the more logical part of you says, the part that sounds an awful lot like Maki. Your friends aren’t around to tell you how stupid you’re being, so the only texts you and Takuma have sent since Saturday night are playlists and song lyrics skirting around whatever truths you’re trying and failing to articulate.

Do I Wanna Know floats from the speaker on your desk, your phone next to your head on the bed, facedown and dormant. Do I wanna know if this feeling goes both ways?

Your door slams open and you jump up, whirling around to find Maki with her arms crossed, leaning on the frame. “Alright,” she says. “That’s the tenth time I’ve heard that godforsaken song. What the fuck is up with you?”

When you don’t respond, she steps inside and closes the door behind her, pauses the music, and then makes herself comfortable on the edge of your bed. “Talk to me,” she says. “You’re driving yourself crazy.” The words stall in your throat, useless, stagnant things as you avoid her knowing stare, instead staring at the popcorn ceiling until it blurs.

Maki sighs and shifts entirely onto the bed, turning herself to face you.

“I didn’t know you were home,” you say lamely.

“You’re driving me crazy, Skip,” she tries, and she knows you so fucking well, because the guilt trip is exactly what dislodges all those words built up in the back of your mouth—she breaks the dam and you spill your soul onto the quilted comforter, rambling, a rush of truths and things you thought you’d hidden from yourself but you can’t anymore. And she just listens, not looking away once.

You tell her everything: that you know you catch feelings fast, too fast. That despite your bleeding heart, you haven’t really been in a long-term relationship since high school. That you think of the future, of all the places you want to go, all the things you want to do, and there’s no guy in those dreams, and the thought of restructuring the life you’ve planned out for yourself around a boy who might be temporary is too much to even fathom. That—

“I kissed him,” you say breathlessly, bordering on hysterical, and you feel so stupid, this worked up over something so small, something that should be good. “I kissed him and now it feels real and now I’m freaking out.”

“I can see that,” Maki says calmly. “Let me ask you something. What is the worst thing that could happen, if you date him and it doesn’t last?”

“I…” You chew on your bottom lip, mind spinning through every bad outcome. “He could end up hating me, Maki. I could get some crazy job and have to leave, or he would come with me and leave his whole life behind and then he’d grow to resent me and we’d just be in some kind of hellish limbo until one of us snapped. Or he could—he could leave me, or we could try long distance and he could fall in love with somebody else, or I could, or—or—”

You flounder for a second, realizing your biggest worry is the one most immediate, the one most central to your life as it exists right now.

You’ve been sitting here thinking about big-picture things that are so far out, trying to make the feeling curdling in your gut feel like a valid reaction to a major life event. But that’s not what this is.

You’re just really, stupidly, pathetically scared that Takuma kissed you and didn’t mean it.

“Or—I guess that’s not the issue. Not really,” you admit quietly, not looking at Maki. She probably already knows. She has a way of knowing exactly what’s bothering you and just asking the right questions, getting you to talk yourself out of whatever hole your anxious mind has dug.

“I—it was just a kiss. What if he doesn’t want something serious right now, and I like him this way and he just wants something casual? I can’t do casual, Maki,” you say, raking a hand through your hair. “And it could fuck up this thing we have going. Yuji and Toge get along so well, and Nobara and the boys and Kirara, and Megumi’s your cousin, and I don’t wanna cause some weird, awkward rift, you know what I mean?”

Because it’s been so good, getting to know them. You don’t want to fuck up the dynamic just because you caught feelings too fast.

Maki leans back against your wall, humming as she thinks this over. “Okay. First of all, take a step back. Do you actually think you and Ino dating or not dating or whatever would mean I stop talking to my cousin? Or Nobara to the guys?” She raises a brow at you, unimpressed. “Seriously. I love you, Skipper, but you do not have that much power. These relationships existed before you knew Ino. Yuji is incapable of having conflict with anybody. And Toge doesn’t give a fuck about awkward relationship drama, he just wants to play Smash.”

As she speaks, you can feel your heart settling back into its home in your chest. Maki always knows what to say. Always.

“Second: Let me put it this way.” She levels you with a serious look. “You are so worked up about all these incredibly hypothetical situations. If you shut this down now, if you don’t act on what happened on Saturday, you’re still going to be worked up about hypotheticals. They’ll just be different ones. I know you, Skipper, you’re gonna drown yourself in what ifs. So you have to pick the lesser evil. There’s an unknown factor either way. Which one is gonna be worse?”

You groan, faceplanting into your bedspread. In the process, your forehead must hit play on your phone, because all of a sudden Arctic Monkeys blasts through the JBL again and Maki is grabbing your phone and saying, “Absolutely not. Nope. We are done with that.”

You look up at her helplessly. “Do I wanna know?” you choke out, half-laughing. “Because if I’m taking this out of proportion, if he doesn’t feel this way and I’m just another girl he kissed—”

“You’re not,” she says firmly. “Are you kidding me? Skip. That boy kisses the ground you walk on.” She shakes her head, some mix of fondness of exasperation flashing across her face. “You already know. The question isn’t if he likes you, or if you like him. It’s whether you’re gonna let it play out or shut it down before it has a chance to.”

Your door slams open, and Nobara strolls in and puts her hands on her hips. She glares at Maki and then at you.

“Please tell me I’m wrong,” she says, and you know you’re in for it, “but I believe you both had significant relationship developments this weekend and didn’t immediately call me? What the fuck? Spill.”

Abruptly, you feel like the worst friend in the world. Not necessarily because you haven’t filled Nobara in—she hasn’t been home—but because Maki is flushing pink, and you left her alone with Yuta on purpose, and it’s Monday, and you haven’t even asked what happened.

You look at Nobara. “Close the door.”

She does, but she doesn’t sit down, choosing instead to pace the room as she speaks. “Exhibit A: the plants have name tags and the handwriting is not Yuta’s. Exhibit B: I just came from down the street and Ino is acting weird as fuck.”

You sit straight up, suddenly on high alert. “Weird how? Did he say anything?”

“No. Like, the entire time. That’s the weird as fuck part.”

You turn to Maki, trying to read her. “Okay, what happened with Yuta? Was it when I left? Because if I wasn’t obvious enough—“

“You were very obvious, thank you,” Maki says, her blush deepening. “Uh, we made dinner. As you know.”

“It was good.”

Maki is pointedly looking everywhere but at you and Nobara, gaze darting from the ceiling to the bedspread to the door, as if she might escape the conversation. You hadn’t even noticed the plant name tags. That’s maybe the most sappy gesture that’s ever come from Maki Zenin.

“Mm. Yeah. Uh,” she says, eloquently. “We might have kissed. We might be… together.”

“Maki!” you and Nobara both scream, which results in Toge nearly breaking down your bedroom door five seconds later.

“What?” he demands. He clocks Maki’s bright red face and grins widely. “Aha! Yes. Good.”

“Wh—”

“Yuta won’t look me in the eyes, so I figured. You wanted to tell us all at once?”

Maki nods sheepishly.

“Too late!” Toge says cheerfully. “And he’s not home. So we can take this quality girls’ time to—”

“You are a man.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me,” Toge tells Nobara, hand over his heart.

She swats at him in response and flops onto your floor, and Toge drops down beside her, you and Maki leaning over the edge of your bed to see them both.

"I ate your love pasta," you tell Maki, and she groans.

"This is why I don't tell you people things."

After the appropriate appoint of freaking out about Maki and Yuta (of course I knew, I always know, Nobara says), they make you go through the whole of Saturday night in detail.

You leave out the part about Takuma’s dad. That doesn’t feel like your story to tell.

When you get to I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Nobara blinks at you, and the innocent expression on her face means whatever she’s about to say is anything but. “So he told you you’re not like other girls?”

“Oh my god,” you groan, dragging your hands down your face.

“Oh, shit, Skipper!” Toge nearly shouts from the floor. “We have to go, like, two minutes ago.”

“Shit!” You scramble off the bed, shoving your laptop into your bag and weaving around Nobara, who has made no move to get off the floor. You and Toge have your usual Monday night class time to do field reporting, and you’re meeting up with Geto and Utahime.

The front door clicks open and closed, and you grin at Maki, who goes red. Yuta’s home. God, you wish you could stay for this.

“Hi, Yuta! Bye, Yuta!” you call on the way out the door, patting him on the head, and Toge follows suit with a much more aggressive motion that messes up Yuta’s hair.

“Oh, hi! Um. Bye?” Yuta’s startled laugh follows you out the door, and then you’re on your way.

You’re always on your way back to The Fix, eventually.

—

Utahime, notably a happier person in general when Gojo’s not around, lets Toge into the back to get some photos of the storeroom. That leaves you alone with Geto, back on the same stool as last time, phone on the counter as you watch him work, talking as he goes.

“Finished inventory,” he says, typing something rapidly on his laptop, “and now it’s budgeting. And yeah, that’s about what it looks like on the day to day. What else did you want to know?”

Geto is remarkably easy to talk to. He’s soft-spoken and articulate, a good listener, and you find yourself forgetting it’s an interview after a while, lost in conversation. You learn that he studied business in school, so opening an establishment like this wasn’t much of a stretch. He handles the finances and hiring, and he’s the one working with Panda on the Battle of the Bands. Gojo and Utahime bartend, Nanami is security, and Shoko handles everything else. It’s a small team, he says, but they work.

“I wanted to be able to be home for the girls when they were growing up, and this wound up being a great way to do that, schedule-wise,” he tells you. “And now they’re here, which is great. I wouldn’t say I ever saw myself opening a bar, back in college, but now that I’m here and Shoko and I have been running the place for a while, I’m not sure where else I ever could’ve ended up, y’know?”

You nod, head propped in your hand with your elbow on the counter. “So is this the dream? The endgame?” you ask. “Think you’ll stay a while?”

“Well,” he says, closing the laptop, “I think it comes down to doing something because you love it, not because other people love that you do it. Though right now, both of those things are true, which is fortunate for me." He leans on the bar counter, head tilted as he considers his words.

"If the work makes you happy, if the people there make you feel the same way, I think that’s worth hanging on to," he says. "If I ever stop loving the work, I suppose I’ll move on. I don’t see that happening, really, but if it does, I’ll roll with it. Whatever comes after.”

“That makes sense.” You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Man, I wish the career thing was that clear-cut now. I know I have time, but it’s weird to think about.”

“Would you ever go further than this with the band, you think?” he asks, seeming genuinely curious. “Or is the journalism thing pretty much what your heart’s set on?”

You’ve thought about it. Drumming makes you feel alive like very few other things do, but you love writing, reporting, meeting people and telling their stories. You want to go for editor-in-chief next year when Tsumiki graduates, but the reality is that you won’t have so much time for the band if you get the job. And you love your band.

Not that it’ll be the same, anyway, without Maki and Yuta. That’s something you don’t love to think about.

“I don’t know,” you confess, sheepishly realizing you’re still recording, that you’re supposed to be the one asking the questions. “I don’t think… that the band is ever necessarily going to be a professional thing. Maki and Yuta have all these big career plans. And it’s like, how much do I invest in that now, knowing it’s not… forever? When the journalism thing, the career, might be? I don’t know.”

“You know, I don’t think it matters all that much whether it’s forever,” Geto shrugs. “If it gave you what you needed at the time, wouldn’t it be worth it?”

He glances up at you, taking in the lines of your face, the tapping of your fingers against your other arm. You kind of feel like he sees something you don’t.

“Here’s some unsolicited advice, kid. On the record. Maybe life is short, maybe not. But regardless, your heart is not a finite thing.” His eyes are soft but not sad, serious but with a sort of levity that’s wise and not regretful. You think, idly, that you would find it very hard not to trust him. “If you’ve got something, love it while you have it.”

Something tells you he’s not talking about the band anymore. Or maybe that’s just you, looking for answers where there aren’t any.

“Thanks, Geto,” you say, turning off the recording. “This has been really helpful.”

Your heart is not a finite thing. And you think you’ve made up your mind.

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a/n: what is this? setup for the megumi spinoff i'm writing after this? oo (sorry he was a cockblock it was for the plot, this one AND his, hehe)

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