#i was discussing all the concerts i had been to and i mentioned off hand that i was way more hyped for maisie than taylor

[vogelmeister]

this is gonna sound so trivial so hear me out but i do not like it when somebody knows im a taylor swift fan and then they boil me down to the point where thats my only personality trait and i can’t like anything else more than i like taylor swift.

[burnthatbridge]

if you love him let him go (if you love him let him know) 

pre-buddie, bucktommy | T | 3k | angst, pining tommy needs to tell eddie something not on ao3 atm because i can't figure out if this is done or if i'm continuing it - please let me know your thoughts! now on ao3 because i hate not having all my fic in one place

“Can I get you another beer, man?”

Eddie checks his watch. It’s only a little after nine thirty. He’s kind of hoping to get home before Chris goes to sleep, but he’ll not be heading to bed any time soon, will likely stay up later than Eddie. Friday night means he disregards his supposed bedtime — not that he sticks to it that well on school nights, now he’s sixteen. “Sure, thanks.”

Tommy nods, disappears into the kitchen, returns a moment later with a can of IPA in one hand, a bottle of lager in the other. They’ve already finished the six-pack Eddie brought over, but trust Buck — well, Buck and Tommy — to have Eddie’s favorite beer in their fridge. Tommy hands over the can, already cracked open, and Eddie takes a sip as Tommy settles down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t turn to face the TV, sits twisted towards Eddie instead, but he does pick up the remote and turn down the volume, the post-fight commentary rendered nearly unintelligible. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Eddie twists towards Tommy himself, something not-quite-anxious-but-almost flaring in his chest. Over the years they have been friends, he and Tommy have spoken about lots of things, including those not so easy to discuss: their respective experiences in the army, Tommy’s tough childhood, Eddie’s difficult parents, the hard aspects of the job. But they’ve all been topics that have come up naturally, raised organically. Tommy has never led into anything with such a pointed opener before.

Eddie studies him. He has one knee pulled up on the couch cushion, foot poking out off the end, the other foot planted on the floor, nearly parallel to the base of the couch. One arm is up on the backrest, the other relaxed, beer bottle in that hand, resting on his thigh, dripping condensation painting a charcoal ring on his — probably Buck’s, in fact, given how tight the fabric is stretched over the muscle of his leg — grey sweats. He’s not tense, but he’s not smiling, and there’s something about his expression that Eddie can’t place. It’s not that he hasn’t seen this look before, because he’s pretty sure he has, witnessed it in flickers across numerous occasions over the years, there and then gone, present for but a heartbeat. But he’d never known what it meant any of those times and he certainly doesn’t now.

“'Course,” Eddie says, when Tommy doesn’t go on, seems to be waiting for some kind of sign. Then adds, feeling like it’s necessary given the gravity he can feel pulling this lightsome evening down to something more serious.  “Anything.”

Tommy sighs, bites his lip like he doesn’t want to speak, even though he’s the one who said he wanted to talk, then shakes his head and takes a pull of his beer.

“Is everything okay?” Eddie’s starting to feel worried now. He mentally scans back over the past few weeks, trying to remember if Tommy has mentioned anything about work that could be a problem. He saw him at basketball last week, and nothing had seemed off. Plus, Buck hasn’t said anything. Not that he’d necessarily tell Eddie about an issue Tommy was having, not if Tommy wanted it kept private, but Eddie can usually tell when Buck’s concerned about someone, and he hasn’t picked up on anything, not at all. 

But maybe this isn’t about a problem Tommy is having. Maybe this is a Buck problem, something Buck has kept from Eddie. It would make sense why Tommy would bring it up with him; sometimes a concerted, multi-person effort is the only way to get through to Buck. And Tommy’s more likely to bring in Eddie first, and then expand the team to include Maddie, Chim, more, as needed. 

“Is Buck okay?” Eddie asks, something like panic constricting his throat, making the words come out a little strangled. 

Tommy actually laughs at that, a small, choked thing, an exhale of sound and air. He shakes his head again, but not a no. More like an extension of the laugh, a motion to accompany it, to better convey the disbelief — not humor — contained in it. “He’s fine.”

It’s a relief to hear. Buck had seemed physically okay, when Eddie had seen him briefly before he left the house, since he’d maybe purposefully waited to order his Uber until Buck pulled up in his jeep outside, despite Christopher’s insistence he didn’t need to wait for Buck to arrive, despite the fact that his kid is more than old enough to be left in the house alone for the twenty minutes it would have taken Buck to drive over, while Eddie was ferried the opposite way. But there could still have been something, Buck could have been fighting through pain, much better at hiding any hurt of his body than he is at masking his emotional distress. 

“But,” Tommy says, and that one word is enough to have Eddie’s muscles tightening once more, “It is Evan I wanted to talk about.”

Again, Tommy doesn’t follow it up with anything. Eddie has found, in their time as friends, that Tommy is not often a man lost for words. Quite the opposite, in fact. He usually says what he means, means what he says, and is an expert at listening and delivering sage advice. This reticence– it doesn’t feel like it bodes well, has the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck prickling.

“Alright,” Eddie says, a feeble prompt. “So, Buck?”

Tommy nods, like he’s gearing himself up for something, to face a challenge, to take a punch. Eddie is expecting something bad, so the words he says catch him even more off guard than they would have. “I want to ask Evan to marry me.”

Maybe if Tommy had seemed eager, excited, when he turned to him, Eddie could have anticipated the blow, could have felt a creeping suspicion this is where Tommy was headed, could have been provided with enough of a heads-up to brace himself. As it is, he doesn’t see the hit coming, takes it full force to the chest, so hard it steals his breath, knocks the wind from him. His mouth goes slack, and he feels his fingers slide against the slippery sides of his beer can, almost spills it over Tommy and Buck’s lounge carpet before he gets a hold on it, on himself. He forces himself to smile. “That’s– that’s great,” he makes himself say, only faintly aware that Tommy isn’t smiling back, like this moment should call for. “Did you–” he swallows around the bile climbing his esophagus, “Do you want help planning the proposal?” He wishes he could take the words back the second they’re out. Because this — just hearing that Tommy wants to ask Buck — is torture enough. To be involved with it, to help enable it, Eddie will be lucky if it doesn’t kill him. Maybe not his body, but certainly his soul. 

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “No, I want to ask him to marry me. But I’m not going to. At least, not now.”

Eddie squints at him. The news that Tommy wants to marry Buck might hurt Eddie, but it’s not exactly surprising. Eddie’s seen how much Tommy cares for him in the years they’ve been together, has seen the way he looks at him, the way they look at each other. Has felt the way it burns him, the scorching heat of flame, the searing cold of ice. He doesn’t understand what Tommy is saying, doesn’t understand why this proclamation seems not to be a happy one. “Why not?” Eddie asks, almost grateful for the opportunity to present confusion, curiosity, rather than forced pleasure at the thought of one of his closest friends and his– best friend marrying each other. “You guys are serious. I mean, you live together.”

Tommy huffs another laugh, still more disbelief than humor, really the opposite of humor. “His lease was up.”

“Right. But he chose not to renew it. He chose to move in with you,” Eddie says, slow, struggling to understand, the pounding of his pulse not helping him think clearly, see through the puzzle that is everything Tommy has said so far and the way he has said it. 

“He was never going to renew it,” Tommy tells him.

And that’s– that’s something Eddie didn’t know. He hates it when he learns information about Buck from Tommy, always has, even though he fights with everything in him not to feel like that. Tommy is Buck’s boyfriend, of course he’s going to know things about him that Eddie doesn’t, know him in a way that Eddie doesn’t. 

“We hadn’t spoken about living together,” Tommy says, eyes on Eddie. “But he’d said he thought the loft was too expensive and he was spending nearly every night at mine by that point. When he wasn’t on shift. Or at yours.” Eddie pulls his eyes away, takes a sip from his beer for something to do, even though the bitter taste is turning his stomach. “He said he wasn’t going to renew it, that he’d look for somewhere new, cheaper. But this was too close to the end of his lease to find a place before he had to move out. I asked where he was going to stay in the meantime.”

“And he said with you,” Eddie guesses, more a statement than a question.

But Tommy shakes his head. A smile curls his lips but his eyes– his eyes don’t match. “He said he’d crash on your couch, actually.”

Eddie takes another mouthful of beer, holds it there, on the back of his tongue. He didn’t know any of this. Buck would, of course, have been more than welcome. Likely why he hadn’t asked in advance, why he planned for it without seeking permission. 

“I said he could stay with me, instead. That he’d be able to sleep in a bed here.” Eddie swallows, the beer somehow thick and cloying in a way that it shouldn’t be. “And then when he started making noises about looking for a new place, I told him he should stay.”

While it’s not how Eddie had, unwillingly, pictured it in his head — Tommy and Buck mutually agreeing that Buck shouldn’t renew his lease, deciding they wanted to live together — it still doesn’t explain what Tommy has said. “And he did stay,” Eddie says. “So, why aren’t– Does Buck not want to get married?” But that can’t be it, that can’t be right. Eddie is certain Buck does want to be married, only he’d tried hard not to think of Buck wanting that with Tommy, with anyone. Anyone else. 

“No, he does,” Tommy confirms it. He leans over and deposits his beer on the coffee table. Then sits back, still turned to Eddie, but arms crossed over his chest, like a protection of himself. “We’ve spoken about it, discussed it. And he’s told me he’s always wanted that, to get married, to be part of a family.” Tommy pops one hand out of the fold of his arms to hold it up, out, quelling, like Eddie has protested. He hasn’t, but his heart is doing something approximating a riot at the idea of Tommy being Buck’s family. “And I know he has a family. He knows he does. In you and Chris, in Maddie and Jee, in the 118. But–” Tommy breaks off, tips his head to the side, gaze boring into Eddie’s face so strong that Eddie wishes he could turn away, duck and run. “You know how much he’s always wanted to belong somewhere.”

He does, Eddie thinks, the thought almost violent in its intensity. He belongs with me. Except, he doesn’t. Not really, not how Eddie wants, not the way he does with Tommy.

“And I want that for him,” Tommy goes on, tucking his hand back in, squeezing his arms tighter about himself. Eddie’s never seen him like this, hunched in on himself, curled small. Tommy is usually so open, larger than life. “I want to be the one to give that to him.”

Eddie wants to be the one to give that to him. Desires it desperately, a secret need he’s tucked as far inside himself as he can. He can feel it now, raging to be let out, to be set free. But he can’t, he won’t. Buck is with Tommy, he’s happy with Tommy. Tommy who is so warm and kind and good, Tommy who is better than Eddie in every conceivable way, who brings so much to Buck’s life, who gives all of himself to Buck. Who wants to give him even more. Wants to, but apparently won’t.

Eddie doesn’t understand. “Then, if you want to, why won’t you ask him?” he questions, trying to. 

“If I ask him now, he’ll say no.” Tommy states it like indisputable fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that Buck would refuse him. 

Eddie shakes his head, understanding even less. “But he loves you.”

Tommy smiles again, then, larger than he had before, but as devoid of happiness, as empty of cheer. This smile hurts to see, reflects the way Eddie felt inside when Tommy had said I want to ask Evan to marry me. “I know he does.” Tommy’s tone is sure, but wistful. “But he loves you more.”

It’s like– It’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt. Or maybe it’s like everything he’s ever felt. The shock of a residual lightning bolt, the joy of being a part of the 118, the pain of a bullet ripping through his shoulder, the awe of holding his son for the first time. Eddie wants Tommy’s words to be true maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything. But he also cannot believe them, has no trust that they are true. Because they can’t be. Buck loves Tommy. Not Eddie. 

“We’re friends. Best friends,” Eddie points out. “Of course, he– he loves me. But not more. Not like he loves you. He’s in love with you.”

Tommy sighs, arms uncrossing, palms coming to rest on his thighs, body taking on a posture Eddie is familiar with, the one he falls into when he’s talking someone through something, the one he adopted when Eddie came out to him some six months ago. “Eddie, he’s in love with you.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear, but coming from the wrong lips. Spoken by not by Buck himself but by Buck’s boyfriend, oh god. “He isn’t. Tommy, he can’t be.” 

But Tommy is nodding, nodding like what he’s said is true, like he wants Eddie to believe it. 

“He’s not,” Eddie says, hears the denial, the disbelief spill from him. Buck doesn’t love him. He doesn’t. But Eddie– Eddie loves– “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, almost a gasp. “Tommy, I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s not your fault,” Tommy cuts him off. “I knew what I was getting into. When I started seeing Evan, I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. I just–” Tommy sighs again, scrubs his palms along his thighs. “I didn’t expect it to get this far. I thought we’d just be a fun, easy thing. Something to ease Evan into his sexuality, that new part of himself. I didn’t expect it to go like this. I didn’t expect to feel like this.” Tommy closes his eyes, lashes falling to his cheeks. He breaths in and out, while Eddie’s own breath is caught in his chest. When Tommy opens his eyes, he says, “But I don’t have to tell you how easy it is to love him.”

Fuck. Tommy knows. Because Eddie does. He loves Buck, loves him so endlessly he doesn’t know where the feeling starts and where it ends. Doesn’t know when it started; doesn’t think it will ever end. “I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, needing to say the words again, needing Tommy — his friend — to hear them. 

Tommy lifts one palm from his thigh, his wrist pressing into the muscle as he cuts his fingers to the side in a dismissal. “Don’t apologize for it. I’m certainly not going to. I’m never going to be sorry for loving him.” He drops his hand back down, pats his leg, emphasis of the point. “But it is a problem.” He smiles, rueful. “I thought I’d be able to break up with him, if he didn’t break up with me. I should have, ages ago. I certainly should have when you came out.” 

Eddie, selfishly, had hoped Buck would break up with Tommy then. But it had seemed like a farfetched fantasy. He had told Buck he was queer after Buck had already moved in with Tommy. He’d admitted it to himself, to Frank, before that, but hadn’t told anyone else for weeks. In hindsight, sometimes he figures he’d left it too late, but most of the time he didn’t think it would have made a difference at all. But now, with what Tommy has told him, maybe it would have. It’s a knife sliding between Eddie’s ribs to think maybe. Maybe.

“But I didn’t.” Tommy looks resigned, shoulders drooping. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Eddie needs to know. It seems like Tommy has known for years that Eddie has loved Buck. Loves Buck. I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. So why is he only bringing it up now?

“Because I didn’t. Because I can’t. I can’t break up with him. But I want to move forward. And I want to do so with him, for us to further our life together. But if I ask him to marry me when he doesn’t know for sure that you’re not an option, he’ll say no.”

Fear freezes Eddie’s insides. “So, what– what are you asking me to do?” Because Tommy is asking something of Eddie, wants something. Something Eddie fears he will have to make himself give.

Tommy straightens up, shoulders rolling back. He’s serious, solemn but not demanding or pleading when he says it. A devastating request. “I’m asking you, as my friend, to let him go.”

Eddie could be sick, he thinks, could vomit up the three and a quarter beers and the half a dozen chicken wings he’s consumed since he got to Tommy and Buck’s place. Could spill the mess of his insides up all over himself, all over Tommy, all over their lives. Tommy is his friend, was his friend before he was ever Buck’s boyfriend. Eddie should do this thing for him. Should give Buck his blessing to marry Tommy, give Buck up, give him over, completely, to this man who has loved him so well for the past three years. Eddie should; in his gut he knows it would be the right thing to do. But his heart– his heart is in revolt. It’s Buck. He loves him. How can he ever let him go?

Tommy leans forward, places a hand on Eddie’s leg, squeezes his fingers around the ball of his kneecap, until Eddie lifts his gaze and meets his eyes. “Or,” he says, somehow even more serious, “I am telling you, as your friend, to go and get him.”

[starlightkun]

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

── ⋆⋅♫⋅⋆ find more stories from backstage at venue:hell here!

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

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

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

[kun: attached image]

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

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

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

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

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

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

“New weekly is here!” He called out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You got four hasty nods in return.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I meant about the new weekly.”

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

“Their sound’s good.”

“And Kun obviously liked them.”

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

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

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

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

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

You held his eye contact, arching an eyebrow.

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

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

“Yeah…”

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

He saluted you, “Yes, ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shotaro was still staring at you.

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” Thunk. “Fuck!”

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

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

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

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

“No. Focus.”

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

“I don’t think so.”

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

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

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

“Uh-huh.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Deal!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, we don’t have anything planned.”

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

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

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

“You know, our set?”

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

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

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

“No, uhm, sorry for keeping you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

“Oh. Sorry.”

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

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

“Do you guys need something else?”

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

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

“I like it. Looks good on you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need any help?”

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

“You’re really good at that.”

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

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

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

“Did you hate our set that much?”

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

“You’re still doing it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t.” He beamed.

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

“Ten?” You yelled out. “That you?”

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

“Can I help?”

“You really want to help me decorate?”

“Yeah.”

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

“Is that a yes?” He asked hopefully.

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

“That’s fine!”

“Put your in-ears away first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Finally,” you scoffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, that too.”

“As an afterthought,” he snickered.

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

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

“Are you?”

He shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m alive!” Shotaro announced cheerily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it’s not your favorite?”

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

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

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

“I was looking for those today!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With that, he left the office.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Shotaro.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sensible.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like the movies,” he added quietly.

“He likes the movies!” You repeated triumphantly.

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

“I’ll come with.”

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

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

“Sour Patch Kids!” His face lit up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s in the industry too?”

“Yeah, she does tour management.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I gave you them!” He defended himself.

“Your guitar.”

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

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

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

“I’ll take your word for it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, okay.”

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

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

“Where else would I be?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep!” Kunhang nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And…?”

“How did you know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit, sorry! I mean, uh—Never mind!”

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

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

“What are you doing?” He asked curiously.

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

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

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“I figured.”

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

“I’m a sucker for a theme.”

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

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

“You’re welcome.”

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

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

“Trust me?” You requested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want anybody’s number.”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

“Y/N—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

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

“Cool.”

“Taro mentioned anything to you about that?”

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

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

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

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

“God, shut up,” you groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who the fuck are you to tell me no?”

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds awful, I’m so—”

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no, I’m home.”

“Okay, good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Totally! Yes!”

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

“I will. Absolutely.”

“I’ll talk to you then.”

“Yes.”

“Thanks, Taro. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snickered. “I said that?”

“You did.”

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

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

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

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

“Done. Send me your address.”

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

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

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

He obliged, quietly closing your door behind him.

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

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

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

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

“Liar.”

He beamed. “Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.” You squeezed his hand back.

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

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

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

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

“Bitch?” You blinked at him innocently.

He elbowed you again. “Rude!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Yes!” He cheered.

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

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

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

“I’m not a distraction!”

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

“I help you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You already told all your bandmates.”

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

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

“I’ll tell the guys I was kidding.”

“They’ll think you’ve lost it.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

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

“I appreciate that.”

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

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

“I get off at midnight?”

“So?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Since when do you call him ‘Taro’?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heard.”

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

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

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

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

“Go do that.”

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

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

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

“Why are you wearing his sunglasses?”

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

“That’s… reasonable.”

“You said that weird.”

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

You kept a straight face. “Really?”

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You good to go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⤷ au masterlist | blog masterlist

[deanssluvr]

thought you were made for me

part 2 | part 3

pairing: brother’s bsf!Joost Klein x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is my first fic so please be nice. I didn’t really expect to write more than 500 words lmao. Also, this isn’t proofread sorry. I plan on writing a part 2 for this.

It had already been a long and tough week. With just finishing the last of your final exams the week prior. Each exam felt like it took years off of your life. And the week itself felt as though it would never end. Not even mentioning the multiple all-nighters you pulled to study before. But when it was finally over you were beyond ecstatic. And now you got to finally be at home and relax.

It was relatively quiet morning. You had decided to stay in the comfort of your blanket for a while longer before deciding to head down to the kitchen. There you were greeted by your brother Ethan and his best friend Joost. They were making breakfast. Well, it was just your brother cooking and Joost waiting patiently. Ever since Joost finished touring, he’d been spending a lot of time at your house. Spending multiple nights in your guest room. Your parents never really minded because he was nice and respectful. Usually, they’re in your brother’s room playing video games or out doing something. You never really got the chance to see him a lot since you were off to college. But you were hoping that would change now that you were home.

“Good morning.” Joost smiled softly. Ethan turned away from the stove briefly to tell you good morning and offered you breakfast. You nodded and turned back Joost. He was sipping a cup coffee and the steam was slightly fogging up his glasses. He took them off and set them on the counter beside him.

“Good morning Joost.” You returned the smile. He moved next to you from where he was standing. 

“And how are you this morning?” he asked in a low tone. His voice was still laced with sleep.

“I’m good. Just glad to be back home. How are you this morning.” You looked up at him and through tired eyes.

“Better now,” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. It caught you off guard. Was he flirting with you? Before you can finish that thought your brother hands you both a plate of food. You thanked him and they walk out of the kitchen to the dining room. Leaving you to your thoughts.

—

Later on that day, you called your best friends. They discussed with you their plans with their newfound freedom. You were shocked at their ideas. Party here and bar hop there. You thought they were just as exhausted as you. The idea of getting wasted as a celebration wasn’t your favorite idea. You just wanted to catch up on sleep.

“But we’ve been doing nothing but staying in our dorms for finals. We NEED to go out,” she stated.

“I know. I know. But maybe we could do something a bit more laid back. Like the movies or that festival that’s in town.” I practically pleaded with them. But it was no use. They weren’t changing their minds, and I was outvoted two to one. The conversation shifted back to their ideas for celebration for the next few days.

After agreeing to meet up this weekend, you said your goodbyes to your friends and hung up the phone. But quickly after your brother texts you.

hey Joost has a concert tonight. i have an extra ticket. wanna go with me?

You thought about it for a good moment. You just wanted to get some extra sleep tonight, but on the other hand, you haven’t spent much time with your brother since you left for college. And now is a better time than ever to make up for lost time. Also, you just wanted another excuse to see Joost.

ofc sounds like fun

it’s tonight at 8. i’ll pick you up at 7

You texted him “okay” before setting your phone back down, and finished making yourself lunch.

—

As leaned over the sink, you checked your makeup one last time in the mirror. You used your nail to fix your lipstick. You stepped back to look over your overall outfit and decided you were happy with the outcome. You sprayed a bit of your favorite perfume on yourself. Checking the time you realized you were ready a bit early, so you sat in your living room. You started scrolling through Instagram as you waited. Then a notification popped up in your phone.

hey i’m outside.

You quickly checked your appearance once last time in a nearby mirror and checked your purse to make sure you had everything. When you felt satisfied with everything you grabbed your keys and left the house.

The ride to the venue was relatively smooth. You talked about what you’d miss in each other’s lives. He explained to you how he just found a new job as a bartender at a new bar downtown. He also told you how he was saving up for a new place. You told him that you were really happy for him. When he asked about you, you told him about how you just finished up finals week and now you finally have time off. He gave you a small chuckle and congratulated you.

—

The outdoor venue was packed that night and people were trying to rush to the front. You’re glad your brother was there as he kept a secure grip on you and was able to push you both to the barricades near the stage. It was extremely humid that night with a faint smell of weed and cigarette smoke clogging the air.

The lights dimmed slightly and you heard a beat starting to play over the speakers. You could feel the anticipation from the crowd and it made you even more excited as you leaned forward on the barricade. Then Joost ran on stage. Blue flashing lights engulfed him as he started performing and the crowd, including yourself, began jumping to the beat.

Once the energy died down slightly, you were able to take him in. His outfit was really simple tonight. He was in a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up giving us a glimpse at the tattoos that littered his arms, a pair of baggy jeans, and his black thick-rimmed glasses that were fogging up every so often. Something was enticing about him and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

You had never heard his music before, but that didn’t stop you from letting loose. Everyone around you on the other hand, including your brother, is yelling the lyrics word for word. Joost takes notice of this and walks further downstage towards your brother, acknowledging him and smiling. Now you were able to get a good look at his face. He is even prettier up close you thought to yourself. Then he looks over to you, holding eye contact for just a split second before giving you a wink and continuing his performance. You were in utter disbelief at the encounter. You honestly thought you had imagined it. You were pulled back to reality when the loud beat of the next song started pouring into your ears.

—

“Did you enjoy the concert?” your brother asked as you both walked to his car. You were still feeling the buzz of the concert. It felt like the night shouldn’t end here. Maybe because you wanted to see Joost again.

“Yes, I did! His music is so good. I had an amazing time.” You left out the part about him winking at you, but you felt that you should keep that bit of information to yourself.

“Well, I’m glad that you had a good time.” His phone chimed with a notification. As he checked it you decided to check your phone. Your friends were blowing up your phone about the concert. They loved Joost so they wanted to know how it went. As you texted them back, your brother spoke.

“Hey, Joost is having a little after-party at a club nearby. He’s asking if the both of us wanted to go.“ You considered it for a moment. You did want to see him again. But when you did what would you say? Maybe he does this to all of his fans. Your brother senses your indecisiveness and tries to help.

“You don’t have to go. I would understand. I mean you’re not close to him. I just asked because he said he wanted to see you.” You were surprised at his request.

“No. I want to. I would love to go.” You stated as you gave him a reassuring smile. He nodded as he started the car towards the new destination.

— 

Your eyes scan over the scene. A DJ was blasting music over the speakers, but it was more near the dance floor. The place was dim with small, warm lights keeping tables and the lit. You follow your brother as he leads you to a table that seats a few guys. When you got close enough you realized it was Joost and who you assumed were a few of his friends. He loudly acknowledged your brother as they shared an embrace. They share a few words before he sees you.

“Hey. I’m glad you came.” he hugged you and you embraced him back. He smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, but it didn’t bother you. You liked it. You both lingered for what was probably a moment too long before he let go. You looked over to your brother and saw that he went to talk to the other guys at the table. Leaving you with Joost. 

His eyes slowly scanned over you as he took in your appearance. Once his eyes reached yours, you noticed a different look in his eyes. Almost like hunger. Being under his gaze almost made you feel nervous.

“Come sit with me and let me pour you a drink.” He didn’t give you much of a choice as he grabbed your wrist lightly, his fingers brushing against your palm. He guided you to sit with him in the booth. He pulled you close enough to the point that your thighs were touching. You liked around and realized it was just the two. You scan the place and see your brother and his other friends have run off to the bar. Probably to do shots you thought to yourself. 

You focused your attention back to Joost who was carefully pouring you both a drink. Though it was hard to see, a small dim light slightly lit up his face allowing you to still see his face. His hair was even messier than it was at the concert but he still looked amazing. You notice his strikingly delicate features and his captivating eyes that seem to sparkle under the light. Your eyes then trace down his arms and you take note of the tattoos that are there.

“Here.” He pulls you out of your trance by handing you a glass with brown liquor in it. You take the glass from him, your finger faintly brushing his. You didn’t drink much and when you did it was mainly vodka. Nonetheless, you drank it anyway. He watched as you took a sip and smiled when you seemed to enjoy it. He drank some of his own before turning to you.

“Did you enjoy tonight’s show?” He leaned in closer making sure you heard his question. 

“Yes, I did. Your music is really good. I wish I had discovered your music sooner.” Even with how dark it is you notice the smile he gave you.

“I'm happy you had a good time. You know I know we don’t know each other that well, but I would love for us to get closer.” Once again he leaned in, but this time it was in your ear. His warm breath against your ear sent goosebumps across your skin. As he leaned back to look at you, he stopped just inches away from your face. You can faintly feel his breath against your lips. You swear can see his eyes glance at your lips for a second before looking back into your eyes. His expression changed again into what you saw when he first greeted you. Hunger. His eyes were focused on yours and it made you nervous. The air suddenly changed. It felt more thicker and warmer.

“Let’s go dance.” He offered his hand as he slid out of the booth. You smiled and took his hand. He guided you to the crowd on the dance floor and pushed you both near the center. There was a dark blue light that engulfed everyone. The beat took over you as you started dancing. You let your hips away to the rhythm. You felt Joost’s hands find their way to your waist, and he pulled you closer to him. 

You continue to dance against him, grinding on him. His hands started to explore your body as they found themselves on your hips, and then slowly went down to the hem of your short skirt. His fingers found their way under and he started to rub the soft skin. His head found its way closer to the crook of your neck. You feel his warm breath on your collarbone as he speaks.

“Ik heb je nodig (I need you)” He breathes into your neck and it sends shivers down your spine. With the light grip he has on you, he turns around so now you’re facing him. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you. Your faces are inches away from each other. The air around you is hot and thick. You look into his eyes and see the same familiar look as before. Even under the lights, you can see his pupils blown with lust. 

You don’t know if it was the alcohol but you felt bold. So you pulled him into a kiss which he happily accepted. His hands moved from the hem of your skirt up to the curve of your ass where he squeezed lightly. The kiss became more intense as you both realized how hungry you were. Your hands found their way to his hair and you pulled gently at the white locks. He pulled away only to say something.

“We should take this somewhere else.” He suggested between pants. You nod quickly. He takes your hand and guides you off the dance floor. Your head was buzzing and you felt as though you were caught in a haze. He leads you back to the table and you see your brother and some of his friends there with a few girls. Joost let go of your hand only for a moment when telling your brother that you were both leaving early. He told him you weren’t feeling good. Surprisingly he wasn’t suspicious of anything and only told you both to drive safe. With that, you and Joost make your way to his car. You both get settled in before he looks over at you.

“My place or yours liefje (sweetheart)”

[putschki1969]

『Hikaru LIVE TOUR -ROUND-』 KYOTO

Tweet by Hikaru | Instagram story by Hikaru | Instagram post by Hikaru

▼2024 11/30 (Sat) Soul Power, Toyama 17:30 / 18:00 12/07 (Sat) Music Bar Perch, Aichi 17:30 / 18:00 12/14 (Sat) LIVE HOUSE enn 2nd, Miyagi 17:30 / 18:00 12/21 (Sat) MUSE, Kyoto 17:00 / 17:30

▼2025 02/11 (Tue) Club eX, Tokyo 17:00 / 18:00

Setlist Notes: The new song is called “With”. I originally thought it was “Wish”. My bad! Not sure about the order of some of those songs (maybe there’s something missing too??). I had to wait till I was on the train to write everything down but at that point, all the songs had gotten mixed up in my mind. It was made worse by the fact that I didn’t immediately recognise some of them and Hikaru didn’t always introduce them either☠️

That ticket holder clearfile looks so good!! Glad we got this as tokuten. A bit bummed though that there was no special design for the drink ticket😿For those who bought more than one copy of the “Mask” EP, there was a special present too, an alternative cover image. Super pretty 🤩 I mostly spent the rest of my day in Kyoto eating touristy stuff 😅And I headed to the Pokemon Center to get a few exclusive items for my nieces/nephews.

On a side note, those pink gummies were posted by Keiko earlier this week on her Yodel app. Of course I had to get them too (tho the packaging is a bit different, there’s a variety of designs. I got the same design as her today🤗)

1.With 2.Treasure??? 3.Koganeiro no Yakusoku 4.Flow 5.Survivor 6.Under the rain (acoustic ver.) 7.Lack 8.YES/NO 9.Disclose 10.Escape 11.End of line 12.Kiseki En 1.Breathe En 2.紡-TSUMUGU-

Some highlights: I was SUPER close to the stage, it was AMAZING!!🤩 You can even see me quite clearly on the photo that Hikaru posted 🤗So glad she allowed us to take off our masks for the photo. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss that opportunity.

As always, Hikaru had an incredible stage presence, she was confident and cool, oozing charisma during each and every performance. I feel like we made eye contact several times but maybe that’s just wishful thinking 🙃Her singing was powerful and even though I didn’t always recognise the song (shame on me), I had a good time. “Under the rain” was hands down my favourite 💕So beautiful. I almost cried. She sounded better than she ever did before. The acoustic arrangement is very flattering. The upbeat songs were a ton of fun (despite sitting right in front of the speakers☠️). Hikaru literally rocked the stage🔥I almost feel bad for not being more active but I guess I’m just not the type to move a lot. (Clapping is the most I’ll usually do😅)

Sorry for adding lots of stuff on the go. I forgot to mention that Hikaru teased some upcoming solo activities for 2025. She says there are already more or less concrete plans but she will wait to make an announcement until everything is finalised. Of course she also briefly discussed the Kalafina Anniversary concert and asked who of us was planning to go. Obviously, almost everyone said that they would come, Hikaru seemed very happy about that and ensured us that they would put all of their love and strength into delivering the best possible music to us so we should all look forward to it.

EP Mask Tracklist Notes: For some reason I thought there would be more new songs🫣But it’s just “With”. The other tracks have been released digitally already.

1.with 2.End of line 3.Lack 4.Koganeiro no Yakusoku 5.Breathe 6.Kiseki

13th Single 「End of line」 MV (Short ver.) ④

And here’s another music video clip of the MV for Hikaru’s latest single release. You can watch it on Instagram! Also be sure to check out her YouTube Short. The song is featured on her EP “Mask” which is set to be on sale at her solo tour venues.

[moonferry]

i sang my heart out (you didn't hear it)

omg hii.. i really wanted to explore sam's angry side. so, after some discussion with a few friends, we decided that - despite sam's happiness and bubbliness - he probably has some anger/frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

shoutout to my friend em (unfem on ao3, unfortunatelyem on tumblr) for bouncing around ideas with me. they actually wrote something about the wedding band (mentioned in this fic) and graciously allowed me to write my own little spin on that. all credits for that particular idea goes to them <3

oh yeah the song sam sings is "dad's song" by set it off. listening to that song, dissecting the lyrics.. it made me think of sam and kent's dynamic and i know sam would write a song dedicated to his father. anyway~ enjoy.

warnings: none? idk sam gets angry. he says something he regrets.

word count: 3737

chapter: 1/?

summary: sam and his band are finally performing their most important (or at least most memorable) concert! each bandmate has written a special song or instrumental solo and they're eager to perform them! sam had chosen to write about his father and how kent has inspired him. however, kent isn't there to hear the song performed.

ao3 link: here

and tumblr version below the cut :3

Flashing lights, booming music, a crowd of people screaming the name “Goblin Destroyer” at the top of their lungs. In Sam’s mind, this night was perfect. Well.. Almost, anyway. 

His eyes warily scanned the crowd - looking over all the familiar and unfamiliar faces in front of him. Several of his fellow townspeople had come all this way to see the festivities: to see Abigail, Sebastian, and himself. He saw Abigail’s parents, although they appeared uncomfortable by the loudness of the music and the crudeness of the lyrics. He saw Robin and Demetrius, Emily, and even Shane - much to Sam’s surprise. So many people who were eager to hear the band. Despite this, Sam had a looming sense that something was missing. That someone was missing. 

As the current song began to die down, Sam’s eyes landed on a space near the front of the stage. He saw his mother, a proud smile plastered across her face. Her eyes crinkled around the edges and the corners of her mouth met in a deep wrinkle. He watched as she reached a caring hand out towards her youngest son, spinning him around in a circle as the music continued to blare. 

The light from the setting sun glinted and reflected across the tarnished silver band on his mother’s left hand: her wedding band. A symbol of her marriage to his father, a symbol of love and devotion - both to each other and their family. The sight of it caused his main worry to seep back into the front of his mind: where was the person who had the counterpart to that ring? Where exactly was his father? Sam glanced around nervously, thinking back to an earlier interaction with his father. Kent told Sam he'd be there - no, he promised Sam he'd be there. Yet, there wasn't a trace of him in sight. 

Sam gulped harshly, a small lump forming in the back of his throat. Maybe he's just getting snacks, Sam thought to himself, desperate for reassurance that his father would show up eventually. Sam had to believe Kent would be there. He had to hope - hope was all he had. It was all he’s ever had. Hope that Kent would appear, hope that his father would return, hope that everything would work out in the end. He held tightly to that small hope, letting it wrap around him like a comforting blanket.

Dad will show up, Sam mused to himself, He always does, after all. Momentarily comforted by that thought, Sam remembered why he was having this concert in the first place. He thought about the surprise he'd been working on for months. He had written a song about his father and he intended to perform it tonight, on Spring 6 - just two days after Kent’s birthday. 

Sam had purposely scheduled this concert for that week. He had intended for the song to be a belated birthday present. After all, he put everything he had into writing it. He spent countless nights hunched over his desk, waiting for inspiration to strike, only to spend the next few hours writing and crumpling up page after page of subpar ideas. Sam wanted it to be perfect - and he wanted Kent to see just how perfect it was. He wanted Kent to see all the work he put into it. He wanted Kent to be proud of him. Tonight he would sing it in front of all these people. Everything had to go perfectly. Everything would go perfectly - Sam was sure of that. The only thing missing was the man himself.

Sam tried to calm his nerves by letting himself get lost in the music. However, that was a harder task than he had anticipated. As the minutes counted down, as song after song died out, Sam found himself less and less able to focus. He missed chords, he sang the wrong words, he was even sure his voice cracked at one point. Sam knew that everyone noticed, even if they continued to politely cheer and clap as another song ended. 

C’mon, Sam, he thought to himself, get it together.

Abigail, who was eagerly awaiting her own drum solo, glanced at Sam worriedly.

“You okay, man?” She asked. Abigail frowned, Sam had always made mistakes - but none this noticeable. It was clear something was bothering him, but Abigail wasn’t exactly sure what it was. 

“Huh?” Sam asked, looking up at Abigail with a distant, but confused expression. 

“You seem..” Abby started, pursing her lips together as she tried to word it nicely, “Preoccupied… Is..is everything okay, Sam?” 

“Uh,” Sam began. He gulped harshly. Was everything okay? He didn’t know. Even if it wasn’t, a small part of him knew this wasn’t the place to discuss it. Sam rubbed the back of his neck and continued with a sheepish chuckle, “Yeah. Everything’s fine..  I’m just a bit tired, I guess. You know how it is: pre-concert jitters making it hard to sleep..” 

“If you say so,” Abby replied, her lips forming a thin line and her voice lined with faint skepticism. Sam was normally so full of energy. Hearing him claim he was “just tired” didn’t sit right with Abigail. However, it was clear that pressing Sam further wouldn’t do any good. 

“You should take a break,” Abby offered, motioning to the small crate next to her. She continued, “Seb will come get you when it’s your turn to sing, okay?” 

Sam gripped the neck of his guitar with clammy palms and took a seat with their equipment. He nodded in Abigail’s direction before mumbling a small “thanks”. He watched as Abigail walked towards her drumkit and took her seat. Once alone, Sam buried his face in his palms, groaning out in frustration. This day was so important to all of them, yet he couldn’t help but feel like it was slowly becoming a disaster. Even if Sebastian and Abigail ignored the mistakes or continued playing like normal for his sake, he knew it was his fault. He felt awful. 

Get it together, Samson, he mentally scolded, reaching over and splashing a small amount of cold water on his face. Sam couldn’t let himself ruin this night for his friends. He would never forgive himself if he did. He had to push down this feeling. Yet.. it kept nagging at him. It circled around his mind, consuming his thoughts. Maybe Kent was here now? Maybe, while Sam was deep in thought, his father had silently entered the crowd - had taken his place and filled the empty spot next to his mother. 

 Against his better judgement, glanced out at the crowd once again. He hadn’t intended to, but it seems his eyes subconsciously scanned the crowd - looking for any indication of his father’s presence. He found none. Sam felt a small pang in his chest, but he tried to ignore it. 

Sam tore his eyes away from the crowd. He shook his head and let out a small sigh. Nothing. Sam wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans, anxiety eating away at him as he watched Sebastian end his synth solo. He looked up, noting the shadow of his friend slowly approaching him. It was almost time for Sam to debut the song, yet still no sign of Kent. It worried him. Sam shook his head - removing the thought from his mind. He had more important things to focus on. Besides, Sam was certain Kent would show up. He had to show up. 

“You're up, dude,” Sebastian spoke as he approached Sam. Sebastian looked at Sam, raising his eyebrow. It appeared that the man hadn't heard Sebastian's words or - if he did - he was ignoring them. He waved a hand in front of Sam’s face, his worry growing. He had never seen Sam so.. distracted. Sam couldn’t help himself from looking out at the crowd once more. Another small, hopeful glance, one that believed that Kent magically appeared in the few seconds he looked away. 

“Sam?” He called out once again. Sebastian pursed his lips together in thought, wondering how to get his attention. He held up his hand before striking his thumb against his middle finger, snapping twice. Sam looked up at him - his expression dazed but no longer distant. 

“Dude..? Earth to Samson..?” Sebastian asked, waving his hand once again when Sam remained silent. He watched as Sam anxiously chewed on his bottom lip, gazing longingly at the crowd of people. Sebastian pursed his lips together, unsure of what was on Sam’s mind. He spoke once more, “You okay?” 

“Uh.. yeah,” Sam replied, shaking himself out of the momentary stupor. Sam went silent for a moment, as if debating internally with himself, and eventually sighed. He pushed himself into a standing position - causing the old wooden crate beneath him to creak and groan in protest. Sam started towards the center of the stage, though something stopped him before he reached the mic stand. He took another glance at the audience. A small, barely audible sigh slipping past his lips. Kent was nowhere to be found. 

Of course, Sam thought to himself, why would he be? Sam knew his father had a distaste for open spaces (and large crowds). He knew it was asking a lot of him to be in a situation with both at once. Despite this, a small part of Sam had silently hoped that, just this once, Kent would be there. 

“Hey, Seb?” Sam asked, turning back to his friend. 

“Mhm?” Sebastian mumbled in reply. He wasn't looking at Sam - too busy fidgeting with his synth. 

“You.. you didn't see my dad out there,” Sam began, his voice going quiet. He looked down at his shoes - slightly embarrassed that, despite knowing the answer, he still held onto a small sliver of hope. He continued, “Didya?” 

Sebastian thought for a moment, pursing his lips together as he racked his brain. He had seen nearly two dozen faces in the audience, yet Kent’s was not one of them. He shook his head and replied with a curt, “No.” 

Sam sighed and gripped the neck of his guitar tightly, the metal of the strings pressing against his calloused hand hard enough to bruise. He nodded in Sebastian’s direction before speaking, “Well, thanks anyway, man.” 

Sam took one final, semi-hopeful look out at the crowd. He allowed his gaze to linger on the small family huddled together - his mother, Vincent, and… an empty space. Eventually, he reluctantly approached the center of the stage, where Abigail had carefully set up a chair and several microphones - just like how they practiced. 

He took a deep breath and reached for his microphone, tapping it gently to ensure it was on. However, a loud ringing feedback greeted him. Sam grimaced. He hoped this wasn’t an indication of how his performance would go. Once the ringing subsided, Sam cleared his throat.

“Uh, hey, guys,” He started, nervously leaning into the microphone to ensure he was heard clearly. He continued, “I.. I have something special for you all. It’s a new song.” 

“One that all you usual fans have never heard before,” Sam explained, though he was interrupted by a few whoops and cheers from the crowd. He gave a dry chuckle and continued, “Thanks, guys. ‘Preciate your enthusiasm, but… as I was saying..” 

“Um,” Sam said, though he looked out at the crowd and felt his chest tighten. All of these fans, all these excited people, they all came to see him and his friends.. They came to hear this song. Yet, they were all the wrong people. 

His voice wavered, but he resumed, “This.. this song goes out to a really special man. Someone who.. who really inspires me. Someone who taught me how to play guitar. Someone who.. helped me discover my love of music in the first place..” 

“This song is for my dad, Kent Neilson,” Sam finally revealed, tightness building in the back of his throat. He cleared his throat and tried to push the bubbling emotions down. He spoke once more, “I hope you enjoy it, Dad.” Wherever you are, Sam thought to himself. 

Sam pulled the chair closer and carefully slung his guitar over his shoulder. He was being as delicate as he possibly could - the poor guitar looked as if it would fall apart any moment. It was old, warped with age and smelled faintly musty from being in the back of Sam’s closet for Yoba knows how many years, but it was special, too.

This guitar had been a gift from his father. In fact, it had been the first guitar Sam ever owned. An image of himself, much younger (about eight years old) filled his mind. The small version of Sam curled up in his father’s lap, watching intently as Kent pointed to the chords and tried to guide Sam’s own, much too small hands over the strings. 

Now, performing his third gig at twenty four years old, Sam held the guitar with the same enthusiasm. The same childlike wonder. The same joy as his fingertips brushed over the cool metal, resulting in a seemingly meaningless array of noises. 

The only thing that was missing was his father. 

Sam closed his eyes and began strumming along. He tried his best to push Kent’s absence from his mind, to let himself get lost in the music, but it seemed to be harder with each lyric. He kept going anyway, his emotions grinding against each other and beginning to rise to the surface. The song soon approached the bridge: 

Tears can't run dry when I start to cry

When I hear people speak of how you'd be so proud of me

And how I hope this song will reach your ears

I battled all my darkest fears

I once was blind, but now it's clear

Wherever I go, I know that you'll be near

As the final words of the bridge left Sam’s mouth, his emotions gurgled in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him. He opened his eyes and glanced out at the crowd once more, still slightly hopeful that Kent appeared while he was singing and he just hadn’t noticed. 

Sam looked around: foolishly hopeful. His hope was soon crushed as his eyes landed on the peachy-auburn mop of his mother’s braid, carefully and neatly done as always. His eyes trailed down her arm, following it to where it rested lovingly on the messy pink of Vincent’s hair. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he looked towards her other hand - the one that was always entwined in Kent’s own - and noticed it jarringly empty. He tightened his grip on the neck of the guitar, anger building in him. 

He swallowed harshly, forcing himself to finish the chorus, ignoring how his emotions crashed against the walls of his composure. These people, while they weren’t the intended audience, had come to see a show. They had all come to see him. To see Sam. He just wished Kent had, too. 

As the final chorus rang out, Sam’s emotions were fighting against his calm, composed demeanor.

Sam was kind. Sam was understanding. 

Yet, in this moment, he felt like neither of those things.

Sam felt angry. Sam felt selfish. Sam felt like everything he tried to convince himself he was not. Perhaps worst of all, however, was that he felt stupid. Stupidly hopeful, stupidly optimistic, stupidly forgiving.. 

Before he realized it, Sam pushed himself into a standing position. His emotions had broken through - like a wave. They washed over him, filling his lungs with a fiery ache. How could I be so stupid? Sam thought to himself, using his free hand to claw at his chest - as if he could physically remove the ache that had been building all afternoon. 

But it was too late. It had spread and spread - seeping into every crack and crevice Sam had so desperately hidden. 

The next thing he knew, Sam hoisted the guitar over his shoulder. An intensity rang through him; an anger so deep, so personal, so hurt. He let out a groan of frustrated anguish and let go. 

The crowd watched in horror as the guitar collided with the aluminum stage, causing the wood to begin cracking and splitting. Shards flew in every direction. Several worried and surprised murmurs arose from the crowd. 

 Sam watched as a small piece of the guitar collided with his scuffed converse. It had a smudged, faded inscription written in permanent marker. Reaching down, Sam picked up the chip and turned it over in his hands. It read “I will always be there to support you, Sam. I promise. Love, Dad.”

Sam’s hands began shaking in anger and he balled his fists at his sides, letting the wood dig into the skin of his palm. His breathing grew heavy and labored and he shook his head in disbelief. Promise, promise, promise. That word resounded in Sam’s mind - repeating itself over and over. All his father did was promise. He broke every single one, yet Sam still continued to trust him. Every. Single. Time. 

His bandmates watched in horror, their eyes wide in surprise. The two glanced between Sam and the pile of jagged wood to his left. They took in his state: his wide, wild and fiery eyes, the disheveled state of his hair, the whiteness of his knuckles as he gripped the wood chip with such intensity. It all seemed so…different. Neither Abigail nor Sebastian had seen Sam act this way. To be honest, they weren’t even sure if this was their Sam. It scared them. 

However, they wouldn’t let fear prevent them from comforting their friend. The two shakily approached Sam. Abigail was the first to speak. 

“Sam, are you oka-” She started, though she was quickly interrupted by another frustrated noise from Sam. 

“It’s not fair,” Sam protested, his brows furrowing together. 

“What’s not fair, man?” Sebastian asked. Looking taken aback by Sam’s sudden outburst. He had never complained - especially about something being unfair. 

“Everything,” Sam replied, another wave of anger building in him. He continued, “You guys.. Your families all came to see you - Abby’s mom, her dad, your mom, too - Seb, even Demetrius. Yoba, even Shane is here. Everyone is here but him.” 

“Who-?” 

“I organized this whole thing for him,” Sam spoke, his voice rising. He turned to face his friends, his face red and contorted in anger. He yelled, “And he’s not even fucking here!” As the words left his mouth, Sam tightly gripped the wood chip before throwing it as hard as he could. It landed near the edge of the stage with a distant thunk. 

“Sam, please..” Abigail pleaded, looking just as shocked as Sebastian by Sam’s outburst. 

“No, Abs,” Sam replied, clenching his fists even tighter. “Don’t you understand? He was supposed to be here. He promised he would be here. And.. he’s not. Like always.” 

“I’m sure he had a good reason, Sam,” Sebastian offered, looking tentatively out at the crowd. He locked eyes with a worried Jodi and gave her a small nod - trying to signal that they had it under control. 

“Don’t you understand how tired I am of hearing that? Don’t you think I’ve tried so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt, don’t you think I hoped that, just once, I wouldn’t get my hopes up - only to have them crushed,” Sam rambled, his emotions continuing to rise as each word slipped past his lips.

 It felt as if he had been holding in this anger for years - always swallowing it, shoving it deep inside him and locking it away - all because he was supposed to be understanding. He was supposed to be kind. He was supposed to be Sam Neilson - the perfect son. He wasn’t supposed to be angry, to be selfish, to want things, to need things. And yet, here he was: raw and achy, his emotions clearly on display. It scared him, too. 

“Look, Sam, I know-” 

“You know? You know?” Sam interrupted, shaking his head in further disbelief. He scoffed, “You don’t know anything. You don’t know what it’s like to be in my place, Sebastian.” 

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, “What is that supposed to mean, Sam?” 

“Forget it.” 

“No,” Sebastian protested, pursing his lips together. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Sam expectantly, “What. Does. That. Mean.” 

“I said forget it, man,” Sam warned, his jaw clenching. 

“Tell me,” Sebastian demanded.

Sebastian’s persistence did nothing to ease Sam’s anger. In fact, it frustrated him to no end. If he wasn’t careful, he might say something he would later regret. 

“You don’t know what it’s like to be in my place because..” Sam started, an exasperated breath leaving his lips, “Because..”

“Because..?”

“Because unlike you, my dad was actually there,” Sam blurted out. 

“Excuse me?” Sebastian retorted, his expression of concern changing into one of anger in an instant.

Shit. 

Sam watched in horror as Sebastian’s own face contorted in anger. He immediately wished he could take it all back -  to rewind time ten seconds ago, to make sure he never said anything. But it was too late. It was always too late. 

And with that, Sam turned and dashed away. He didn’t even look behind him, he didn’t look at his friend’s faces, he didn’t think he could bear it. 

Sam couldn’t see Sebastian reaching down and picking up the small wood Sam had discarded earlier. He didn’t see Abigail peering over Sebastian’s shoulder, or hear her reading the words aloud. He didn’t see his friends turn to the crowd and notice Jodi still huddling with Vincent. He couldn’t see the pain across his mother’s face, the hurt that replaced the joy she felt when she recognized the guitar as Sam smashed it.

 He couldn’t see the horror that coated everyone’s faces. He couldn’t see the smartphones that had recorded the entire thing. He couldn’t see the disappointment and shock. He could only see what was in front of him: his own gangly legs, his fraying converse, his hand-me-down jacket that had belonged to his father at one point, and the open space behind the concert venue. 

He was shaking, both with anger and overexertion. Sam had no idea where he was going, but he kept running. Sam ran until his legs gave out - he ran until he couldn’t force himself to run any longer.

[paimonial-rage]

a great undertaking - albedo

ship: albedo x reader

synopsis: after a week of radio silence during crunch time, you’re just about ready to call it quits.

notes: idol!au, reader is albedo’s manager, tw drugging (this is g-rated i swear), warning: i wrote this two years ago and the writing shows

Many assumed being the manager of the hit soloist, Kreideprinz, was an easy job. You couldn't exactly blame them. It wasn't like he held many concerts. He preferred to stay away from the public eye as well, so talk shows and events starring him were rare. He also didn't focus on his musical career as much as other soloists as well. You had to agree. Any normal person that shared such traits would definitely be an easy person to manage. However, Kreideprinz was anything but normal.

"Albedo? Albedo, please! It's been a week already. Do you know how difficult it is trying to schedule a concert with people from two separate agencies? Do you know how scary that pink-haired lady from HNMIzaka Entertainment is!? Please, I'm begging you!!" You cried as you pounded your fist against his lab door.

When all you heard was silence, your eyes filled with tears and you slid to the ground in a crumpled heap. This was the end, wasn't it? The KA5EN reunion was scheduled in two months' time and there were still so many things to prepare. They hadn’t even practiced as a group yet, which was the source of your despair. You swore if you told that pink-haired lady you were ‘still discussing possible dates with Mr. Kreideprinz' one more time, you were certain she was going to murder you in broad daylight.

Your lower lip wobbled as you leaned against the door and stared up at the depressingly bright fluorescent lights. Perhaps you should quit while you were ahead. Sure, Klee would probably miss you, but you didn't know if you could do this anymore. It was getting to the point you avoided looking into the mirror for fear of spotting gray hairs. It was a good thing Albedo was a straightforward person. Your resignation letter wouldn't have to be too long–

"Wha!?"

You squeaked when your backrest disappeared behind you. It took a few moments for you to realize the back of your head did not slam into the hard tile but onto something soft and bumpy. Glancing up, you could see the handsome prince himself looking down at you.

"Good morning, First."

This time, tears really did fall. There he was, the man you had been begging to see for the past week. Your angel. Your knight in shining armor. Your Messiah that would save you from death! And–

Also, the man that threw you into this whole mess in the first place.

"Albedoooo..." You sobbed as your shoulders shook pathetically, "I have very conflicted feelings toward you right now..."

He sighed before reaching down to help you up.

"I did inform you this recent project of mine would take a while. Would you like something to drink?"

"Yes, but not for a whole week! I get that you're busy, but you could have at least—Sorry, yes, coffee, please—You could have at least responded to my text messages!"

"Hmm? Well, you sent so many I couldn't tell which ones were important or not," he replied nonchalantly.

You wanted to scream.

"Also in the coffee, I–"

"Sugar, cream, I don't care what you put inside. I just need a cup," you grumbled before continuing, "Anyway, if you replied to the first one at a reasonable time, I wouldn't have sent all those other ones!! Do you know how many people I have chasing after me because of you? Not to mention the amount of times I had to entertain Klee because you wouldn't answer your door. I mean I almost got my–"

He handed you your mug of coffee.

"Oh, thank you… –My eyebrows burnt off! Multiple times. Multiple times, Albedo!!"

You took a few long sips of your coffee, ignoring the way it scalded your tongue and throat on the way down. Any pain it could cause you paled in comparison to the weight of stress you were under.

"You know once you burn off your hair follicles, they'll never grow back! I could've been eyebrowless the rest of my life just because you decided to ignore me for a week. I don't know how I can keep putting up with this. I thought you would be easy to manage, but it's getting to the point I don't think I'll be able to make it to retiring age!!"

His lack of reaction had your eyes tearing once more.

"Hmm... And how are you feeling right now? Physically speaking?"

You really did scream this time.

"How do you think I'm feeling!? I'm exhausted. I'm sleep-deprived. My back hurts. My chest feels tight. My head is pounding. Oh, you know. Just typical symptoms of extreme stress," you finished with a smile.

"I see. Would you say it is better than how you felt when you first entered this room?"

You frowned.

"I, uh... Um... I mean I did see you finally, so I guess so?"

"Do you feel any symptoms of nausea, dizziness, or drowsiness?"

"Why would I feel any--"

You froze as the hairs on your neck shot up.

There he stood with glasses on his nose and clipboard in hand, a familiar scene you fearfully dubbed as "Mad Scientist Mode." What was he writing down? No, why was he writing things down!? Did he–

Your eyes shot to the warm mug you held in hand.

Ah.

You shakily placed it on a nearby counter and pushed it away gently.

"Symptoms, First?"

You cleared your throat.

"It wasn't sugar or cream you put in the coffee, was it?"

He nodded.

"No, I synthesized a compound from an enhanced matricaria chamomilla flower and a few other plants in various degrees."

You wanted to laugh.

"So drugged me with something that may kill me."

"Ah, there's no need to worry about that. I tested it on myself multiple times. However, as I hypothesized, I did not feel much of the effect due to my, ah… differing temperament."

"So it's not going to kill you, but it may kill me?"

He sighed.

"Don't be ridiculous. I am more than well acquainted with your body. I already know what you do not react well to.”

You felt your face heat.

“Ignoring how wrong that sounds, you can’t just–”

You cut yourself off abruptly when a wave of exhaustion hit. You staggered back a few steps before holding onto the counter for support.

“Ah, it’s finally kicked in.”

Had you not been so disoriented, you would have shaken the lapels of his lab coat in fury. But your body was not agreeing with you. It instead felt too heavy to carry as your eyelids began to follow suit. You almost didn’t realize it when you lost your balance until you collapsed into the arms of something warm. You tried to push away weakly.

“No… I can’t. I still need to…”

“Shh, just sleep.”

—

You could tell you both weren’t compatible from the day you first laid eyes on him. As a neighbor and family friend to Miss Alice, you met him the day she brought him home. You were sick with fever that day, as you normally were, and answered the door with a stuffy nose. Never did you expect to see a young teenager at her side. He was quiet as Miss Alice introduced you both, only speaking up a few minutes later saying Miss Alice had a prior engagement and needed to leave. Judging from the surprise on Miss Alice’s face, though, you knew such couldn’t be farther from the truth. Did he just not like you?

That belief was solidified after Miss Alice left on her journey. Before she did, she told you both to take care of each other. It was a job you took seriously. Albedo did not. Though you were sickly, how many times did you find yourself at his door with dinner in hand? How often did you visit to keep his company? But he rarely responded to your knocking and never heard your calls of his name. When you finally managed to get inside whether it’d be by Klee or walking up to his window, he’d meet your eyes with a troubled sigh.

He’d always try to get out of things. When you’d spend a whole day trying to cook him something hearty and healthy to eat (he was too skinny, after all), he’d only eat a small bowl before suggesting you should take the rest home. And when you nagged him about the dangers of isolation and lack of social contact, you could tell his mind was elsewhere halfway through.

Eventually, when he realized you wouldn’t be going anywhere, he started to bully you instead. When you planned grand outings with Klee, he’d come along and force the day to end halfway through. He didn’t let you stay at his place too late and would only text to make sure you were sleeping on time. You couldn’t even play outside on snowy days for too long before he’d herd you back inside.

That didn’t even count his strange obsession with feeding you weird things. His meals, though delicious, were chock full of strange and exotic ingredients. He’d put odd concoctions in your drinks. There were times you could have sworn he opened pill capsules to mix into your desserts. Whenever you'd complain, he'd explain the health benefits, but the words and explanations were so complex that he'd simply give up before telling you with a deadpan expression to, "just eat it." Eventually, you began accepting anything he made you without question because, well, you always felt a bit better after.

If you had to be honest, perhaps having him as a thing to focus your minimal energies on was a good thing. Your life started to pick up after meeting him. Much of your childhood was spent in and out of the hospital. It wasn’t rare to find you in bed weak with a fever. Miss Alice's request got you out of bed every morning with a goal for the day. And as the years went by, you became healthier and healthier. You found yourself able to do more and more things. You were happy.

Albedo still worried you, though. Despite growing older, he was just the solitary person as he always was. He’d spend days holed up in his lab, only leaving to meet with his research partner, Sucrose, or to spend time with Klee. It was unhealthy, wasn’t it? He was a handsome young man, after all. He would miss out on the best years of his life if he spent it by himself! So you took it upon yourself to force him out into the world.

You took him everywhere you could. In fact, you may have gone a bit overboard with it as well. Though you weren’t a loner like Albedo, you never were able to do much when you were younger. Your parents were simply too overprotective. But they trusted Albedo. And much to your surprise, Albedo went along with your naggings and invitations. There were times you even caught him smiling which would cause your heart to soar.

Though you knew Albedo initially thought of you as a nuisance, you knew you eventually grew on him. After all, it was because of you that he became a singer. If you had not encouraged him to pursue it after being scouted by someone in the industry, he never would have taken the role. And after much convincing, he even let you become his manager! Sure, he didn’t change his habit of holing himself up whenever he felt the need, but still. You had a place in his heart. And you were happy with that.

—

When you awoke the next day, the sun was peeking through the curtains in the early hours of the morning. If you had to be honest, you had no clue how you got up. The bed was soft and the covers were warm. The pillows cradled your head like a cloud. Yes, why be up when you could be sleeping peacefully instead? It wasn’t like you had anything to do.

…

…

…

Wait a minute…

—

Albedo sighed when your strangled scream echoed across the house. He estimated you would be asleep for at least another hour, but you seemed to love betraying his expectations. As your feet pounded towards him, he reached into the cupboards to pull out a glass. By the time you arrived in the kitchen, he had a cup of water held out to you.

“Albedo! Why would you–”

He pushed the cup into your hands.

“Water first. You’re most likely dehydrated from sleeping so long.”

You opened your mouth so as to cry more, but decided against it and downed the water instead. You hated that you proved his point by how quickly you drank it down. Placing the cup down, you wiped at your mouth.

“Albedo! Do you even realize how much time I wasted sleeping? Why would you do that to me? Now Ms. Yae is definitely gonna–”

“I already spoke to her.”

“... kill me– Wait, what?”

“I spoke to her a week ago regarding the date for the KA5EN rehearsal.”

Your jaw dropped.

“E-Excuse me? Then why did she keep…”

“When I asked her yesterday, she said that your desperate expression was ‘very cute.’”

You felt your eyes tear. So that meant this whole time you were panicking over nothing? You wanted to laugh. It seemed like it! Albedo apparently did your job for you while Ms. Yae reaped the benefits from the miscommunication by watching you squirm for her sick pleasure. Were you destined to get bullied for the rest of your life?

You jumped when you felt a hand pat your head gently. Looking up, you saw Albedo gazing at you with a calm expression.

“Don’t worry. I told her that I will handle any communications dealing with HNMIzaka Entertainment from now on. Just focus on other things.”

Your hands balled into fists while your eyes teared more.

“But that’s my job! You can’t just–”

His expression became firm.

“No.”

His hand then slid to your cheek. His thumb brushed gently under your eye.

“Even with the medicine you took last night, you’re still sleep-deprived. You haven’t been drinking enough water and you’re undernourished as well. I noticed I needed to intervene a few weeks ago, but I didn’t think you’d get this much worse over the course of the week I was gone. You’re not going to be working on anything big until you get better.”

You turned your face away and pouted.

“You're not my mom, you know. It’s my job to take care of you, not the other way around.”

He turned back to the counter and began to take various ingredients from the shelves.

“If you don’t want me to take care of you, take better care of yourself. The day you quit being my manager is the day I end my singing career.”

Your jaw dropped. How could he say such a thing so casually? And while frying up eggs no less!?

“Wh-Why in the world is that?”

He glanced over at you, his expression as calm as ever.

“Well, you’re irreplaceable.”

And as if he threw a bucket of ice cold water on you, you simply stood there frozen. You didn’t know what to think. You didn’t know how to react to that. But just as quickly as he froze you, his next words slapped you out of it.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Absolutely not.”

[icarus-n-flames]

I posted about this on twitter but I had another idea that came to me. I know we all do love ourselves a clueless Charles, but what about Edwin? Stick with me here, this is inspired by true events.

I want to see a version of Edwin that is so consumed by his love for Charles and the tiny ache of how it might never be, who completely misses the memo that he HAS what he wanted. He overhears Charles talking to a client or someone saying that he couldn’t make a concert or whatever because he had a date with his partner and Edwin is just distraught and distracted. It was fine when no labels were involved, he could pretend that it was fine and he wasn’t bothered but wasn’t a label more serious?

Tired of the mood swings, cagey behavior and solemn looks, Charles eventually confronts him. Immediately Edwin makes a snide remark about how Charles must be quite busy with Crystal and whatever Charles thinks is happening they can discuss it later.

Charles is proper confused at this point and is like “Did she need something? Why would I be busy with Crystal?”

And at this point Edwin is trying very hard to look unbothered while flipping through a tome on idk cryptid feeding habits and mating rituals. “Well, she is your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

Now Charles is even more confused. His boyfriend is sitting here saying he’s dating someone else. For a minute he’s fairly certain he’s being accused of cheating but he remains calm. “Mate, that’s been over for like a year. What are you on about?”

Edwin honestly feels like he wants the earth to swallow him whole because not only is Charles dating someone, it’s someone he doesn’t even know. Was Charles worried about him meeting them? Was he trying to spare his feelings? He sets the book down, adjusting his cuff that does not need it before saying as nonchalantly as he can. “I heard you mention a partner the other day is all.”

“I mean yeh, you. What about it?”

Edwin can’t help but sigh and stand from the desk at this point. “Not that kind of partner Charles, don’t be daft. You’re courting someone, dating…”

At this point Charles can’t be sure if he’s frustrated or amused. He places a hand to one of Edwin’s shoulders, keeping him from storming off somewhere. He says as slowly as he possibly can, making sure he looks Edwin right in the eyes. “I was talking about you.”

Edwin freezes because wait, had he really said that and then he just blurts the loudest, most confused “WHAT?!” He’s been tearing himself to shreds inside for MONTHS.

“We’ve been dating for like…6 months, Edwin, what do you mean “what?” and now they’re both confused because somewhere along the line Charles thought he was being very clear about his intentions but Edwin didn’t realize anything had changed. He’d thought everything was normal. As much as he was conscious about Charles’ touches he always told himself he was in denial and Charles thought Edwin was just a old fashioned sort and would need a lot of time if not an eternity of time to really progress their relationship beyond a the barest of kinship and occasional flirting and hand holding.

No idea exactly how the initial conversation went that made Charles like “Bet, we’re dating now” and Edwin just miss it entirely. If someone has any ideas feel free to share lmaooo.

[kiwisugarhighs]

Raid The Closet

Summary: Harry being away is hard on his kids, so until he comes home, they develop a tradition every night he plays.

Warnings: fluff, dadrry, brief mentions of underwear/nudity

Word Count: 882

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I've been down in the dumps lately so my motivation to post anything has been low :(

masterlist

"Alright, everyone. Sit up straight for Daddy! He's calling soon!"

Your kids were buzzing with excitement as they waited patiently for the phone to ring. They were in their pajamas, ready for their concert tradition with Harry. They huddled around your laptop, holding their tea or stuffed animals as they discussed what Harry might have in store for them tonight.

The time change was difficult when he was on the other side of the world, but Harry always made time for the kids. If he had to call early in the morning, he would. If he had to call in the middle of a workout, he would. Harry took the moments he could spend with his family seriously, even if he was on the other side of the world.

You stood in the kitchen making some tea for yourself when your oldest shrieked: "He's calling Mummy!"

"Do you remember how to answer the phone?" You asked from around the corner.

"Yes!" They all responded.

"Okay, go ahead and answer. I'll be right there!"

There was a brief moment of eager silence when the kids picked up. You smiled to yourself and finished making your drink when you heard Harry's voice through the phone.

"Hi Daddy!" The kids said. "We miss you!"

"I miss you too! How is school?" He asked.

The kids rambled excitedly about science projects and book reports and choir performances and Harry listened enthusiastically to every word. He nodded eagerly and demanded pictures for every new accomplishment. When he watched you walk into frame, his already joyful face lit up even more.

"Hello, love." He said to you.

"Hi, baby. Where are you right now?"

"I'm backstage actually. Do you want to see?" he asked.

"Yes!" The kids watched intently as they got the tour of the small green room.

Harry showed them their drawings pinned on the wall and the teddy bear the picked out before he left sitting on the couch. When he set his phone up again, he was sitting on that same couch, holding the bear from his children.

"Okay, now that Mummy's here, I need your help deciding what to wear."

Harry rifled through his tour closet through jumpsuits, leather pants, and t-shirts. He showed the kids every single one, listening closely to their approval or disapproval. He loved this tradition with his family. It made them feel closer to him than they really were. He could connect with his kids consistently through this practice.

After a few minutes of searching, Harry set out the top three choices.

"Okay, which one out of all these?" The kids turned to you and huddled close.

"I like the teddy bear t-shirt." Your youngest said.

"Me too!" Said the oldest.

"I like the pink pants." Offered the middle child.

"I think that's a perfect outfit! Are you ready to tell Daddy what you think?" The kids nodded to you and turned around again to face Harry.

"Okay, baby. The kids have made their choice!"

"Alrighty, lay it on me!" He shouted dramatically, making the kids giggle.

"We want the teddy bear t-shirt and the pink pants!" Said the youngest. The kids all had their hands folded in anticipation while Harry set out their choice.

"Hmm." He pretended to think. "Let me try it on for you."

Harry disappeared off camera for a minute before coming back to grab his clothes. He tossed his old shirt across the camera, putting on a show for the kids. His pants went flying off next, and your youngest couldn't contain the laughter falling from their lips.

"Daddy's naked Mummy!" They all shrieked, laughing harder than before.

"Just in my underwear! But not for long!" Harry shouted distantly off camera.

After a moment of silence, Harry poked his head back into the frame. He smiled brightly at you and the kids.

"Alright, are you ready to see it?" He asked.

"Yes!" You all responded.

Harry disappeared for a second and walked back into frame wearing the outfit his kids picked out for him.

"What do you think?" He asked you all, doing a spin and pose.

"You look very handsome." You smiled.

"Ew, they're in love." Your oldest cringed.

Harry was beaming at your praise. He watched as the kids smiled at him and finished their drinks. He did a small dance and showed them his shoes before checking the time.

"Alright, I've got to run. Are you being good for Mummy?" He asked.

"Yes." Your kids responded.

"Are you being good to each other?" He asked again.

"Yes." They replied.

"Good. Line up and give me kisses before I sing!"

One by one, you all lined up and blew Harry a good luck and good night kiss. He caught every single one and threw them back. When everyone was finished, he waved goodbye and sent one final kiss your way before ending the call.

"Okay, everyone, up to bed you go!"

The kids groaned and slowly dragged their feet up the stairs. You tucked each of them into bed and just as you were turning in for the night yourself, you noticed a message from Harry.

Thank you for doing this every night. I miss you all so so much! I'll be home before you know it! xx Dad

[hotcat37]

JO boyfriend headcanons please?🙏🙏 Doesn't have to be x reader but just in general

I got you ♂️

Jan:

-I see him as the type to have not had many relationships (maybe 1 or 2 at most) but they have always been serious and he doesn't date people impulsively. There would definitely need to be at least 6 months worth of slow burn between him and his partner before he considers a relationship

-so the buildup to dating might be potentially frustrating but that's just because he really wants to be a good boyfriend and he needs time to sort out his feelings for a person. He'll definitely suggest taking things slow the first few weeks of dating

-doesn't have many absolute requirements for a partner but being kind towards animals is definitely a must. Igor is his baby and he'd need a partner who is also willing to take care of the cat if they start living together

-mornings with him are slow and lazy, he prefers to sleep in as much as possible. Coffee and breakfast in bed are not uncommon. If his partner has an earlier schedule than him he will try to help and get breakfast ready on time but most of the time he'll probably doze off out of fatigue

-is more of a stay in kinda person rather than going out. Loves to just play guitar while his partner is cuddled up to him with some takeout. Also enjoys going on walks in nature and making his way through fields hand in hand with his partner

Bojan:

-tends to fall hard and fast for people so is likely the one to confess and initiate things first. However he also understands when things are moving too fast and is totally respectful if his partner needs more time to get to know him before getting into anything romantic

-very sweet and romantic, will get his partner flowers randomly and do other small gestures as a show of appreciation like cleaning the house and cooking dinner

-unfortunately given that he's the frontman of the band, he wouldn't really want to be open about the relationship to the fans. There's a certain image he needs to uphold as to not break immersion so his partner would have to understand that he wouldn't post them on main or say anything that would imply he's not single. That being said he will tone down the flirting with fans significantly and make sure his partner knows they're loved and appreciated

-does get very anxious sometimes even outside of stressful settings like a concert or before an interview. Needs a partner that will reassure and comfort him when he feels too scared to do something, sometimes even things he's done 100 of times before will suddenly seem impossible and his partner would have to be very understanding of his mental illness

-likes going on dates where you do activities like bowling and karaoke. Is playful and competitive so he definitely wouldn't hold back while playing a game. He's also just trying to impress his partner lmao

Jure:

-is a bit unsure about relationships, has had a few in the past but the spark either fizzled out or it was too difficult to balance a relationship with band life. He is open to dating tho but he'd want to discuss beforehand the things that come with dating a rockstar who goes on tour every few months

-kind of a thrill seeker, likes going out to clubs and climbing trees and exploring abandoned places in the woods. Would want a partner that either enjoys the same lifestyle or is okay with indulging in it occasionally. However will of course tone things down and choose to stay home some days too if his partner prefers staying in

-most private one in the band but will probably casually mention being in a relationship during an interview. Otherwise doesn't reveal any other information about his partner

-very affectionate, likes sitting in his partner's lap or having them sit in his. Big on public display of affection and will feel a bit sad if his partner isn't into that at all. Will put a lot of effort into spending time with his lover

-if they've been dating long enough he'd suggest adopting a pet with his partner. Preferably a cat of course <3 Is open to dogs as well

Kris:

-not at all subtle when he likes someone, will be very obvious about being in love but you'll catch him dead before he makes the first move to actually confess. Needs to be put out of his misery and be blatantly asked out

-would try to keep the relationship private as to avoid strong reactions from fans but might accidentally mention his partner in an interview or unrelated video. Will apologize profusely to his lover afterwards even if they don't care

-enjoys showing off his partner while going out on dates. Likes to go clothes shopping and eating out at cozy cafe's. Greatly enjoys linking his arm with his partner's as they walk

-is much more soft and sweet towards his partner. Still accidentally says unhinged things sometimes but tries to be mindful not to blurt out anything potentially hurtful. The guys tease him about being much nicer to his lover and he'll become embarrassed but it won't deter him

-is tall and will obnoxiously bend down to kiss a shorter partner. Will be a little thrown off at first if his partner is the same height or taller but quickly enjoys not having to break his neck in order to kiss them

Nace:

-tries to be subtle about being in love with his future partner but promptly fails to do so. Will ask someone out after taking them on a proper date, probably after having been friends with them for a while

-taking care of someone is his main love language. Will cook with love for his partner, comfort them after a bad day and give them his jacket when they're cold. Make sure to return this same amount of affection to him!

-wants a partner that likes animals because he's got his turtles and Pino. Would need to be able to count on his lover to walk the dog and feed the turtles when he's unable to because of touring

-prefers going on more private dates like to the cinema or walking alongside a beach. Will splash out on special occasions and take his partner to a fancy restaurant if they want that or get them an expensive gift. That being said he ultimately prefers to just be at home and infodump about random topics while him and his partner enjoy the same or separate activities

-is still self-conscious about his body so his lover would need to be very respectful of his boundaries. Does appreciate them complimenting him and trying to get him to be more confident but some days he just wants to keep the shirt on and that's okay

[unactive-shroom]

hello! i hope you're doing well. for your Valentine's event, may I request nikolai lantsov with prompt #4? have a great day!

Prompt #4: Proposal ♡

“It seems like someone has a very important question to ask… and what better time to do it but on Valentine’s night?”

Character: Nikolai Lantsov. See Valentine's Event: HERE

You stood at the edge of the lake, watching the purple glow of dusk slowly swallowing the last of the early February sunshine. It had been thirteen months since Alina Starkov had left the Little Palace, and despite her offering for you to join her and Mal, you had remained by Nikolai’s side in Os Alta. Recently you’ve found yourself taking the long winding path through the trees to the Little Palace, reminiscing about the days you would spend together at the lake, chatting and feasting on blini or pelmeni stolen from the kitchen. A hand snuck around your waist. “I thought I’d find you here.” You smiled and sunk into Nikolai’s warm embrace, not realising the cold that had crept up on you. “I get that the Grand Palace is ugly on the outside and all that, but really, y/n, you’ll catch a chill if you keep coming down here without warm clothes” he said as he fussed over you, pulling a heavy velvet cloak around you. Once satisfied that you were warm, he turned his attention to the lake. The silence stretched between you two until Nikolai softly said ”You know we can visit them, right? Keramzin isn’t too far away. We could stay a few nights, bring some gifts, maybe. Or maybe they could come visit us, either.” You chuckled at that part. “I think Alina’s had enough of the palaces by now. Besides, isn’t it too risky for them to come here? They are supposedly dead, you know. And I think that people might start to get suspicious if the King of Ravka and his entourage start to regularly visit an orphange.” he hummed in agreement, tilting his head. “It’s okay, Nikolai. We did just see them, what, two months ago? I’m just being nostalgic, that’s all. Let’s head back to the Palace, It’s cold.” He took your arm in his, a look of feigned pain on his face. “Funny how you always seem to want to go back whenever I join you. Unrequited love is a terrible, terrible thing. Am’st I doomed to be alone forever-?” You let go of his arm and strode ahead of him, in no mood to put up with his antics. “Y/n, wait! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, let’s go warm up, please?”

A few hours later, whilst Nikolai was in some meeting, you found yourself in the concert hall. Empty, as always, but with a beautiful, sleek, black grand piano in the centre of the stage. Your footsteps echo, magnifying your pathway to the stage, announcing your presence as you pull out the piano stool, and as you played, you thought about how you had gotten here. Going from a high ranking army officer, experienced in intense and gruesome warfare, fighting alongside friends and seeing horrors unlike any other, to sitting here now, in a sleek and comfortable kefta, playing piano, and living in a palace. Of course, you were still a very active member of the army, and while politics held a greater position in your life than it had previously, you still had many army duties, one including tuition at the little palace. But recently, no doubt accredited to Nikolai, you had a lot of free time. “Mandatory resting periods for those involved in the war”, as he called it. And, not to mention, the whole country’s eye on you and Nikolai after a stablehand had leaked information about yours and Nikolai’s relationship. At this point, you were simply waiting for the day where acquiring a Ravkan Queen, a wife for Nikolai, was simply unavoidable, and the relationship was cut off. It made you sick to the depths of your very being, but you were determined to enjoy it while it lasted. It’s something that had always hung over the two of you, and at the beginning of your courtship you had discussed it in great detail, and you were adamant on the fact that when the time came for Nikolai to choose a wife, they would simply forget their relationship and move on with their lives. But it was getting increasingly difficult for both of you. You’d noticed that Nikolai had been closer to you recently, constantly there whenever you both had free time, or, pestering you at work, egging you on to leave work to go read with him in the library or take a walk around the palace grounds. And you had felt closer to him too, saving snippets of poetry for him in books you read, playing melodies for him on piano. These small, intimate moments meant everything to you, especially knowing that Nikolai had very little time left to spend with you before he was married off to some stranger.

Leaving the concert hall and heading back to your chambers, you heard voices in the hallway ahead of you - Nikolai and Zoya. “I just- I don’t know how to tell her, Zoya. How can I ask her-?” he sighed audibly, running a hand through his hair. He turned, and locked eyes on you. “Oh- Y/n!” The marble floor seemed to grow colder through your shoes as Zoya looked at him meaningfully. “I think you and Nikolai ought to take a quick walk around the Palace, Y/n. I’ll see you in the morning, your Majesty. Good night.”. As Zoya’s footsteps echoed down the hallway, you felt your heart fall to your stomach. This was it. Nikolai was going to tell you he had found a suitable bride and that it was no longer possible for this relationship to continue. You swallowed, and smiled at Nikolai, not wanting to draw this out any longer. “Shall we?”

You and Nikolai walked side by side through the moonlit gardens in utter silence, until finally, stopping at the glaringly white marble statue of some old king, you stopped. “Nikolai, I know what’s happening.” You whispered, turning your head away from him. “You do? Y/n, I-” You shook your head. “Don’t. I undertsand, Nikolai. You need to do what’s best for your country, I’ve always loved that about you. Just…before we part ways, I need to ask you for one last thing - and then I’ll be gone by morning, your majesty.” You turned to face him, a single tear betraying your determination to not cry, only to find Nikolai on one knee, a look of utter bewilderness on his face. You mirrored the look, not knowing what he was doing. “…why are you on the ground? Nikolai, you’ll ruin your clothes, and it’s far too cold to be-” You sniffled. “Y/n. Please let me talk. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, but you can’t leave now - and what’s this about us parting ways? I think you really misunderstood what I’m asking you.” Nikolai cleared his throat, suddenly looking nervous. “I… I know that our relationship hasn’t been under the best circumstances - first as Sturmhond, when I quite litterally held you captive on a boat for the state enemy and yet you fell for me, Saints knows how, and then when I proposed marriage to Alina… and now, having to keep our relationship secret…” He took a deep breath. “I know it’s been impossibly unfair on you. But please, y/n. Allow me this selfish idea - at least consider it - because I mean it when I say that you are my everything. You thrive in politics, the people love you, you have given incredible service to Ravka, you’ve fought wars - been through hell and back for this country, your beauty is unmatched even by the primal, eldest saints of the land - the sun and moon themselves are outshone by your radiance. When I imagine the ideal Queen for this country, the only person I can see fitting the role is you. Y/n L/n, would you allow me the honour of being your husband? Will you marry me?” In a complete and utter state of shock, you took a step back, incrediously shaking your head. “Me? But- but Grisha can’t- I have no title, no links to nobility - I’m an orphan from Keramzin! What will you get from marrying me?” Nikolai remained on one knee, looking directly at you. “What would I get from marrying the love of my life? Saints, y/n, I would get happiness. I would be able to go to sleep in the arms of the person I love, be able to count on her unwavering support that she’s shown me since day one, be able to wake up every morning and know that whatever happens today, I have the most incredible person by my side. I would be able to feel safety in my role as King, with an incredibly capable Queen by my side, beloved of the people and the crown itself, and know that I will not have to spend my life yearning for the woman I sent away so that I could marry for political values, as she would be in her rightful place by my side. I would do anything for you, y/n. But I just can’t bear the thought of you leaving me.”

At this point, your vision was blurry with tears, but you felt Nikolai take your hand. “Well, my love? What do you say?” You felt the tension in his gentle hold of your hand. “If you’re sure about this… then yes. I do. I will gladly marry you, Nikolai.” He beamed at you, standing up and wrapping you in his familiar, warm embrace. As he wiped the tears from your eyes, you giggled. “So does this mean that I get to call you Nikolai even when referring to you?” “You could always do that, my love.” “Yeah, but, if I did, I’d get funny looks. Oooh, can I give you nicknames now, too? How about Niko? LaiLai? Kolai? E-Kolai?” You gasped suddenly, startling Nikolai. “Oh, I have to tell Alina and Mal!” He smiled, then hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, We’ll have to make a public address too. Then decide on the length of the engagement, do a tour, loads of boring court stuff - but it shouldn’t be too bad with you by my side. Now come along, it really is quite cold. How about we have a glass of brandy’s to celebrate? The one the Kerch ambassador sent awhile ago has been calling my name, but I simply hadn’t a good enough reason to break it out…”

A.n: Y’all the amount of Nikolai Requests I have in my inbox is INSANE. ALSO WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS I MIXED UP MAL AND MATHIAS?? so glad that I realised cause wtf. also I had to break up the last paragraph bc apparently tumblr has a limit of words u can have in one text block?? anyways. thanks for requesting, I hope you enjoyed &lt;3

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Faust from lords of chaos. During a black circle meeting reader and Faust go upstairs and do something’s (smut if you want or they could just be cuddling) in Euromymous bed. 🖤🖤

Hello my dear anon thank you fore this cute request (I'm sorry that it took longer but it's finally done). So I hope you like and everyone has fun reading :)

Cuddle Concert

warning : just big fluff and comfort, reader is female, cuddling

masterlist

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At night in Oslow, in the part of town that wasn't the best, the party was in full swing in the basement of Mayhem founder Euronymous's record shop. After a successful concert and finishing the new album, they had all come here to party and not too hard.

Loud, fast, hard and dark death metal music came from Mayhem who gave a small live performance for the black circle. Actually it was a simple meeting, a meeting to discuss new albums and just find new ideas with a small concert well almost. Which was only enhanced by the compressed space.

And when Death Metal fans meet, the meeting was forgotten faster than anything else. Besides, the third beer crate was already opened and one or the other had already fled to the sink to empty his stomach.

Pizza was lying everywhere on plates and tables and one or the other piece of clothing had already been torn off the body. Not to mention the cigarettes and joints that were lying and being squeezed out in the drinks and ashtrays.

In the chaos of the singing band, the drunken people dancing and shouting along. Faust and his girlfriend sat together on the old sofa which had seen better days. Both had a beer in their hands and were watching their mutual friends partying around them.

Whether it was the wild roar of Occultus' song or the dancing of Varg who had already blown away one or the other with his guitar. ,,The private concert is always the best," she heard Faust murmur as he put his beer on the already overcrowded table and put his arm around her again.

Nodding in agreement, she grinned at her friends and snuggled up to Faust as she slowly began to feel the effects of the many hours of partying.

Whether it was physical exhaustion, a slightly scratchy voice from the roaring, or just the slight headache that came over her. Putting down her own beer, she ran her hand over her sleep and sighed lightly. A little quieter roar would be nicer she thought, watching Euronymous as he seemed to push his guitar to the limit with his solo.

She felt Faust take his arm away from her and let his gaze wander over her. Before he rose and pulled her with him through the group towards the stairs. ,,What's wrong?" she asked, looking back and forth between Mayhem and him, slightly confused, as she slowly walked up with him.

Not only did she instantly feel air that hadn't been breathed ten times already enter her lungs, her headache lessened and she could finally breathe a sigh of relief. ,,Is it better?" he asked with a grin and climbed onto the bed, which was surprisingly soft. ,,Yep, actually," she replied and came to lie down next to him on the bed. Really soft she thought and adjusted her pillow and was about to lie down again when she felt Faust pull her towards him.

So that she was now lying on top of him and had a warmer, softer, more loving surface to lie on. ,,That's even better," he quipped and chuckled as she pretended to shake her new pillow before lying back down on him. His hands went to her hips, holding her on top of him and tracing small relaxing circles on her body.

Which were more pleasant than Mayhem screaming and singing for hours. ,,I know when you're feeling bad...let's just stay here," he decided and sighed with pleasure before hugging her like a pillow and closing his eyes to give his equally exhausted body a rest. ,,Let's do this until the morning, my heart," she repeated and did the same. She sighed too and made herself more comfortable on top of him before resting her head on his torso and closing her eyes.

The small circles he continued to draw were almost like hypnosis which was disturbed by the quiet heartbeat she heard. As if she were being lulled to sleep by the heartbeat that reflected nothing but peace and love. There was nothing more soothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mayhem-things , @beldamama , @bvg-w1res

[rebelliousmuse]

Time Capsule - M.S.

Warning: mention of panic attacks.

---------------------------------------------------

Laughter echoed through the room, a mix of Nate's booming guffaws and Madi's high-pitched squeals as Chloe recounted a hilarious story. You were all sprawled on mismatched couches in your living room. As the four boys discussed their upcoming trip, a wave of pride washed over you. They meticulously planned the route and created a list of things they would need, while Chris peppered the conversation with outrageous (but secretly hilarious) ideas.

Nick slammed his hand on the table, interrupting Chris’ comments with a gasp so theatrical his eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Oh my God, guys, remember the time capsule we did as teens?" A wide grin split his face. "We buried that thing in the backyard years ago, practically ancient history!"

Of course, you remembered the dented metal box, decorated with peeling stickers and hopeful teenage scribbles, filled with dreams and silly trinkets. "Oh yeah! I almost forgot about that!" you exclaimed. "We should definitely open it now."

The time capsule had been a clandestine operation, buried under the cover of darkness on the night before your fifteenth birthday. A pact had been made to unearth it when one of you turned 21, and with the triplets’ birthday just a month away, the timing felt perfect.

Chris plunged the shovel into the packed earth until a metallic clang was heard. The shovel had found its target. Kneeling, you brushed away the dirt, revealing a dented metal box, its once vibrant stickers faded and peeling.

Inside, random things lay nestled together: faded concert tickets, plastic army men with chipped paint, a well-worn copy of your favourite childhood book, and more. Tentatively, you picked up a folded piece of paper, the familiar scrawl of Matt's handwriting on it. "y/n," it read.

--

Across the room, Matt's eyes darted around the room, unable to meet yours, as he fidgeted with his fingers, nervous as his mind flashed back.

You crammed into Matt's messy room. As Matt tucked the note into the box, your gaze fell upon your name scrawled across the fold. "What's that, Matt?" you'd asked curiously. "You'll have to wait a few years to find out, sorry," he'd mumbled, his cheeks flushing a rosy red.

Oh no.

He had totally forgotten about it and now it was too late to get your hands off the paper. Memories flooded his mind – stolen glances in the school hallway, shy smiles exchanged over shared jokes. He'd poured his heart onto that paper, naively believing the act of writing it down would somehow exorcise his feelings. Nick had convinced him to put it in the time capsule. "Just bury it deep," Nick had said. "Out of sight, out of mind, right?" Matt had clung to that hope, a wish that somehow, all these years later, the feelings would just... vanish.

But the past refused to stay buried. As you unfolded the note, Matt's heart going wild. The truth was about to come out, and he had no idea how you'd react.

Matt couldn't tear his gaze from the note. As your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you read, fear gripped him. His breath hitched in his throat, and his hands instinctively curled into fists. He needed to get out. Now.

He didn't think, he just reacted. With a surge of adrenaline, he lurched backward. The room seemed to shrink, the air thick and suffocating. He stumbled towards the door, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Reaching the bathroom door, his fingers, slick with sweat, fumbled with the lock. A choked gasp escaped his lips as he slammed the door shut. He leaned against the cool wood as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control the tremors wracking his body. The taste of panic filled him. He had to get a grip. He had to figure out what to do next. But for now, the locked bathroom door was the only barrier between him and you.

--

The note fluttered in your hand, the words blurring as a wave of surprise washed over you. A mixture of emotions swirled in your chest – curiosity, amusement, nervousness. You glanced around the room, searching for Matt, but he was gone. "Matt?" you called out, looking around for him.

"Marylou?" you called, heading towards the kitchen. "Have you seen Matt?" Her answer, a shake of her head, did little to ease the knot forming in your stomach as you climbed the stairs. At the top you saw the bathroom door firmly shut. You heard muffled sounds, and ragged gasps for breath.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. "Matt? Is that you?"

--

Matt's vision blurred at the edges. His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale did nothing to ease the pressure building in his chest. The room seemed to tilt, the walls threatening to cave in on him. He sank to the floor, his arms wrapped around his torso in an attempt to hold himself together. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Then, a voice pierced the fog of his panic. Your voice. "Matt? Is that you?" It was laced with concern.

"Are you okay?" The question hung in the air. He was paralyzed 'What do I do now?' The question echoed in his mind. His breaths hitched and his body wracked with silent sobs.

--

"Matt!" you called alarmed. "Matt, please answer me!". Just as despair threatened to consume you, a rasping voice broke through the silence.

"I can't… breathe," he choked out barely audible words. Relief washed over you. "Matt, let me in!" you pleaded. From inside, you heard a shuffling sound, then a weak groan as he fumbled with the lock. The door creaked open a sliver, revealing Matt's pale face. His eyes were shut, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His hands, trembling violently, tore at the collar of his shirt in a desperate attempt to get more air. Without hesitation, you pushed the door open and rushed to his side.

You sank down onto the cool tile floor beside him, pulling him into a hug. His trembling body pressed against yours, his ragged breaths hot against your neck. Taking a deep breath yourself, you focused on the grounding technique you'd seen online. "Okay, Matt," you said, your voice soft but firm. "Let's focus on your senses. Okay?".

Matt didn't respond at first, his grip on you tightening almost imperceptibly. The suggestion hung in the air for a moment. Matt squeezed his eyes shut. "Okay," he whispered, opening his eyes. You smiled encouragingly. "Alright, Matt. What five things can you see right now?" He scanned the small bathroom, still shaking, his gaze landing on the chipped porcelain sink. "Sink…” he said with a trembling voice, “Shower… mirror, floor”, he took a deep breath “Curtains”.

You continued, guiding him through the exercise. With each question, Matt seemed to anchor himself a little more firmly in the present. He described the cool tile beneath his fingertips, the sharp scent of disinfectant, the way the flickering light cast dancing shadows on the walls. His breaths came slower, deeper, the ragged gasps replaced by a steady rhythm.

“Very good, Matt. Last one, name one thing you can hear.” You said as you continued hugging him. "I hear… your heartbeat," he mumbled. You held him close, stroking his hair in a slow, calming rhythm. His grip on you loosened slightly, replaced by a tremor that gradually subsided.

You slowly pulled away, your gaze lingering on Matt's face. He avoided your eyes. "Better?" you asked softly.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Thanks." He shuffled his feet, his entire posture radiating a desperate need for escape. Taking a deep breath, Matt spoke. "I forgot about it... the letter, and I just..." His voice trailed off.

"Why did that make you panic?" you asked "You were just a kid, it's not like you still feel that way," you finished your sentence with a hint of disappointment colouring your tone.

Matt's head snapped up, his teary gaze meeting yours. "And what if I still feel those things?" he said in a whisper as his eyes wandered away from yours again.

Surprise flickered across your face. Reaching out, you cupped his face making him look at you once more. "Do you?" you asked. Matt nodded hesitantly.

Leaning in, you met his gaze. "Kiss me," you whispered. Matt opened his mouth “What-”, but the words died on his lips as you crushed your lips against his.

Matt, caught off guard by your boldness, froze for a moment. Then, he melted into the kiss. His hand, which had been hovering awkwardly at his side, crept up to rest on the back of your head, his fingers grabbing your hair slightly. Your hand moved to cradle his cheek. The kiss deepened, in a slow, sensual exploration of each other’s mouth. His lips moving in synchronicity with yours.

You pulled away, both of you gasping for air. Your foreheads rested against each other for a moment. Matt's eyes held yours. He seemed to be searching for answers.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he finally asked, his voice thick with a mix of frustration and a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

"Why didn't you?" you countered. “Cause I’m a coward” he said with a joking tone. You mirrored it, "Hey, don't insult my man." A genuine smile lit up Matt's face. He bit his lower lip. "Your man?" he repeated, pulling you close by the waist “I like how that sounds”, he finished saying, leaning in, connecting your lips once more.

[eonars]

ive tried like 3 times now so i guess im gonna do this in parts

so last thursday i went out with a man id been talking to off An App since before i went on that work trip, the conversation over text wasnt necessarily flowing ever and there were some long pauses while i was away that had me convinced it was joever but he always popped back up and even asked me how things were going and what i was doing. so we meet up the day after i get back and across 3 different bars and 5 drinks we get on like a house on fire. both like the same music (we were both at the same music festival in early august, talked about that a ton obviously) both play the same games (both main death knight and do very high mythic plus keys in wow) and as we get more comfortable with each other we start holding hands and intertwining legs and stuff while sat down. we make all kinds of plans for future concerts to go to together ranging from aura noir in like 2 weeks to him saying he will let me know if he ends up with a spare ticket to sigur ros in november because if he does he'll definitely take me along. we talk about different horror movies to watch together and he lets me yap on nonstop about fish related stuff, which he's actually super knowledgeable about and tells me i sound so lovely when i talk about it and i explain things so well that anyone could understand them and that it's amazing to listen to. he says he's so proud to know someone so intelligent who might actually do something notable for science and put this country on the map for scientific discoveries. we talk about art and he asks me what my favorites are in the national gallery in town and why and we discuss them. i mention i do art and he asks to see and literally can't contain himself when i show him and says i'm amazingly talented. things are going so well and the conversation about music and games and concerts and art and science has not idled or stopped once that when he's like oh shit i have to run for the train i'm like well instead of running we can continue having drinks here and then wait for the trains to start again at mine? and he's super down so we head back to mine and crowd together on my tiny twin bed in my tiny bedroom sized flat and he lets me put on jewels of the rift, the crunchy jpg quality reuploaded ancient natgeo documentary about cichlids i watch on youtube every time im feeling down. i tell him wow i've never been able to convince anyone to watch jewels of the rift with me before and he's like ohh don't worry i'm here now and about 40 minutes into jewels of the rift things get a bit 😏 but i stop things from going tooooo too far and we both have the worst nights sleep ever on a 90cm wide bed as two 6ft+ people who have been drinking heavily. he leaves at 7:30am and hugs me and quietly says it was really nice to meet me and i tell him to text me when he gets in which he doesn't so i text a little bit later asking if he got in ok. he says he only just woke up then and because i know he has work that night i ask how it's going and he just says it's going ok. i reply with a half joking type thing about how i hopefully didn't give him the german engineering university plague and get left on read so on sunday i text asking if he'd be interested in hanging out again sometime and then put my notifications off and go into the woods. i don't realize he replies 5 min later with "I'm a bit busy these coming weeks. But we can probably go to a concert or something sometime if you want :)" which feels really. not good to read. and so i reply back saying i'm definitely going to the aura noir show we talked about in like 10 days so just let me know and get left on read. it's now thursday and i still haven't heard anything and like.

[kpopbestie96]

Chapter Eight

You let your friends in, excited to have George, Dani, Gabby and Bella (the friend that got sick and couldn't go to the concert) over. This was your third time seeing her, but you both became fast friends - as if you both have known each other for years.

"Okay, so I got the Uber for brunch. He should be here soon." George said who was dressed up in a black tank top that sat underneath a black fishnet top, paired with light denim pants that had holes on each side showing off their thighs, wearing black Doc Martens.

"Ugh I can't wait to have mimosas in front of me! It's been a stressful week at work." Dani said who was wearing a plain baby blue tub top, paired with white joggers, with blue and white Nikes.

"I love your outfit!" Gabby complimented as she wore a black tennis skirt with a light purple crop top that was off the shoulders, showing off her small kitten tattoo on her left shoulder, hiding a bit underneath her light purple bralette.

"Thanks but love yours more!" You wore something so simple, a cute dark green, silk, summer dress that you paired with short black heels.

"I think someone's at the door," Bella mentioned, who was wearing a simple short pink dress with flats that had white daisy's sitting on top.

"Oh okay!" You didn't know who it could be, peaking through the peephole to see Melissa. You saw that she tried to call but decided to ignore it. Something must be wrong, you thought when opening the door.

"I'm sorry to bother you and you probably don't want to talk to me but this is important." You could tell the urgency in her voice and the scare in her eyes.

"Come in..." You opened the door wider for her to walk through.

"Why the fuck is she here??" Gabby asked, standing up ready to fight.

"Gabby, hold on," you put your hand up. "What's going on?"

"It's Sarah.. she's pretending to be you...."

Everyone in the room gasped like a Spanish telenovela, couldn't believe she would do that. "What the fuck?? How??" You wondered.

She took in a deep breath before explaining how she dyed her hair, changed her makeup and sent him a message posing as you.

You stood in your spot, couldn't even began to fathom what Melissa was explaining.

"What a bitch!" Dani blurred out.

"What do I do?" You pressed your head against the wall and looked up at the celling. I knew it was too go to be true.

"We have to put it all over social media!" Gabby threw her idea out loud.

"Yes let's do it!" You said jumping up from your seat.

"The Uber is here," George announced.

"Let's get in, eat and get to work when we get there! This is now a defcon one!" Gabby yelled, laughing while everyone made their way out the door.

"Thanks for telling me," you said walking with Melissa to the elevator after locking your front door.

"No problem I feel bad for what happened. I'm truly sorry."

They got into the elevator, took it to the lobby, seeing their Uber waiting for them outside. "Melissa, wanna come with us?" You asked, accepting her apology.

"Really?"

"Yeah, come on!"

...

The second the waiter took the drink order everyone began to discuss the plan, with Gabby taking the lead. "Okay, so we should post her Instagram account on Twitter and say it's her. We'll post our videos along with it as evidence."

"What if crazy fans come after me?" You feared, knowing there are some "fans" who are going to send you death threats.

"First off, your account is private. Two who gives a fuck. The fact Chan is looking for YOU, they can fuck right off," George noted, seeing how serious they were being.

"Yeah but what if they find my job and..."

"Babes, you need to chill. You'll get to be with THE Bang Chan from Stray Kids! Who fuckin' cares about anyone else," Bella said touching your hand, looking deep into your eyes.

You put up a faint smile, nodded your head that you understood.

"Should we post this now?" Melissa asked.

"No, closer to maybe a reasonable time in Korea. Right now everyone should be sleeping, so I say here in a few hours."

"Yes! You're so fucking smart Gabby!" You praised your best friend.

"I'm your fairy Godmother for a reason!" She smiled, waving a invisible wand around.

The waiter dropped off everyone's drinks, "I propose a toast," Gabby said raising her drink in the air. "To Y/n and Chan!"

"To Y/n and Chan!" Everyone cheered, clanking their glasses together.

You took a sip of your drink, praying this all works.

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[bloodmaarked]

cultish: the language of fanaticism // amanda montell

first published: 2021 read: 06 january 2025 - 24 january 2025 pages: 310 format: e-book

genres: non-fiction; sociology; language first line(s): "it started with a prayer."

rating: 🌕🌕🌕🌗🌑 thoughts: i started out wanting to rate cultish 4* because i had a pretty good time reading it, and i do feel like there was a learning experience. however, at the turn of the last page, i kept thinking of what more i might've wanted out of this book, and that feeling led me to want to drop it half a star. cultish definitely brought topics around cults and cult mentality to light that i wasn't aware of, but i felt like there was a lot of scope to go perhaps wider, and certainly deeper.

cults are, in general society, very fascinating. we are so intrigued and weirded out by the idea that someone could become so heavily influenced that they give up family, friends, life as they know it to follow a deified cult leader. my cult knowledge really goes as far as scientology, which is creepy enough to me, but i was really interested in other cults that were mentioned throughout, such as jonestown and synanon. what i enjoyed was the look at not just what the cults did, but how individuals might end up falling prey to people who don't have their best interests at heart, and how this is mostly down to language. cultish language even pervades everyday discussions; once 'thought-terminating' phrases were highlighted, i couldn't help but think of plenty of discussions i've had both on and offline that came to screeching halts because of phrases that leave no room for debate. we are subject to, and use, a lot of influential language and it's really interesting to take that new perspective after having read this book. i also enjoyed looking at cult-adjacent groups (think cult-fitness groups like soulcycle, or MLMs) that have a distinctly culty feel to them yet are embedded in society.

i would have liked an even deeper look at the language used, a slightly more technical discussion and examination of the linguistics of cults. i did like that the book was very accessible, but i think a more technical discussion could have still been had, with a deeper focus on the language, without turning off readers. perhaps that's because i took a sociolinguistics class in uni, so maybe i'm a little more interested in this than the general reader.

i also came away somewhat in disbelief that of all the cult-adjacent groups that were discussed, fandom was not one of them! if you asked people to name things that aren't quite a cult but definitely feel like one, they'd probably mention either fandoms or republicans lol. i would know myself, having spent my most important teenage years firmly embedded in the "cult" of one direction, with all its language that outsiders wouldn't quite understand (the more of which you can use, the better you can prove how devoted you are), and us-versus-them mentalities towards fandoms of other artists who don't quite cut it. i feel like that would have been a massively interesting area to explore, especially given that, while celebrities obviously aren't cult leaders, some of them really do lean into the parasocialism of their fans and have a strong hand in blurring the lines between time spent supporting faves and the rest of reality. not to mention the capitalistic tie-in (buy merch, concert tickets, every version of each album!) which, as the book shows, is a big part of the rhetoric around cults.

so, while i enjoyed cultish, i would've liked a little more from it overall. i'd still recommend it if it interests you though, as i learned a lot! and i have the age of magical overthinking already on my list, so i hope that's as good if not better.