#i will not keep my mouth shut about these artists and songs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hivemuthur · 2 months ago

Note

Bestie. I know your requests are closed but I’m champagne drunk rn and I had to get this to you before the thought slips through the little wrinkles in my brain. So don’t answer until you want to answer.

party4u by charli xcx. Idk I’m always blasting charli but today something about this song just struck me. I feel like it could be either Viktor or the MC from Nothings New. Throwing a party for something seemingly random just in the hopes that the other would show up. The pining, the trying-hard-but-trying-not-to-be-noticeable-about-it. (Hope you walk into the party, cause I threw the party just for you)(called your digits but the phone kept ringin/wish I knew what you were thinking)

And then the blatant laying-bare-of-the-feelings ughhhhhhhh (if you saw my tears would you touch me? / kiss me on the mouth, say you love me?)(why you treating me like someone you never loved?)(all I’m thinking all I know is / that I hope you knock on my door)

Idk I just can’t stop thinking about it and I feel like only you could do something Viktor-related but also based on this song justice. You have this way of writing angst and feelings that I normally am afraid to explore (dread, anxiety, jealousy, anger, acknowledging the ugly parts of ourselves (like with The Ugly Thing)) in a way that is so delicious and makes me WANT to explore them.

Bestie, how do do you KNOW ME so well . Thank you for making a playground for me, seriously. I hope you can tell I loved this.

Come So Close That I Might See

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! a freeform of what was requested. Implied, but not included in the plot: Jayce and Viktor score a grant for their further science developments, silly Viktor offers to throw a party instead of just grabbing beers. AU Modern Era if you squint (like, phones are mentioned). Contains a lot of fluids :v

word count: 4K

author's note: not me incorporating sex into the request by default and then checking with the requestee only when I got to the condom part :v I also spent a lot of time on forums to get the Czech phrases accurately and it made me giggle how many Czech people went to forewarn the person asking that love confessions in Czech are dead serious and if they have a Czech girlfriend they want to say it to they have to MEAN IT (as a cynical, brooding, judgmental Slavic cunt I wholeheartedly agree). Translations at the bottom and title is from Mazzy Star.

This gets pretty gross, both in terms of sentimentality and bodily fluids, you have been warned!

artist on X (I'm addicted)

—

Never before had he so much as brought his teeth close to his fingers—unless it was to take a bite of something meant precisely for eating—yet now he finds himself absentmindedly gnawing at a particularly stubborn cuticle while staring at the tiny grey tick next to his message, waiting for it to turn green, waiting for it to become three jumping dots. Radiating unease, Viktor sighs out a rattled breath and props his chin on the heel of his palm.

Jayce huffs in the background, stacking the freezer with water poured into plastic containers, hoping it will turn to ice before the first person complains about the heat. It’s one of those unbearably sticky days with no sun, the clouds trapping the air, refusing to let it move, offering no reprieve to the sweaty—until, inevitably, it all gives way to a raging storm by nightfall. Curtains billowing and thunder roaring, hurried window-shutting and water pouring in through the cracks—tonight’s entertainment is already set.

Viktor does little to help, and Jayce doesn’t mind. After all, Viktor’s offer had been a timid one, seeming to stumble out of his lips before his brain could fully calculate the potential disaster of inviting people over. Any excuse would have sufficed, yet scoring a grant was big enough occasion to keep Viktor from backing out.

So he sits with a book, his phone resting in the book’s mouth, dimming every three minutes before he taps the screen again, worried he might miss your reply. He still doesn’t know if this reckless idea will come back to bite him on the ass—if you don’t show up he will have to spend the evening smiling at strangers, pretending to be overjoyed about this opportunity while, in reality, his soul withers away.

“I’m sure she’ll come,” Jayce says finally, three bottles of rum balanced in one hand, his right arm wrapped around a bucket of melting ice that stains his dark blue T-shirt. “Mel will be here—she’ll drag her in.”

“That’s a joyous picture to anticipate, isn’t it?” Viktor hums as calmly as he can, yet his finger is gnawed raw, an ugly shade of red. He scrunches his eyebrows at it, deciding it’s about time to leave it alone. “My friend dragged in to see me by force?”

“Figuratively. I don’t think Mel is that strong,” Jayce teases, setting the dripping bucket on the table, bottles clinking inside. He crouches close to Viktor’s legs. “If not, we’ll try to have a good time anyway. We deserve it.”

Jayce pats his knee, and Viktor fixes his eyes on something in front of him that isn’t Jayce, saving himself from the feeling of being picked apart piece by piece, examined from the inside out. A dreadful sensation, if anyone were to ask him. Everyone around him, save for you, thinks they’ve mastered the skill.

“No promises,” he says, sucking in some of the stale air and setting the book aside, though the phone remains in his hand. He should shower really, wear something that makes him look effortlessly put together—something that invites touch and makes him hug-worthy. But the idea of meeting his reflection sits in his stomach like lead. Whatever all those people, with their prying eyes, fail to notice, he will see in the mirror. And worse—you will see it, too.

It’s so unbearably hot that he takes the coldest shower he can without wrenching the air from his lungs. Cold enough that stepping out into the bathroom’s warm embrace is almost a relief. A quick shave, hair left wet to milk out as much of this fresh feeling as possible, knowing grime will coat him head to toe as soon as the apartment fills with faces attached to sweaty bodies.

Each buzz of the door has his heart flipping in his chest, and he scowls every time the person Jayce greets with a sticky hug is not you. He tries not to look disappointed when guests pat his shoulder and offer their congratulations, tries very hard to be grateful for having friends in the first place��but part of him deeply regrets that his brain didn’t catch the reckless blurt of “Or let’s have a party?” in time.

He’s on his third rum and coke, and maybe that’s why his defences are lower when he goes to answer the door this time, Jayce busy in the kitchen. The door swings open, and he’s greeted by Mel’s perfect face—utterly unbothered by the heat, only her forehead covered in a satin-like sheen, as if designed to enhance her beauty rather than ruin it.

And behind Mel is you, far less heat-resistant, yet for Viktor, far more beautiful. Cheeks flushed a healthy red, shoulders sun-kissed, draped in barely-there straps of a barely-there blouse, and his heart drops all the way down to where his second heart is, beating for you and you alone.

Mel, dignified as always, only ghosts a kiss near his cheek and hands him a bottle of wine before stepping inside, ready to kiss Jayce properly. You linger awkwardly in the hallway, kicking off your shoes before Viktor can tell you not to.

“Hi,” you say stupidly, waving at him.

He waves back, puts his cane on the coat rag, arms spreading just enough—not quite an invitation, not quite begging, but close.

“Are you sure? I’m very gross.” You glance warily at his crisp white shirt, wondering how he’s managed to look so sharp while everyone else sports the look of a wet rag. Sleeves rolled up neatly, showing off the freckles on his taunt skin, veins poking out, swollen with the impossible temperature.

“I don’t mind,” he mutters, already pulling you in. He feels the opposite of minding.

You smell of fresh perfume mixed with sweat, and when his hand comes to rest between your shoulder blades, his lips barely brush against your skin, the wine bottle presses against the small of your back. Viktor hopes some of your sweat will sink into his shirt, making you stay with him a little while longer after you leave.

How many times you've been at it, you don't know. It's always on the verge of something serious—yet the closer it gets, the faster Viktor pulls away. The tension between you has lingered since the moment you met, but you have no idea when it settled into this uncomfortable friendship. So distancing yourself, for a while, seemed reasonable. Now, with him wrapped around you, you don't know if you'll find the strength to leave.

You breathe him in, and the uneasiness seeps out of you in an instant. You’re not even that hot anymore. Goosebumps rise on your skin where he touched, and you can feel his lips curl into a smile.

“Congratulations,” you mumble into his chest, and he only hugs you tighter.

He plucks his cane from the empty coat hanger, hands you the bottle and leads you to the kitchen. Jayce pours you a drink, and the four of you sink into a conversation bordering on comfortable. How many times Jayce has to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out that the party was Viktor’s idea, only he knows.

The chatter eases into jokes and laughter at some point, and you can feel the alcohol warming your insides to match the heat outside. Air begins to stir as the predicted storm gathers, the kitchen growing more and more cramped. When a thunderclap cracks through the air, startling someone next to Mel, the contents of her glass spill onto your chest.

“Mel, do you have to? Always? When I’m wearing white?” You jump back instinctively, and Viktor’s fingers wrap around your elbow.

“Oh, darling,” she laughs, scrunching her brows in apology. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” And indeed, it’s a curse—you should never wear white around her.

“I’ll give you something,” Viktor says quickly, already on a mission.

“I can get it, you don’t have to come upstairs,” you stop him with a hand on his shoulder and a smile. “If that’s okay,” you add, asking for permission to rummage through his closet alone.

He swallows and nods, searching for any good excuse to follow you—but at the moment, even his big brain can’t conjure one.

You drag yourself up the stairs, and the further you get from the noise, the more you realise how loud it was in the kitchen. It feels briefly odd, stepping into Viktor’s bedroom—you haven’t been here in such a long time. But as you cross the threshold, everything looks just as you remember. Maybe a few more notes scattered here and there.

You close the rattling window by his desk before the rain can soak into the papers, then move to his walk-in closet. As soon as you step inside, the scent of Viktor floods your senses, and despite yourself, you breathe in deeply.

Somehow, this feels safe. You run your fingers along his clothes, searching for your favourite T-shirt of his. But you linger unnecessarily long on his jumpers, bringing them close to your cheek and inhaling the scent of his washing powder. You’ve smelled this so many times, and it’s never enough, really.

You don’t know how much time has passed since you left the kitchen, but a voice knocks you out of your daydreaming.

“You alright?”

“Viktor.” You jump away, snagging a T-shirt in the process to make it look like that’s all you’ve been doing. “Shit, you scared me. Yes, I just—” you gesture to your chest, where a red stain from Mel’s wine blooms, “should probably clean off first.”

He nods, still lingering in the doorway, and you just stare at each other. Finally, Viktor speaks your name softly and props his cane by the wall. He means to say so much more than that, but he hopes you will see what he saw in the reflection today—and that you will understand.

And because you do, you reply with a warning.

“Viktor, no.” You shake your head and clutch his T-shirt by the collar in your fist. “How many times have we been at this?”

“Too many,” he breathes, closing the little distance between you in a heartbeat. His hands clasp around your hips, and Viktor rests his forehead against yours, whispering, “Too many. Make this the last one.”

“I’m—” you mutter, placing your palms on top of his. Scared is what you should say. Unsure would also fit. “Sticky,” you say instead.

He takes it as an invitation. In no time, your shirt is rolled up to your armpits, and even if you folded yourself in half and squeezed into his shelves, there would be no avoiding it. Viktor leans in and kisses your navel.

“I don’t mind,” he says, his hot breath mingling with your skin.

His tongue meets your stomach, and your spine stretches as you suck your belly in, only making the route for him longer. Timid at first, something inside him snaps when you moan and wrap your fingers into his hair. He presses his face into your belly, inhales deeply, and kisses with his mouth open until the sticky of Mel’s wine is exchanged for the sticky of his drool.

You tug him up by the hair, and he’s up immediately, pushing you further against the shelves, his torso flush against yours. Your stained shirt smears against his crisp white one.

“Viktor,” you mutter, stopping him from kissing you with a firm grip on his cheeks.

“What?” he asks, surprised. “Do you want me to stop?”

You take a shaky breath and burn your eyes into his, trying to dig out whatever courage you need to settle the needy thing thundering in your chest.

“Viktor,” you say again, buying yourself time. “If you’re messing with me again, I swear to God, I will eat your heart.”

“I’m not,” he says solemnly, a smile playing on his lips—possibly at the dramatics. But if he were being honest, he’d throw it away himself, the heart. It only causes trouble.

An ardent look lingers in his eye when he finally adds, “You can eat it anyway.”

You groan and wrench yourself away from him, suddenly feeling the suffocating heat striking back at you. He follows, leaning against the doorframe and watching as you pace up and down the room.

“What are you thinking?” he asks when you stop and sit on his bed.

“I don’t know. What are you thinking?”

“I—” he hesitates. Takes a few wobbly steps toward you, and when the mattress dips beside you, your legs touch. His hand skims along your inner thigh, and he leans in to kiss your neck. At least he doesn’t look so well put together anymore—his hair is mussed, his cheeks flushed pink, his shirt stained and rumpled where it’s come untucked.

“I want to lick your stomach some more,” he murmurs. “And then kiss you properly. And then—” His lips reach your ear, whispering filth that has your toes curling.

Somewhere in the apartment, the wind forces a window open, knocking something over—possibly a plant pot—causing a startled yelp from at least three voices below. The sound carries up to the bedroom.

You snap your head toward the door. It’s still ajar.

Viktor’s hand slips from your thigh as you get up, and he almost whines, reaching out to stop you—until he sees you’re turning the lock. Then you face him, all serious and reverent.

“I meant what I said,” you tell him, your voice weak.

“I am aware.” He nods, extending his arms toward you.

You come to straddle his lap, and he wraps himself around you. Your fingers pull his hair back from his forehead, and the way he looks at you is just unbearable. He rocks you back and forth to the rhythm of the song playing downstairs.

“I ruined your shirt,” you hum, pressing your thumbs to his temples.

He closes his eyes and hums back, “Good. I hate this shirt.” Wraps himself tighter around you and yanks you over, your back bouncing against the bed with a faint pop.

“Sorry,” Viktor chuckles, embarrassed, and kisses your cheek sweetly.

And he keeps his promise. Rolling your shirt back up, he glides his lips down your chest, along your sternum, until he reaches your solar plexus. He sucks your skin between his lips, breathing in the scent of his own dried spit mixed with wine.

You squeal at the sensation, hooking your foot around his hip. He yanks it away, tossing it aside, his hands clasping around your ribs as he plants hickeys onto your belly. There are so many things Viktor wants to say, but his tongue is too busy.

He wants to thank whatever force shaped your stomach so that his nose can fit there entirely, breathing in whatever happens beneath your skin. He could also thank whoever nudged Mel’s hand into spilling wine over you. And he could thank you for all those mornings when he wakes up drenched in thoughts of you, staring at the ceiling, the vignette of your kind hands is the only thing that stops his shoulders from hulking sullen.

He runs his fingers over the grooves where your ribs erode into hollows, licking there as well. And he wants to lick lower, where your skin disappears under the waistband of your shorts, into the subterranean darkness between your thighs. He wants to feel the pulse of your second heart on his tongue, to see if it beats for him as strongly as his beats for you.

As soon as his lips unglue from your skin, fingers hooking into the material to slide your shorts down, you tug at his hair again—reminding him of your lips. And that’s fine, because all he wants is to kiss all of you tonight. So he obeys, raking his hands up your sides before cupping your face, finally sinking his tired tongue into your mouth.

And oh, he still tastes of rum when you suck yourself off him, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips. His lips are love-bitten and swollen, and yours are just hungry for his. Suddenly, you hate his fucking shirt too. You pull at his buttons, and he chuckles, undoing them so deftly with one hand that it leaves you embarrassed.

You prompt him further—tugging at fabric, pulling impatiently, whining whenever the material refuses to simply give in and vanish. Clothes are discarded onto the floor in a flurry of awkward shimmying and frantic kicks, until he hisses at the faint pain the hurried movement has caused him. There is a bit more grace in you when you pull your top over your head and get rid of your shorts.

Soon, his body full of tumbled bones is naked against yours, pliant and warm. And you wonder how, even in this unbearable heat, Viktor’s flesh never goes soft. It’s always tense, always sharp angles, even as he wraps himself around you in a brief reprieve of a hug. He breathes you in deeply, gulping down whatever scent he’s left on you, his cock pressing heavily against your core.

And he doesn’t even know anymore if he wants to fuck you stupid or just hold you until the sun bleeds red through his blinds.

And the worst part of this dilemma is that he has to momentarily part from you to reach for a condom on the nightstand—and even if it will take mere seconds, he cannot stand it.

He feels so scrutinised under your gaze when you watch his trembling hands. Your fingers come to pluck the little wrapped thing from him, pushing him back against the bed frame. You break the foil, holding it between your thumb and index finger, then lean in to kiss his weeping tip. His head lulls back, eyes fluttering shut as you unroll it down his length.

He already looks so fucked out that you waste no time—taking him in hand and sliding him inside with a slow, burning stretch. His palms hover over your hips, catching you, steadying you. Once he’s buried to the hilt, a certain calmness washes over him—finally, he is hugged from all sides. Your arm wrapped around his neck, your pussy wrapped around his cock, your fingers wrapped around his as you inspect the wound he inflicted on himself earlier.

“What happened here?” you ask, kissing his knuckles.

“I…” His breath hitches as you take his fingers into your mouth. “I got impatient.”

“What about?”

He gives you a pained look and buries his face in the crook of your neck, fingers toying at your lips.

“You,” he admits, stretching out your lower lip. “It feels dreadful to say, but I almost ate my hand waiting for you to reply.”

“Viktor,” you whisper, placing a hand on the back of his neck, running your fingers through his hair. You clench around him, and he gasps, pushing his nose further into your shoulder.

“Don’t torment me, please,” he breathes. “I know I deserve it for all the torment I’ve caused you, but I’m not sure I can survive it.”

“I don’t intend to,” you say softly, rolling your hips against his. He groans, arms tightening around you. “I already told you what happens if you’re fucking with me.”

And then—that smirk you love so dearly. From between his lips, his tongue flicks out to stroke over your skin, traveling up your neck to your ear, where he whispers, “I trust we are differentiating between the categories of fucking.”

Your hips roll again, and his smugness unravels into a deep, sonorous moan. You take it from him greedily, sealing your lips over his. You kiss him open-mouthed, and Viktor responds with a palm crawling toward your clit, gliding over the plane of your licked-clean belly. It finds its warm home, and this time it’s your head lulling back, your mouth moaning as he plucks your hand off his shoulder, entwining your fingers together.

You grind down into him, bracing yourself on your handholding, hearts beating fast and breaths growing hoarse. His cock slides in and out of you in time with your hips and when you look at him he’s all there, present, eyes fixed on you, the focus of his hand between your legs is unwavering. Big brain pays off in times like these when the ability to multitask is worth more than any healthy muscle. And Viktor does little to no work with those, only guiding his hips upward gently each time you come down to slap your ass against his thighs.

He's either learnt it all from years of observation and the half-truths exchange between you, the almost-kiss moments, the falling-asleep-together-by-accident moments, the I’d-rather-watch-crap-with-you-than-get-laid moments, when each of you chose the insufficient each other over another one night stand, or his cock was just made for you.

And you already suspect all those moments were worth it before you are completely certain. Before he twitches inside you hitting the sensitive spot that has you gasping for air and his fingers on your clit speed up, he does another thing. He looks at you longingly and his mouth parts and it’s barely a murmur, a secret gifted to you and only you, even though everyone knows already.

“Ma lásko,” Viktor rolls off his tongue. “Miluji tě,” he whispers, kissing your knuckles. “Byl jsem hloupý,” comes next, and even though you don’t understand, somehow—you do.

“Prosím, odpusť mi. Moc tě miluji,” he murmurs, offering his heart for you to devour if you so chose—but you only tighten your grasp around his fingers and press your lips to his forehead, hoping to do his native language justice when you repeat after him, “Miluji tě.”

This almost undoes him entirely, and to ruin him further, your cunt tightens by the second as you clench around his cock, creaming all over his fingers. But Viktor keeps up, thrusting his hips upward to meet yours, drinking in the sound of his own name falling from your lips as you spasm and tremble on top of him, squeezing his hand until his knuckles turn pale. He kisses you through it, moaning into your mouth as he feels himself teetering on the edge—until a thought invades him abruptly.

He pushes you gently onto your back and crawls on top awkwardly before you can complain about the sudden feeling of emptiness. Enters you again and fucks into you a few more times before pulling back out, sliding the condom off, and stroking himself until he paints your belly in hot white. Eyes hooded, you watch his face—flushed and sweaty, mouth hanging open beautifully, brows scrunched as he pumps the last drops of cum onto your skin. Then, he collapses beside you, kisses you gratefully, and runs his hand over your stomach, smearing his seed all the way up to your breasts and neck. It then spreads across your cheek, drying out like an egg white, tightening your skin before Viktor slides his wet fingers up into your hair.

A laugh, stupid and fucked-out, escapes you as you ask, “Are you going to lick me clean now?”

But Viktor says nothing—though you know he would if you asked. Instead, he wraps an arm around you, pressing your stomachs together with a wet slap, hooks a leg over your hip, and kisses your swollen lips. “Miluji tě,” he repeats, as if saying it during sex doesn’t count.

“Miluji tě,” you whisper back, and he chuckles at how awkward yet sweet it sounds from you. “And thank you for throwing this party.”

“It was only for you,” Viktor says, deciding that honesty is worth more than saving himself from embarrassment. And thankfully, you choose not to tease him further—since, at last, his heart is laid bare before you. You’ll eat it next time all right, just not the one that keeps him figuratively alive.

—

*ma lásko - my love *miluji tě - I love you *Byl jsem hloupý - I've been stupid *Prosím, odpusť mi - please, forgive me

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #requests

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hoe4hotchner · 5 months ago

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Hi! I've recently found your blog and first of all, let me say that you are brilliant! I read your fic about singer!reader x Hotch and I was wondering if you'd be open to write another fic/drabble about them? Like imagine it's Valkyrie's opening night of her tour for her new album, the entire team is there, and reader keeps looking/pointing at Hotch during the songs (like Taylor Swift is doing whenever Travis Kelce is there?) I just think Hotch would be so flustered it would be so cute *-*

No worries if you don't feel like writing this btw! Hope you have a great day!!

Opening night | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem singer!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: nothing

A/N: Thank you so much! I’m glad you found my blog and hope you'll enjoy this one too! 💕

The venue buzzed with anticipation, the low hum of conversation and excited cheers weaving into a symphony of pre-show excitement from your fans. Your opener had just left the stage, almost jumping with excitement as she relayed how great the crowd had been. You loved seeing how energetic she was coming off the stage, knowing that you'd made the right choice in bringing a newer artist on tour with you, rather than the more established one your label had recommended during the planning meetings.

The stage was dark and wrapped in mystique as your crew moved around in the shadows, changing a few instruments out and moving some positions of others as they prepared the stage for you and your band.

The BAU team occupied a cluster of prime seats up on the balcony, their enthusiasm apparent in their attire and energy as they waited for you to come out.

Despite their excitement, no one matched Garcia's energy. She sat at the edge of her seat, ready to jump out of her seat, her bejeweled glasses catching the dim light. “I still can’t believe it,” she whispered for the fifth time that evening, shaking her head as if to reset her reality. “Hotch — our Hotch — is dating Valkyrie. THE Valkyrie. My favorite artist of all time. How does that even happen? What alternate dimension are we living in?” Hotch smiled quietly to himself as he listened to Garcia

“This is wild,” Morgan said, leaning back in his seat with a grin as he looked out over the stadium. “I still can’t believe we know Valkyrie. Like, know her know her.”

“She’s amazing,” JJ agreed. “This new album? Masterpiece.”

Rossi chuckled, sipping his whiskey. “I think we’re all in agreement. What about you, Aaron? Nervous to be the muse tonight?”

Hotch, seated at the edge of their group, straightened his tie and gave Rossi a glance. “I’m just here to support her,” he said simply, his tone calm, the usual stoic Hotchner tone that showed no emotion. But the slight tug at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement, a crack in his normal demeanor that didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team.

Garcia gasped dramatically, clutching her phone like it was a lifeline. “Oh my GOD, you’re blushing already!” she exclaimed, her fingers moving quickly to snap a picture. “This is going in the vault.”

Hotch sighed, but his smirk lingered. “Garcia put the phone away.”

“Absolutely not,” she replied, grinning as she angled for another shot. “This is for posterity, boss man. You’ll thank me later.”

Morgan leaned back in his seat, shaking his head with a laugh. “Posterity, huh? I think she just wants proof she knows someone famous by association.”

“Don’t we all?” JJ added with a grin, nudging Garcia.

Before Hotch could muster a reply, the rest of the lights in the arena shut off, and the venue was plunged into darkness. A wave of energy rippled through the crowd, the excited murmur rising into a roar of cheers that shook the room. The stage lights remained off, the suspense growing as the audience clapped and whistled.

Then it started — a chant, low at first but growing louder with each passing second as more and more of your fans caught onto it.

“Valkyrie! Valkyrie! Valkyrie!”

Garcia clutched Morgan’s arm, her excitement bubbling over. “Do you hear that? That’s for her!”

Hotch leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze fixed on the stage. The chant grew louder.

The first note of the opening song rang out, clear and strong, echoing through the venue like a call to arms. The stage erupted in light, beams of gold and white cutting through the darkness as the music built to its first crescendo. Suddenly, a platform at the center of the stage began to rise, smoke swirling around its edges.

And there you were, emerging from the floor, your silhouette framed by the blinding spotlights behind you, creating a halo-like effect that made you look angelic. The crowd’s cheers exploded into an uproar, the sheer volume rattling the balcony where the BAU team sat.

You stepped forward with effortless grace, your breathtaking costume catching every flicker of light. It shimmered with each movement, the intricate detailing making you look like a constellation. The energy you radiated was magnetic — electric — and it pulled every eye in the room to you.

Hotch’s gaze never left you, although he could sense several men in the pit staring at you with hungry looks — he couldn't lie, it made him a little jealous and perhaps even a little overprotective, wanting to jump in a hide you away.

He’d seen you perform countless times, but tonight felt different. It wasn’t just the crowd or the grandeur of the venue; it was the unmistakable pride that welled in his chest watching you command the stage as you did.

As you launched into the second song, your voice soaring effortlessly through the lyrics, you began scanning the crowd. Your smile widened when your eyes found him. You paused for the briefest moment, microphone in hand, before pointing directly at him.

The reaction from the audience was deafening, a mix of cheers and laughter as people tried to decipher who the gesture was for. Hotch, however, stiffened in his seat, his normally composed self giving way to a look of wide-eyed surprise.

“Oh no, she didn’t!” Morgan barked out, laughing so hard he had to brace himself against Rossi. “Hotch! You’ve been claimed!”

“She’s bold,” JJ whispered, grinning as she nudged Garcia.

Garcia fanned herself dramatically. “Forget Hotch — I’m in love.”

Hotch shook his head, a small, embarrassed smile playing at his lips. He tugged at his tie, adjusting it more out of habit than necessity, and kept his focus on you.

And you didn’t stop.

As you moved through your set, you stole moments to lock eyes with him, a sly smile or a quick glance that sent the team into fits of laughter every time. During a particularly sultry number, you sauntered across the stage, letting the lyrics drip with honey as you zeroed in on him. The crowd saw a confident performer captivating her audience — although you were sure a few fans had caught on by now, and that you'd find edits and clips from tonight on social media in the following days — Hotch only saw you teasing him mercilessly.

By the time you reached the final song, Hotch’s usual exterior had cracked. His tie was loose, his cheeks faintly pink, and his lips tugged into an almost constant smile.

“She’s singing to you again,” Garcia teased, leaning over to snap another picture.

Reid tilted his head. “Well actually, she’s pointed at him approximately seven times now in this song alone. That seems statistically significant.”

“Statistically significant” Morgan repeated in a mocking tone, laughing. “Reid, it means they're whipped for each other.”

Hotch leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving you, and shook his head. “You’re all ridiculous.”

But when you sent one last wink his way before stepping off stage before returning for the encore, even he couldn’t deny the truth.

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flamingo-writes · 2 years ago

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A/N: i am back from the dead after months. And it should’ve come as a surprise that I absolutely loved Hobie. Looks like a rockstar and is an absolute punk. My type in a nutshell.

I’m gonna be using some of these headcanon for future

Gal in The Chair — Hobie Brown x Artist!Reader

I think Hobie would be the kind of guy to fall for someone who he’s known for a long while, that being said, you’d perhaps known him all of your life

Having grown together, the two of you shaped a lot of each other’s beliefs. So no wonder the two of you were so compatible.

After the spider bite, you saw the whole journey from Hobie freaking out at first, to him figuring out how to use his new abilities.

He designed his web shooters, being the genius he is with technology. You helped him with his suit, specially his mask.

You became his Gal in the Chair

You liked to fix up and personalise clothes. All of your pieces of clothings came from second hand shops and you gave them a make over doing all sorts of stuff on them to make them unique and yours.

You also did this with a lot of Hobie’s clothes. As well as teaching him how to use your sewing machine.

After graduating high school, you opened a small alternative clothing shop in with unique pieces, doing the same thing you did for your clothes on this one. As well as doing hand made jewerly like bracelets, necklaces and earrings. You also had a talent with plants, managing to almost magically bring plants back to life and reproduce them like crazy, you added selling plants into your small business.

As Spider-Man gained traction, he low key promoted your work to his followers and people who agreed with him. This in order to keep negative attention from falling on you, and keep bad guys from thinking and theorising that maybe you knew Spider-Man.

As a side gig, you educated yourself on coffee making, and learned about the different processes and types of coffee beans there were. It started as a hobby, but soon you also implemented that into your shop.

The fact that you were so versatile, made Hobie feel incredibly proud of you. You seemed to be so independent, and creative and that never ending curiosity and passion made him harvest feelings for you.

Eventually, the close friendship, and companionship grew into affectionate and romantic feelings.

Hobie was always flirty, but it wasn’t until now that you started behaving differently. Normally he played his electric guitar but now you found him playing his acoustic guitar more.

He showed you a song he wrote. And while it was unusual —however, not imposible— to hear a romantic song coming from him, it wasn’t until the first minute that you realised the song was about you.

That’s how he chose to tell you about his feelings.

He didn’t intend for it to be this romantic, he simply one day word vomited the song and used one free afternoon to add the music.

After hearing his song, it was actually you who grabbed him and kissed him.

More than satisfied with the outcome, he kissed you back, put his guitar down and pulled you over his lap.

You two became inseparable since. You already were, but now it was more evident.

You worked at home, doing all the creative things you did, selling them, helping Spider-Man with art shows and gigs.

Those who paid close attention, they were able to determine you were some sort of associate to Spider-Man. However, all of them were also punks and anarchist so of course they kept their mouths shut. Spider-Man was always looking out for those in need. They were going to help a brother back and not tell anyone whenever any authority or weird-looking threat asked if anyone knew Spider-Man, or someone close to him.

You became widely known between Spider-Man supporters, although none of them would ever dare to snitch on you.

After Hobie met Gwen, she brought her over, you two became close friends right away. Letting Gwen crash at your place more often than not. She even offered to help you with the dishes and the groceries as thanks for letting her stay.

“You’re Hobie’s friend, you’re welcome whenever you want,” You’d told her.

Pav was also a frequent visitor. He loved your coffee, he taught you how to make chai. And you had chai ready for whenever Hobie told you Pav was going to be there.

Pav also bought plants from you all the time. Most of them for his mom. He once asked you if you could make a set of earrings and a necklace for his mom.

The set was a success and Pav always told you how much she loved them,

Eventually Miles also came around. And it wasn’t until Miles met you that his suspicions of Hobie and Gwen dating dissappeared.

Miles saw the absolute pure love with which Hobie looked at you. He still made the same sarcastic and cheeky jokes while talking to you. But the way he looked at you was completely different to the way he looked at anyone else.

Hobie convinced Miles to buy a plant and some earrings for his mother.

“Listen mate, this is what my girl does for a living. Plus the world needs to learn to appreciate the handiwork of an artisan,”

Miles was even surprised at how Hobie still looked cool while being mushy and cheesy with you as he hugged you, kissed your head, or played with your hands or hair.

Hobie had zero fucks to give about what people think about him, he doesn’t give a shit about PDA. Gwen thinks it’s gross, Pav thinks it’s adorable, Miles is simply puzzled as to how he is still cool when seeing his parents doing the same thing would make him cringe so hard.

Hobie is amused by the different reactions he gets. Especially Gwen’s grossed out face.

He still loves kissing you every chance he gets. Whether if it’s kissing you passionately. A subtle peck. Sweet kissed on your cheek or your forehead.

#hobie headcanons #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #hobie brown headcanons #hobie brown fanfiction

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janitorhutcherson · 3 months ago

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you know a character we don’t speak about enough? billy from burn. okay, not one of the best movies ever, but unpopular opinion: one of my fave characters. he’s just so SCRUMMY!

on that note: headcanons.

cw: nsfw towards the end (knife play, gunplay, rough activities), mostly fluff! drug usage, fire (mwah no skin), hinted (but is he really) death

• although he may have robbed a place, billy isn't an evil person. in fact, he's extremely well loved by the community. he's the type of man to help old ladies with their groceries, tip well at coffee shops ... at least as well as he can. this is why when it went public that billy had robbed a place, many people were in shambles. "you mean sweet, sweet lil ol' billy? are you sure? oh my goodness, what has that boy gotten himself into?"

• before he started dwindling in some not-so-great activities and found himself owing a bunch of money, billy was an 'aspiring' artist. he'd play his guitar sometimes at the local bars. people would tell him "you could be something one day, y'know," and billy would just scoff and laugh -- but deep down? he'd dreamt of maybe, just maybe getting out of his silly town and being something, but he knew it wasn't possible.

• billy wasn't always the mess he is now. at one point, he had a full on family, hopes and dreams, but he pushed almost everyone away in an attempt to keep them from being dragged into his mess of a life. that is, everyone except you. you'd been the constant shining star in his life, refusing to let him push you any further. you'd clean his wounds after bar fights, tuck him into bed when he'd drank too much, and even take care of him when you were scared he'd OD. he hated putting you in those situations, but he knew he could never get you to leave.

• billy is the type of boyfriend to not let you lift a finger, for the most part. you do so much to keep him safe, to take care of him when he is at his absolute worst, that he won't even let you so much as make your own glass of water. before you can even fully stand up, he's up on his feet, asking what he can do for you. "hungry, darling? need something to drink? a bath? what can I do for you? just tell me and it's yours." while billy was nice to everyone, he would only do anything for you.

• billy is super protective. given his traumatic past of losing people he loves, hurting people he loves, and witnessing awful things, he is constantly on edge. the moment something seems off in a situation, his eyes stay on whatever or whoever seems odd, his arms staying wrapped around you. he's ready to pounce at the slightest movement. on that topic, nobody wants to know what happened last time someone tried to catcall you. lets just say the guy left with a black eye and billy left with an upset partner who kept scolding him for going a little too far.

• he's a huge softie. he'll buy you flowers, burn CDs for you, sing sweet little songs in his sultry voice with a little rasp from smoking. he loves holding you and swaying to music, kissing behind your ear and holding you in bed. he's BIG on physical touch, because he's afraid if he lets go, you'll dissipate in his arms, ceasing to exist as if you were only a dream. while he is a major romantic, it's only for you. god forbid you point it out, or he'll get all grumpy and pouty, a deep crimson blush on his cheeks, grumbling on and on about how annoying it is when you point is out. "oh shut up, I'm your boyfriend, okay? I'm, like, just bein' good to you and stuff, like a boyfriend does."

• while billy is a sweet and gentle lover, in bed it's a different story. of course he'd take care of you after, but during, he'd ram into you with direct eye contact, hand wrapped around your neck. vile insults and strings of curse words would come out of his mouth as he'd continuously abuse your insides. he's a big fan of knife play, too, carving his initials into your soft skin, watching as it bleeds, knowing you'd never be able to get rid of his mark. on top of that, he'd let you mark him too, because while he loved making sure everyone knew you were his, he wanted everyone to know he was yours.

• okay, let's get the obvious out of the way here. billy is a die hard gun owner. he's got a pistol he uses, and sometimes, billy likes to take the bullets out of it, and push the barrel into you, watching as you squirm. sometimes he'll stick it in your mouth, watching as your pretty lips wrap around the metal coo'ing soft words to you. "oh god, you're so pretty like this, baby. yeah, 's a good job, keep sucking, gorgeous..."

• as we all know, billy gets charred. crisped. scorched. cooked. grilled. roasted. seared. burnt. this is what seems to be his ultimate demise, until it's not..... but then it is again, at least we thought. in reality, billy barely escaped. he'd awoken up, pain all over. he tried his best to make his way back home, somehow, by the grace of god making it. when he showed up back home to you, worried as hell, and a little angry at him until you saw the state he was in. your anger instantly turned to worry as you rushed to his aid, gasping as you begged for an explanation. billy, being the stubborn man he is, simply weakly scoffed out, holding up a shaky palm as if to say 'wait.' "no need to get all worked up, darlin', it's just a little burn." to that, all you could do is roll your eyes as you got to work on trying to save your burnt boyfriend.

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cherrychilli · 1 year ago

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18+

Eddie Munson x AFAB reader, established relationship, new relationship, discussions of sexually explicit music.

A/N: this is my THIS. IS. MUSIC!!! moment. CupcakKe is my girl and if you can't appreciate a good hoe anthem then we can't be friends. Anyway, writing's been super tough lately and it feels like it's only getting more difficult with each passing day so I just wanted to attempt something fun. Hope you enjoy!

"Whatchu listening to?"

"Oh, just..." you plucked your earbuds out, placing them next to your phone on the kitchen island, your eyes avoiding his. "The Cure, Bowie. same old stuff."

"Right, yeah..."

He didn't believe you. Not this time and not any of the other times before that either.

This was the latest instance of him finding you like this -- hips swaying rhythmically with a kind of confidence that felt different from usual, the kind you fell into when you think no one's looking, your lips mouthing the words to a song he was yet to figure out.

The front door had been left unlocked for him and quietly, he'd let himself in, inching closer while you danced. Your back was to him, a bowl full of brownie mix in one arm that made the room smell sweet with few drops of vanilla, wooden spoon in the other as you stirred it into the rest of the contents -- snacks for your movie date tonight he gathered.

Eddie had hoped to catch a few of the words you were uttering under your breath, even holding his own in an effort to be more quiet as he loomed nearer but it's the faint scent of cigarettes and Irish Spring still clinging to him that gave him away. You'd managed to sense him just in time once you smelled it, a jolt scraping up the length of your spine alerting you.

Your lips pressed together instantly, lengthening into a quick, tight smile as you turned to him and hastily hit pause on your phone. It took some effort to stop his own lips from drooping into a frown when he saw you do it, screen going dark as you press down once on the power button next.

Ouch.

It bothered Eddie that you'd try so hard to hide something like this from him when all he wanted to know was what had made you light up like that, all lively and clearly enjoying yourself. So why all the secrecy? Why shut him out?

The questions he wants to ask are packed tight in the back of his throat but he keeps them from erupting out of his mouth for the time being, accepting the kiss you place on his lips as you greet him properly. His heart thaws at the sincere "missed you", you whisper to him when you pull away, your smile now the kind that reaches your eyes as you hand him the bowl and spoon right after. "Could you mix this up for me? I'll be right back", you explain as you head off in the direction of the bathroom with a little wave.

Oh. This was his chance.

"Yes Chef!", he calls out to you with a convincing smile, placing the items down on the counter, spoon speared into the mix and forgotten as he picks up your phone instead once you're out of sight.

Sure, he does feel a little guilty going through it but you'd been so mysterious about the whole thing, always finding a way to sidestep the question like an arrow aimed in your direction whenever he asked you what you'd been listening to. He just had to know once and for all what was on this damn thing so he could put all his wondering to rest and enjoy the rest of the night with you.

Opening up Spotify, he taps on your last viewed playlist. 'Playlist 1'. Inconspicuous. Too inconspicuous, he thought while narrowing his eyes. Scrolling through, he sees that most of the songs are by one artist, someone he's never heard of before so he decides to hit shuffle, unsure of which track to pick and listen to first.

A beat commences, something quick and jumpy and what sounds like wet slurping? okay, he hadn't expected that. Already off to an interesting start.

His eyebrows rise up slowly past his shaggy bangs when the moaning begins, high pitched and accompanied by more sounds that fall short of what he'd call family friendly.

"Oh honey, what have you been listening to?", he mumbles, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk when the vocals begin.

No quick head in my bed I can't have that I want that long neck not talking giraffe neck Aint no laying down man we bout' to have late fun I'm about to make your balls stick up like space buns

"Holy-"

Want your dick soaked? place it down my throat Tongue tickle your dick but not telling a joke Peddle in this pussy that's how you rock a boat It get live in this pussy, I'm not talking periscope In the sheets I am a bully Give more head than a hoodie Every time you make me cum it looks like vanilla pudding-

"Eddie?"

The sound of his name makes him turn, finding you back in the kitchen with your eyes darting back and forth between your phone in his hand and the slack jawed look on his face.

Pulling an earbud out of his left ear, the song continues to play in his right.

"Baby, why-"

I got three holes for it like a pretzel Tight as a virgin boy don't get nervous(tight)

"Why've you been hiding-"

I save dick by giving it CPR Put my mouth on it like CPR Let's make porn and watch it on VCR

The question fizzles out on his tongue like a dying fuse, unable to hold back the snickering laugh that rolls up out of his chest, doing his best to stifle it and failing even when he presses a palm to the front of his lips.

"Oh god", you realize what he's listening to, stomach somersaulting as you try to snatch your phone back but he's too quick for you. "Nooooo way, sweetheart" he holds it up high out of your reach, a grin so bright it's bordering on blinding on his face.

You struggle like that for a minute, chasing him around the island with one hand desperately yanking at dark leather to pull him closer as he puts some distance between you, the other trying to reach for or even swat your phone out of his hands, too rattled to care about something like a cracked screen right now.

But despite your best efforts, all those years of hauling ass out of beer soaked back yards with pockets full of illicit party favors at the first sound of sirens has made Eddie impossible to pin down, slipping out of your grasp with expert ease.

"I fuck doggy style so much I need to go to the vet? Fuck me, she's a modern day Hemingway!", he barks out another laugh, this time no longer holding back and the sound of it triggers a giggle to work it's way out your own throat. He always did have an infectious laugh.

You give up trying to retrieve your phone then, pressing your face into the front of his shirt as you build up into a laugh too, shoulders shaking, arms lowering.

"So, pretty demure taste in music you've got here", he winds an arm around your waist, pulling you in for an embrace.

You look up to offer him a smile, a little sheepish considering how ungracefully you'd evaded the topic this long, only to be found out like a teen caught with a copy of Penthouse under his pillow.

"Where'd you learn that word, Munson?", you try to deflect long enough for your cheeks to cool down.

"Where'd you learn about the queen of obscene?", he shoots back breezily, tapping his thumb on your phone screen.

You chew on the inside of your cheek for a second. It's not often that Eddie bests you like this but there's something sort of enjoyable about the way he makes you want to squirm a little under his gaze, knowing he's got the upper hand.

"I wasn't sure how to tell you. She can come off a bit...strong, I guess".

His lips pinch together, forcing away a crooked smile. "Really? because-", he looks back to the screen to read off the lyrics. " 'your dick getting more blows than a birthday cake's pretty subtle in my opinion. A real thinker".

You laugh again, delivering a weak punch to his left shoulder. Things were still new with Eddie. He hadn't yet seen this side of you and those whispering new relationship jitters had gotten the best of you, worried he'd think of you differently like shitty ex's past unless you found a way to ease him into your other interests.

But now that he's ripped the band aid off for you, you realize how stupid you'd been -- really damn stupid because this was Eddie Munson. He'd never judge you, least of all when it came to your taste in music of all things and that reminder was everything you needed to shake off those unfounded nerves for good.

So, you happily forget the movie that night, both of you sat atop your island with your legs crossed like something out of Sixteen Candles, eating warm brownies right out of the pan placed between you.

The rest of the night's spent playing CupcakKe's discography for Eddie, both of your cheeks sore from how hard you've been laughing and smiling every time he pretends to be scandalized by a verse one moment and then shamelessly belts out the next once he'd got the lyrics memorized, exaggerated fake moans and all.

You wouldn't be hiding anything from Eddie again, not now when you've found someone with whom you can be yourself around, always.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

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witchygagirlwrites · 2 months ago

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Not The Flu

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz x Halstead Sister Reader (Nicknamed Dizzy)

Your Brothers find out about you and Mouse in a very big way

You woke up and could feel Mouse’s arms around your waist. His face was tucked down into the bend of your neck, his warm breath teasing the skin with every light exhale. You loved nothing more than the mornings you got to wake up slowly in his arms, neither of you having to rush off to work or you having to rush off because Jess was having an emergency at the studio.

You felt him shift and his breathing changed before his lips brushed against your bare shoulder “Morning D” you grinned “Good morning Greg” his lips followed the path down your shoulder until he got to your collarbone then he gently shifted you over to your back. You smiled when you looked up into those sky blue eyes “I love waking up with you” you whispered, your heart aching to tell him you loved him.

You’d known you were in love with him for a while. There was no way to not fall in love with a man like Greg Gerwitz. He was kind and gentle when the situation called for it but was protective as hell when it was needed.

This man had gone through hell at your brother’s side and was the reason you still had him. He’d pulled himself out of PTSD fueled addiction and made it to the other side. He was everything you’d ever wanted just hadn’t realized until one night in a bar had placed him in your path.

“Where ya go Dizzy?” he asked and you realized you were currently just lying there staring up at him “Just thinking how glad I am you came to that gig” he grinned “Nowhere near as glad as I am baby” and crashed his lips against yours.

Mouse walked into the twenty first and heard his phone ding with a text. When he opened it there was a message from you. He cut his eyes up to make sure Jay wasn’t around then swiped it. It was clear Jess had sent the message because it was a photo of you, curled up in a chair in the corner of Jess’ office and the message read Must you wear her out when we have artists coming in???

He laughed and texted back Hey, that’s on her. I told her she needed sleep he started up the stairs and Jess texted back You two are sickeningly adorable Says the girl dating Dizzy’s brother? He replied and she sent back CASUALLY! I gotta go. I’m gonna wake sleeping beauty BYEEE

He loved you but damn your friends were insane. He’d known he was in love with you for a while. It was probably a couple weeks in, you were at his place. You were wearing one of his old shirts, sitting on his counter and eating ice cream. Your hair was a mess and you were humming the bars of one of your band's songs. He’d never seen a more gorgeous sight.

He’d been keeping his mouth shut to not scare you. He’d prefer Jay actually know you two were together first. It was hard keeping such a secret from his best friend but you asked him to and he’d do just about anything you asked of him.

He got to the palm scanner and laid his hand down. The gate popped so he grabbed it then headed up. He had to get his mind on work.

“Sweets, are you sure you’re good?” Tyler asked, eyeing the fact that you were just poking at the caesar salad you ordered. Normally that was one of your favorites for lunch. “I don’t know Ty. I’ve been feeling like shit, Jess keeps teasing that Greg wore me out but he makes sure I get plenty of sleep. It’s kind of annoying at times the length that man goes to just to make sure I’m taking care of myself”

Tyler grinned “I like him for it but on a serious note Callian had the flu a couple weeks ago. Sounds like you may be trying to get it. Might warrant a stop by Med. Would suck to get a bigger artist in the studio just for you to be contagious” You rolled your eyes “Thanks for the concern for my health there Ty!”

He laughed “That too of course Halstead” and you shook your head “I’ll run by and see how busy they are”

_________________________

You laid back on the bed in an exam room. April had come in and taken like six vials of blood per Connor’s orders and Maggie had come in with juice and a pack of crackers when you told her you hadn’t been able to eat lunch. “I feel like this is special treatment” you told her and she smiled “It is. You’re the youngest and favorite Halstead” you grinned “Thanks Mags”

You were just waiting for the door to come swinging open and your oldest brother to come barreling in, demanding what was wrong with you. For now you were half asleep.

_________________________

Will walked through the E.D. and his eyes flickered towards the board and landed on his own last name. What were you doing here? “Maggie, why’s Dizzy here?” she nodded towards Connor “Rhodes is her doc. Her results should be back. Ask him Will, I’m handling twenty different things”

Will walked over to Connor who passed him your chart “Here, I haven’t even looked yet. I’m going into exam two. Don’t go in without me so I don’t get in trouble for it” Will opened your chart and his eyes flew across the results then landed on the findings. You were pregnant.

Who got you pregnant? He turned to head to your room but stopped at the door when he heard you talking. “I’m ok Greg, really” Greg? MOUSE. THAT SON OF A BITCH.

He turned and tossed your chart on the counter then ran to grab his jacket. Him and Jay would kill the son of a bitch.

_______________________

You heard a knock at the door and sat up “Yeah” Connor walked in and looked confused “Will hasn’t come in?” you shook your head “I haven’t seen him” his face scrunched in confusion “I figured he would’ve told you, be here to support you and all after he read your chart”

“Told me what Connor?” you asked and he shrugged “You don’t have the flu. You’re pregnant” Oh fuck. If Will read it and came to talk to you, he heard you talking to Mouse.

“Shit Connor I gotta go. I’ll come back for discharge papers” “Why?” he asked as you grabbed your jacket and keys “To make sure I don’t raise this child alone because my brothers killed its father”

Mouse was in the tech room, fixing a set of broken coms when Jay and Will came storming in. “Jay?” he barely got his name out of his mouth before he was being snatched to his feet and slammed against the wall by his best friend. “YOU’VE BEEN FUCKING MY LITTLE SISTER!”

“Jay..I..” he tried but Jay cut him off “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” “Leave him alone!” all three men looked towards the doorway to see you standing there, a bit winded and on the verge of tears. “She’s pregnant Mouse” Will told him and Mouse looked from your brothers to you “You’re pregnant?”

You nodded “I just found out” tears forming in your eyes. He could’ve cared less about Jay and Will threatening him. You were there, visibility upset and now knowing you were carrying his child? “Baby please calm down. It’ll be ok” he spoke softly to you. He saw your hands shaking so he cut his eyes back at Jay “Fucking kick my ass if you’ve got to and get it over with. You’re stressing Dizzy”

_______________________

You watched Jay loosen his grip on Mouse then turn to look at you “Dizzy?” you felt tears slip down your face “Please don’t fight with him Jay. He wanted to tell you from the start. I asked him not to” his shoulders sagged and he let Mouse go.

Mouse immediately crossed the floor to pull you into his arms. “Baby are you ok?” He asked and you nodded “Are you” Jay looked from you to him “Diz..why not just tell me?”

You turned in Mouse's arms to look at him “He's your best friend Jay. He means a lot to you. You mean a lot to him. I don't want to be what breaks that but I love him Jay” Mouse's arms tensed and you realized what you said.

You slowly turned back to look at him and a smile slipped onto his face “You love me?” “I have for a while Greg” you whispered and he leaned down to brush a gentle kiss against your lips, having forgotten your brothers “I love you too Dizzy”

Jay and Will both cleared their throats so you broke apart and turned to face them. They both still looked angry but slightly less “Don't hurt her. Be there for my niece or nephew” Jay spoke low and Mouse nodded “Of course��

“We will still kill you and make it look like an accident” you laughed at Will's words but Mouse just grinned “Thanks for that Will”

Jay shook his head “I guess I'm ok with it” then it was like a thought hit him. His eyes widened in horror “IT WAS DIZZY!” You hid your face in Mouse's chest and felt him shake with laughter “In my defense you didn't knock”

“OH I AM NOT DEALING WITH THIS RIGHT NOW” Jay looked at you “I love you. I'm ok with you two and the baby but no just no. And I'm installing chain locks at both of your places” he turned to storm out and Will looked confused “What did I miss?”

Mouse grinned at you before saying “You don't wanna know” then pressed another kiss to your lips “I love you” “I love you too Greg”

@desimarie12

#greg mouse gerwitz x reader #greg gerwitz drabble #greg gerwitz x reader #mouse gerwitz x reader #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fic #chicago pd fanfic #greggerwitz x reader

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good-beansdraws · 11 months ago

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Massive Milgramsona art/info dump as a treat to myself!! Alas, my fatal flaw is being unable to shut up about anything even while simultaneously embarrassed/nervous to share, so here's literally all the info I have on her 😅

Profile:

Name: For the sake of posting online I’ll call her Rose!

Number: 012

Color: #E7355B

Age: She’d be 20 when Milgram started

Status: Milgram Staff, Machine Technician

Song genre: Pop/theater (a mix of Mahiru and Kazui's vibes)

Backstory: She is studying abroad in Japan to work on technology related to the mv machine when she stumbles into top secret info about the trials. Horrified at the lack of prior testing, she demands to be included in the experiment to make sure the brand new tech runs smoothly and doesn't harm anyone in the process. To prevent her leaking info to the public and deciding an extra participant wouldn't hurt, Milgram agrees.

Role: Rose performs routine maintenance and updates on the extraction machine, and checks in with prisoners' health to make sure it's not having any adverse effects. She listens in on the interrogations, ringing the bell to signal Es when the machine is ready for use (re: my theory on how it works >:3). She then watches the mvs after Es to make sure there are no glitches.

(Though she is a personal milgramsona, her role in the story is supposed to reflect the audience's experience overall when it comes to how much info we know, emotions we experiencing regarding guilt/responsibility, and how much power over events we actually have given the voting system and trial breaks.)

Trial 1

Jackalope's comments during trial commencement: Oh, I almost forgot participant 012, Rose. We've never had more than one staff member before, so we figured that sort of numbering would be fine. Hey, don't look at me, it's not like it was our idea to include her. She's not a prisoner -- the only crime she's committed is sticking her nose where it didn't belong... You can ask her for the details, but she's just here for maintenance on our extraction machine. It's not easy keeping that thing running smoothly, you know? As part of her duties, she'll be privy to all the same information as you, but don't let her be any more of a busybody than she already is -- she has absolutely no authority when it comes to your verdict decisions, got it?

MV: Mic Check - “Can anyone hear me?”

VD: Positive Feedback

Cover: Pathological Facade - Ghost

Her album would release last in line. The VDs aren't interrogations since there's been no crime -- Es asks about her duties and observations of the prison. In them, she admits her predictions that she and Es will eventually be on trial for their involvement in the prisoner's fates.

Thus, her mvs are focused on her emotions towards the prisoners, her pride in helping bring justice, and her guilt at providing Milgram a means to pass judgement on people she cared about. I'm going to Goncharov the actual mvs/songs, but Mic Check is generally an introduction to her job behind the scenes prepping the equipment that will allow the prisoners' songs to be heard, as well kick off symbolism of her as a performer herself. She'll make a comment about how the experiment is leading to tragedy, "as if someone said Macbeth" (then covers her mouth, as she's standing in a theater herself).

I kept getting tripped up looking for Deco*27 songs that worked and weren't already taken, so I decided to go with some favorites and vibe-matching songs from other artists!

Comments during trial closing: It's good to hear you weren't a pushover when Rose gave her thoughts on the verdicts -- you guys disagreed on quite a few of them, eh? Ah... so she's not the type to pick fights, is that it? I guess that explains how she's managed to get along with everyone. (sigh) Even you knew better than to get attached like that. Well, at least she's kept our machine up and running the whole time.

Trial 2

Commencement: Now I need to wake Rose. We're going to need some extra upgrades to our machine if we want to get the most out of this round of extractions. I've got a sneaking suspicion that she and her bleeding heart are going to try and sway you during this trial. Her duty is specifically to look out for the prisoners' safety, but yours is only to judge them. Don't forget that.

MV: Changement - “Don’t say ‘break a leg,’ if it might just break.”

VD: Control Variable

Cover: TOXY - Kujiragi

I did my best to write out the title pronunciation out in katakana since I wanted it as the name of the dance move, not a direct translation of meaning. I went with シャジェモ "sha-je-mo" as the closest I could get to the "shanj-mou" sound, but feel free to correct me if there's a better way to write it. The door is based off of various set designs for Clara's home in The Nutcracker. (There's no deep meaning that this is the only one not opening -- I realized too late all the others are cracked open and my art app doesn't have the tools to easily fix that so I'm sticking with it 😭)

A changement is a small jump in ballet -- I thought it was fun to combine that (which means "to change") with Control Variable (refering to the variable in an experiment that never changes). The video shows conflicting emotions as her decisions/inaction caused so much to happen between trials, yet at the same time she feels like there's so much she'll be unable to change even if she really wants to intervene. Her mvs show the prisoners pretty regularly (since they are her crime, she's realized), and the teaser line is paired with references to Mahiru's broken leg.

The thumbnail combines different areas of study -- mechanical, medical, musical, mathematical (theater spotlight, muscles, Weakness notes, motion formulas). I think it's super cool how many areas of expertise are passed around the fanbase when discussing the characters. I've picked up new facts about plants, food, anatomy, geography, music, animals language, (sigh. color theory.), hobbies, professions, mythology, etc from fans with different fields of knowledge. While that's one of my favorite aspects of the project from the outside, I think it would be super intimidating to someone on the inside trying to tackle so much information at once.

Closing: As for Rose... (laughs) I thought she was dooming herself before--! Not only has she gotten hopelessly attached to everyone over the course of this trial, she's even started a relationship with one of the prisoners! And of all the people she could have chosen... Eh? Oh no, we have no policies against that for our staff. I mean, the whole point of Milgram is to explore human nature, the power of emotions, the complexities of connections, all that crap. I'm just grateful she shows a bit more common sense when she's operating the machine...

Trial 3

MV: Showstopper - “There won’t be applause, but I’ll take a bow, okay?”

VD: Please Exit Left

Cover: Ironina - Nilfruits

I don't know the album theme yet, but this is the tentative sprite and thumbnail design. The T2 sprite was kind of an "innocent" one, since at the beginning she still has faith in her role in the prison, excited to work with everyone there. (Plus, I joined the fandom a little after t2 started so that's peak excitement time lol). The T3 sprite has much more of a "guitly" feel to it because, at the end of T2 and after this hiatus, she'd harbor a lot more guilt about her position and fear about the experiment's conclusion. As a fun little detail, her pencil has been replaced with a more permanent utensil as final verdicts are locked in.

Now listen. My artist brain was constantly fighting my science brain when doing sprite designs -- I know gloves like that and nothing else isn't proper PPE. I know none of those are safety shoes (god forbid wearing just socks??? to the lab???). There should be no jewellery at all. The whole point of a lab coat is that you don't roll up the sleeves and expose your bare skin. However. It's anime character design. There can be compromise.

Referencing Rose's personal life as a performance and comparing Milgram's trials to one, I wanted the mv to play on "showstopper" as both a great show and a literal attempt to stop the project before it reaches its finale. There would be creepy comparisons in the mv between operating stage equipment and prison executions: curtain/set ropes and nooses, heavy duty lightswitches and electric chairs, etc.

Misc.

And lightening things up again -- birthday art and minigrams :3

Birth flower: Camellias. Pink camellias symbolize love but also longing. The fact that they bloom in winter, and have a quick death (the entire flower wilts at once, instead of individual petals falling off), have inspired different meanings in different cultures -- overcoming hard times, facing death in battle, inseparable lovers, and so on

Three minigrams featuring my own annoyance that her design is a bit close to Shidou's coat/gloves look, a mandatory short joke, and a pun that works so perfectly for my Put-In-Situations guy

#lol it really is a DUMP - ive been collecting little pieces for so long and decided to just drop everything at once #my art app doesnt have a good text function so you must deal with my handwriting 🤷‍♀️#im usually pretty willing to do accurate uniform runes but i did not have it in me to do it this time lol #it was so fun learning to mimic the minigram style!! i tried my best at Manga Humor TM but idk if i succeeded adfsdf #the panel where fuuta is zoning out -- the notes are the mii channel music 😂#aww and i found a really cute wobbly cake reference that i used :D #i own like no fancy shoes (i always borrow my parnters/moms/sisters if needed sadfasdf) so i thought itd be perfect to use my pointe shoes #even though my favorite color is yellow i went with pink because 1. muu already has the standard bright yellow id want #and 2. i own So Many pink clothes and accessories LOL #still -- i didnt want to go crazy figuring out a million outfits so i just drew her in the same one each time rip #definitely a good exercise to combat the usual self loathing..... it was really interesting to do and im... much happier with the #final pieces than i ever expected..... ;-----;

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whatharrysang · 4 months ago

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Harry Styles & eyes

Harry Styles

Two Ghosts - Same lips red, same eyes blue

Only Angel - Open up your eyes, shut your mouth and see

Fine Line

Golden - As I open my eyes

Adore You - I get so lost inside your eyes

Sunflower, Vol. 6 - My eyes

Sunflower, Vol. 6 - Tired eyes are the death of me

Harry's House

Music for a Sushi Restaurant - Green eyes, fried rice

Songs Harry wrote for other artists

None

One Direction Songs Harry wrote on

Everything About You - Yes, I like the way you smile with your eyes

Back for You - Whenever I close my eyes, I picture you there

Irresistible - And your eyes irresistible.

Irresistible - That make you who you are and your eyes irresistible. Irresistible - And your eyes, your eyes, your eyes,

Stockholm Syndrome - And talking 'bout your eyes?

If I Could Fly - For your eyes only, I show you my heart

If I Could Fly - Now you know me, for your eyes only

If I Could Fly - For your eyes only

Olivia - I've been idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia

Walking In The Wind - Just close your eyes and see

Unreleased Songs

Don't Let Me Go - I'll keep my eyes wide open

Him - When I hear “amazing eyes”

Part of Me - You’re so fancy on the eyes

Part of Me - Cause you’re easy on the eyes

She Got Away - When I close my eyes

Trouble - Looking in your eyes

Trouble - Looking in your eyes when I see that smile there’s trouble

#Harry Styles #Lyrics #whatharrysang #lyric parallels #eyes #One Direction #Harry Styles Lyrics

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vivianbernadetteaurora · 30 days ago

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Onika mirage

“All know your last names what got you your job you have put together something like a collage in this hood ship you and Drake weren’t built for this is the other ship the other bitchs almost got killed for”.

He really needs to be in the club with Christina Aguilera and Demi Lovato, lesbians in Hollywood who are not very nice to other girls cause everyone in Hollywood is trapped in the closet usually a lot of the time because their managers tell them that they can’t be gay. This is absolutely ridiculous. In 2025, you can breed trams, and then there’s that whole group that equates to people like Nikki who are obsessed with transgender women and only Have sex with transgender women, Which in 2025 also shouldn’t be a secret, doesn’t it?

What do we say about this girl? I mean, it wasn’t that long ago she was making an absolute fool of herself with Megan the stallion who, in my eyes, is a lot more popular. She has shown her popularity she’s probably she’s probably not, but that doesn’t matter. It doesn't matter baby. It’s not about numbers as Godfrey said on the It ain’t about your numbers I mean look Kendrick killed Drake and I’m sorry I believe that ******* Megan helped ruin well Nikki ruined her own career by acting like * **** on life and I love it that someone I know who’s a Sagittarius is like ohh it’s not that Sagittarius side yes it is sagittarians are crazy.. and they don’t know when to keep their mouth ******** shut a lot of the time. But Nava does have a Virgo Moon, so I kind of agree. Or her Aquarius rising, but what is it with Capricorns ageing so well? They look better than when they were younger because she came out when she was a lot older, like 25. Now she’s Capricornsher 40s she's eight years older than me. But yeah, ah, her mouth is in Caprico, rn so that’s why she looks better now, ow probably. The thing is with they say of Capricorns is that they have almost like Benjamin button syndrome and I’ve seen it with so many of them where they age so well my granddad is going to be 100 this year

But anyway, let’s go to Nikki because I’m rambling, and it’s my ADHD. She came out of the wild outfits and it was a memo from probably Kim she thought and she was influenced but she wasn’t showing her any love, she wasn’t really appreciating Harrison artist in the way Kim wanted her to which I get Kim created that whole look and also I think we’re upset Cam is the how big is the situation because he was part of that too.. and for having a new artist who hasn’t even been in that game that long when youve got an ego is your celebrity being told how great you always are and that’s gotta hurt. She’s had other people write distracts about her anyway. I mean, these hoes are mad at Megan. They're just mad at Megan’s Law. She came from Meg, I think because she did a song with Cardi B. Obviously, they can’t stand each other, and the fact that she mentioned sex offenders have you married one Nicky, so there you go. I’m sorry, I love Nikki’s music, I love what she raps about her, love her sexual raps, all of it. I love it, but she married a sex offender, and that is all you need to know. And then lied on that as well. by saying it was a white girl and she was 17, and it was a black girl and she was 16. It’s funny because she’s quite close to Ariana Grande, who also can get herself in trouble and is full of people… but they’ve done a few songs together, and they have a good vibe with each other, but a lot of the girlies. Such as Remy Maher as well as Foxy, I think he’s on her side because it's Kim, but even Cardi showed her love back in the day when she first like came out. So she was influenced by her…, but she just can’t accept it. She can’t accept not being #1 because that’s how she sees herself, especially when she’s doing all that Peruvian nasal fuel.

Stupid Hoe is allegedly about little Kim and calls her Stupid Hurries allegedly about little Kim and calls her Bubbles go back to your habitat MJ is gone and he ain’t having that… yeah you were stupid hoe you were you were stupid hoe that's really weird era of Nicki Minaj they’re very beginning.. way she wore those crazy wigs crazy outfits I know she still likes a good wig now but not in the same sense as she did then. But yeah she needs to join Christina, ohh no she and Demi fell out at one of the match gallows didn’t they they had the same designer and they fell out.. so yeah Nikki doesn’t really get on with anyone unless they’re a guy and that’s very Sag

#fypage #astro observations #astro placements #astro community #astrology #astrology observations #astro notes #astroblr #iconic #2000s #mars in capricorn

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deityoftherain · 9 months ago

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chord crush - Scwhip Band AU Fanfic

Rating: Teen

Relationship: M/M, Gen

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 7,578

Summary: Being a musician himself, Fwhip often found himself admiring another's music, even if their style wasn't what he normally went for. When scrolling through their socials after practice, they stumbled upon an influencer who managed to peak their interest the moment he opened his mouth to sing for the camera. Fwhip had expected his infatuation to stop there, but, as luck would have it, that very influencer decided to visit Empires Nightclub during one of the nights WRA was working a gig there...

Written for @djpurple3, my artist, through @mcytblraufest!!!

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

𓆩♪⛧₊˚ Fwhip ﾟ₊⛧♪ 𓆪

“Good practice, everyone!” Joey clapped his hands together quickly. “Gem, you were a bit pitchy, and there was some stumbling on timing from a few of you, but only a trained ear like mine would pick that up.” “...Thanks Joey,” Fwhip replied flatly, trying to keep the annoyance out of their tone. Joey could be frustrating to deal with, especially when almost every praise was paired with criticism, but Joey was a good employer and a pretty decent friend deep down. Fwhip tried not to let it bother him too much.

Wither Rose Alliance (WRA for branding purposes) was currently practicing at Empires Nightclub, preparing for the gig they had there the next day. Though they often practiced in Pearl’s garage, when Joey offered them the venue, they’d take it. Getting on the stage they would be performing at allowed them to get a feel of the room and also see for themselves how their new songs bounced off the walls.

Joey waved his hand dismissively. “Get some water in you and start wrapping up. I need you out within the hour so we can start opening. Cod Alliance is supposed to be here soon and I don’t need you all distracting each other.”

Cod Alliance was another rock band that played here regularly. They were more of a punk band, whereas WRA had more folk influences in their music, especially considering they had a violinist. The two bands have known each other for quite awhile, which was unsurprising considering the town they lived in wasn’t that huge and their music styles had some similarities.

“Distract each other?” Sausage gasped dramatically, even as Joey turned away to start setting up. “Why, I would never!”

“Uh-huh, sure you wouldn’t.” Gem snorted with a roll of her eyes. “Last time you and Jimmy saw each other, you got into an argument and ended up making out.”

“It’s not my fault you walked in on us!” Sausage exclaimed with a playful smirk. “You’re just jealous you’re not the one to kiss him. You know, he does this really hot thing with his tongue–”

“Shut up!” Gem pressed her palms against her ears, turning away from him. “Nope! I don’t need to hear this!”

“But Gemmm!” Sausage draped an arm over Gem’s shoulders, blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

Jimmy and Sausage have a very messy and complicated dating history that honestly gave Fwhip a headache to think about. No matter how many times they fought, Sausage always managed to win back Jimmy, even if it was only for a night. Fwhip was aware that Jimmy’s other partners, Katherine, Joel, and Pix, disapproved, but they also couldn’t stop her anymore than the WRA could stop Sausage. Technically, what they were doing didn’t hurt anybody. It just made it extremely awkward for Gem and Pearl to try and foster a relationship beyond friendship with Katherine and Lizzie respectively.

WRA didn’t have any in-band dating going on– at least, not now, but anything could happen in the future– much unlike Cod Alliance. They were in a big string of polyamorous relationships, only further complicated by Fwhip’s bandmates crushing on some of them as well. Fwhip had to admit that he and Jimmy also had a bit of a thing going on at one point, but that had since ended.

Fwhip wasn’t necessarily against being in a polyamorous or open relationship, but he did tend to learn more towards monogamy himself. Part of it was probably due to their grayromantism, making it so they didn’t experience romantic attraction for others very frequently. When it did hit them, though, it usually came at them like a freight train, hard and fast. They still had a hard time identifying it when it came, unfortunately.

Sausage, Gem, and Pearl (they dragged her in at some point) continued to bicker, as they often did, while they put away their instruments. Fwhip shook his head fondly, but he didn’t engage. He would normally love to join in, but he wasn’t feeling up to it at the moment. He finished packing up his guitar before them, so he put in his wireless earbuds and pulled out his phone to scroll through his socials.

Fwhip followed a lot of music related tags, especially ones specific to their area. When browsing through a series of photos and videos, he must have lingered too long on one because one of the videos started to automatically play. The video opened with a melancholic solo guitar, a much more moody style of country music than Fwhip typically listened to, but he found himself drawn in. The allure only increased when the artist began to sing, his voice enchantingly beautiful.

Intrigued, Fwhip clicked open his profile. Their jaw dropped at the follower count for just a second, before they quickly recovered, playing it cool before anyone could ask what he was looking at. He had several thousand more followers than WRA did! Looking a bit deeper, that was no surprise. The account was filled with aesthetic pictures and videos, usually including music and some sort of pretty imagery. WRA’s was more to share information about their gigs than anything else.

The profile belonged to someone named Scott Smajor. Fwhip left the app to search the name on Mezalea Music, the current top music streaming app. Unsurprisingly at this point in his search, Scott was there with a fairly impressive following for an independent artist. Fwhip pressed the shuffle button and they were instantly greeted by Scott’s pretty singing voice. His voice seemed to scratch Fwhip’s brain in all the right places, making them want to melt into it.

They switched back to their social app to put a face to the name and voice. It wasn’t hard to find for there were several recurring photos of who Fwhip assumed was all Scott. The music paused when the video started, showing the singer strumming on an acoustic guitar covered with custom decals. When the singer opened his mouth, Fwhip could instantly tell it was him.

Scott was as stunning as his voice would suggest. He had fair skin that was partly flushed red from exposure to the sun-- almost like he had done it on purpose with blush. His eyes were an icy blue, though his features were soft and sad, not cold. Fwhip wasn’t sure how, but he pulled it off. Scott’s dyed cyan blue hair was wavy and reached down to his shoulders. Fwhip could get lost staring at him forever.

The end of one of Gem’s arm crutches poked Fwhip’s side, startling them out of their trance. They turned off their phone and removed one of their earbuds, looking up at their sister, though music still played in the other ear. “Yes?”

“We’re ready to leave.” Gem jutted her head in Sausage and Pearl’s direction, who were chatting by the door. “I don’t know about you, but I would like to get home and off my feet. You can get distracted by your phone in the car.”

Fwhip opened his mouth to respond when Joey burst through the backstage door.

“Don’t worry,” Fwhip told him, “we were just leaving.” “You’re running slow,” Joey huffed briefly with a shake of his head, “but no matter! Your tardiness benefits me this time. I wanted to be the first to inform you of the competition I’m putting on."

“Competition?” Gem parroted, furrowing her eyebrows. “What competition?”

“A coin flipping competition, duh,” Joey responded before rolling his eyes. “No, dumbass, a music competition. I’m a music gay talking to other musical queers. What else would it be? It’s in three months, but sign-ups are open now. Just got confirmation that we’re good to go, which is why I’m telling you all now.”

“Is there a prize?” Pearl inquired. Pearl had always enjoyed some friendly competition… maybe a little too much. Gem ended up keeping a running tally of stupid bets the band still had active on her phone, twelve and counting, and most of them were Pearl’s fault.

“What kind of competition would it be without a prize?” Joey puffed out his chest, looking extremely pleased with himself. “An old friend of mine is looking for some new talent for his record label, so I told him I have tabs on multiple other bands in the area, especially the ones working at my club. One thing led to another and we’re hosting a competition together. We will have a panel of judges, ticket sales, just everything! It will be absolutely gorgeous and bring in more business for me. It’s a win-win! So, you’ll sign up, yeah?” The four of them glanced between each other, looking for signs of protest, before Sausage spoke up. “Oh, yes, we would love to.”

“Okay, wonderful!” Joey grinned ear to ear. “The sign up form is on Empires’ socials, which I’m sure all of you follow. I expect to see your submission soon or I will have to talk to you again after your shift tomorrow!” “We’ll get right on that,” Fwhip promised. He took one look at Gem and realized by the way she was shuffling on her arm crutches that her fatigue levels were at their limit. It was clear to him that they needed to get a move on. She'd said it was a good day this morning, but rehearsing always took it out of her, and Fwhip could read that off her face easily– especially considering they still lived together. She couldn't hide it from him even if she tried.

“Perfect, now shoo!” Joey flicked his hands out towards them twice. “I’m trying to run a bar here.”

Not wanting to get on his bad side, they did as they were told, scurrying out to Sausage’s car. The four of them chatted about the competition the entire car ride to Fwhip and Gem’s apartment, and Fwhip participated, but he still had Scott Smajor’s music playing in his ear.

𓆩♪⛧₊˚ Scott ﾟ₊⛧♪ 𓆪

Yelling was, unfortunately, something Scott Smajor was quite familiar with. For as long as he could remember, it had been part of his life. He'd always tried to avoid raised voices as best he could, hoping he'd stay under their radar and that they would forget about him just enough to help him stay out of needing the therapy he likely still should sign up for. His “golden child” avoidance strategy only semi-worked because Xornoth, his older brother, took most of the heat.

Xornoth protected him from a lot. Scott hadn’t always realized it, especially back when their father, Exor, and their uncle, Aeor, got into his head. They each wanted to mold Scott and Xornoth into their own image, absolutely stuck in their own ways. They'd hate to be compared, but they both had a god complex a mile wide and their egos were far too easy to inflate. It was... not easy to live with.

Scott could recall several times (usually when the yelling far escalated beyond simply yelling) where Xornoth would promise that, once he was old enough, he would get them out of there. The yelling in Scott’s life had reduced significantly when Xornoth turned eighteen. He kept true to his promise, taking Scott with him when he left the small farm they lived at for most of their childhoods. They couldn’t afford to move very far (they moved closer to town than the more rural-esque area they resided in their youth) so “home sweet home” wasn’t too far away, but Exor and Aeor tended to stay out of their lives… for the most part, anyway.

“How many times do I need to tell you ‘no’, old man?” Xornoth snapped, his face contorting with fury. He tugged at his long, dyed purple hair, trying to ground himself. Scott noticed a few strands snapped by the action, but he didn’t say anything. He’d had the habit for years; Scott knew it would be hard to shake. “You may have been able to drag me into that shit when I still lived with you, but I’m not facing jail time because you need someone to take the fall.”

Scott quietly picked out a little musical line on his guitar, seeing if he liked how it sounded, before jotting it down in his songwriting notebook. Phrases and half finished phrases hummed from his lips as he thought out loud to himself. It was all a part of his process. Xornoth’s conversation with Exor was merely background noise; Scott was used to finding focus in their chaos.

“‘I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way.’ Oh, you have other guys for that?” Xornoth mocked before scoffing. “Like I believe that, asshole. You know I’ve already been in juvie, I can’t risk– Exor, I swear I will– What kind of father gets their eleven year old to deal drugs? Or brings their thirteen year old along to a fucking armed robbery for ‘experience’? Go bother someone else and stop calling me. I’m tired of blocking your numbers and ignoring your calls.”

Xornoth hung up the phone and tossed it down on the couch. It bounced off of the cushions and landed on the floor, though it didn’t appear damaged in any way. He groaned loudly, practically stomping over to the alcohol cabinet and swinging the door open. Xornoth considered his options for a moment before pulling out some whiskey. He turned toward Scott and held up the bottle. “Do you want any?” “Nope, go for it.” Scott wasn’t in the mood for alcohol, especially not whiskey. His preferred choice of drink was vodka with some sort of fruity mixer in it. Maybe some sort of cocktail, if he was in the mood.

“More for me,” Xornoth murmured, twisting off the cap most of the way before flicking it off. He brought the bottle’s rim up to his lips and shot some back with a sort of gurgling noise Scott recognized as Xornoth’s response to the cheap whiskey’s burning sensation.

“What did he want this time?” Scott inquired, passively strumming a few more chords. Neither Scott nor Xornoth referred to their father as ‘dad’ for he didn’t deserve that title. Exor was strictly referred to with he/him pronouns or by his first name. Well, they occasionally threw in she/her pronouns if they caught him being transphobic. That method managed to kick that “nasty habit” out of him real quick.

“Someone to do his dirty work.” Xornoth plopped down heavily on one of the arm chairs. He took another swig of the whiskey before setting the bottle down on the coffee table. “Tempted to block his new number too, but I don't want him coming over here again. I already had to change the locks this year and I don’t want to do it again.”

Nothing Scott could say would be new information, so he let silence fall between them besides the music coming from his guitar and the sound of pencil against paper.

“I like that tune so far,” Xornoth complimented after a moment, noticeably calmer than before. Either the whiskey had kicked in already or their time sitting peacefully allowed him to blow off enough steam. “Sounds good.” The ends of Scott’s lips twitched up at the praise, a warmth sparking in his chest. He knew his style of music wasn’t exactly Xornoth’s typical taste, so it felt extra pleasant to know Xornoth supported him and his dream of pursuing music. He always had, even when Scott was first starting out. “Thank you. One of the last songs I released got fairly popular, so I want to capitalize on its success and try to get something else out as well. I’ve been trying to fine tune some half-finished songs I’ve been messing around with for a while.”

Xornoth straightened up, his eyes brightening as Scott reminded him of something. He quickly got up to grab something before returning to hand Scott a flier. “There was a guy handing these out when I went to Empires Nightclub the other day.” “I thought you didn’t like that place?” Scott raised an eyebrow, partly amused as he took the flier from Xornoth. “Something about the nightclub’s owner coming on too strong? Or have you changed your mind?”

“Joey’s not that bad. I was just pissed off about something else that night and wasn’t in the mood.” Xornoth scrunched his nose. “I may have over exaggerated, but it’s whatever. Either way, nothing has happened or will ever happen between Joey and I, so don’t even think about it. They just have good drinks for a half decent price, and the music’s pretty alright as well.”

Scott turned his attention toward the flier. It was promoting a band competition with the prize being a record label. Scott would have to look into the fine print, of course, but the initial impression was fairly positive. They seemed to be looking for bands, which didn’t include Scott for he ran solo. Still, checking it out was an excuse to get himself to leave the apartment.

“I’ll check it out,” Scott promised, setting the flier in his guitar case for safekeeping. “Thank you.” “No problem.” Xornoth appeared pleased with himself as he turned to grab the whiskey he had set aside before leaving the living room. He headed toward his bedroom, leaving Scott alone to work on his music in peace.

𓆩♪⛧₊˚ Fwhip ﾟ₊⛧♪ 𓆪

Fwhip knew they would never get over what it's like to play for a crowd. There was a special type of adrenaline that would pump through their veins that they couldn’t get quite the same doing anything else. Messing around with Gem, Pearl, and Sausage during practice was one thing, but these live gigs were something else entirely.

They were booked for three hours that night: three sets and got a ten minute break in between each. Reaching their first break, Fwhip wiped the sweat from their brow before chugging down a cold bottle of water Joey provided.

His eyes wandered over the crowd, not really paying attention to anything in particular until he caught a flash of cyan sitting in the corner. Fwhip squinted, attempting to focus on the figure and confirm his suspicion.

“Who are you looking at?” Gem asked, hitting the side of her arm crutches against his leg like she often did. Those things helped her walk, yes, but she enjoyed using them as assault weapons. Fwhip must have grown calves of steel at this point because it barely hurt anymore.

“I think the guy sitting over there is Scott Smajor.” Fwhip nodded in Scott’s direction– or they were fairly sure it was Scott, anyway. He had the same blue hair and fair skin. They tried to discern other details, but he was too far away and the lighting didn’t do them any favors.

“That musician guy you’ve been obsessed with?” Gem gave him a knowing smirk before nudging his shoulder. “You should go talk to him.” “What? No!” Fwhip shook his head, waving his hands frantically in front of him. Scott looked busy writing down something in his notebook. Besides, they didn’t have too long before they had to start the next set.

“If you don’t go talk to him, I will,” Gem threatened with a gleam of mischief in her green eyes, and Fwhip couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. “I will tell him all about how you’ve developed a little celebrity crush on him–” “I have not!” Fwhip denied, wrinkling their nose. They stared at each other for a long moment before Fwhip groaned. He took another sip of water before pushing himself to his feet. “Fine, I’ll go talk to him. Just, don’t do that.” “Yay!” Gem cheered as Fwhip weaved his way through the crowd to get to Scott, very pleased with herself for her insignificant triumph.

Fwhip chose to ignore her, adjusting his signature red scarf. He paused for a moment, sniffing the scarf to make sure he didn’t smell too bad. The closer they got to the cyan haired man, the more they were sure it was him.

Before he had a chance to speak and introduce himself, Scott glanced up and noticed him. He gave them a polite smile before speaking in the very accent Fwhip had grown used to hearing from the speakers of their phone. “Hey, you’re Fwhip, right?” Fwhip blinked at him in surprise. “Yeah, I am. How did you know?” “I looked up who was going to be performing tonight before showing up,” Scott explained nonchalantly. “I’m impressed by your fingerpicking technique. Some of those songs moved very quickly, yet your fingers hit every note perfectly. I don’t think I saw or heard you stumble even once. You know, I wonder if that skill transfers to anything else.” Fwhip was caught off guard by the flirting tacked on at the end. He coughed to try and cover up his shock enough to respond. He didn’t wish to become a mess, at least not that quickly. “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice with it so I’m glad it’s paying off. That’s some high praise, especially coming from another guitarist.”

Now it was Scott’s turn to blink in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Your fingertips are calloused, so I would assume you play some sort of string instrument,” Fwhip explained, “but I also found your music recently. I love finding indie artists, so when you stumbled upon my feed, I had to check you out. Your style isn’t what I typically go for, but I'm always open to expanding my horizons.” “Well, I appreciate it.” Scott swirled his drink as a small, pleased smile grew on his face. “Fortunately for you and your band, I enjoy a diverse amount of music, including folklore rock. I don’t typically come out to these sorts of things, though, but I told my brother I would check it out. He gave me a flier about the competition Empires Nightclub is hosting, which I assume you know about already.”

“Yeah, we’re going to take a shot at it.” Fwhip nodded in the direction of the stage. “The possibility of a record deal is too big to pass up.”

“That’s why my brother told me about it.” Scott sipped his drink, mildly dyeing his lips red from the fruity drink. Fwhip wondered (though he wouldn’t admit it) what it would taste like to kiss him, the phantom taste of sweet cherries, strawberries, and raspberries on his tongue. “I don’t think I will compete though. I’m doing fairly well on my own without a company backing me up.”

“Has no one offered you one yet?” Considering Scott’s follower count and musical talent, Fwhip was sure producers would have approached him. In this modern age, music labels loved snatching up people who already had a devoted online audience to build off of.

“They have, but I haven’t found one that didn’t want to trap me into an awful contract.” Scott shrugged, unconcerned. “I read the fineprint for this one, and the deal is actually a good one, so I’m rooting for you and the rest of the WRA. I thought about going for it, but they seem to be looking more for bands, not solo musicians.”

“Nah, c’mon! You could and should totally compete. You would have a good shot at winning!” Fwhip was confident in that, but he wasn’t going to push someone who he was still getting to know too hard. “If you’re adamant about that, you could try just playing here. It’s a good, regular gig to land; we play here often. Have you talked to Joey yet? The club owner?”

Scott hummed softly, considering the prospect as he surveyed the crowd, before giving his attention back to Fwhip. “I haven’t, but I wouldn’t be opposed. I’ve heard things.”

“I’ll introduce you,” Fwhip promised. “Or, I’ll at least tell Joey ‘bout you. If you give me your number, I can share it with Joey.”

“Smooth.” Even Scott’s laugh was musical and practically addicting to hear. Fwhip grinned, proud that he made Scott laugh. He wished to do it again several times over. “I don’t normally hand out my number, but for you, I’ll make an exception.”

“You’re just trying to butter me up so I put in an extra special word in with Joey.” Fwhip teased as he pulled out his phone.

“Is it working?” Scott fluttered his eyelashes, a playful smirk on his lips.

Scott’s icy blue eyes sparkled warmly at their back and forth– like moonlight through stained glass– and Fwhip wanted nothing more than to stare into them. His previous enchantment by the man standing in front of him didn’t feel as silly now that they were face to face.

“Maybe.” Fwhip passed his phone over to Scott, already open to the correct screen. As Scott typed in his information, Fwhip glanced back toward the stage. He knew he was pushing it on time already, but he did want to keep talking to Scott.

They made eye contact with Pearl, who tapped her finger against her wrist before mouthing “hurry up!”

They wrinkled their nose briefly before turning back to Scott, who promptly gave their phone back. “Are you planning to stick around?” Scott clicked his tongue in consideration, eyes shifting from Fwhip to the stage and back again. “I’ll be here when you finish your next set.”

“Awesome! See you then.” Fwhip grinned widely, suddenly feeling more energized than before. He headed back towards the stage, prepared to pour his heart and soul into his music as he often does, but even more excited to go back to talk to a certain blue haired guy.

𓆩♪⛧₊˚ Scott ﾟ₊⛧♪ 𓆪

Scott hadn’t expected to stay at Empires too long that night, but he did, hours past what he had anticipated. He allowed himself to fall under the Wither Rose Alliance’s trance, making him unable to focus on his own lyrical writing. Scott didn’t find himself minding, contently under their spell. Besides, if he were to give an excuse, he would claim that tucking his notebook away allowed him to take note of how they played to properly compliment Fwhip in even more detail.

After WRA’s last set, Scott and Fwhip managed to chat a bit more before the violinist (he soon deduced her name was Pearl) dragged Fwhip off to go home. She shot a few teasing jabs at Fwhip, which amused Scott, but he had also been subject to a few looks himself.

Needless to say, Scott headed back to his and Xornoth’s apartment with a bigger smile than he could remember wearing in a long time. Xornoth even commented on it, gloating a bit about being right about Scott enjoying himself. Scott couldn’t even deny it. It’d only been a few weeks since they met, but Scott felt like he had known Fwhip for years. It was a strange sensation, yes, but it wasn’t unwelcomed.

“You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot.” Xornoth clicked his tongue, reminding Scott of his presence. “Tell me, have you developed a little crush on that red-headed guitarist?”

Scott scrunched his nose, glancing back at Xornoth as he opened the tab on his soda can. “How do you even know that’s who I’m texting? I could be texting literally anyone else.”

“Because I know you, little brother.” Xornoth came up behind Scott and ruffled his hair with his free hand. “You’re too much of a workaholic to text people back. At least, you were until you met them-”

Scott swatted their hand away before combing their fingers through the blue locks to try and fix the damage inflicted on it. “He’s just a friend and a fellow guitarist. Plus, he got me a well-paying gig at the nightclub you liked so much.”

“Yeah, and I’m the protagonist of a preteen, slow burn, baby’s first monsterfucker fantasty romance.” Xornoth fake-gagged, plopping down on the couch nearby. “But, sure, don’t tell me. Just make sure to use protection.”

Scott tried his best to bite back his blush as he tossed a throw pillow at Xornoth. A surge of pride washed over him when the pillow hit Xornoth exactly where he had aimed for. Before Xornoth could protest more than a “Hey!”, Scott fled to his room, out of Xornoth’s pillow projectile range, muffling his giggles all the while.

𓆩♪⛧₊˚ Fwhip ﾟ₊⛧♪ 𓆪

Fwhip wasn’t a songwriter and they were okay with that. It wasn’t their passion nor their strength, and that was fine. That didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy messing around with chords and lyrics to try and create a song from time to time, even if it wouldn’t be something he could perform with his band.

They often stayed away from such a thing, but Scott’s encouragements were so genuine and inspiring (probably because they came from Scott Smajor, someone known for his sound and meaningful lyrics) that Fwhip couldn’t imagine abandoning any project they mentioned to Scott.

“It just isn’t flowing and I don’t get it,” Fwhip complained loudly. He was laying on his bed with his phone by his head and Scott on speaker. “It’s meant to be a duet, but the two parts aren’t complimenting each other like I intended. I’m honestly sick of hearing my own voice recording.”

“You? Sick of your own voice? I never would have guessed,” Scott teased lightheartedly with a laugh. Fwhip simply huffed in response, but he wasn’t upset at Scott’s words. “You’re at home, right? How about you go grab your guitar and we can fiddle around with it.”

Fwhip hesitated for a brief moment before propping himself up to go retrieve his instrument. “You’re lucky Gem is out on a date right now. I never would play something so rough around her. She would never let me hear the end of it!”

It was an over exaggeration, sure, but it wasn’t that unlikely. Poking fun at one another was just a thing they did. Gem wasn’t much help with his music because the stringed instruments Fwhip played had different techniques than the keyed instruments Gem specialized in. This just left them to vaguely pointing out things that sounded off and hoping for the best.

“Her date with Katherine, correct?” Scott asked to confirm, which Fwhip appreciated. He was slowly becoming a part of Fwhip’s friend group, yes, but even before that, Scott was making an attempt to keep mental notes on the people Fwhip mentioned. Scott actually did a good job at it, especially considering half of Fwhip’s friend group was in a sort of web composed of various polyamorous (both romantic and queerplatonic), platonic, and familial relationships. Even Fwhip struggled to know who was with who some days (especially with Sausage and Jimmy… doing their thing) and he’s known them all forever!

“Yeah, you got it!” Fwhip nodded as he settled back down on his bed and propped up his phone to video call with Scott. “Gem has been crushing on her for awhile, but chickened out on telling her several times despite me telling her to just do it already! Katherine clearly has a lot of love to give, considering she’s already dating Lizzie and Jimmy and is so affectionate with her friends. Katherine is also one of my closest friends out of the lot of ‘em, so, believe me, I would know.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Scott replied before sending the request through to Fwhip for them to switch to video. Fwhip leaned forward to accept it and waited for their phones to switch over. When it did, Scott was revealed to be sitting with his custom guitar already sitting on his lap. “Okay, show me what you got.”

𓆩♪⛧₊˚ Scott ﾟ₊⛧♪ 𓆪

Scott wasn’t sure when the switch flipped from not really having friends to suddenly being accepted into a gigantic friend group. It was sometime after meeting Fwhip– a good few weeks, that was for sure– but the line of them being Fwhip’s friends to being his friends was too blurred to pinpoint.

Seemingly without Fwhip’s knowledge, several of them DMed him and they got to talking outside of their relations with Fwhip. Not to mention that he’s gotten to know several of them face-to-face at Empires between gigs and simply being invited out. Scott hasn’t taken any of them up on that, though. He’s been keeping his distance, feeling as if he were intruding, but they weren’t ready to just accept Scott’s reluctance just like that.

That was proven by Joey insisting time and time again that Scott should go out on the town with him, which Scott always wormed his way out of. That was, he had succeeded until Joey showed up at his apartment one evening.

“I can’t have my performers living like hermits!” Joey always had a sense for the dramatics, but Scott could tell he genuinely cared about those who worked for him even if he didn’t always show it like a normal person would. “You need friends and to have fun every once in a while.” “I have friends,” Scott insisted, though he knew that most of his friendships were still fairly surface-level. The deepest he’s gotten with anyone was Fwhip and, even then, there were still some walls up.

Joey gave him a pointed look before pushing past Scott to slip into his apartment. “I know your whole thing is ‘gay moody country boy’, but the mood doesn’t have to be depressing all of the time!”

“Joey, you can’t just barge into my place!” Scott exclaimed, following Joey as he beelined to Scott’s room. His door was decorated, making it well-labeled. “How did you even know where I live?”

“I have connections,” Joey replied nonchalantly as he swung open Scott’s closet doors. He started to sift through Scott’s outfits with precision and skill. “Besides, if I don’t drag you out, you’ll never have fun!” “I have fun!” Scott insisted defensively. Still though, he switched out his piercings for something a tad more dolled up in preparation of being dragged out against his will.

“Mhm,” Joey hummed, doubtful. “Sure you do. Now have you agreed to come or am I going to have to get Sausage to throw you over his shoulder?”

“Sausage?” Scott echoed, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why Sausage? He’s not even here.”

“Void knows I won’t be doing it!” Joey huffed, amused. He gestured at himself, already dressed for going out clubbing. Granted, he was always dressed up like that. Scott didn’t know if Joey knew what a casual, comfort-over-style outfit was. “This body wasn’t made for manual labor. Now how about this one?”

Scott eyed the blouse Joey selected, considering it for a moment. “Yeah, okay, hand it over.” “Perfect!” Joey practically jumped for joy as he handed the blouse to Scott. “The pants you’re wearing now are fine, so just get some shoes on. We’re supposed to meet up with Sausage and Gem soon.”

Scott turned so his back was to Joey to secure himself that minimal amount of privacy before stripping himself of his top and pulling the blouse on. “They’re coming too?” “Yeah, Sausage and I are besties, so we go out frequently, but we wanted to switch it up a tad. Add some new faces, you know.” Joey whistled at Scott when he turned around, eyes wandering down Scott’s body. “Okay, damn! Hey there, sexy.”

“You say that like I don’t always dress well.” Scott rolled his eyes, not really offended. Joey was the type to comment on other’s outfits like that so he knew it was intended to be a genuine compliment over anything else. “We can go now. Just let me tell my brother I’m leaving so he knows I’m not home.”

“Xornoth, right? Hot goth guy with purple hair?” Joey straightened up at the mention. “Is he here?” Scott sucked in his lips briefly before deciding to avoid the question. “I’ll meet you outside, Joey.”

Joey was on his phone outside the apartment complex when Scott approached him, and, when Joey noticed Scott’s presence, he grinned widely. “Perfect timing! Sausage just pulled in.”

He grabbed Scott’s hand and dragged him along to Sausage’s sedan. Joey called shotgun and left Scott to sit in the back next to a ginger who reminded him a lot of Fwhip.

“Oh!” Scott put a few pieces together with the recognition of the woman sitting beside him. “Gem! Fwhip’s sister, right? The keyboardist of WRA?”

“Yeah, you got it,” Gem confirmed. She was wearing a green dress with purple crystal accessories and her hair was tied into a long braid. “And you’re Scott. My brother hasn’t stopped talking about you.” Scott ignored the heat he felt on his cheeks at that. “He hasn’t?”

“Nope.” Gem popped the P before lowering the register of her voice, leaning in toward Scott. “Hurt him and I hurt you. Understood?”

Scott blinked at her rapidly, caught a bit off guard. Her threat was clear, and Scott didn’t want to be on the receiving end of whatever that ended up being. Besides, considering how his relationship was going with Fwhip, he didn’t want to piss off their sister. “Understood.” “Good.” Gem brightened up before glancing at the two chatting away in the front seat. “Now do you know where they’re taking us?”

Scott had not known any specifics, leaving Gem and Scott left to the wills of their captors. He had learned that Sausage also dragged Gem out of her apartment to go out with them. They were both in this together, and it gave Gem and Scott a chance to get to know one another better.

They must’ve gotten to know each other a bit too well, because they woke up to birds chirping and the rising sun on their faces. Scott groaned, sitting up from the tree he was leaning against with a hand pressed against his head. It took a second to register, but he was near positive he was hungover and he was not enjoying the feeling.

Gem stirred beside him, muttering nonsense that Scott couldn’t understand. He poked her side and she woke up with a start. “What happened? Where are we?” “Shhh, not so loud.” Scott shushed her, his head pounding aggressively. He squinted at his surroundings. “Where are-?”

Before he could finish his question, Scott realized someone had spotted them. He squinted at them too, as the person approached, trying to place them in his foggy memory.

"There you two are!" the person called, their voice so very familiar.

Gem rubbed the sleep from her eyes before asking, "...Jimmy?"

“Yeah, yeah, I found them,” Jimmy spoke to someone who wasn’t one of them. That is when Scott realized she was holding a phone to her ear. “Here, I’ll put you on speaker while I check they aren’t hurt.”

The person on the other end spoke something to Jimmy before he placed them on speaker and set down his phone. The Caller I.D. read off Pearl’s name, but another voice came over the line that wasn’t Pearl’s, if Scott’s memory was serving correctly. It should be, but his mind was still hazy from inadequate sleep and alcohol.

“Are you out of your mind?” Jimmy snapped at the person on the phone, causing Scott to wince. She muttered an apology to Scott before going back to her conversation with no-longer-Pearl and checking for wounds on Gem. “Sausage, you and Joey lost two drunk people and we couldn’t find them for hours.”

“I’m sorry, mi amor!” Sausage pleaded over the call. “Next time I see you, I’ll kiss it better.” “I don’t want to talk to you,” Jimmy grumbled, sounding totally over him. “Either put Pearl back on the phone or I’m hanging up on you.” “But, Jimmy-” Before Sausage could finish speaking, Jimmy hung up. Not acknowledging it, he turned his attention from Gem to Scott. “Okay, you both look fine. Can you walk?” “I can probably stand, but I don’t see my arm crutches….” Gem used the tree to try and push herself to her feet, though she was fairly unstable. “Ugh, I need some water. And a nap. Another one. Preferably in a bed this time.” “Me too,” Scott agreed, his body aching from sleeping on the ground.

“My apartment is nearby. I’ll just let Lizzie and Joel know that I’m bringing you, and you can nap the hangover off there,” Jimmy offered, moving Gem’s arm over his shoulders to help her walk.

Gem leaned into Jimmy’s support, leaving Scott to walk on his own. Luckily, he’s had his fair share of hangovers and was otherwise able bodied so he was stable enough to walk on his own. He was passively concerned where Gem’s arm crutches ended up though… “Thanks, Jimmy.”

Scott was fairly sure Jimmy replied with “You’re welcome” or something along those lines, but he honestly wasn’t sure. That was the last thing he remembered before he woke up again, snuggled under the covers within an ocean themed bedroom. Scott didn’t dwell on it, keeping his eyes closed and relishing in the bed’s comfort. He would deal with the repercussions of whatever was waiting for him later.

𓆩♪⛧₊˚ Fwhip ﾟ₊⛧♪ 𓆪

Fwhip felt like they were on the top of the world. It may be a little silly to feel that way for winning a competition, but that competition was a big deal for his band! WRA was moving up in the world and it only filled him with determination, motivation, and energy. Cultivating that energy, Fwhip sat down to polish the song he had been working on for a while now.

Scott helped him out with some parts, and now, thanks to him, the chords flowed perfectly and the lyrics matched. The chords flowed perfectly and the lyrics matched. The song was a duet, and he’s heard both parts played together by recording himself and then layering them, but it wasn’t the same. Fwhip wanted to hear the song as intended, and he could only think of one person that would fit the part perfectly.

That led to Fwhip asking Scott to meet him at Empires during the day. He got permission from Joey, as long as Fwhip got the keys back in a timely manner. After all the continuous daydreaming of Scott, his singing voice, and his guitar playing skills, Fwhip finally worked up the courage to ask him and it was starting to pay off.

“Do you like it?” Fwhip asked shyly as Scott looked over the sheet music.

“Like it?” Scott parroted with a laugh. “Fwhip, I love it. This is amazing! It has the folk rock elements you’re used to, but there’s also inspiration from my style of music. Theoretically, it blends together perfectly.”

“Oh,” Fwhip blinked, before leaning forward to look down at his own handwriting again. “What would make it no longer theoretical?” If Scott had notes on how to improve it, Fwhip would absolutely take them into consideration.

“Playing it and seeing how it sounds together.” Scott grinned as retrieved his guitar, threw the strap over his head, and set the guitar in his lap.

They didn’t waste anymore time to start playing. The spirit of the music overtook them, bliss swelling within them and being poured onto every stroke of the strings. Fwhip didn’t consider himself a good singer, but Scott had a way of complimenting Fwhip’s voice and making him sound even better than he actually was.

Fwhip knew the lyrics and chords by heart, so he didn’t need to rely on reading the sheet music to help guide him. This meant that they stared at Scott, all their focus on the beautiful man across from him. When the song ended, Scott turned his attention to Fwhip, catching them staring at him.

“You’re incredible,” Fwhip admitted with a breathless whisper.

Scott laughed an airy, baffled laugh, his cheeks flushing a light pink. “Me? Fwhip, this was all you. Sure, I helped a little, but this is still your song. I’m just honored you picked me to play it with you.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Fwhip asked, blushing dark red. Before he could overthink it, he took his shot. “It is about you, after all. About… us.”

The song was about new relationships and getting to know someone that they previously admired. It contained lots of subtle praises and compliments that Fwhip knew Scott was smart enough to pick up on. He just wouldn’t have known that Fwhip meant those things genuinely about Scott.

Fwhip wasn't sure when they had drifted so close to each other, closing the distance, but... here they were, only a few inches apart. His eyes flicked to Scott's lips, then back up to Scott's icy blue eyes. Icy yet glittering with such beautiful warmth.

“Can I kiss you?” “I thought you would never ask,” Scott murmured in return, leaning down to lock their lips together. As the kiss deepened, Scott climbed onto Fwhip’s lap with his legs around Fwhip’s waist and Fwhip’s hands supporting Scott’s back. A three-legged metal stool was probably not the best place for two people to make out, but Fwhip couldn’t care less right now. All he knew was that he felt happy. Everything was looking up for him and he couldn’t wait to see where everything led to next. The future held many opportunities and experiences to be had, and Fwhip was more than ready to brave the unknown with Scott by his side.

#deity writes #scwhip #band au #empires fwhip #empires scott #empires fanfic #empiresblr #empires smp fanfic #empireshipping #empiresshipping #empires s1 #empires au #fanfic #fanfiction #empiresfic #MCYTBLR Aufest 2024

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sucantslay · 1 year ago

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Meiyuu Deshi Kairou analysis. I'm losing my sanity...

Hello @hypn0sssss, just wanna let you know, I've been working off my ass to research this song like...more than 30 minutes but then in turn into a whole week long.

It was fun though ( I really need a rest but my brain said just do it! )

BUT, ANYWAY, here are some important information you should know before getting into this song analysis.

If you don't know, this is an event song, it connects with an event story about a VR game, yes, a VR game. It was introduced to Mika by Makoto and Sora. And later on, became the inspiration for Mika's song.

This is related to Mika's character, so if you know nothing about him, you can learn more from some sources out there or have a quick check at my post

3 . I'll mostly put the lyrics in word form. I really want to put all the translation pictures here but since Tumblr stop me from having more than 10 pics in a post...I can only put some.

4 . Most of this is my personal analysis. Pls tell me or put on the sources if you want to put it somewhere. Also, since it is a PERSONAL thing, the lyrics might not mean like that to you, but it is to me. You are free to have your own idea of this song however you like.

Alright! Let's get started!!!

For the theme of the song, Mika is using the VR game as his base, so it understandable that some words might be a little lead into the mechanical aspect.

The story for this song is about a mechanical god who ends the story/ the world abruptly. It very interesting when the song did not only successfully portray the theme of mechanical but also the theme and story of Valkyrie itself.

Oh my dear Mika, you are really something of an artist, aren't ya?! It the time when Mika finally step up and going his own art more then waiting for Shu order!

The name of the song "Meikyuu Deshi Kairou" which means "Labyrinth Electronic Corridor"

With some lines mention classic songs

(this line got repeated 2 times)

"Ode to Joy" or in other words "An die Freude"

You must have known it as Beethoven's most significant work, Symphony No.9, a choral symphony.

Since the name isn't being written in another name until you start digging deeper, you'll find something eles, lies in these words they had chosen.

It was origin from a poem written by a German named Friedrich Schiller and was used by Beethoven in his Ninth Symphony.

But the version that Beethoven used is the revision of the poem. Yet Friedrich himself didn't like that version at all, he viewed it as a failure.

Why? Because Friedrich made that poem for his dear beloved ( longtime friend and partner ) Christian Gottfried Körner, who inspired him to write the poem.

He stayed "of value maybe for us two, but not for the world, nor for the art of poetry"

I SWEAR TO GOD, WHEN I READED THOUGH WORD, NO THING APPEAR IN MY MIND AS FAST AS MIKA AND SHU DID.

His performance and his dear partner in art. Did I mention that Friedrich made a whole verse for Christian on his birthday.

( uhm, ok, that's enough! Let's move to the next one for now before I can't keep this mouth shut. )

Some lines in the poem go like this:

"Rescue from the chains of tyrants, Magnanimity to the villain too, Hope on the deathbed, Mercy in the high (law) court, Even the dead shall live! Brothers, drink and agree (with me) That all sinners shall be forgiven And hell shall be no more."

The "Ode to Joy" old name was "Ode to Freedom" / "An die Freiheit"

Then there came "Libera me" ( "Deliver me" )

Which also has an interesting background related to the Catholic Church. "Libera me" originated from a song named "Office of the Dead" which had been sung as a service prayer for the death.

The text asks God to have mercy upon the deceased person at the Last Judgment.

And it fits the theme of the song well! Because as I said before, the song is about a god who wants to destroy the world in sudden.

So "Ode to Joy", "Libera me" can be seen as the voices of humans who denying the god choice, the choice to turn the world back to dust.

( Note: The line in the song is not being sung by Mika or Shu, but by voices in the background. It becomes more noticeable when considering the fact that none other Valkyrie songs have these "background voices" at all )

The next two lines both sing an indirectly about the old Valkyrie.

"Ah, the melody sinks into overwritten myths"

The old Valkyrie had been sunk down to the deep by the play of Fine.

"Come, it is the time to open the floating corridor that full of electrons"

But it was the story from a long time ago, now, we taking a different path, to the new corridor, a new path to the future yet we're still unable to predict. Accidentally we lead ourselves to the door of destruction. ( It can also be seen as the god in this play had opened the door of doom, ending the world in sudden )

Ah, yes, once again this song mentions the use of the classic poem.

This "Song of the Bell" had nothing to do with song or symphony, which gives us more clues and confirms the truth about "Ode to Joy".

Surprisingly, "Song of the Bell" is also been written by Friedrich Schiller.

"Ode to Joy" was written in 1785, while "Song of the Bell" was written in 1798.

The poem talks about the bell, how was the bell made, by what, and with what tools and techniques they used to make it.

I have a belief that the "love and punishment" part of the song lyrics has other means than taking from the "Song of the Bell". Yes, the poem did mention "love" as a part of the story where a couple has known each other since they were kid.

Wedding bell and allocation of roles is the part when the bell acts as a wedding bell.

To later on, mention death: Death knell upon the decease of the woman where the bell has an earnest purpose and tolls in accompaniment to a funeral

But there is no mention of crime or punishment.

So go back to the lyrics where they sing: "Reflect the song"

Reflect...which means there is a connection but not really is about the poem. It was more about Valkyris, the love had turned its back on them. Their art, their joy, their peaceful life as 3 small people in an unpopular Unit was now a punishment, pulling them down to the ground.

Nazuna left, Valkyrie broke, Shu is no longer himself.

To Mika, if not a punishment then what could this horrifying scene had been?

We can also see this in the human's eyes. If "Ode to Joy", "Libera me" was all human ( in the theme ) talking about, then this line is the begging for the god to rethink his decision:

"Please, don't you see, this beautiful planet is our everything. Is our beginning and our ending. We may suffer, but we are happy, and that makes living a meaningful thing."

noticed how Mika uses "Each other" not just "Other" which points to both Shu and Mika.

In their era of being a "not so happy" unit since the war ended.

They have gone so far and now look back at themself. Such action of shame, the days when we are still nothing but a nameless Valkyrie.

You can also look at it in the MV theme way: ''I wish this world would disappear.'' As the god of mechanical no longer feels the need of humans exiting.

As the next lyrics go:

"Behind this veil of anonymity" (Shu line)

"The ghosts of the dead-" (Mika line)

"Are dancing in the underground till the end of the trial" (Shu line)

There are two things I need to point out in detail here:

Firstly: The meaning of these lines seems to me as if they're talking about their trauma. Behind this veil is the old time, the old ghosts, look, they are all here, never left until we start open up with them. Until we learn how to heal ourselves from the brutal injury of war did we be able to make them leave

Secondly: Mika once again mentions death. It was Mika's own thing, if you don't know, death kinda became a thing that fond with Mika's style. Lots of times, we can see Mika associated with death ( mostly in the old song. )

In his 'In the Shadow' outfit, which had a deep connection with butterflies.

Butterflies are a symbol of the representative soul of a deceased person. In that outfit, Mika is represented by a blue butterfly, what was the meaning of that symbol?

A symbol of the soul who passed is nearby!

So, by now you would be questioning: "Why are there so many signs about death from Mika?" Well, glad you asked.

This all came down to the fact that Mika was being a doll in Valkyrie. Nazuna was also a doll himself, but he break free and Mika didn't.

Mika is dying from the inside, becoming the soulless, as he loses what support to belong to him. He sells it away, sacrifice it for the wish of making Valkyrie great again.

"Surrounded by faceless choirs, there's stand the lonely soloist So, let's sing out loud to those who have no place to go, here's the truth."

Sung by both Mika and Shu.

In my belief, these lines are dedicated to them, the Valkyrie that got injured after the war. They got no hope, not thing to relied on.

Shu got a bad representation, lost his mind.

Mika also had to suffer from the event but he's trying his very best not to become a burden to Shu after Nazuna left.

That was the moment when Mika became more doll-like than how he was before.

We stood together, yet loneliness filled inside our souls. Becoming the "soloist" singer without notice.

"Sing to those who have no place"

They're telling themself, their pitiful past self that the daunting world is now no more.

We now have a place to stay, a home to be in, we've got our back.

Ok, ok, here it comes, MY FAVORITE LINE!

LIKE, THERE ARE SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT, I CAN'TTTTT

Ok, I can actually do that now ( since this analysis is already long as hell )

This line makes a connection to another line, which is:

"Here's the truth" - "Audience, please come"

"To the New World"

Isn't simply just about the god and the humans, it carries two meanings.

One is the literal, a sore thumb that sticks out the most to me: IT ABOUT THE VALKYRIE NEW ERAAAAA.

They maybe not yet healed, not yet prepared themself for the world outside, but they're now more happy than ever.

Shu is trying his best to understand Mika.

Mika is trying his best to become something of his own, escape from the realm of a soulless doll.

"Dancing with full bloom"

Like, uhm *raises eyebrows*, full bloom, full bloom you said?

The last time ( the first time Shu appeared in the game main story ), Shu said: "I am counting the days until we bring our blossoms together to make "Valkyrie" the most beautiful bouquet in the world."

And now ya said that you're FULL BLOOM? That can only mean one thing, they have finally found their meaning of art.

They may not "bloom" to the world but "bloom" to themself. Becoming different. They changing, they learning, and they are growing.

"where 0 and 1 dancing"

Yeh, you already know what I'm going to say. 0 and 1 are binary code or we usually call it "computer language" / bits.

0 and 1, is what this theme song is about. The mechanical god, the new world of mechanics. "0 and 1 dancing" is "The god is speaking".

Like, 0 1 then 1 0, 0 1 then 1 0, where 0 and 1 will change their place to make a byte, a string of bits, representing the god language.

And, it is just me or do I get the feeling that this goddess who wants to destroy a world in rust has his reason, he has a feeling that leaving the world like this, isn't a good idea.

Even if the humans are begging him to stop, he did not listen.

Because, in some of the next lines, we got this:

"A play that crueler than dream" (Shu line)

"With everyone's prayers" (Mika line)

"Everyone will remember it" (Shu line).

"Above the Surface world that full of selfishness and egoism" (Mika line)

The god see human as this selfish and only care for what they want most then how others feel.

"This lost child of the era, is confused by the fragile waves" (Mika line)

"So let's come and come into a new world trapped in 0 and 1" (Shu & Mika line)

Is about Valkyrie, IT ABOUT VALKYRIE. *Gone crazy at this point*

If you didn't know, Valkyris wasn't that used to the new system after the war. The DreamFes system made by Eichi, yeah, that one.

They skip school and most of the time do their show outside of school until Eichi himself steps in and threatens them to rejoin the school and accept the DreamFess system.

They were lost. Lost of the modern world, and still stay in the old era. Shu never wants to go back and join the DreamFes for once because how much he hated Eichi, and how much the war hurted him, yet, they return, make a change that not even Eichi can imagine of.

"Lost in their own tears, and still..." (Shu line)

"Falling away..." (Mika line)

They did, however, losing against Fine, and still...this was not the end.

THIS WAS A MARK FOR THE NEW BEGINNING.

That they're now known to DreamFes, open their mind and continue their journey.

That why the next line of the song came with a stronger beat. Bam! We are now reborn, we are now continue to blooming up on this world of hidden beauty. We'll find it and make art out of it!

"Scrutinize, lament, and let your own foolish schemes drive you crazy" (Shu line, it kinda fit Shu too)

"And now, ask yourself here and now." (Mika line)

"Is there an omnipotent being to be ruled?" (Both)

"And do you believe it?" (Shu line)

"Do you believe it?" (Mika line)

"Do you believe it?" (Both)

I think these lines are pointing to Shu and how he've been since the end of the war.

Scrutinize mean: examine or inspect closely and thoroughly.

While lament mean: a passionate expression of grief or sorrow.

After the war, Shu was cave for perfection even more than he was before, he wish to not made all that mistake again or else he might lose Mika too.

He drive himself crazy, then look back what happened, he started to ask questions.

He was so into perfection, he loses the meaning of art it self. He put himself into a jail, said that, this was all for the work of art, but it wasn't.

People are being harm for his actions, Mika wasn't getting any better if he keeps acting like this. Reckless and madness drive him away from the actual beauty in art that the old Shu was fond of.

So, he ask himself. If art is freedom, why so gaol...

"Is there an omnipotent being to be ruled?"

And realizing that, will he continue to be like this. Do you believe in such form of art that not bring happiness and joy?

For the bloom of Valkyrie, must we sacrifice our little life for the victory Shu wanted.

Also important element needed to be mention: Last Lament.

Meiyuu Deshi Kairou was released in 2023, and Last Lament which is also a Valkyrie song was released in 2017.

And in the song, there was this line: "It fine if we reach the brink of our dreams and rot forgotten."

"We'll use the flames of passion on us, to show them that we can melt even despair."

But, but! In their newest song ( from the Trip albums)

Shukufuku no Library

We can see, Shu is now accepting the future and wish for joy to Valkyrie then only to successfully reach their dream as soon as possible:

"Is it only success stories that are now illuminated by the love that shines down from the heavens?"

"No! An unfinished adventure stories is also a foolish memoir that's also precious."

"Come on, let's play the lovely poems of our lives and gently store them in the library of blessings."

Return, return, let's us get to the next line:

Ok, Ok, I love that they put both Friedrich Schiller work into one line!

"A play that's crueler than a dream" (Mika line)

"Everyone inside this veil wishing for something" (Shu line)

The god talk about everyone wishes, seeing their foolish little small wishes yet never to be turn into reality because the god already had their own plan for them.

It also Shu, talking to himself that even if life is cruel, everyone has their little dream.

"In the face of the myth of the Perfect world" (Shu line)

But Shu dream was too far from reality, can that Perfection he wished for really have a way to get?

From here on, the line repeat itself:

"confused by the fragile waves" (Shu line)

"This lost child of the era" (Mika line)

"So let's come and come into a new world trapped in 0 and 1" (Shu & Mika line)

But this time, Shu has become different, Valkyrie has changed! The lost child had found their way out of that jail!

"The labyrinth corridor, love is a Perfect world" (The back choir?)

And yes, he did be able to found out, love is the best way to a world he's wish for, no more madness from now on, only love and joy.

And maybe, just maybe, the goddess in this song also did.

Thank you for your time! Reading this.

It late now, and my ears...oh god...it had been listen to Meiyuu Deshi Kairou non-stop ( I remember like 8/10 of the goddam lyrics *cry and laughed at the same time* )

Also, one last thing...

In the 3D MV, noticed how Mika move, yes, he still keep that flexibility of him, but that not just a represent for a doll, Mika now turning it in to his own style of dance.

While Shu do art in a perfect and nicely organizing way.

Mika go for a chaos way that both resemble the old him and use it to make the new him.

In the last moment of the MV, Mika...I don't know if he forget or that is simply how the MV plays out, but there was a moment like this:

Mika when: Look at my Oshi-san!!!

Shu: Mika! Back up! You're supposed to be standing next to me.

Mika: Can i?

Shu: Yes. Yes you can. You're no longer a doll, but a human, a partner who place is staying next to me and performing art together.

Mika: Oh...I'm not fulling understand that, but ok! I'll try to stay next to you from now on!

( this is me, writing that out of thin air, the conversation may not be real, but the meaning are. Mika may be a little confused for suddenly got set free from being a soulless doll, he need his little time )

Thank...for reading...my dear ValkyrieP... I need a rest and a cup of coffee I guess *die*

#ensemble stars #mika kagehira #kagehira mika #shu itsuki #itsuki shu #valkyrie enstars #Meiyuu Deshi Kairou #Meiyuu Deshi Kairou analysis

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cleolinda · 1 year ago

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Weekend links, April 21, 2024

My posts

Initially I wrote, “I ran my mouth about the Watcher streaming/paywall situation because I make bad decisions,” but I think the post has actually gone over well? In short, I want to see them succeed but I am also deeply fuckin’ baffled. I so desperately want the tea about what was really going on behind all this, and how the guys are reacting to it now, and I really hope they can turn this around somehow.

Side note, Friday was CHAOTIC.

Reblogs of interest

The Hot Vintage Lady Polls are escalating in round four. We got to a point where I posted propaganda for Ava Gardner AND Dorothy Dandridge in their matchup. Probably the biggest scandal of round three was Vivien Leigh getting knocked out, but she’s now High Chancellor of the Shadow Realm. The most contentious matchup this time seems to be Judy Garland vs Natalie Wood, which is nearly 50/50 as of this writing. But keep your eye on Hedy Lamarr, who may have Mifune Sweep energy.

(I think I love these brackets for the same reason I love Dracula Daily: it’s delightful that thousands of people on Tumblr actually have deeply-held opinions about things from many decades ago, and if they didn’t before, they do now.)

(“I’m Katharine Hepburn, and this is Jackass!”)

Happy Bread Day (Observed)!

Hozier Watch 2024: “Why Would You Be Loved” has arrived on the Wasteland, Baby! special edition. I like this post about how that song is in conversation with “No Plan,” one of my favorites. (I wrote about “Movement” a while ago, but I could have fully inflicted an essay on you about how “No Plan” pulled me out of my six years of hiding from the internet. Anyway, it’s a great album from a few years ago, check it out if you haven’t.)

Generally I keep my mouth shut about Taylor Swift, but the new songs sure have some lyrics. I love Florence Welch, but I’m scared.

You’ve heard of spoon theory, now check out spell slot theory

“You’re either frolicking in this field with me, or...” is funny, but then you get to the reblog.

What if we lay in this field together and held feet

A deep breach of etiquette with a little dog named Gucio

A story about statue vandalism with a delightful twist

You gotta fight mint with mint (like I can bring in my lemon balm, but at what cost?)

I saw this post about feeding wild skeletons on Pinterest and I loved it so much that I tracked down the original.

Once again, Holy Shit, Two Cakes theory

Remember the haunted house I grew up in? Yeah, it had a carpeted bathroom like this.

“gonna start formatting my posts like fics on ff.net circa 2008” will do you exactly the psychic damage you’re imagining

The Round Table attempts to use Zoom

Video

Lil Nas X covers “Jolene,” Dolly Parton loves it, and @oscar-wet-and-wilde has further Black Country recs

A big loud steppy

“He’s retrieving”

Crispy meows

Watching this angel of a Doberman get a full spa treatment is also self care

AND YOU DARE SAY NO MORE TREATS??!?

The sacred texts

I don’t like thing, now with artist credit

Personal tags of the week

I love when I can use a really niche, specific tag, and this week, it’s mouth perfect size for meme, with a little shaped on the side.

#weekend links #odds and ends #linkspam

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bazzybelle · 1 year ago

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Don't You Look Good In Red

TITLE: Don't You Look Good In Red

RATING: Mature

WORD COUNT: 80K

SUMMARY:

Hob Gadling is a broken man. He’s been a broken man since the head of an up-and-coming mob family murdered his wife in cold blood and left him for dead. For the last five years, he’s been away from the city, training and planning to bring that man’s empire down piece by piece. Hoping to do whatever it takes to allow his wife to finally rest in peace. But when he meets a shy, sweet, and fascinating man at the local pub, he begins to re-evaluate his thirst for vengeance. Maybe he can go back to who he used to be. Maybe he can allow love back into his life. Maybe he can find a way to be whole again. Or die trying.

Special thank you to my INCREDIBLE artist, @kitsune2022-artish for creating the BEAUTIFUL artwork you see linked below. They have perfectly captured the vibes of the fic within their suspense-filled movie poster creation. It was an honour working with you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Here is the link to their AMAZING ART!!

More notes and thank yous tagged below!

NOTES: After changing my idea right as signups closed and then writing 80k words in like 3 months, I am excited to FINALLY share my fic for @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang.

I am SO proud of this fic. It's been one of my favourite fics to write, and I hope you all enjoy it. For the friends in the Sadman server who were all screaming about "Reacher", you guys do not know how difficult it was for me to keep my mouth shut as you were all begging for more Badass Hob, more Fighter Hob, more Snarky Fucker Hob.

I hope this fic scratches that itch for you.

All the thanks and love for the Mods involved with CHBB! You guys have all worked your butts off to make sure this event ran as smoothly as possible. You were all so supportive and kind and encouraging. Thank you to my assigned Mod, @spockandthings for being so kind and reassuring and willing to lend a helping hand.

Thank you to my amazing Alpha-readers, @ginjones and @purplesauris, as well as my Beta-reader, @garnetcapricorn.

Finally, thank you to my friends over at The Sadman server, for all of your love and support and for welcoming me into the community. Thank you to the Shaxberd Sprint group for fighting against lack of motivation and stress with me. We did it, friends!!

The title of this fic, as well as the titles of the chapters were taken from the lyrics of the song Good in Red by The Midnight. I HIGHLY suggest looking them up on Spotify, because they are amazing!

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #centennial husbands #centennial husbands big bang #centennial husbands big bang 2024 #my writing

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abromelon34105 · 9 months ago

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Here’s a snippet from Chapter 7 of my ADA!Chūya AU, For the Tainted Human! This scene is one of Chūya’s memories, and this chapter gets pretty emotional. Chūya has a story to tell and maybe now is the best time~

“What is this?” Dazai asked as he lifted his head and turned towards my phone. I gripped him tighter, pulling him back towards me so he couldn't change the song. “Does that matter? I want to listen to it.”

“It just sounds…sad. Not like you,” he said as he turned back around and wrapped his arms around the back of my neck again. I shrugged and snuggled deeper into him, keeping our legs entwined under the sheets. “So? I’m allowed to like sad songs too.”

“I never said that, Chibi~ I was just saying that it’s the first time I’ve heard you listen to it, that’s all.”

“...It’s called Gavi’s Song.”

“Gavi’s Song?”

“Yeah. The artist released it after her best friend died. She’d been working on it with him, but he didn’t make it through to the end, so she released it as a homage to him or something. I think it’s really beautiful. Call me sappy, I don’t care.”

“Why would I do that?” Dazai placed his finger under my chin and lifted my head, meeting my gaze with a soft smile. “If Chibi thinks it’s beautiful, that means is must be beautiful~ Since Chibi is the most beautiful thing in the world~”

“S-Shut up…” I muttered as I moved my head and hid my face again, getting a chuckle out of him. We were still new to our actual relationship, so the softer flirting embarrassed me. It also sometimes reminded me of that place, though I never told him. He didn’t know about that place, and I wanted it to stay that way.

“You really like this artist, huh?” Dazai asked after a moment and I slowly nodded. “Yeah,” I whispered without moving my head. “She’s good. The music’s complicated and loud enough to keep me focused but it also helps keep me from singing along.”

“Does she tour?”

“Dazai, you are not taking me to go see her in concert. I don’t even know when she’s coming to Japan next.”

“Alright, fine. But I’ll keep an eye out, don’t worry.” He pressed another light kiss to my forehead and my cheeks flushed a little more as I tried burying myself deeper into him. He snorted and ran a hand over my head, letting his fingers get tangled in my hair and gently working the knots that had developed overnight out. “Your hair’s getting long.”

“I know.”

“Are you gonna cut it?”

“Probably not this time. I want to try having it long.”

“I think long hair will suit you.”

“You just want something to grab when I’m being a brat.”

“That is a benefit, I will admit~ But it’ll look so good with Chibi’s dresses~”

“What is with you and those damn dresses?”

“Chibi looks go pretty in them~ Like a god sent into my life~”

“...Osamu, you’re a dork.”

“What did you call me?”

“I called you mackerel, stupid mackerel.”

“No you didn’t. That doesn’t even sound like what you said! I think you said my name! Chibi called me by my name!”

“Wha- No I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I didn’t you stupid-” He shut me up with a well-timed kiss as he pushed me down onto the bed, rolling us over so that I was on my back and he was above me. I gave in easily, kissing back as I moved to grip his hair, letting him have full access to my mouth as he wanted. We were still working out how to be gentle with each other, since we both knew just how rough we could go and were used to being, but I didn’t mind. The gentler times gave us a chance to figure out my “subspace” or whatever it was called so that we knew how to deal with it during our rougher nights.

I just wished I remembered more after I slipped that night.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #bsd kunikida #kunikida doppo #au #fanfic #bungou stray dogs chuuya #bungou stray dogs kunikida

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immoralimmortals · 6 months ago

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A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 42: Nobody

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: Are angels big or are they small?

Author's Note: Please note that the first section of this chapter has slightly sexual discussions. The song for this chapter is Nobody by Mitski.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

My God, I'm so lonely

So I open the window

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Deidara exhales through his nose as steam slowly flushes his face and cleans his poor, clay-grubby pores. He’s sitting on a smooth, flat rock beside a clear hot spring, a knee to his chest and a towel over his loins. And though he’s released breath already, he audibly sighs. So calm...so relaxing…

So insufferably boring.

“I have a question…” he drawls, and Kisame immediately feels his brow twitch in annoyance. “Is she...? Oh, how do I put this…?” A few seconds of silence, a rub of his chin, for nothing but the drama. “...Do you think Takara-chan’s ever...been with someone...un?”

Hoshigaki Kisame has not had a vacation in five years. Five. He has counted them. And leaving the land of water hardly even counts towards that. There is one and only one, that is singular, reason leaving the girl alone was fine to do and that is that he can have a good soak, a strong drink, and momentarily have a mere semblance of peace. He is going to continue to keep his eyes shut, arms stretched on either side to line the edge of the spring he’s emerged in, and he is going to ignore what has just been said.

But Deidara, to everyone’s regret, is nearly as clever at being impossible to ignore as Tobi is.

“Hmm...?” he hums, looking between the three men sharing the bathhouse with him. All of them have their lids pulled down; perhaps they all happened to fall asleep right at the same time? But no. One of them is wavering. The artist says his name and eggs him on.

“Kisame. You’ve been with her longer than I.” And the shark’s mouth can’t help but stretch, edges of teeth peeking past frowning lips. “You have to agree with me here...she’s just a bit too innocent. Right?”

…

Despite his better judgment, the swordsman cracks open his eyes. A twinge of purple dusts his pale blue cheeks, and not just because he’s in a hot bath.

“...I don’t see why wondering is any of your business,” Kisame retorts.

“It’s not,” Deidara admits with a shrug, lowering his knee and resting his palms on the stone. “But it is a curiosity. So? What do you think?”

“I think it’s about as apt to ask you if you’ve ever had sex.”

“Hey!” It’s not an exclamation, but rather a plea to ask Kisame to chill— a subtle implication it’s not Deidara that’s acting rash here but the kiri-nin. “Firstly, I never specified sex! Secondly…” he shrugs again. “...Sure, much as the next guy...but I have no pretenses. How do I put this…?” A finger taps his chin and Kisame couldn't narrow his eyes any more without outright closing them again. “She strikes me as...someone who wouldn’t even know what it is, perhaps. Think about it…”

And despite himself, Kisame is.

“...Spending all this time with a bunch of rugged, lonely, male criminals..." the blonde continues, "Choosing to sleep in the open, in front of everyone… I don’t...personally find her alluring,” he lies, “But I can’t help but think if it was intentional, well...the exact intent is obvious. Un.”

Feeling a tightness in his chest, Kisame rolls his shoulders and leans his head further back, broad neck facing the wood board ceiling. How does one defend her...tactfully? It feels past the point of return; silence would not disengage, certainly it has failed up to this point.

“I think…” he mutters, feeling steam further heat the high points of his cheekbones. “...She has no intent such as that,” he answers honestly. The exact details, however, of the day he wondered a variation of Deidara's question himself will be kept to himself. “We’re all she has. It makes sense that she wants us nearby. You know that, don’t you?” And he cocks his head up, lopsided, challenging grimace growing on the left side of his face as a thought crosses his mind. “Aren’t you the one who insists on sleeping in that chair across her?”

“For her protection,” the younger man responds, brushing away a drop of water that was irritating the sewn lips above his heart. Regardless of whether or not his coolness is a facade, a reaction such as this is irritating as hell to Kisame. The older one snorts.

“You look more like a lost puppy sleeping by her feet!”

“Oh please…!”

The condensation, by this point, at least somewhat obscures the only man in the room who has the real answer. Kakuzu sits in the corner, hair down and stitches out, basically only here out of stubbornness when everyone else walked in after he and made themselves home. He should have left while he had a chance. However…

His brow furrows over green, wary eyes.

Perhaps it is best he sticks around for a conversation like this, however rude and uncomfortable it may be. Keep a gauge on what sort of— ironically— “intent” these other men may have. She’s a smart girl, but in some ways...he’s really her only defense in this world. The truth...is somehow both yes and no. Yes that she’s innocent. No that...well...

...You know.

“Maybe she’s interested in others...more like her?” Deidara suggests next, playfulness dripping from his voice, enjoying so very much how he can make the big mean giant squirm , however slightly. “Maybe she just prefers women.”

“And?” the shark asks back. “Why would you care?”

“Why do you care?” the iwa-nin counters with a sly smirk. Kisame isn’t playing that game.

“You’re no better than a five year old…” he mutters, and without another word to add, wrings out a towel and puts it over his eyes, saying ‘fuck you’ in all but literal speech.

Relief quietly eases Kakuzu’s heavy lungs. Less they go on about this, the better. At least the loudmouth isn’t here to fall for the blonde’s trap—

“Hey, Hidan!”

Kakuzu’s eyes pop wide as hell and look to the bath entrance. A towel over his shoulder, the devil has walked in and has a long, drawn out questioning hum on the back of his tongue. Deidara’s smirk widens.

Shit.

“We’re trying to figure out…” the artist begins, and Kakuzu can only pray Hidan can feel his eyes holding him by the neck and threatening death. “You think the lady’s ever fucked?”

Kisame sits straight up, covering flying off his face and splashing into the water. “That is NOT what you asked me, you pesky little—!”

“Kisame thinks no,” Deidara answers for him, ignoring the bared teeth. “I’m sort of in the middle...can see it either way. So? You got a vote, un?”

Hidan—!

The reaper blinks his magenta eyes. All of Kakuzu’s hearts sink as he...begins...to smirk. “I don’t know…” You motherfucking bitch and bastard— “Does eating out her pussy count?”

Absolute dead silence. The ragdoll feels his skin crawl, so much so he flashes a glance down to confirm it is literally, throwing one hand onto the other’s wrist to keep the threads inside him instead of throwing fists in rage. And then—

A tsk.

Deidara has rolled his eyes...and Kisame’s expression is closer to annoyed than carrying seething, knightly fury. Kakuzu doesn’t believe in a higher power but he abruptly feels a rush of gratitude for the idea of luck. They don’t believe him…! He...— Hidan is simply so crass and shoots off his mouth so goddamn much that they...can’t tell he’s being serious...!

It doesn’t last. Kakuzu can see the blonde’s lips begin to part, readying his next statement. Who knows what he could say, get this asshole to talk himself into a corner without realizing? Shit...does he even know? Know what trouble he’s about to make for her?!

One thing is clear: this could get off the rails fast. The old man has to say something, anything, to keep everyone in their place and leave the bullshit behind...lest a good woman is left ashamed and embarrassed:

“I suppose if someone were to know, it’d be him,” Kakuzu grumbles with as much casual humor as he can from his corner. “He’ll put his mouth on anything. Just ask him how it tasted to put my dick into his throat.”

One truth offsets another, and just like that, both are nothing more than lies. Kisame sputters a deep, hearty laugh as the reaper gets his comeuppance, and Hidan gets red in the face.

“KAKUZU!!!”

Well...that went as well as he expected. Amusement had, Deidara shifts his attention to the last one in the room, black ponytail undone and mouth just barely above the water.

“And?” he prods the Uchiha, a bit more sharpness in his tone than he had for the others. “What do you think?”

One, single eye opens. It is bright red. “No.”

“No as in...no she hasn’t...or...no as in you’re not answering?”

…

The eye slowly shuts. Deidara exhales. He at least gets to wear a satisfied smirk now, feeling the humidity on his skin as Hidan babbles on and on in the background like running water. Not too quiet now.

“I would not, DO NOT, put my mouth on 'ANYTHING!' What do you mean by that?! I thought we were COOL! I’ll put my mouth on your NECK you fucking—”

Yes...Deidara meditates, closing his own eyes, too. He can finally, really relax...

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

To hear sounds of people

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Are you sure about this?" Konan asks.

"Yes," he answers, voice light and weak from travel. An emaciated hand, skin so thin you can see blue veins underneath, drifts away from her touch, put overtop of the blanket that covers his fragile body. He can see it in her eyes, though. She is not convinced.

"I know…” he rasps, “This is a risk." He tells her this, before he can be scolded with it. "I'm willing to take it. Now please..."

Her brow curls and eyes soften. The lit candle on the back wall drifts a circular aura, and she tilts towards him in such a way that this glow centers behind her lowered head.

"Let me rest..." his voice fades.

The worried guardian takes an inhale through her nose. To doubt his judgment now isn't even a choice. To abide isn't a matter of if but how. She rises from his bedside and he sees her look to her right. Pain and her stare at one another tor a long moment. He doesn't quite know why, as they have the same eyes, same heart, same mind...and she knows it. He has a guess, though.

She blinks and nods to the corpse of her friend as if it is alive, as if it is a separate soul rather than a vessel of God's will. Ever so patient and kind...the body nods back. One more second of her stern glance and the woman shuts the door on her way out.

The body looks down to the soul, rings centered on a ghostly pale shape upon his bed. Pain kneels by his own side and begins his work.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Venus, planet of love

Was destroyed by global warming

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pain gets up from his chair. There is no pardoning of himself— there is no one above him to grant such a thing. He simply picks up his bowl after staring at it with his big, ringed eyes...and leaves. Despite the fact that it was common some time ago in this house to just take your meal away as soon as it was ready… Well… She doesn’t know. It feels different now, is all.

Maybe it’s because it leaves her alone with someone who’s not said a single word.

Her gaze that followed the leader all the way to the dining room entry now lingers its path backwards, falling upon another woman with a rather serious expression. She looks so small across the table, seated down and arms by her sides. Eye contact is inevitably made. The performer notices the eyeshadow that matches the angel’s hair and hopes that it’s a hint of some form of humanity. She flashes a smile, one that flinches back as quickly as it came. With a single blink, orange eyes break away and look down at her still untouched food.

And the host blinks a few times herself, lashes fluttering away awkward feelings.

“I...hope,” she says quietly, unwilling to ask so much as her name. They said it, she thinks, but hasn't quite remembered. “That I’m a good host.”

And she watches the first mate’s gaze flicker back up, just enough to acknowledge. Blue strands drift past her forehead as the head they're upon dips politely. Lips stay sealed well after Konan picks her own bowl up and follows the suit of her captain. Soon as she's out of sight, the performer exhales, nice and loud, not knowing what to feel or do.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Did its people want too much, too?

Did its people want too much?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The rest of the day goes as gawkily as you'd expect. The intended effect was likely...meditative, and it some ways it was. ...But at some point quiet fades out of thought and into heightened, uncomfortable awareness...and then back into thought...then back into awareness.

A tide, in-out, in-out.

She’s kind of used to it by this point, that sort of pattern haunting the narrative.

She had a dream last night she doesn't remember, not very well. Something about what makes up his piercings, something about orange and red. Hands, of course— always with the hands. God above— the traveler asks, glancing wearily up to the ceiling— who does not exist, cannot hear her...are you the progenitor of these visions? And are they real or is she just crazy?

More importantly, however...is there a fucking difference?

The perspective leadership takes, however, is that he is backing off just enough so she can feel his presence, but not so much it becomes a demand. Passing entries...him past her, her past him... She pulls a book off the shelf and in the second it obscures her vision of him, he is leaving, already half hidden by the doorway. Is she being toyed with? A cat batting a scared mouse? She likes cats but this is a bit ridiculous.

It isn't until the sun starts to set that they have a full conversation again. Two Akatsuki face her, a coffee table and a good helping of tension in between.

"Where do you sleep on this level?" Pain asks more pointedly than he did last night. There’s no reason, not ever, for him to doubt his herald and what she saw, but confirmation comes anyway: the mousy girl squirms a bit in her seat.

Her mouth tightens its lips together...but does not open.

“Well?” a poke, a bat of the paw. She holds her hands on her lap as she sits on the living room couch, fingers fidgeting and trying so very hard not to tear at the cuticles, as she is wont to do under duress she otherwise can hide.

The traveler makes the decision, once again and a day later, that to lie by omission is not truly lying. “Here.”

And hopefully that’s all he needs to know.

…

Seconds pass, enough that the book in the other woman’s painted hands gets her attention once again, orange eyes glancing back down once she’s finished furrowing her brow at Pain. Maybe he doesn’t want to press any more, Konan observes— surely, the girl doesn’t want him to.

…

“Hmph.”

The closest thing Pain does to laughing.

“I can handle a sense of humor…” he nearly purrs, somehow both so serious yet so casual; really says a lot for how in control he always seems to be, of himself, the situation, and all others. “But I do intend to have an answer.”

Konan sees the girl flinch, fingertips raising to brush her throat, just above a rosy broach. You can visibly see her swallow, the lining of the cape moving as she does. The musician calculates that she must finally say what they already know:

"Here as in...in the living room," she admits, the last words so quiet out of some sort of shame. And that’s right. On the very couch she sits, bare branches in the window behind her head that match the ones at the bottom of her dress. Day and night, no matter, this is where she dwells. The fingertips rub a bit more, and there’s again fluttering of the lashes to blink away nerves as she waits for his response.

It should be an obvious one, really.

"I propose you find a bedroom to stay in."

And yet she cannot abide. Not without explaining herself. "...But— but I like the living room." This, of course, prompts equally obvious question:

"Why?"

That’s just the heart of the matter, really. One traveler facing two gods across the coffee table, still tactlessly littered with her few possessions, it stares her in the face. Gold evening light streams down as if to highlight them, the bits of pink on her bag now a shade of red-brown as the color of wood and sunset refracts and dyes stray dust motes. Fire...it reminds her of...the fire from her dream. And the color of fire reminds her of hands.

Her father sat her in church one day and she noticed the way stained glass set the room ablaze, just with no smoke nor heat. A marble idol stretched his arms side to side, as if he was the harbinger of what she had seen, this holy and cleansing light that made it hard to see anything else. “Pray with me,” her father said. And she did, only noticing an angel in the corner of the mosaic once her eyes were almost shut.

The memory fades and she's at least somewhat back to real life. Shoulders go up...shoulders go down. "So I can feel...watched,” she answers, like in confession, her eyes stuck above the two beings instead of straight towards, lest her eyes burn. “Protected. I'm afraid of being left alone again."

Again.

The word repeats each time she, somehow and some way, knows what she looked like on that beach, waiting to die. Again, again, again...steps further, and further, and further away, staring at her own back and the ocean only bound by the line of the horizon. The sky was as red that evening as it was when she woke up her last real morning.

There’s a deep, unending well of sympathy in this man she sits beside, Konan knows. She can see it now in his holy eyes, with the slightest twitch of his lip— wouldn’t even know it was there if not for the piercings underneath, ever so minutely bumped as he allows self control to slip. It’s the most beautiful thing about him.

He’d never agree, but it is.

"Then I'm going propose something more...specific,” Pain says, and his deep voice is so, so saturated with his merciful love. It’s contradiction to what he says next makes it all the more shocking. “Konan shall stay with you."

Two gasps, from one woman and shortly after...the other. "Konan"...the performer feels on the back of her tongue. That's her name...Konan. On the other side of the room, orange widens, focused askance to her partner. They had talked about her situation since last night, yes...but they didn't talk about this. The leader is absolutely and utterly unfazed, even if he recognizes the doubt in his loyal angel’s eyes. "Another of the same gender. That's more suitable a living arrangement, isn't it?"

And perhaps it is, if you look at it from a certain angle. Now that so many people are here, the rooms with doors, pair by pair, have become scarce. To keep her dignity...if the performer must have a room...it makes the most sense that the only two women of this base occupy the same space. However...—

"I. I don't." She doesn't even know her…! In a wild fashion her stare bounces back and forth between the lord of the manor and her proposed, mysterious roommate. There’s at least an idea of what baggage the others carry: Deidara could set off a bomb, Itachi could put you to sleep, Hidan could talk your ear off…

But this lady?!

The performer can feel her eyes shake in her sockets.

...This lady could be anyone or anything. Surely it isn’t by accident she’s said not a single word. Even now...even now…!

But the woman’s answer must not come off so unkindly, lest she bite the hand that feeds. "I don't mind...the others."

Perhaps even this was a mistake, as the resulting action the other woman takes— how few there have been— is so very abrupt. Her bangs whip so sharply, the urgency that turns her head, and it’s an emotion shared by the expression she wears. Let me. Please…!

A long, long stare— one cold and calm and one fiery and passionate—...and Pain nods. Konan is allowed to speak her mind. With that, she turns her countenance back to the civilian, a furrow in her brow and a frown between her lips. "...I think you should," the angel advises.

It had been so long since the performer heard her voice...literal seasons ago, more than half a rotation of the Earth around the Sun if this place works the same way as her old home. An ear so attuned, so practiced at this point as a means of survival, cannot help but notice how...nicely it sounds. That is...alongside his. She looks at them both as they look at her. It’s like they switched color pallets; orange hair above cool-toned eyes, and periwinkle hair above irises that are warm. Two voices so deep and soothing and unearthly in their own rights, so regal, so...— yes...the lady’s voice, too, is commanding! More subtly so, but even back then, her sitting in front of the performer in the bar…

Even then, the angel commanded her attention and got exactly what she wanted.

And now she and the Akatsuki leader look at the musician, both at once, and ask her to be more concerned. The hypocrisy is hard to ignore: If she should be more worried about the people she surrounds herself with...then why was she forced to live with the likes them? The performer doesn’t find a way, not fast enough, to put this so politely that it’s not like she’s laying her neck down on a butcher’s block. As such, the decision is made in the absence of her own spoken opinions.

"I'll make it bearable," Konan promises. And even though it wasn’t the way she intended...— "It was... my idea to ask you to." Just not yet. Full lips upon a gorgeous face pull up by the corners, and again without her own choice, the performer’s expression shifts too. It even sticks around once Konan goes back to her typical, neutral visage. "At least...consider my space yours,” the cloaked woman offers. “For your things. For a place to be away. I can't assume you never want to be alone… You can use it for that."

But there’s one thing that baffles the traveler. It bugs her and bothers even though if it were her on that side of the room instead, she’d offer the same thing. "But...what about you?" The answer is simple, so as to be undeniable. "I'll be fine."

Does that mean Konan won't be there when the performer is, or that she might as well not exist?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And I don't want your pity

I just want somebody near me

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

She's running again, like she did when she ran away from the Akatsuki. Hands reaching, chasing from behind, always catching up and brushing her skin, and her own hands are hot and sticky. A sharp pain in her leg and she falls down.

The sky is red in her dream. Maybe it's not even the sky. Blood is shed and it melts upward from an empty eyesocket, her mouth gaped in horror as she looks to watch her flesh melt away. Feet stand around, and she is circled and entrapped.

Her breath chokes as she abruptly wakes up. Quickly glances side to side, finding no one is there right next to her as she had imagined... Dear god. Shit...! Desperate fingers drip her own shoulders as she gasps for air, trying to calm herself down. She has to recompose. But the threat of what will happen if she can't therefore, ironically, makes it an even steeper hill to climb.

Her grimace flinches, pressing her cheeks…once…twice…three times…

Exact seconds unknown, but enough time has passed for her to know, with certainty, that she needs to not be alone, no matter the cost.

The lost, vulnerable stranger hears the sound of a door closing right around when she gets halfway up the stairs, and it nearly makes her jump. Someone is up at this hour…? She isn't sure whether to be grateful or feel cursed. A moment of purposeful hesitation, lest she alert of her presence before she is ready, and the woman finishes her ascent. The halls are woven through and she arrives, just in time, to see a brightness underneath the righthand door flicker away. The lady, then... That's the one who was just up. Ironic, maybe, given the earlier invitation.

Konan sees the shadow of her feet under the slim slit of the bedroom door, even before she knocks. A hand with a white ring lowers from the back of her head, having not yet unwound the bun in her hair. A few seconds later, she opens the entry just a sliver, just enough to get a peek, and it makes her eye widen.

“I…” the girl stammers in front of Konan. “I...!”

It's quite a sight, despite it being a possibility for her to come tonight. The performer’s eyes are hidden, a hand clasped to her chest, teeth gritting. A nightgown pale as the moon falls from her shoulders. Ever so slightly, you can see her breath as fog.

Unfortunately, Konan’s stare is just a second too long. As soon as she starts to open the door wider, the performer feels a strike of panic race her heart. It is abruptly decided that merely seeing another person was enough, if even needed at all. Shame overtakes, and every muscle freezes. Guilt overpowers purpose the more she is seen.

“I'm sorry.”

And inexplicably, as she turns to leave—

“Wait.”

Step, step…stop. Hunched shoulders abide by the command, though she still faces her direction of escape. Konan herself…feels vulnerable. She is here, nearly alone but not quite, a stranger in a strange land with an unfamiliar view out the window and a foreign taste in the air. Konan is unsettled…but she’s used to being unsettled. At least…more than this one is.

What has not been spoken is how suspicious the angel of the front row is, has been since the day she drew the performer in to face Pain's scrutiny. Who is she? What is she doing here? What is her intent and purpose? That’s a big part of why Konan had planned to keep the woman close. As a guardian, standing at the gates between the rest of the world and her god, the spear of judgment has rested easily between her gripping palms. And yet…

And yet.

In a factual way…it cannot be denied. This person in contrast, entirely alone. Konan remembers her songs, her yearning for something…better. To escape the terrors that had become even worse for being mundane. The musician had failed her mission, when they first met; her job was to give the audience something no one else could ever comprehend. Like a code or a poem…the exact turns of phrase were replaceable. What it meant…was something the angel could grasp. So a sliver of what she feels for the performer really is, sincerely, a kind of mercy.

“Come here.” Unlike how Pain talks, it feels less like a demand and more like advice. The woman looks over her shoulder to evaluate this response.

A glance up…a glance down…and the performer decides it is in her best interest to take it. She steps in as Konan steps back, and glancing side to side, the girl in a nightgown finds her place to hide.

Konan pretends to sleep tonight, as the mouse insists to curl up in the corner so as to not take too much space. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. The owner of this house whispers it, over and over, until it is clear that Konan expects no prayer, no indulgence to pay her way into this room. If she were really sorry, she’d leave. And so her presence is a reply in itself. Perhaps it's worth forgiving, no comment needed to absolve her of sin.

Konan pretends to be asleep, as she lays on a bed so cold and unfamiliar, because she is not used to being small. Not for anyone else but her lord. What could make someone simultaneously want to be in her presence so, so desperately...yet instill that they are unworthy. She is not privy to a conversation from long, long ago, another planet away:

“Why don't we pray to the angels, too?” the woman someone named Takara once asked her dad, skipping a step to catch up to much larger feet uncaring to slow down. Too-loose maryjanes nearly trip as they hop off the curb of the sidewalk. Her father does not look at her.

“The angels…” he answers casually, as all dads know everything, “Are sent down by God. Only he commands them. We don’t get to do that.”

“B-but..." a small, earnest child pressed, "We ask God to do things, and then the angels do things for him—”

“I don’t want you to question it anymore. You’ll get it when you’re older.”

And she never did.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Guess I'm a coward

I just want to feel alright

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#akatsuki x reader #akatsuki x oc #konan x reader #nagato x reader #kisame x reader #kakuzu x reader #deidara x reader #hidan x reader #aswtn fic #songfic

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