#so i wonder how the stages will look what the song choices will be will their be cross group stages despite it being a group vs group show | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hiddenreamers · 3 months ago

Text

I was in your music video - f1 drivers x singer!reader

SUMMARY: They say that if a poet loves you, they will write you into immortality. But if you date a musician, they might write you into the Billboard 100. Which is exactly what happens to your driver boyfriend.

Featuring: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz Jr, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell

Note: Yes, two songs are sung by male artists. Yes, I'm going to ignore that fact and you should, too.

Lewis Hamilton

He's been in the room maybe five times. The space always felt strangely sacred to him - this is where you write, compose and practice songs with your band; this is where the magic, so to speak, happens. Walls are absolutely covered with tour posters, polaroids and printed-out articles. There's a large mirror that seems to be a message board considering all the sticky notes and words written with a marker. The only somewhat de-cluttered space is surrounding the setup. It's an unspoken testament to being a musician in a band.

There's a certain tension inside the driver. You've never asked him to listen to a song before it's finished. Sure, he has listened through your albums before they were officially released but it was always just that - a recording, not a live version. So what's different this time? Why is it vital he hears this song early?

Walking through the room, Lewis has to carefully watch where he's going. He doesn't want to accidentally break something by stepping on a cable or kicking a box with unknown contents. Inside a garage, he knows what not to touch but a recording studio and instruments are pretty much an unknown world to him.

Lewis is standing around a tad awkwardly, hands in pockets, when the bassist pushes a big black box closer to the driver.

"Have a seat." The musician points to the chest.

Lewis frowns. "On the box?" he asks, unsure. "Is that okay?"

"It's the Lucky Chest, Hamilton," the bassist announces. The other band members snicker at the title. "You have to sit on it."

"What's lucky about it?" Lewis inquires. More than the seating choice, he's interested in the reason for laughter.

"The first time we played at a big festival," the guitarist begins, her story slightly interrupted by her tuning the guitar, "we were sitting on it and listening to Green Day's stage, wondering 'how the fuck are we supposed to play after them?'."

"We were doing like a punk-rock tribute thing," adds the drummer. He's adjusting his seat and judging by the constant up-and-down movement, he can't make up his mind. The process is finally over when he reaches to tap the high-hat and nods to himself, content.

"After we finished our set," you take over retelling the story, "Billy Joe Armstrong came up to us and said we did great."

"So now it's the Lucky Chest," concludes the bassist.

Perhaps it's another testament to being a musician in a band when multiple people together tell one story without cutting details or creating chaos. A true harmony, though a joke a little on the nose.

"Well, I'm honoured," Lewis says. An airy giggle escapes him as he's still thinking about how easily teamwork comes to you and your band.

"You should be." The guitarist points her finger at him in a joking but accusatory way. Then she looks over her shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, drummer boy."

Music fills the room and Lewis is instantly captivated by you. He noticed it the first time he saw you on stage, how something inside you changes the moment you hear the instruments playing. Intensity, fire - passion in its most primal form. But this time around, the look in your eyes is different. You're no longer looking at the audience but him specifically; instead of singing a song, you seem to be telling him something.

So he listens.

I'm a desert, you're an ocean It's your motion that I need Without you I am broken, left to thirst out in the heat

And how strange he suddenly feels: all of the sentiments he already knows but now that you've put them into words for the whole world to hear, he can't help but find some revelation in them. For a moment, there's only the two of you and your confession of desire. Every word resonates with him and Lewis feels like he could say all of those things about you, too.

The song is far from over but he has already decided - he will listen to it before every race.

Lando Norris

Nothing seemed different about that day.

Lando is streaming while you're still at the studio. In an hour or so, you will come back, he will end the stream and the two of you will sit down to eat something. You will talk about your day, he will say something silly and both of you will laugh. Just like you always did.

To his credit, Lando couldn't have known about the song because you never told him. Some part of you thought it would be a bit dramatic to announce that you've written a song about him but can't play it yet because it's not finished. It would spoil the fun, wouldn't it? Therefore, you decided to tell Lando only after he listened to the final product. Perhaps you also wanted to seem a lot more nonchalant about the whole thing, planning on giving him just an off-hand comment of "oh, by the way, this one's about you". Life, however, rarely turns out the way we plan and that's exactly what happened that night.

If it was just one or two people calling Lando "honeybee" on the stream, he probably wouldn't even notice. But even he will pay attention when the comments are going on hundreds if not thousands.

He can't help but grow flustered at the pet name born out of his visceral fear of insects.

"Who told you that?!" he yells in a comically angry tone, a poor attempt at hiding embarrassment.

The comments come flooding again, explaining the situation only in variations of your name and the title Espresso. And like a detective following a crime, Lando immediately searches the internet.

"I feel lied to," he speaks up. "She didn't tell me she has a new song coming out. Why am I the last one to know? When I literally live with her? This is so unfair, I'm obviously the biggest fan, I should know first!"

Lando plays the music video. From the first line of "he's thinking about me every night", his bashfulness only gets worse. What starts as an excited smile, grows into a flustered, giggly mess. Although his pride is on the line, he can't deny any of the claims you make in the song. Yes, he couldn't sleep one night thinking about you and texted you about that. Yes, he does call you often even though he hates making phone calls. And yes, Lando Norris is, in fact, wrapped around your finger. What a horse is everyone can see and similarly, everyone can see and define who Lando is when it comes to his girlfriend:

"Simp?" he reads one of the comments. "Look, maybe I am but at the end of the day I'm dating her and you're not so who's the real loser here?"

Lando can only laugh his heart out when the chat gets flooded with identical comments: You.

"Okay, I admit. I'm down bad for my girlfriend and I'm proud of that."

Tomorrow's headlines are bound to be interesting...

Oscar Piastri

Although Oscar has seen you in musicals countless times, this situation feels a lot weirder and more uncomfortable. When he comes to watch your show, he's in the audience and you're on the stage. Now you're sitting side by side on the couch in your shared apartment, about to see your first movie. You're both the audience and the creator, which leaves you unsure how to act.

Unfortunately, your discomfort only grows. Oscar seems to be enjoying the movie but joy is not granted to you on this day. With each minute, you know your big part is coming. Oh God, what is he going to think?

Then, you suddenly pause the film. Oscar looks at you confused.

"There's something you need to know before you watch this scene and listen to the song," you say before he can ask you about your strange actions.

Oscar's frown only deepens. "You're making it sound really serious."

"Because it is. The thing is... " you hang your voice, unsure how to put words together. How do you tell someone this without making things awkward? "This is more embarrassing than I thought it would be but the song you're about to hear, I wrote it thinking about you."

He's trying to smile but the shadow of embarrassment on his face doesn't go unnoticed. You can only hope it's good kind of nervous.

The movie is resumed. As your discomfort is barely tolerable, you're looking away from the TV, fidgeting ever-so-slightly. Once or twice, you glance at Oscar, trying to see his reaction. The problem is, he's sitting unbelievably still. True, Oscar Piastri tends to be on the calmer side but right now it feels off. As if lost deep in thought, he appears to be diligently contemplating the scene in the movie; picking apart the words that came to your mind while thinking about him.

When the song comes to an end, you pause the film once more. A tense silence falls between you and Oscar, both longing to say something and yet neither willing to.

"So?" you begin hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Oscar shifts awkwardly. "Erm... I don't really know what to say."

A nervous giggle escapes your lips. "It's really sappy, I know." You try to downplay the situation, fearing that his reaction is born out of something negative. Does he think you're clingy? Obsessive? Too dramatic to handle?

"It's not that," he quickly denies. "Well, okay, it is kind of sappy but it's good sappy?" Oscar's tone raises slightly, revealing that he's unsure whether it's the right choice of words.

"Good sappy?" you repeat.

It feels as though woe has weaved a nest inside your viscera. "Good sappy" sounds like a lovely, diplomatic euphemism used not to hurt someone's feelings.

"Yeah, it's just..." Oscar doesn't finish his sentence. He runs his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck nervously. Finally, he looks at you but not in a way you're familiar with. There's something ethereal in his gaze, a glint of inexplicable emotion that would escape a less observant eye. "It's really beautiful," he says. "The fact that you feel this way about me?" You could swear there are tears in his eyes as he lets out a flustered giggle. "I can die happy now."

Carlos Sainz

As old tradition entails, the Thursdays before a race weekend are meant for golfing. And who is Carlos Sainz to not give in to the custom?

He's sitting in his car, impatiently ploughing through the traffic of the city centre. Why are people out and about at this time, anyway? Shouldn't they be at work? Wanting to get his mind off of the fact that he's going to be quite late to the game, Carlos turns on the radio. The man is mindlessly skipping through the stations until something catches his attention - the announcer introduces you as today's guest.

"Hello again, pretty girl," Carlos says to himself. A small smile enters his face.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you," the radio host begins. "Unfinished Business is just the album I've been waiting for this year. And not only me! Have you seen Billboard 100 lately?"

Your flustered giggle is just as adorable as always. "Yesterday evening, I think?"

The broadcaster sighs dramatically. "Then you have ancient news. I have the site pulled up now and check it every few minutes. Let me tell you, Unfinished Business has climbed twenty spots since morning."

"Oh, shoot."

"Indeed." The announcer laughs and Carlos does with him. It's such a familiar theme for the driver - you being more humble than you really should be, surprised by the success you entirely deserve.

"Now, to address the elephant in the room or rather on the music charts. Over and Over Again is like a love letter all of us have written but never sent. Tell me all about it!"

"I guess 'love letter' is a pretty good description," you explain. Curious, Carlos turns up the volume. "For some time, I was trying to put my thoughts together and tell someone how I felt but never could quite do it. I can write good songs but in real life, I'm pretty terrible at speaking my mind and talking about feelings. I just don't want people to misunderstand, you know?"

"What are you saying, hermosa?" Carlos asks aloud, although there's no one to answer him.

"At least you can write a song about it! We regular folk are stuck with memes and playlists."

"Thank God, I can!" You laugh and, as embarrassing as it may sound, Carlos feels a sudden warmth spreading through his chest. "I was struggling with saying what I wanted to say to him, so at some point, I just decided I could put those words and feelings into a song. He likes to listen to the radio when he's driving so he might even be listening right now."

Although nothing bad or negative is going on, Carlos feels himself growing tense, nervous. There's no doubt the "he" you keep mentioning is him but what exactly is it you've been trying to tell him? Is there something he's missing?

"Did you tell him you've written a song about him?" the radio host asks.

"It might have slipped my mind," you answer coyly.

The announcer only laughs. "Oh dear, what a way to find out! Without further ado, let's hear your love letter to the mysterious man. I really hope he's listening to us right now. Don't you dare change the station, you lucky guy."

To his own surprise, Carlos recognizes the melody - you've been humming it for weeks now. But as you begin singing, the words leave him in disbelief. Do you really... mean all of that?

Carlos is lost in the song, feeling as though the lyrics aren't just lyrics but your genuine confession; a true love letter, as you have said yourself. He's brought back to reality only when the car behind him honks and Carlos is a hair's breadth away from picking a fight with the other driver. Nothing requires more haste or attention than his girlfriend exclaiming to the whole world that he will always be the one for her and that she will love him over and over again.

Charles Leclerc

You don't hear Charles coming in - you're too lost in your own thing to remember there's an entire world outside of the song and the piano in front of you. On the other hand, Charles doesn't announce his arrival as he doesn't want to disturb you. To be perfectly honest, he's a little too curious to interrupt you. It happens very rarely that you practise outside of the studio and so Charles doesn't really get to hear your more casual singing, not an embellished performance for the audience.

As quietly as he can, he makes his way towards you. Charles casually leans against the doorframe, your back turned to him as you continue playing the piano. He barely bites back the smile that creeps onto his face whenever you effortlessly sing the high notes - they are difficult for professionals and yet you execute them so cleanly, they appear almost too easy.

The lyrics haunt him but in a truly delicious way. A particular note of sincerity in your voice makes the words stick to him like rain does to a reckless passerby. Sure, they will slip away, although not before drenching him; their vital piece will forever lie with him.

When the song comes to an end, Charles (without thinking twice) gives you a hefty applause. The surprise makes you almost fall off the chair.

"Shit, you scared me!" you yell at him. It takes a couple deep breaths and your boyfriend's apologies, to collect yourself. "How much did you hear?"

He shrugs, suddenly realizing that he wasn't supposed to hear even one note of the song. "Pretty much all of it."

Your expression must not be joyful as Charles resumes his apologies and poor attempts at excuses. Suddenly, you cut him off. "How'd you like it?"

For a moment, he only hums and mindlessly knocks at the doorframe, looking for the right words.

"I loved it," he confesses. A strange tension in his voice proves he's telling the truth. "It's a beautiful song."

"Good," you answer absentmindedly. Quietly, you nod to yourself before looking back at Charles, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "It would really suck if you hated a song about yourself, you know?"

His eyes grow wide and Charles seems to forget about blinking for a good minute. Judging by the changes in his expression, you can tell the exact thought process he's experiencing: realizing you've written a song about him, joy caused by that, remembering the lyrics and finally taking them personally.

The more observant fans might notice a new addition to his helmet: "Claire de Lune" written in elegant lettering.

George Russell

Common sense might tell you that a race car driver must have no fear. And that would be correct, although quite imprecise. They must have no fear on track, yes, but daily life is quite different from racing, isn't it? Or maybe George is discovering a range of emotions he has not known before.

Your relationship is fresh but that isn't to say it's not serious. The weight of the connection the two of you share is a major part of the reason why George has been dead set on taking things slow. The other part is him knowing what media circus will play out once the news breaks. It's hard to blame him for wanting to keep at least some aspect of his life private, especially one that means so much to him.

As understanding as you are, George's apprehensiveness is tiring. You perfectly understand his reasoning and to some degree share the sentiment but at the same time, you are just somebody in love - you itch to scream it to the whole world. Or, at the very least, share a picture of the two of you. Both of you haven't been middle-schoolers for quite some time now, so why act like ones?

George, like the supportive boyfriend he is, loves to see you in your element. He watches the music videos, yet, but he much prefers the dance practice videos, where you're visibly enjoying each second of the choreography. Therefore, when you upload a new dance video for your song, he's probably the first person to play it.

It's a catchy tune that makes even the most boring people want to dance a little. With his head moving to the rhythm, George doesn't focus much on the lyrics until something in the second verse catches his attention:

So used to hiding We built our kingdom around The right timing

The lines, understandably, hit a little too close to home to be a pure coincidence. Now suspicious, George replays the video - this time, he's actually listening to the words instead of focusing on your dancing. Any hesitation that he's the true recipient of the song is gone with the first line of "Say you want me". The desperation in your voice is simply too candid to be just an act for the sake of the performance.

With the song loudly playing on a loop, George is scrolling through his phone's gallery in search of the best pictures of the two of you. He can't help but mouth the lyrics along with your singing, only to randomly giggle as the thought once again settles - it's about him.

Your phone can't stop vibrating. The notifications are coming nonstop. What on Earth happened? Upon opening Instagram, the mystery is solved. The internet seemed to be set on fire when George posted a series of pictures of the two of you with a caption that earned a giddy chuckle from you: "Setting us in motion".

Max Verstappen

Max and you both understand how much support can change. Sometimes just knowing that this other person is out there, watching and cheering, can change everything. As such, the two of you try to attend each other's events as much as you can. Unfortunately, the universe isn't always kind and you end up on the opposite ends of the world. The only support you can offer then is watching the live-streamed event - just like Max is doing right now.

He's sitting in his driver's room in Singapore, while you're at an award show in the USA. Quite the distance. There's something unbearably humbling about having to watch your performance like most of the world, when Max is, without a doubt, not most of the world.

In the back of his mind, Max is still thinking about the conversation he had with you earlier. Although he never misses your performances, you made it a point to tell him to watch this one. In your own words, he's supposed to look out for something fun, like a detail that will make this show different from the others. So as though he is a hawk, or more of a vulture, Max is hyperanalizing everything that's happening on the screen. He's not about to miss your little surprise.

The song begins and as much as he wants to enjoy watching you in your element, Max is a missile on a mission. Nothing specific seems to catch his eye but that t-shirt you're wearing...

Max knows it all too well. Theoretically, it's his t-shirt but considering you wear it more often than he does, it's practically yours. Now it's styled to fit the concept and image of your bandmates but the colour, the logo, the number, are all unmistakeable. Considering how much you're touching the article of clothing, compared to other dancers, he's convinced he's found what he was meant to look for.

Before he can wonder why you've chosen to wear his t-shirt for your performance, it's you who gives him the answer through the lyrics:

I feel like for the first time I am not faking Fingers on my buttons and now you're playing Master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself

Max Verstappen doesn't get flustered but if he did, he'd be beyond flustered right now. The realization hits him like a derailed train - the song that everyone has been obsessed with through the summer and that has pretty obvious sexual lyrics is actually about him.

And if he did get flustered, the emotion would be rather short-lived, giving way to pride. After all, the core meaning of the song is that he's a generous lover, right? Clearly, he's been taking good care of his girlfriend.

Now, each sung line of "Just the touch of your love" makes Max all the more frustrated that the two of you are so far apart. He's earned his title of "Master of anticipation" and he intends to keep it.

519 notes · View notes

hoe4hotchner · 2 months ago

Note

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.

281 notes · View notes

bluemoonscape · 15 days ago

Text

After today's Hyuna comic, I don't think I've ever loved her more.

It strikes me how startlingly selfless she is. The 4nakt group - Mizi, Till, Ivan, Sua - all of their performances are charged with a passion and love for one another. Luka and Hyuna's performances stand out in this way because they aren't singing for love. Luka sings to win. Hyuna sings not because she has to anymore, but because she wants to.

When she breaks out into that spontaneous performance in the comic to rally the other rebels while Jacob is gone, it looks like it's almost physically painful for her. How could it not be? The lyrics tease shows us that she lost her leg escaping Alien Stage. She lost her brother in Anakt Garden. Singing was probably so tainted for her.

But she did it anyway. Time and time again, Hyuna's entire world falls apart. Hyunwoo died, and thus, he and Luka were both gone to her. Her illusion of safety was ripped from her. She was gravely wounded in her escape. She couldn't save the other kids. She lost Jacob, who was like a brother to her - she lost a second brother. Anyone else would crumble utterly.

But Hyuna didn't. Every time, she gets back up. She fights no matter what. She takes back every little bit of her life that she lost in her own way with hands torn bloody from holding on and avenges it. She's painfully selfless, she literally gives her voice, her life, to those around her to try and save them, or even just to lift them up for the moment. It makes me wonder whether that ties into her relationship with Luka, too - he seemed so alone in Anakt Garden without Hyuna and Hyunwoo. Could she have seen him and thought, I can save him, that thing inside of him?

Hyuna's life is a sum of all the people she couldn't save. She couldn't save Hyunwoo. My fault. She couldn't save Luka. My fault. She couldn't save those kids. My fault. She couldn't save Jacob. My fault. My fault, my fault, my fault.

Yet she continues to try. After all of that pain, she still saved Mizi from her round against Luka and freed her. She tried to save her by holding her back from going after Till during Round 7 because she knew that Mizi was doing exactly what Hyuna had done time and time again, and she already knew what the outcome would be. She had gone against Luka. She had gone against the Segyein. She knew Till couldn't win. Mizi couldn't win.

She tried to protect her, just like Sua tried to protect Mizi, right up until the minute she couldn't shield her from the truth anymore.

This brings me to the apparent song for next episode, Wiege. Cradle. Hyuna's cradle was ripped from her, so she tries to be the cradle for others. The safety. The savior.

But now she has to face the music. She can't save Luka if he doesn't want to be saved. She can't save Mizi because Mizi made her choice. Maybe she can't even save herself now.

This round is going to be a hell of a time and no I am not ready like ever

#alien stage #alnst #alnst friday #alien stage hyuna #alnst hyuna #alien stage luka #alnst luka #hyuluka #alien stage mizi #alnst mizi #my post #alnst analysis

81 notes · View notes

lumosinlove · 6 months ago

Text

Write Me In

Part Four

Leo was surprised that he slept at all, but when he woke up the next morning, the light was bright through the gauzy curtains and he sat up feeling like he was forgetting something. It was a trade off he’d learned to deal with. Either his insomnia kept him up all night, or he crashed hard and woke up wondering if he’d been asleep for a week. Or maybe it was just this place. He’d left a window open and the smell of the ocean was so heavenly that Leo nearly fell back into his pillows and basked in it. Until he remembered. Then he fell back into his pillows and tried to figure out what had happened last night, and what might be waiting for him out there.

He listened.

Guitar. Soft, beautiful guitar.

Maybe it had even been what had woken him. That, or the smell of coffee. Leo had seen about five different ways of making coffee in that kitchen and he tried to calm himself by seeing if he could figure out what they were using. It was probably impossible—it was just coffee—but he tried anyway. French press. Espresso. Stove top. Coffee machine, like the one Finn had forgone all of the fancier equipment for back in New York. Maybe he preferred it. What did Logan prefer?

They had wanted to be with him last night. Even worse, Leo had wanted to be with them last night. He could have been waking up in that master bedroom he’d caught a glimpse of. Logan and Finn’s suitcases both disasters on the floor. Now, the bed would be unmade. Had they stayed up late by the fire or followed Leo inside soon after? Leo had forced himself not to listen. He’d counted sheep. He’d counted waves down below. He’d counted his own breaths and heartbeats and all but forced himself to sleep so he wouldn’t count the ways that conversation could have gone or how that night could have ended.

And now Finn O’Hara was playing guitar in the main room—it was Finn. Logan picked it up sometimes but he wasn’t as nimble with it as Finn. So, maybe Logan was making coffee. Or it was only Finn awake with coffee and music and Logan was sleeping in as usual. He clicked on his phone. Eight-thirty. If Logan had his choice, he would still be sleeping. Leo tried to fight the twinge that came with the warm feeling that he knew that.

Leo forced himself to get up. He went to the bathroom, ran wet fingers through his hair, and looked at himself in the mirror. This tedious, nervous feeling didn’t reflect in his face. He looked rested and like he’d gotten some sun. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and regarded himself. He didn’t workout much. He liked the classes he went to with Cassie. He was usually the only guy, but he didn’t mind. They laughed as much as they worked but Leo always left drenched in sweat so he figured it was worth it. He looked like he’d always looked to himself. Maybe not as defined as Finn and Logan with their drumming and back-stage push ups, but he’d always been tall and lean.

He went to his suitcase and looked at his options. They’d walk into town today? They’d go to Logan’s nice restaurant? Would they swim and he’d change before dinner?

Were they going to send him home after he’d refused them? He needed to write.

Finn’s voice, muffled, filtered to him through the door, and Logan’s replied. So, they were both up. At the thought that they were waiting on him, Leo threw on a pair of light wash jeans—cool enough, he supposed—and a white t-shirt.

Everything you want, then Logan had said. Leo ran his hands through his hair again and closed his eyes. He wanted quite a bit, and none of it had to do with clothes.

He opened his door slowly and the guitar got louder without the wood blocking it. Leo paused, trying to recognize the song.

“—open doors,” Logan was saying. “And…hm. And open doors…”

“And admit that we won,” Finn replied, talking in a meter that wasn’t quite singing. “Begun, won. Not quite a perfect rhyme, but that’s…”

“Non, that’s good. I like that. When you sing it, it’s a perfect one.”

Leo’s heart picked up.

They were writing a song.

He was tempted to stay hidden and listen, but that felt like a betrayal somehow. Rude. This was private.

Finn began to sing, actually sing, if not a little quietly for Leo’s benefit, just as Leo rounded the corner.

“We tried to fight it off with—oh, hey.” Finn was looking at him, a hesitant sort of smile on his face. “Hi, hi, good morning.”

“Hi,” Leo said.

There was a pause. An obvious one. One that made Leo panic, just a little. Finn’s eyes were a soft, worried brown and Leo didn’t know what to do with that. Logan saved him.

“Salut,” Logan said. He was standing by the stove in a white linen shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and holding a stovetop espresso pot. He looked so tan against the white shirt, his hair wet and curlier than usual—from a swim in the ocean? It was pushed back from his face like Leo had seen it that first day at their apartment in New York. Leo glanced back at Finn, who was already looking at him. The expression on his face seemed to say I know, right?

Logan held up the silver pot and Leo made himself study that instead. It looked well-loved. Stained, the metal changed from the heat.

“Coffee?” Logan asked.

“Yes,” Leo said. “Yeah, please.”

“Did you sleep okay?” Finn asked.

“Was everything—” Logan began to ask, then registered what Finn said. “Oh, ouais, yeah, did you…yeah.”

Finn laughed and gave him a helpless sort of shrug and it made Leo relax a little. They didn’t seem upset. Or like they wanted him gone. They seemed nervous, too.

“I did,” Leo said. “Sleeping with the window open and hearing the waves is so great.”

“I know,” Finn said. “Soothing.”

“I put a little bit of sugar,” Logan said. He nudged an espresso cup across the counter. “Because it’s good.”

“How much is a ‘little bit’ of sugar in your world?” Leo asked—Because it seemed like it might crack some of this worry between them, brittle and crystalized as sugar itself.

Logan’s smile proved him right. “I guessed at what your 'little bit’ would be.” Logan tilted his head. “I think I did good.”

Logan wanted to take them into town for breakfast. Leo wondered if the same car was going to come and pick them up, but it turned out Logan had other plans. He led them through a door—Leo honestly, at this point, wasn’t even going to try to map the house. It sprawled in directions he couldn’t even clock. This time they ended up in a garage that had two cars covered in crisp white sheets.

“Pick a color,” Logan said. “Yellow or green.”

“Oh my God,” Finn said. “Logan.”

Logan just smiled and shrugged. “Yellow or green, Leo?"

“Green,” Leo said instantly and Finn gave him a smile.

Logan strode forward, took hold of the closer sheet, and yanked it off in one flourish. Beneath it sat a pristine, gleaming Porsche. It was an older model, vintage looking with a low roof and a bumper that looked like a smile. It’s velvety dark green color was sleek and spotless.

“Wow,” Leo said faintly. “I mean, yes. The obvious choice for a ride to breakfast.”

Finn laughed loudly and it echoed in the room. “I know, right?”

Logan took a pair of keys off of the wall and tossed the other to Finn. “You’re yellow, Coeur.”

Leo blinked and saw a flash of Finn’s lips on Logan’s skin last night. Logan had just called Finn heart.

It was perfect. He and Logan zipped along narrow, cliffside roads in their green car with the bright racer yellow of Finn’s behind them. Besides the colors, they were a perfect match. Leo felt like he was in a movie with the engine in his ears. They couldn’t talk over the roar, not to mention the wind. Logan rolled all the windows down—literally. The card had cranks not buttons. The salty wind whipped at their hair and Leo knew that he might look insane when he got out of the car, but he didn’t care, not with Logan’s strong hands to study. He had one easy on the steering wheel, and dropped the other periodically to change gears. It was a little like the way he drummed. Just a different sort of rhythm.

They didn’t speak until Logan had to slow down because they’d entered a small town. A market was in full swing and everyone seemed to know Logan’s cars—and Logan himself. He waved out the window at two small kids as he pulled into a parking spot. They were jumping up and down and each holding a peach that was dripping down their arms.

Oh, Leo wanted to shop here. He clicked his seatbelt off and looked at Logan.

“Hi,” Logan said. “Fun?”

Leo nodded. “Fun.”

As they walked around, it became clear to Leo that he was going to have to add an entire section to his article that was just about Logan being here. Even his body moved differently. Leo and Finn walked a few paces behind him as he was greeted by nearly every vendor. They all exchanged kisses on both cheeks. Leo sort of wanted to see Logan kiss Finn on both cheeks.

“Beautiful, right?” Finn leaned over and whispered to him. He was in a white t-shirt like Leo’s, and soft looking blue shorts. Exactly which part of the scene in front of them he was referring to, Leo didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. His yes applied to all of it.

Leo was about to buy a few of the peaches he’d seen the kids holding when Logan appeared at his side and dropped coins onto the vendor’s table.

Before Leo could even protest, Logan was guiding him away with a hand on his back and holding something out to him in a flat palm. It was a small pastry nestled in parchment. It looked lemony, or maybe it was an almond paste. On top were two perfect raspberries.

“It’s the best thing you’ll ever eat,” Logan said in French. “I promise.”

“Big promise,” Leo said.

Logan laughed. “It’s true. I dream of them. I could write a song about them.”

“Oh,” Leo said. “Well, in that case.” He picked up the square sweet and took a bite. He’d been right about the almond. It was a sweet, nutty burst in his mouth beside the raspberries. The pastry felt like a thousand thin layers of crisp and butter. Leo closed his eyes and nodded. “Ouais. Yeah, it’s perfect.”

When he opened his eyes again, Logan was still there, gazing up at him with a bright, satisfied grin.

“Let’s get another,” Leo said.

“They sell out fast,” Logan said. “This was their last.”

“Did you get one?”

Logan shrugged. “I wanted you to try it.”

Leo frowned at the half pastry remaining at his hand.

“It’s okay,” Logan said. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

But Leo held out the other half. “Non. Tu en rêves.”

It was maybe one of the best parts of being here, seeing Logan’s face when he spoke French to him.

“You like it,” Logan said. “I can tell.”

Leo mimicked Logan’s shrug. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

Logan bit the inside of his cheek, then smiled. Eyes on Leo, he leaned forward and took the rest of the pastry between his teeth right from Leo’s fingertips. Leo hadn’t been expecting that. He could feel color rise to his cheeks as sure as he felt the sun on his neck.

“Just like you remember?” Leo asked to try and draw attention away from his red face. It came in a double force, though, when Logan raised up a thumb and brushed a crumb from the corner of Leo’s mouth.

“Better,” Logan said. The French word’s soft double L sound gorgeous in his mouth.

Leo self consciously touched where Logan had touched his mouth. He sort of wanted him to do it again.

“Will you write about this?” Logan asked. “I hope you write about this.”

“Our week’s almost up,” Leo said. “Pretty good finale, I’d say.”

Logan’s face fell.

“Mais…the week we agreed on maybe,” Logan said softly. “Or that was agreed on. By others who didn’t know that we…”

Logan dropped his gaze and Leo was right back in last night, the heat of the fire on his face. Finn and Logan’s open expressions and hopeful eyes. Leo glanced around for Finn and found him talking animatedly to a man at a stall of books. Finn O’Hara, Leo thought. He didn’t look like the rock star, or the heart throb, or the dream talk show guest. He was this sweet boy trying his best to meet that man halfway with bad French and hand gestures. Who got called heart by his boyfriend, who had a boyfriend, who wanted Leo’s voice to help them tell the world about each other.

“Would you…” Logan huffed. He looked around and then took Leo by the hand and tugged him towards an old set of narrow steps in the shade of a sweet smelling tree. Leo let him maneuver them into sitting, squeezed next to each other.

Logan fixed him with his bright green eyes. “Would you want to stay?” Logan asked. “You just got here.”

“You…You want me to extend the story?”

“I want you to stay.”

There was a whole landslide of other halves to that sentence. Leo couldn’t have guessed at a single one.

Leo smiled a little. “You know, I didn’t think you liked me when we first met.”

“No one thinks I like them when we first meet.”

The paper bag of peaches was cool on his lap. Logan had a bag, too, and when he caught Leo looking at it, he uncurled the top. Croissants, chocolate and plain.

“I was nervous,” Logan said. “It wasn’t that I didn’t like you. I was worried about the story. Mostly, I was worried you wouldn’t like us.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

“I knew you in the way you knew us,” Logan said. “Through your writing. Non, we don’t know-knoweach other, but we know each other. You can’t write without some truth. Can you?”

He had him there. “That’s true. No, that’s true. Okay…”

“Leo,” Logan said more seriously. He pushed their thighs together harder where they were already touching. “Will you stay? Only if you want to, of course, but…please. We want you to stay.”

God, did he want to. He wanted months of whatever this was. Whatever they were dancing around—because it was something. God, it was something. Leo didn’t sleep much but he had already dreamed about it. He just wished there was a way to tell them that he wouldn’t say it first. He couldn’t say it first. Right now, he was in charge of the most important story of their careers. If something soured—and Leo knew better than most how quickly things could sour—he didn’t want any more tangles than necessary. They had each other. They already had each other.

“I’ve told you how much you’ve meant to me,” Leo began. “And for how long.”

Logan nodded.

“And I’ve told you that you’ve helped me through some bad people and experiences.”

“Ouais. But we got interrupted.”

“We did, yeah. Yeah…” Leo sighed. “Well, the bottom line is, you’re not the first, um…”

“Le sujet,” Logan offered, then winced.

“Subject. Sure. You’re not the first subject who’s wanted to…” There was no better way to say it, honestly. “Sleep with me. That is what was happening last night, wasn’t it?”

“First, we would have wanted to kiss you.”

They both looked up just as Finn sat down, sitting sideways on the step below them so they had to lift let their legs go over his. When he smiled and pushed his sunglasses up on his head, he was Finn O’Hara for a second. It looked like a Vogue cover shoot. And then he tipped Leo’s bag to poke inside and he was Finn again.

Kiss you. He’d surely walked into some far-fetched dream of his own making. But, no, there they were. They were both touching him somehow. Knee against knee. Finn’s knuckles kept brushing his ankle. It was comforting.

“You wanted it to go somewhere last night,” Leo repeated. “Kiss, more…but that’s what was going on. I’m not wrong?”

“You’re right,” Logan said. He was blushing. Sweating a little, pushing his hair back. The market was loud and oblivious around them, and Leo wasn’t sure why this conversation was happening here, but it was.

“We didn’t just want to sleep with you,” Logan said.

“Okay…” Leo shook his head and looked at Finn. “The kissing your boyfriend in front of me didn’t really give me any clues farther than fucking.”

“Yeah…” Finn was rubbing at one of his eyes. “I think maybe we’re a little rusty on the flirting side of things.”

“There is no way your flirting is rusty,” Leo said, laughing a little. “Believe me, I think I’d know. I’ve been watching you for a week, you flirt with everyone.”

“No,” Finn said. “Nu-uh. I make everyone think I’m flirting with them. I make whole crowds think I’m flirting with them.” He turned to face Leo. “I flirt…or try to…with you.”

“We weren’t just trying to—” Logan looked horrified. “Là, what, quoi, have sex then goodbye?”

Finn dropped his forehead on Leo’s knee. “We were trying…” He looked up at Logan. “We should have just asked him out to dinner, like, obviously!”

“I did ask him to dinner!” “No, like, ask-ask. That’s not the same thing!”

“Okay,” Leo held up a hand, heart wildly trying to beat against his ribs. Everything inside of him hurt. He couldn’t tell if this was real or not. Mostly, he couldn’t see the infatuation. The short lived lust. Not here. With Finn and Logan, he just couldn’t tell. They both seemed—well, a little nervous, actually. Leo didn’t think he’d seen them so flustered. Ever.

“My job is to make the people I’m writing about feel comfortable,” Leo said. “And it’s been mistaken for attraction before. That’s just…” Leo held up a hand. “I’m just putting that down.”

“You weren’t just making us feel comfortable,” Finn said firmly. “Do you know how many journalists we’ve been around? God, so many and a lot of them are awful. They call my brother behind my back hoping to get some dirt or jealousy. I’ll turn around and they’ve opened one of my fucking notebooks. Leo, you are so different, you are so…” Finn looked at Logan for a moment. “I’ve loved your writing for so long. I read it to Logan, even your pieces from that blog you used to run.”

Leo flushed. “Oh—oh my God, what?”

His blog. When he’d been desperately trying to get clips to big magazines. Finn O’Hara—Read it to—

“You slipped right into us,” Finn said. “You’re gorgeous and you’re so smart and articulate…I think I could talk to you for hours. Nothing felt like an interview, you felt like we’d known you forever.”

“Forever,” Logan agreed.

Leo wanted to shake them. “Finn, that’s my job. I’m really fucking good at my job.”

“Yeah, but how often do you forget you’re doing you’re job because you’re happy, too?” Finn fired back, but then his eyes softened. He put a hand on Leo’s knee. “You felt it, too. You can’t tell me I’m wrong about that.”

“Yes, I—” Leo closed his eyes briefly. “Yes. Yes, of course I did. I did.”

He really could have talked to them forever. Sometimes he’d even forgotten there was a show to perform when they’d been laughing and talking in their dressing room beforehand. He could have listened to them forever. Logan’s little French mumbles. The way he closed his eyes when he practiced a song. They way his fingers drummed on every surface—they were twitching on Leo’s other knee now. The songs Finn sang around hotel rooms and apartments—not his own songs. His favorite songs. Leo wanted to know all of Finn’s favorite songs and why. They way they watched him cook. The way they showed their appreciation. The way they kissed each other. He wanted to brush his teeth beside them and crawl into bed and talk after turning the lights off until they were too tired. What a fantasy.

“Look,” Leo said. “I’m not just protecting myself here. Do I think you’re both—God, so gorgeous I can’t breathe, and sweet, and funny, and talented, yes. But I thought that even before I knew you. I’m trying to separate my skills from myself for your sake, and I’m trying to separate your stardom and your selves for my sake. And yours. Guys, you don’t want someone who wants you because you’re famous.”

“You don’t,” Finn said. “I know what that looks like.”

“We both do,” Logan said.

“I—okay. Of course you would know. But even still.” Leo sighed, heart heavier by the moment. He didn’t know if he was wrong here or if they were just good at trying to prove him wrong. “You have each other. You are asking me to write about your love for the first time in public and that’s a big deal. You two are going to get so much attention, it’s insane. And you’re telling me you like me, and you feel something for me, but there is going to be literally zero room for me when not only does your album come out, but this article. If you even still want me then.”

Leo was so out of breath it made his heart pound and stars appear at the edges of his visions. Those last words had come out a whisper. He’d said it, though. All of it. He’d needed the words and the words had been right there for him to arrange. Even more, Leo and Finn were both completely silent, completely still, and listening.

“I’ve been the thing that someone keeps in the dark before,” Leo said, keeping his eyes down. He felt Logan’s hand tighten on his knee. “Literally. He wouldn’t even keep the lights on when we kissed.”

Logan’s other hand appeared. Or Finn’s? They were all but holding whatever part of him they could reach now. Leo couldn’t push them away. Maybe right now he could explain to them why he thought he should be saying no, but he didn’t want them to let go.

“Am I very attracted to you both? Yes. Was it very hard to say no last night?” Leo’s laugh was half groan. “God, yes. But am I going to be kept in any sort of darkness ever again?” Leo swallowed hard, throat tight, and shook his head. “No. I’m…I’m sorry, but no.”

No sooner had Leo finished that sentence than did one of the little kids that had been practically hanging off of Logan’s body earlier launch itself over Finn’s legs and straight into Logan’s lap. She started talking a mile a minute—even Leo couldn’t quite keep up. Logan just stared. He held the little girl, nodding, smiling, but in a daze. Leo didn’t know if Finn knew his hand was on Leo’s calf, tightening and loosening, maybe as he tried to think what to do. What to say.

Leo was just beginning to suspect maybe he had said too much when the girl’s mother called her away.

They were still quiet. Leo could pick out each of their breathing. He looked at Finn, because his silence meant he still wasn’t convinced. Leo didn’t really want him to be.

“Logan told me that he thinks about the way he used to miss you, and misses you sometimes even when you’re asleep right next to him.”

Finn looked at Logan, lips parting. He didn’t look surprised, exactly. Just like it hurt to hear it again.

Leo covered Finn’s hand with his, drawing his eyes back to him. “That’s love. That’s what you have.”

Finn didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe we have more to give.”

Leo stared at him. Again—what were they doing, tucked away from the crowds in this little set of steps, talking about this?

Logan was so quiet, had been so quiet the whole time, that Leo had to look at him. Logan Tremblay. In what world did Logan Tremblay look at him like this? Like he was about to sing the chorus of I See Red, or leave the stage for Rooftop. The expression on his face looked real enough. Leo had to admit that.

“I don’t trust people,” Logan said under Leo’s gaze. “But I trust you.” When Leo went to speak, Logan pressed a palm to his chest. “Don’t tell me what happened on the balcony was your job. It wasn’t.”

“No. That wasn’t,” Leo said softly.

“How about this,” Finn said. “Stay long enough to get everything for the piece.”

“And we haven’t played you any of the new album,�� Logan cut in.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Finn said. “Hey, that’s in the contract for your piece.” He smiled. “You get to hear three songs.”

Leo couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Are you bribing me with your music?”

“Not bribing,” Finn said. “I want to know what you think. Always.”

“We.”

“We want to know what you think,” Finn said. “And we never said a word to your editors about this being more than just a music story, so…” Finn tilted his head. “Technically, we can all renegotiate and you…You can ask for more time with us?” He looked so, so hopeful. “And maybe, just maybe, we can show you that we’re not under some love-sick spell cast by your outstanding professionalism.”

Leo’s laugh was real this time, and so sudden that he covered his mouth. “Cast my by professionalism?”

Finn grinned and untangled himself enough to stand up. He offered them both a hand. “Come on. Let’s take our time.”

God. Finn O’Hara and all of his perfect words. “Time sounds good.”

It wasn’t a hard sell. The second Finn and Logan’s people told Leo’s people just how big this story would be, Leo was basically told to stay put for now, and Finn and Logan were told to only talk to Leo about this until the story was out and couldn’t be leaked. Essentially, they were told to talk, work, write, and not leave.

That had been five days ago. Leo was now thoroughly sunned, oceaned, and thinking a whole lot about Logan’s hand on his chest, Finn’s on his ankle, and kissing.

They went to the market nearly every morning. Leo had made a, if he could say so himself, perfect peach pie with the fruit he’d bought—Logan had bought. They’d been to Logan’s raved about restaurant and Leo had gotten his cheeks kissed by no less than six waiters. Logan had been right. He’d never tasted food like that.

They’d walked down Logan’s cliffs and spend hours lounging in the shade and sun and diving into deep, clear water. Leo had tried not to stare at Finn’s marble-pale chest in the sun. Logan’s tan-line that drew itself oh-so low on his hips. In his notebook lay the phrase couple of fucking mermaids that wouldn’t make it into any sort of writing but it was true.

Each night, Logan built a fire and Finn brought out a special wine—now Leo had seen him spend a good forty minutes with the man who owned the wine shop in town. Apparently it was a hobby of Finn’s. The other night, Finn had brought out a small bottle that was sweet and amber colored—and his guitar. Leo had gotten his first new song.

“Okay,” Finn had said. “So, this is called—wait, do you want your notebook or anything?”

Leo, feeling like Christmas morning, shook his head. “No. I just want to listen.”

“Cool.” Finn bit his lip. “Okay, cool. Cool. So it’s called…” He was looking at Leo, hand flexing on the neck of his guitar. “Um.”

“Rouge,” Logan said, sounding bewildered.

“Counting,” Finn burst out, laughing a little. “No, it’s called Counting. Sorry. Okay. Here we go. It’s about—” Finn waved his pick at Logan. “That one.”

Leo laughed. “That one?”

Finn shook his head, grinning down at his guitar as he gave the strings a small twist to make sure it was in tune. “That stupidly handsome person right there.”

Logan rolled his eyes and leaned towards Leo. “Imagine it with big drums. Sounds soft now, that’s how he wrote it, but on stage, on the album, I’m all in.” Logan grinned at Leo and he looked like he did on stage when Finn made him laugh into his mic.

“I think I can do that,” Leo said.

Finn began to sing.

One big game of hide and seek.

Count to ten and come find me.

I’m in here waiting patiently.

Tucked away and so ready.

Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen.

We’re okay just still counting.

I’ll hold you and you hold me.

Strike a match so we can see.

Don’t worry baby, I would count it all for you.

I’d count the miles, the minutes, the ways tried and true.

Five and six and seventeen,

I’d count mountains, towns, and streams,

Sneaking cracks on dark ceilings,

Motes of dust in sunlight gleams,

I would count most anything.

Leo forgot about the glass he was holding. He had to set it down. He leaned forward, towards the warm fire. Finn was perfect in its light. His dark red hair, the orange glow, the tan, scuffed up wood of his guitar. Leo spared a glance at Logan, who was already watching him. He didn’t look nervous like Finn. He looked relieved. As Leo watched, he let out a breath and nodded, biting back a smile. Finn’s eyes were closed, fingers quick on the guitar, the heel of his palm standing in place for what would be Logan’s beat.

Days

And months

And years

Of him,

Skin

And laughs

And sinking

In,

There a first for everythin’,

Listen up, he’s mine.

He’s

The Sun

I’m basking in

Crash

Into

His waves and swim

Fills me up right to my brim

If I overflow it’s fine.

Listen up, he’s mine—

I could build a shrine

I would pour the wine

Worship till I die

The god I recognize.

Leo was more than used to feeling breathless at Finn’s music, but this song sucked all the air from his lungs. He knew that counting. He knew the feeling of striking that match. He didn’t know what it was to be with someone through it, but he certainly knew.

Finn settled his guitar carefully on the couch when he was finished. He was all nervous energy, rubbing his hands together and fidgeting. He rose briefly and poured Leo more wine before settling back on the couch.

“So, there’s—yeah. What do you…” Finn trailed off.

“It’s beautiful,” Leo said. “It’s…If I overflow, it’s fine. I love that. I really love that, you—and the counting, that’s just perfectly true. That’s so true…” Leo felt his throat closing up and took a slow breath. “God, Finn. Both of you…It’s—I’ve always thought you walk this perfect line between sweet and…”

“And?” Logan asked when Leo trailed of.

Leo had only done so because he’d realized what he had been about to say. He’d already written about it, though, which meant Finn had already read it, so he might as well. “Well. Just—epic. It’s an epic love, it’s—sexy. That’s how you write it.”

“Hm.” Logan looked pleased.

“I hoped you would understand,” Finn said. “I mean, I knew you would.”

“This is your first song using him,” Leo said. “No French girls met on tour, no room for misunderstanding.”

Logan grumbled something about French girls into his wine cup and Finn reached over and pulled him into a sloppy sort of kiss. Logan let his face be smushed into an equally joyful kiss on his cheek.

“None,” Finn said. “No more of all that. We want to be clear. On everything.”

Leo sat back against the cushions. “Everything.”

“Ouais,” Logan said. “Everything.”

Nearing the end of their second week, Leo and Finn were swimming. Finn kept diving down and bringing Leo little treasures from the bottom. He had this funny pair of goggles that he wore to do it. He’d push them down around his neck and show Leo shells and interesting rocks before tossing them back under. His body looked cool and pale under the surface.

Finn kept surprising him. Maybe that showed on his face because, as they tread water, talking, Finn tilted his head and asked.

“What?” Finn said, dipping his mouth low into the salt water before rising again. “What’s with the face?”

Leo brought his legs forward to float more on his back, laughing. “Oh. Nothing.”

Finn splashed him. “What?” He swam closer until Leo could pick out new freckles on his slightly sunburned nose. “What, what, what?”

They were near the rocky ledges and Finn pointed out a spot that he probably knew well, where two people could sit on a natural ledge just beneath the water. The stone was rough, but it put them in the shade and the calm waves lapped around their chests.

“You’re just…” Leo pressed his lips together, smiling.

“Okay, I’m gonna like, dunk you or something if you don’t—”

“You’re kind of a—” Leo shrugged. “A dork.”

Finn’s face was too good not to laugh at.

“I’m a what?”

“A dork,” Leo said. “Completely.”

“Excuse me.” Finn leaned closer. “I am not.”

“A dork,” Leo sighed. “Pop star dork.” Finn squinted at Leo in the sun, smiling. He still had the goggles around his neck and Leo reached forward and hooked a finger in them. “See?”

Finn hummed noncommittally. He’d let Leo’s hand nudge them closer together.

“Well, I guess that’s all right, then.”

Finn skipped his hand along the water’s surface. It was almost too bright to look at directly with the sun coming off it like that, and Leo leaned back against the rock and the shade, keeping his eyes on Finn instead.

“So—possible article question for you,” he said. “If it’s all right?”

“Go for it.”

Leo touched a sparkling vein of mineral in the rock, tracing his finger down it. “What’s it like when you first play Logan a song like that one you played me?”

“Like…what? A love song?”

“Well, yeah, to put it lightly. But…Listen up, he’s mine, I could build a shrine, I would pour the wine, worship till I die, the god I recognize. Love song…does that begin to cover those lyrics?”

Finn laughed. “Wow. I played that for you once.”

“You’re pretty unforgettable.”

“Shucks.”

Leo drew one knee up to his chest. “It’s…There’s something like I See Red to it.”

“Logan wrote that mostly.”

“I know. Exactly. The way you talk about each other. It is like…intense, I don’t know. I just mean—here. I’ll ask it this way first. What went through your mind when Logan played I See Red for you the first time?”

“Mm.” Finn smiled at the memory. “You mean what happened after he told me he wants me all over him?”

Leo tried not to show how hot his body flashed, burning, even in the cool ocean. He rested his chin on his knee, then his mouth, just to hide the wavering sort of inhale he took.

“If—whatever you want to tell me,” Leo managed.

Finn mirrored Leo’s position—knee up, hands locked around his ankle. “How would you feel if someone played a song like that for you? About you.”

“That’s my question.”

“You first.”

Leo rolled his eyes.

“That’s right,” Finn said, propping his chin on his knee like Leo with a sly sort of grin. “I’m a difficult little rock star.”

“Oh, are you writing an article?” Leo laughed.

Finn’s brown eyes stayed sincere and playful. “I don’t write articles.”

Leo stared at him. Finn was visibly holding himself back, even if he was leaning forward and kept looking at Leo’s mouth. Leo had to remind himself that he’d asked him to. Finn wanted him. Finn still wanted him, that was obvious. His brown eyes were a little bit of fall right there in the summer sun. Leo kind of wanted to be kissed on this ledge in the ocean.

I don’t write articles.

“What’s that mean?” Leo asked faintly.

Finn considered him for another moment. “You said you’ve had…clients fall for you before.” Finn looked especially handsome asking a question in his little melodramatic way. Leo didn’t know what it was, but he did. “Ever had a song written about you?”

Okayokayokay. “No…”

“Hm.”

“Not that I know of.” Leo swallowed. He tasted salt on his lips. “Now you. You have to answer.”

“You didn’t answer.”

Leo sighed, smiling. “I…” He tried to clear his head. A song. Lyrics that were so all-consuming. “I would feel…”

He didn’t know. It was almost unimaginable.

He hesitated for long enough, cheek pressed to his knee now, that Finn copied him in that, too, and helped him.

“Timeless,” Finn said.

That gave Leo a word. “Immortal.”

Finn nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly.

Leo watched the sunlight play on Finn’s freckles. He was the picture of a high noon sun, and he was looking between Leo’s eyes and his mouth.

Neither of them saw the wave.

They got a face full of water to splutter through as it’s gentle crest went nearly over their heads, lifting them from their seat.

“They say every tenth one is the biggest,” Finn laughed. He put his goggles back on, grinned at Leo, and held up two thumbs up. “Lunch?”

He felt tan, and cool from the water as they made it back to the house. He didn’t bother washing the salt off his skin, just threw on a fresh pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He only realized when he glanced at himself in the mirror that he and Finn must have swapped on accident at the water’s edge. Instead of his plain white t-shirt, this one was white with a faded NASA logo on it. Leo’s pulse kicked up. He’d seen Finn wear this. On stage. Many times. It was famous on Instagram and Twitter. Replicas had been made. Girls wore copies of this t-shirt to their concerts.

Leo was standing here, wearing the original.

He took a breath before going back out to the living room.

Finn went off to write somewhere with his guitar, but Leo fixed him and Logan sandwiches and they settled in the living room, all of the doors flung wide. Logan was doing a puzzle. Leo had his notebook on his lap with a little section dedicated to transcribing the little murmurs of French Logan said as he worked. Not for the story, just for him. No, not there. This stupid blue. Wrong color. Ah, yes, here. This fits.

Leo sighed and dropped his pen, flexing his cramping hand.

“Ça va?” Logan asked from where he’d been frowning over two puzzle pieces. Leo was still getting over the sheer sweetness of the intense-on-stage-Logan he had known sitting in front of him for an hour and putting a puzzle together. Leo wasn’t sure what the picture would end up being. Logan refused to look at the box lid for reference. It was face-down beside him. Again, Leo sort of wanted to laugh at how he’d thought it would be an all-night party every night. Nope. Late morning coffee, farmer’s markets, cocktails, and puzzles. Much more his speed.

“Yeah, good,” Leo said. “My hand just cramps up if I write for too long. Hand write, at least.”

“Hm.” Logan set the pieces he was holding down and pushed himself up onto his knees. He walked himself over to the couch that way and sank back on his heels at Leo’s feet. He held out his hands. “Give to me.”

“I—what?” Leo asked.

Logan just made an impatient sound and reached for the hand that Leo had been stretching out. He arranged Leo’s hand palm up with his fingers flat but relaxed. Then Logan’s strong thumbs began pressing into the heel of Leo’s palm, smoothing down towards the inside of his wrist. He pressed near his elbow too—Leo hadn’t even realized it hurt there.

“It’s all connected, the wrist, the fingers, it goes all the way to the shoulder,” Logan said. His accent got a little stronger here and Leo almost wanted to ask him to say all that again. But then Logan was kneading at Leo’s shoulder just below his collarbone and—

“Oh,” Leo said faintly. “That feels…”

Logan smiled. “Je sais. Finn is even better at it, I make him do it to me all the time.”

Leo thought about the way Finn liked to come up behind him or Logan, and the way he squeezed their shoulders. If he was putting effort and purpose behind that…Yeah, it would be heavenly.

“I like your shirt,” Logan said teasingly.

“I guess we swapped.”

“Mm. Guess so.”

Leo just tilted his head to the side and let himself relax in Logan’s hands as he worked out the soreness. He hadn’t realized his eyes had closed until he felt Logan’s fingers slowing. Finally, they stilled, both cradling Leo’s hand again. He opened his eyes to see green staring back. Logan had settled very close on the couch, but maybe Leo had drawn him there, too, unconsciously pulling him closer to where it hurt so that he could make it better.

Logan rested a hand on his chest, just as he had at the market. His eyes darted down to Leo’s mouth. Logan had a perfect cupid’s bow. So perfect. Leo wanted to take it in his mouth and feel its dip.

He’d wanted that in the ocean, too. Finn had a freckle on his lip, just at the border where pale skin met pink, and Leo just…God, he wanted it.

“Leo,” Logan whispered.

“Yes,” Leo said, hearing the question Logan hadn’t yet asked.

“Just one,” Logan said. “Please. Is it okay?”

What else would Leo do other than nod. He was running out of willpower. These boys. These shell-diving, wine-enthusiast, puzzle-doing, grumpy in the morning boys. He worried he was smiling a little too much and tried to take a breath. Tried to steady himself. Logan pushed himself up onto the couch, kneeling with on knee down so that Leo’s body angled towards him. One of his hands went to Leo’s thigh, bunching the fabric of his shorts.

It was the softest kiss Leo had ever been given. Logan lingered in it, though. A soft, giddy intake of breath and the lightest of tugs at Leo’s bottom lip.

Leo’s hand went to his waist, to the very spot he had been dying to touch. Near the tattoo. And the cupid’s bow, he could feel it. And the way Logan held himself perfectly still, as if letting Leo control the whole thing. The problem was, Leo’s mind was forgetting almost everything he’d said just a few days ago.

Here, they were just two boys.

Logan made a soft sound in his throat when Leo tilted his chin up to kiss him harder. It parted his lips and Leo tested gently, but Logan let him right in. He tasted the mint tea Logan had been drinking—seemingly the only thing he took without sugar. Logan’s fingers curled and held onto Leo’s t-shirt. Finn’s t-shirt.

Here, there felt like there was all the room for him in the world, even if he didn’t understand why they wanted him to begin with.

Here, it didn’t seem to matter that he was a journalist and they his subjects.

Logan broke the kiss gently, but stayed close. The string that would break Leo’s resolve hadn’t snapped, but oh, was it ever threadbare. Logan could probably feel how fast Leo’s heart was pounding beneath his hand.

“Ça va?” Logan asked faintly.

Leo had to swallow hard to find his voice. “Mhm.”

Logan nodded, the motion bringing their foreheads to rest together. He shifted and let out a sigh.

Leo realized he’d tucked his hands up and under Logan’s shirt and he just had to look down for a glimpse of that tattoo.

He got a lot more.

Logan’s shorts were straining around his hips. Leo got turned on so fast, stars sparked around his vision. The shorts were linen. White. Barely anything. They buttoned, not zipped, and those buttons were trying to hold on.

“Sorry,” Logan whispered.

“No,” Leo managed to say. He sounded weird to himself. “It’s—you’re fine. Very fine.”

“I just…” Logan laughed a little. He cupped a palm to Leo’s face briefly before pulling away. He flashed him a bashful smile as he turned back to sit on the couch. “Là, I mean, look at you. I’m…d’accord. I don’t mean to…”

Leo needed to say something more. He needed to say something not stupid. Something other than I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming right now.

“We’re taking our time,” Logan said. He took Leo’s hand and squeezed.

“I—no, we are,” Leo said. But if you wanted to sit on my lap right fucking now—

“Ouais,” Logan said. He was breathing slow, like he was trying to will himself to calm down. “Okay, so I will—be right back?”

They both kind of dissolved into laughter at that. Logan sat next to him, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Merde. Does this go into the piece?”

Leo had to stop laughing long enough to say, “In the middle of doing a puzzle, Tremblay had to be right back—”

Logan let out one of his free laughs and reached over blindly to shove at Leo’s knee. “Hey, take a look at yourself. You’re just as bad.”

Leo was trying very hard not to think about himself.

Logan rose, face flushed, and jerked his head towards the puzzle. “See if you can figure out that hellish thing over there.”

Leo watched as he disappeared through the doorway. Leo didn’t know if he was going to find Finn to help or go somewhere on his own to—well, fix it or calm down. Both thoughts sent Leo’s body aching. He had to lean his head back on the couch and breathe. He reached down and tried to make himself more comfortable, but it didn’t help.

He picked his notebook back up. He flexed his hand and picked up his pen. No use. He closed his notebook. He looked at Logan’s puzzle.

He took a deep breath, slid himself to the floor, and set about fitting a couple pieces into place.

Leo got called back the next morning via an email with airline tickets attached for the following morning. Apparently endless time equated a week more. Rather, Leo would be sent back out to a show when their tour started back up to write a follow-up snippet on what it was like playing shows as a couple.

But it left Leo a little frantic and disoriented. It left Logan and Finn staring at him with faces that were almost mournful when he broke them the news over morning coffee.

Logan punched Finn’s arm. “Be a difficult little rock star.”

Finn arched a brow at Leo. “Can I?”

Leo smiled, tempted to take Finn up on it, but he knew it was probably no good. He was supposed to be with them for a week. It’d been almost three. His boss would want their story polished and published, and Leo back in the office.

Only now here he was. His last night in this perfect place, unable to sleep.

The sleeplessness wasn’t new to him. He’d had insomnia ever since he could remember. It was only that it was here. He’d never slept so well in his life as he had these past few weeks.

It could have been worse. At least with all the extra space and the crashing waves, he didn’t feel worried about waking anyone up as he made himself some tea in the kitchen before trying to lull himself back to sleep by proofreading. Nothing exhausted him like proofreading.

He rubbed at his eyes as the kettle heated. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t feel like he had an old life. This felt like his life. Waking up and Logan making him that perfect bitter sweet espresso. Finn’s music all day long, soft plucks on the guitar, humming as they read together on the dock. Finn coming to peak over his shoulder while he was writing, stealing his pen out of his hand and adding seemingly random words. Blue!! Sunny!! Dazzle!!

The morning markets. Logan’s almond pastry. Puzzles and movies and how did he get here? Oh God, how did he love the hours of the day so much?

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Leo jumped hard, eyes flashing open as he turned. Finn was standing there in a well-loved t-shirt that said New York Rangers. He had his hands in the pockets of his cotton pajama pants and was smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

Leo laughed, hand on his chest. “No, me. I mean, I’m sorry. You startled me. What are you doing awake?”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing?”

“Lord, am I a hopeless sleeper,” Leo said. “I’ve been getting up at one in the morning and staying awake until three for as long as I can remember.”

“Oh.” Finn frowned. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“I’m used to it. What about you?”

Finn shrugged. “I think I heard you.”

“Fuck.” Leo felt his shoulders slump. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Finn said. “I was kind of already awake.” He paused and leaned his hands on the cool stone counter between them. “Was thinking about you leaving.”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “Me too.”

“You really have to go?”

“You have to go, too,” Leo said. “You’re kind of on a world tour, you know.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Finn said. “Sorry, I’ve been doing more important things lately.”

Leo smiled. “Oh…I don’t know about that.”

Finn gave him this unconvinced look as he rounded the kitchen counter. He looked like he was on stage all of a sudden. Something about his walk. The daring look in his eye. Like he was about to say something to a crowd that was sure to get a reaction.

He stopped right next to Leo and crossed his arms, looking at him. Unlike Logan, they were almost eye-to-eye. Finn’s smile brought heat from Leo’s chest to his hips.

“I hear Logan got a kiss.”

That heat spread out farther. His cheeks. His neck. Finn’s eyes darted over his face like he was watching it.

“He did,” Leo said. Oh God, please kiss me.

Finn clicked his tongue like it was a shame. “Would’ve liked to see it, gotta say.”

Leo laughed a little. “Honestly, me too.”

Finn bit his lip. He was sort of smiling, but there was something else there, too. It was half hidden in the dim kitchen.

“Is it…Is it that you like one of us better?” A flicker of insecurity. “Because if—”

Leo pushed his hands against Finn’s chest. Stopping him. Holding him there. Brown eyes, bed-head, skin still salty from the sea. Leo had always loved Finn O’Hara. But Finn. This Finn was something else. This Logan… All of those fans didn’t even have a clue.

Leo couldn’t stand that hurt look on Finn’s face. He curled a hand behind Finn’s neck and pulled him closer. Like he’d wanted to in the ocean. Like he’d wanted to every time he heard him sing.

“Finn, I like both of you so much, it scares me.”

“Then…” Finn leaned closer, dropping his voice to hardly a whisper, so quiet that Leo more felt the words brush his own lips than he heard them. “Don’t I get a kiss, too? Before you go? Feeling a little left out over here—”

Leo didn’t let him finish. He pushed forward and kissed him.

His world went perfectly silent.

Oh. Leo grabbed onto Finn’s broad shoulders. Oh, oh, oh, Finn O’Hara could kiss. Oh, Finn could kiss, he could kiss, he kissed Leo like he would never breathe again and Leo felt himself sink. His chin tilted up, his body fell into Finn’s, and Finn took it. Finn held him.

He pressed harder against Finn’s body. Finn made a soft sound when his back hit the counter and his hands smoothed down Leo’s back, cupping his hips.

Finn managed to get out, “Are you—” before Leo was kissing him again.

“Yes,” Leo said. “Yes, yes…”

This was not Logan’s restraint. Not a single kiss. This was the sugar in Finn’s songs, the sugar that always applied to Logan in Leo’s mind. But Finn’s kiss was so all-consuming that it occurred to Leo that some of that sweetness had to belong to him. God, what could Logan do when he wasn’t holding back?

It took Leo a moment to figure out what sound was pulling at his mind and interrupting him. A strange, high-pitch—

“Shit,” Leo mumbled. “Tea, tea, tea.”

Finn didn’t even break away, though. He reached out a hand and flicked the stove off to stop the kettle from whistling.

The renewed silence rung in Leo’s ears. Finn’s palm was rubbing up and down Leo’s back.

Suddenly, Finn was hugging him tightly. His chin was tucked into Leo’s neck and Leo’s hand went to his hair automatically. That famous hair. Red and thick and soft. Leo turned his nose into it.

“You have our numbers,” Finn whispered. “And you know where we’ll be.” His brown eyes looked pleading when he pulled back. “You will choose a show, won’t you? Choose a show and come see us. The article will be out. I know there’s the follow up but—We’ll just be three people.”

Just three people. Leo thought of those little dressing rooms. That New York apartment. This place. But the fear was still there. Three people. Leo didn’t care what strangers thought. He cared about the aftermath of losing them, though. If he lost them…

Finn read it all on his face and he took Leo’s cheeks in his palms. He kissed him—this was closer to Logan’s gentle kiss.

“Come to a show and find out how much I want this,” Finn said. “Okay? Promise me. Or do I have to wake up grumpy and get him to tell you because he’ll probably just burrow in and not let you leave. Ever.” A brush of Finn’s nose against Leo’s. “He’s all about that kind of thing these days.”

Leo’s laugh spilled out, too much and too giddy for the night, but he didn’t mind. When he made to pull back, just a little, Finn took his arms and put them back around his neck. Leo couldn’t help his shiver as Finn’s palms ran down his sides and Finn pressed another smiling kiss to his mouth.

“If you wake him, I really will never leave,” Leo whispered. “And I do have to go.”

“Then promise me.”

Leo closed his eyes. He was so sure he’d be able to sleep just fine if Finn kept holding him like this.

“I promise.”

#write me in lumosinlove #o'knutzy week 2024 #finn o'hara #Leo knut #Logan tremblay #pop star au #rock star au #lelo #finnlo #sunfish #summmerryyyy

125 notes · View notes

chiaraswritings · 2 years ago

Note

Hello can I ask a work from you? :) Maybe Batmom pranks Bruce and the boys (plus steph and cassie) where she goes in labor. By like just putting water on the floor. It’s super chaotic and they all end up slipping on it. She doesn’t tell them it’s a prank until their halfway to the hospital and it’s just super chaotic and funny. Tysm!

Batprank

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Pregnancy, water breaking, pranking, mentions of sexual intercourse, romantic scenes between a married couple. This is not suitable for younger readers. 18+.

Word Count: 2.5K words

Summary: Batmom!reader decides to try out a prank that she found on social media.

Author's Note: Great story idea, anon. Posting this ten minutes before leaving for work, I'm not even dressed yet. So if there are typos or mistakes I'll come back later and edit them out. Don't have bad time management, kids. I hope everyone reading is safe and well, and I hope you all enjoy.

Listen on Spotify while you read…

Part Two

Sunday afternoons could only be described one way in this household. Long and lazy, sometimes excruciatingly so. I was scrolling on my favorite social media app again, watching short videos. If Bruce were laying with me, he'd say I was doom scrolling. He often discouraged the kids and I from this practice of scrolling through short videos for hours on end, but there was hardly anything else to do on an afternoon like this.

I cradled my swollen stomach, one hand resting over my navel, the other propping my phone on the bed. Inside my womb, I could feel flutters of movement, vibrations moving through my stomach. Pausing the video I was watching, I looked down at my stomach. The baby I was carrying had woken and was pushing against the front of my tummy. "Ouch. I know you're just stretching, but you have to wait to come out, little one." I returned my attention to the video of directions on how to fold towels to look like birds.

My thumb swiped mindlessly over the screen for several more minutes. My brain wasn't really processing anything of what I was seeing. I was mainly focused on the baby's movements, feeling her stretch and kick, thinking about the cradle that Dick and Jason had put together for their little sister several weeks before and how it would soon have a newborn in it. Thinking about the songs I was going to sing to her at night. Thinking about seeing Bruce hold her for the first time.

After about ten recommended videos that didn't interest me, I got ready to close the app. I might as well do something more useful with my time. As I swiped to view one last video, the picture of a pregnant woman caught my eye. I watched with interest as she emptied a bottle of water onto the floor next to a flight of stairs, before keeling over clutching her stomach and calling a man's name, along with the news that her water had broken. Much to my amusement, her partner came rushing down the stairs, slipping on the water and sliding across the floor on his backside. I couldn't help but chuckle. It was a good prank, though probably staged, as most pranks on this app tend to be at some level. Would this actually work? I wondered to myself. I closed the app on my phone before pressing the power button to darken the screen. Standing up wasn't my favorite, but I wanted to go see what my husband was up to.

I moved down the stairs cautiously, using the handrail. Falling could damage the organs that kept the baby safe, which is why Bruce had suggested moving to a bedroom on the first floor until she arrived. We hadn't done that yet, but it wasn't the worst idea. Anything to keep little Ava safe. Or Emma. Or something. Over the last seven months, Bruce and I had both been advocating for our own choice of name for the baby. Not that it would matter once we were finally able to hold her in our arms.

Once I had descended down the first flight of stairs, I happened to look back at the steps behind me. It reminded me of the short video I had watched a couple minutes before. I wondered again if the prank actually worked, or if it was staged. What the family's reactions would be if I pulled that sort-of-cruel prank on them. Chuckling at the thought, I started moving towards the entrance to the Batcave.

I followed the stairs down to the dark, cold cave that I had learned to love. After all, this was home to my husband's greatest passion, and I would never try to get in between him and what made him feel fulfilled. I smiled upon seeing my dearest at the Batcomputer. Bruce was fixated on the screen, hardly noticing when I ran my hands over his shoulders from behind, my arms wrapping around his neck. "Hi there."

He looked up, not startled, but he hadn't expected my presence. "You're supposed to be resting."

I pressed a kiss to his bristly cheek. "I got tired of resting."

He turned the chair to face me. His large hands ran over my stomach, trying to feel the movement of his child, but she had already gone back to sleep, it seemed. "Can you wake her up so I can feel her?"

I looked down at him, laughing. "How exactly do you propose I do that?"

He glared at me, but I could see the smile in his eyes. "I don't know how you do that, I've never been pregnant before."

Chuckling, I pecked his lips. "I'd want to know if you had been." Turning my attention to the screen, I noticed the faces of several inmates that had escaped the nearby asylum recently. "Getting anywhere on the case?"

Bruce stood before turning me so my back was to the computer before kissing my lips sweetly. "You're not allowed to think about anything stressful right now, do you understand?"

I chuckled, looking up into his pretty blue eyes. "My poor baby, are you stressed?"

"Maybe. Lots of things going on at the moment." My husband knelt in front of me, pressing gentle kisses to my stomach. "Thinking about the case, the pregnancy, the company, the kids, all of it all at once."

My fingers ran through his uncombed hair. "Don't worry, the baby will be here soon, and you can scratch pregnancy off your worry list."

His eyes met mine again as he gently kissed my stomach. "I'll have a baby to worry about then. You'll tell me right away when your water breaks, won't you?"

Smiling, I took his face in my hands. "You'll be the first to know. After Ava and I, of course."

Bruce's eyes narrowed playfully, and he stood up once again. "You mean Emma?"

I chuckled and pulled him down slightly to brush my nose against his, our lips not quite meeting. "I mean Ava."

"You mean Emma," Bruce grinned, kissing me passionately, stroking my stomach with his thumbs. A giggle escaped my throat, but I didn't break the kiss. He moved his hands to my hips, his caresses moving to my sides.

"I thought you guys promised not to have sex in the cave anymore?" Stephanie's voice cut through our kiss, causing me to jump and Bruce to turn his head to glare at her.

"We are not having sex, though we still can at eight months," Bruce gave me a side glance.

I returned the glance. "You try having sex with a nearly full-grown baby in your tummy. Give it a try, let's see how you like it."

"Fair enough," he muttered before pecking my lips.

Stephanie rolled her eyes as she passed us. "Disgusting, don't talk about it in the cave anymore either."

I chuckled, giving the girl's shoulder a squeeze and my husband's cheek a kiss. "I'm heading back upstairs, sex talk averted."

Feeling Bruce grab my hand, I turned my head back towards him. "You will tell me when you go into labor?"

Reassuringly squeezing his hand, I smiled. "I promise I will. But I'm pretty sure we have some time before that happens."

I made my way up the stairs, leaving Bruce to grump about our moment being interrupted. When I reached the landing, I was greeted by Alfred, who offered me a tall glass of water. "You'll remember what the doctor said about water consumption, madam," he held it out to me, and I almost reluctantly accepted it.

"I do remember, but I don't think I can consume much else after that wonderful lunch you prepared for us, Alfred."

"Flattery gets you nowhere, miss. Drink it all." He stood there so expectantly, his gaze piercing me like a sharp knife. Hesitantly, I sipped from the glass. My words had been the honest truth, I was still full from lunch. At least finishing a small amount got Alfred to turn and head back towards the kitchen.

I looked at the glass in my hand that was still nearly full. Finishing it completely would be too impossible a feat at the moment, but I didn't feel like pouring it down the drain. I thought once again of that short video, of the woman with her own bottle of water, and suddenly, I knew exactly what to do with the remaining water.

...

I had successfully emptied the glass of water onto the floor, a puddle beneath my feet. I made sure to splash some on my clothes before stuffing the glass inside an indoor potted bush. Someone would find it later, I was sure. The prank had been set perfectly next to the staircase on the marble flooring. Observing the scene, I grinned. If this actually were to work...

"Damian, go tell your father that my water broke!" I yelled up the stairs for the person I knew to be in his room.

I saw his head pop around the corner, observing with narrowed eyes, already suspicious. He was always suspicious. But my staged scene was convincing enough. Holding back mirth, I watched as his eyes widened and he made four bounds down the thirty stairs before disappearing into the Batcave's entrance.

Before I could get my laughter out of my system, Bruce, Stephanie, Damian, and Tim were tripping over each other in their haste to be by my side. I clutched my stomach and groaned in mock agony.

"Mom!" I watched with amusement as Tim rushed to my side before falling victim to the puddle of water and slipping, falling and sliding across the floor on his backside. Stephanie, ignoring Tim's accident, was the first to arrive at my side, her enthusiasm clear.

"Is Emma coming?!" She put her hand on my stomach, trying to feel the movement of the baby. I couldn't help but chuckle slightly while acting like I was in pain.

"You mean Ava is coming!" Bruce was about to scoop me into his arms, but instead, slipped in the puddle and landed next to Tim on the marble floor. I ignored my husband's groaning and decided to fight for the victory, while still clutching my stomach.

"Ava? You really mean it?"

"Yes!" Bruce hastily picked himself up, but I could see his bruised ego underneath his concern and panic. Before I could ensure that my battle for my daughter's name was won, I was picked up and nearly dropped again as Bruce clumsily fought with the closet door that stored the delivery bag we had packed a month or two before. "Timothy, get the bag out of the closet!"

I covered my mouth to keep my laughter inside. Tim had been watching the scene with interest from the floor, but he snapped to attention to retrieve the bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jason rounding the corner, looking like he had just woken from a long slumber.

"Wha's goin on?" His sleepy eyes weren't registering the display before him.

"Your mother is about to give birth in our hallway!" My poor husband growled before marching with me to the entryway of the mansion.

"Oh, congratu... huh?" Jason blinked at me.

"Alfred! Where's the damn car!" Bruce was sweating at this point, but I was thoroughly amused. This prank actually worked.

"In the garage, sir, would you like me to fetch it for you?" Alfred, the only calm soul in the vicinity, called from the kitchen.

"Yes! Right now!"

Seconds later, I was being half carried, half hauled out the front door. A small crowd of our family members had gathered, trying to be as helpful as they could, but in reality it was simply Cassandra and Stephanie badgering Bruce with questions about when they could come see the baby, Tim slipping once again in the puddle, and Jason trying to get through to Dick's cell phone. It was when I was stuck in the back seat of the car like a bag full of golf clubs that I decided it was time to come clean. "Guys, I'm just kid-"

I was cut off when Damian slid into the seat next to me with his beloved sword drawn. "Come on, Pennyworth, drive!" His words were intensified as he waved the sword in the air.

"Damian, no, it was just a-"

"Damian, you put that away this instant!" Bruce cut me off once again. "You'll kill your sister before she's even born!" I could see Alfred giving us a side eye from the driver's seat.

"Bruce, Bruce, my water didn't even-"

"Don't worry, one of the kids will clean it up, let's go!" He pushed Damian out of the seat and took his place before slamming the car door shut.

Alfred glanced at us from the rearview mirror. "Yes sir, is the madam comfortable?"

"No I'm not comfortable!" I grabbed Bruce's hand, trying to get his focus as the car pulled out of the gates. I noticed that the car was turning the opposite direction of the hospital. "Darling, I was-"

"I know it hurts, just hang on," he pressed a kiss to my cheek before proceeding to dial Dick's number on his cell phone. "Why isn't he picking up?!"

"It was a prank!" Laughing, I grabbed his face in my hands, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Darling, darling, I was just kidding. It was a prank."

His eyes were blank for a moment before the realization hit. "Are you ser... (Y/N)!"

Chuckling, I pressed my lips to his forehead. "She's not coming yet, I just wanted to see if you'd fall for it."

"But of course I would... did... fall for it..." He grabbed my hand in mine before sighing and kissing the back of it. "Alfred, she pranked us."

"Yes, sir, she certainly did." I could see the butler's half amused glare from the mirror before the car came to a stop at a red light.

My husband pressed a kiss to my lips before giving me an unamused look. "We're naming her Emma, you've lost your naming rights."

I burst into laughter, returning the glare. "I am her mother, I have naming rights!"

He chuckled, shaking his head at me. "Not after that stunt. Don't you agree, Alfred?"

Alfred didn't respond to the question, but instead nodded at the shopping center next to the stoplight. "How convenient, we happen to be right next to the madam's favorite restaurant, shall we make a stop?"

"Yes, that's perfect." Bruce pressed a kiss to my cheek as the car pulled into the parking lot. "I'll get your usual and we can bring it home?"

"Perfect indeed," I chuckled, still in shock that my prank had worked so well. I rested my hand on my stomach while my husband stepped out of the car. Watching him disappear into the doors of the restaurant, I looked over at Alfred. "This restaurant is nowhere near the hospital."

"I do know that, madam."

"And we were supposed to be going to the hospital."

"Were we?"

"You knew?"

Alfred turned in the driver's seat, holding up the empty water glass I had stored in the bush just minutes before, giving me a displeased glance. "I'd bury it a bit deeper next time, Miss (Y/N)."

Part Two

✧ Masterlist

✧ Similar Fanfiction

✧ Spotify

✧ Pinterest (Coming soon)

835 notes · View notes

frightenedcricket · 4 months ago

Text

One of our songs.

Noah Sebastian x Reader. Fluff.

Note: first noah fic!!!

Warning: none, I think.

You muttered the lyrics written in your notebook while your fingers moved up and down in the air. Noah watched you from the corner of his eye as he pretended to be working on something.

"Is it... Uh... That's how it happened, right? He cheated"

You sighed and turned to look at him.

You had written the song with Noah, mostly based on your ideas and feelings that kept flowing after a few bad weeks. He simply offered a few changes, way to express certain things and how to make it more "singeable".

"Yes"

Noah nodded and mimicked you. Now, you both sat looking at each other.

"Sorry for using your band as therapy" You chuckled.

He laughed and shook his head. "Our pleasure"

You went quiet for a while, both a bit lost in your thoughts.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Any of you liked him, Noah. What would have happened?"

"Yeah, I see your point" He chuckled.

You leaned your head against the chair and watched him. Noah was now looking at the desk.

"Are you sure about the song?"

"For now? It sounds amazing" You said. "Need to hear it from you, and the guys' green light."

Noah nodded. "You can just say no anytime. We won't release it if is too personal"

You grabbed his hand and run your thumb over his knuckles. "Thanks, Noah"

"No, thank you for giving us this lyrics."

"Hey, sorry. There was a lot of traffic." Nicky walked in with sweaty cheeks and his hair quite messy, but had some coffee.

"Nah, don't worry dude. You have to check this" Noah gave you a sweet smile and that's how you started producing the song.

A few days later, you sat with your eyes closed and headphones on, Noah sitting by you in the silent room. It was your first time listening to the song and there was something special on it. It took you a while to figure it out. But when you realized, your mouth opened and you turned to look at him. The other guys were outside having some drinks after a long day, so it was just the two of you.

Noah smirked and crossed his arms.

"It's me" You muttered.

You didn't think they would use it. You had sung the song once. It was recorded and everything, you had agreed. But this...

"Noah" you pushed the headphones back right when his voice came back.

"Listen. We can remove it. We actually have two versions. But if you like it and you agree, we want you to feature in the song."

You didn't know what to say.

"Maybe not like huge thing. But we want your name on it"

"My name is already on it"

"Bigger this time. YN, half of the album is also yours. Do you think we could do this without you?"

"Probably"

He rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand.

"I disagree. It's on you, YN. Feel free"

You considered it for a few seconds. Your voice was there, doing some chorus and melodies. It wasn't a big thing.

"Don't make it too big"

"Promised" You linked your pinkies and smiled sweetly at each other, that warm love between you two obviously showing. Maybe not enough because any of you seemed to notice.

A few minutes later, Noah walked you to the kitchen, where he passed you your drink of choice and lifted his.

"To YN, who finally sings one of our songs."

"To YN!"

Months passed and the song had been released a while ago. It had been a good one, the fans liked it and it sounded good on live.

"YN"

You turned to see Folio by the door.

"Mhm"

"Uh... Can you come with us for a minute?"

Why did you tour with them? Good question. Some days you still wondered what was your job apart from songwriting.

When you left the room, you found all of them looking with suspicious smiles.

"Okay, what's wrong? What have you done?"

"Nothing yet" Jolly chuckled.

"I'm scared"

"We want to ask you something" Noah started.

Then, Nicholas followed:

"What do you think about singing with us on the stage?"

You gasped too loudly, making them all laugh at your genuine reaction.

You needed a few days to prepare for it, attending to rehearsals and sound checks. But it all went smoothly.

"So, I announce you and then you come in."

You nodded with your eyes fixed on Noah's hands. They were the perfect distraction. Tonight was the night and nerves were eating you.

"You will be there, right?"

Noah smiled, more to himself than anything, but if someone had seen him... The guys would have teased him so much.

"Of course. I will always be"

You nodded with a rapid beating heart.

"But listen, we follow you. You can run away if you want to" He chuckled. "It will be fine"

You nodded and grabbed his hand in a sweet thankful gesture.

"Thank you"

"Free therapy, sweetheart"

You chuckled and blushed at the same time. It wasn't usual to hear him call you pet names, but oh how you loved them.

"My actual therapist would hate you for that"

"Sure thing"

Noah got up and lean to kiss your forehead.

"Remember, black outfit"

You rolled your eyes and tried to hid the blush.

"See you in twenty"

You nodded and watched him walk outside the room, leaving you enough space to think about what would happen at the end of the show, how Noah had guided you through the whole process, how he had been singing a song about your shitty ex for weeks now, how him and the guys had allowed you to pour your rage and feelings in that song only to perform it for you, how now they were giving you the opportunity to do it yourself.

"Okay... That's the last one" Matt whispered to you. "Ready?"

You nodded and the manager hugged you.

"Okay, you've got this"

"Now! We have a very special guest tonight" Noah climbed on his step and look at the fans, who shouted at him. "Are you ready!?" They shouted back at him once more. "Make some noise!" He finally growled as Nick's hands finally fell on the drums.

The lights, the music, the fans, the guys... Noah... They waited for you, the signer with a had stretched out.

With an encouraging push from Matt and the mic in your hand, you stepped in the stage. It all became loud, still, Noah waited for you. You grabbed his hand and he pulled you up in the step. And then he let go of you and moved back.

It was refreshing, so relaxing, so... The adrenile filled your veins so soon, as soon as you saw all that people singing back at you, singing those lyrics about such a sad moment. But you also heard him. For this performance, you had switched places. Your voice was the main one as Noah stood behind you. What originally was your voice doing melodies and choruses, was now Noah screaming and growling, which made your skin crawl.

And almost at the end, during the climax, he appeared next to you and grabbed your hand. You turned to him and looked into his eyes. This hadn't been planned. You hadn't rehearsed this but now you were singing together and you felt so light.

You reached the highest note easily, hand in hand, with him screaming one last time. And then it all went dark and the instruments faded. The loud sounds of people filled the theater.

You were shaking, but it was excitement. Then Noah pulled you to his body and you felt yourself coming back to reality again. His tall lanky body engulfed you and his strong arms kept you close. So close. You hugged him back and gripped his turtleneck so hard you could have ripped it.

Your chest were pressed and you were breathing hard. Then, still in the dark stage, only with faint white background lights, Noah kissed your temple and you felt a wave of feelings. It was there, right there.

The lights came back and he faced the stage, still with his arm around your shoulders. You tried to focus on something else, maybe Folio by your other side who was ruffling your hair, or the fans... But still it was only him you could think of. You stayed with them for the last goodbye to the fans.

You were the one who left the stage first, almost hyperventilating and with your ears buzzing.

You heard them behind you, congratulating each other and hugging.

You turned around and your eyes fell on his, he was already looking at you.

"Noah" You whispered.

He only saw you mouthing his name, but stopped walking. The guys passed you.

"Noah" You repeated his name. He nodded. He knew, he could feel it too.

You finally walked to him and your bodies clashed. Then your lips. You kissed fervousily and your hands roamed his sweaty hair. His arms wrapped around your body and pulled you impossibly close.

The kiss was intense, hard... Teeth clashed, tongues played with each other and little noises escaped you both. You could still hear the eco of the fans outside. But that was all. There was nothing else but Noah.

"Oh god" You panted as you pulled back. With your forehead against his and your hands on his tattooed neck, you could feel his quick pulse. "Noah"

"Yes" He nodded and moved his hand to the side of your face. You both still had your eyes closed and your lips wet from the kiss. Your body only begged for more.

Noah kissed you once more, softly this time, tilting your head back so he could kiss you deeper. "I'm here" He whispered in your mouth.

You finally opened your eyes and he looked at you.

"I love you" That was all you need to hear.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #Fic #Bad omens #NS

72 notes · View notes

hearts4golbach · 6 months ago

Note

Heyyy so i was wondering if you could do a hansumfella smut and him and reader have been friends for a while and streamed together a few times but they have a lot of sexual tension and they were at jake and johnnie’s st pattys party and after the party they uber to her place and act on the tension 😇🙏🏼 and maybe a little kinky if ur okay with that 🥰😝🤞

199 Degrees!

"You don't have to stare, come here, get with it! no one's touched me there in a damn hot minute!"

a/n:

inspired by Chappell Roans song 'HOT TO GO!' What is it with me and chappell roan inspired fics? FELLA IS TALKING TO SOMEONE??

proofread.

warnings:

smut 18+, oral sex (f receiving), penetration w/o protection (use protection, please cause i know you're not over 18), choking, hair pulling.

word count:

1.8k

"Tyler, I swear to god, if you're not here in the next 30 seconds, I'm going to kill you." You rambled on the phone. "I've never been invited to one of Jake and Johnnies' parties. We can not be late." you emphasized before putting him on speaker as you slipped your shoes on.

"i'm driving as fast as i can without it being illegal, y/n." he laughed. you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to you. "I'll be there in literally a minute."

"Good, i'll meet you outside." you responded before hanging up. you stared at yourself in the mirror as you made sure you looked perfect. you only wanted Tyler's eyes on you, but you'd never admit that aloud.

your dress was emerald green. it met your mid thigh and had a slit. it was low-cut and revealed your cleavage perfectly. you gently nodded to yourself before heading out the front door. Tyler's car pulled up right after you. "Hey, pretty lady." he greeted as he rolled his window down.

"Hello, handsome fella." you teased, using his stream name. a light blush spread across his face. he loved it when you used his stage name. you quickly jumped into the passenger seat. "When was the last time we went to a party together?" You pondered aloud.

"damn, i don't even remember." Tyler reached over and felt the fabric of your dress. he gently squeezed your thigh before pulling away. "i really like how this dress looks on you."

you squeezed your thighs together. "Thank you. i love your outfit choice, too." You gestured to his outfit.

there was tension the rest of the drive over. your eyes wandered down Tyler's body, thinking about all of the things that he could do to you in that very moment. you snapped out of your trance whenever he announced the two of you had arrived at the party.

he opened the passenger door for you. your face began to heat up once more at the kind gesture. you wrapped your arm around his bicep, tangling your limbs together.

"we should find Jake and Johnnie, i wanna say hi." you mentioned. it was their party, after all.

he cleared his throat. "Yeah, let's go."

you let go of his arm as you walked forward. you stood in your tippy toes as you walked, trying to get a better view of everyone.

"they're over here," Tyler interrupted, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you the other way. your heart was beating out of your chest. his hand stayed on your waist as you walked up to Jake and Johnnie.

"Oh, hey, y/n and tyler." Johnnie greeted as he turned around. Jake turned to face you as well.

"Hey, guys. this shit is packed." You laughed. Jakes eyes grazed over your body as you spoke. Tyler noticed and pulled your little closer to himself possessively.

"i know, right?" jake smiled. "This shits packed."

"Okay," Tyler let out a fake laugh. "Well, we're going to go see who else is scattered around." Tyler said bye before pulling you away.

"Hey, what's the matter?" you asked. "Did something happen?"

he shook his head. "No, sorry, i- i'll tell you about it later." he brushed it off.

the rest of the night was fun. you and Tyler decided against drinking, even though you snuck in a shot. Tyler's hands never left you the whole party. you caught him staring, but you were as well. over the coarse of the party, the heat in between your legs began to grow unbearable.

as if Tyler could read your thoughts, he leaned down in your ear so only you could hear him. "You wanna go back to my place?" he asked suggestively.

you hummed in response. he interlocked his fingers with yours and began to walk towards the exit. you held back your excitement the best you could as you climbed into the passenger seat.

there was an uncomfortable silence during the drive. your leg shook gently as you anticipated Tyler's next moves. he kept glancing at you, scoping out your body as he thought about all of the dirty things he was going to do to you if you let him.

he parked and climbed out of the car. he opened the door for you once again. you stood up and brushed your dress off. whenever you looked at Tyler, his lips met yours. you closed your eyes as you melted into the kiss.

he pressed you against the car as he deepened the kiss. you wrapped your ames around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer. "Let's go inside." he muttered against your lips.

you stumbled over each other giddily as you approached the front door. Tyler's shaky hands made quick work with the door. "Thank god my sister isn't here right now." he joked and lifted you up.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, sucking and kissing on his neck as he led you to his bedroom. "i've been waiting for you to make a move for so long." You emphasized between kisses.

he placed you on his bed and crawled on top of you. "I've always thought you were so fucking perfect." he muttered against your skin. his hands roamed your body as he searched for your zipper. his lips moved against yours feverishly as he unzipped your dress, sliding it off and throwing it onto the floor.

his lips moved to your neck, sucking and kissing as you spoke. "i wish i had made a move sooner."

he muttered an agreement against your neck. his shirt and pants were next to go, hitting the floor with your dress. your hands traced over his bare chest, his skin was soft against your fingers. he took his time with you, his hands running across every inch of you as he kissed down your abdomen. you tangled your fingers in his curly hair gently.

he pulled at your panties before looking up at you. "this okay?"

you nodded, pulling your lip between your teeth as he slid your panties off. he kissed along your inner thigh and towards your aching cunt. he licked a stripe up your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit. you moaned quietly, your legs twitching at the contact.

his hands held your thighs as he sucked your clit. his tongue ran through your folds, collecting all of your juices. he savored the taste of you on his tongue. you tossed your head back as you moaned. his tongue danced around your aching cunt expertly.

"you taste so fucking good," he muttered, the vibrations sending chills all over your body. "i need to feel you."

he pulled your legs, dragging you to the edge of the bed. He crawled up in between your legs and began pepper ring kisses along your neck. You whimpered at the sudden loss of contact. "please, Tyler." you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging gently.

"fuck," he growled against your neck. His hands bales to his belt, ripping it off before tugging his pants down. His strong hands gripped your thigh eagerly as he positioned himself between your legs.

his tip teased your entrance as you wiggled underneath his touch. he let out a soft grunt as he slowly thrusted inside of you. you searched the bed for something to grip onto, digging your fingers into the sheets.

his thrusts were sweet and slow, but so desperate. one hand reached up towards your cheek, rubbing it gently as he sped up his thrusts. you moaned out his name, begging him to go faster.

he obeyed your wishes. "you feel so good, mama." his hand moved down to your throat, squeezing it gently as his thrusts grew faster

your eyes rolled into the back of your head as the tip of his cock repeatedly hit your G spot. he whispered sweet praises to you in his deep husked voice. strings of curses mixed with Tyler's name spewed out of your mouth as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

"i always knew you'd take me so fucking well," his grip on your neck grew tighter. raspy moans slipped from your lips as you felt more aroused by his comment.

he released his grip on your neck. he pulled out and you ached from the loss of contact. your pussy clenched around nothing, which turned Tyler on further.

"flip over, I'm not done yet baby." he ran his fingers through your messy hair before helping you get onto all fours.

he spread your legs further before thrusting back inside of you at a punishing pace.

you moaned loud as he filled you up. he tangled his fingers in your hair while the other rested on your hip. he pulled back softly, as to not hurt you but to apply just enough pressure.

"does that feel good, love?" he asked breathlessly, pressing all of the right buttons inside of you.

"yes, fuck yes." you whimpered, the top half of your body collapsing onto the bed.

"that's it, ma." he thrusted faster inside of you, his breaths staggered.

"im so close," you muttered, your voice muffled by the comforter. "oh, shit!"

"that's it, y/n. cum around my cock." he mumbled. you could hear the smirk in his voice.

the knot in your stomach snapped as you exploded around his cock. you rested against the bed, trying to catch your breath.

he pulled out and came on your back after helping you ride out your high.

he leaned over you and pressed a kiss into your shoulder. "im going to go get a towel to clean you up." he mentioned. the content smile on his face made you smile aswell.

he came back with a damp wash rag. he gently cleaned up your sore cunt and back. he plopped down onto the bed and pulled you close before pulling the covers over the two of you.

"does that mean you're my girlfriend now?" he chuckled.

"Duh.”

58 notes · View notes

killersfool · 1 year ago

Note

hiiii i’ve a wee fluff imagine idea for bobby!! : )

bobby and the reader live together in a flat in dublin and the reader goes to trinity uni to study english literature (or smt else that has like a lot of reading and essay writing anol that craic) and she’s falling behind in a lot of her assignments and it’s all piling up and she’s just all overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to cope.

she ends up breaking down into sobs or shutting down at random points in the day due to stress and rob hasn’t got a clue what’s wrong and keeps noticing these random break downs throughout the week.

basically he comforts reader and helps to organise herself and just all fluffy cute comfort fic <333

If I could flip back time, bend the seconds and go back three years ago, I would do it right now.

Pile after pile of flashcards, annotated books with pastel post-it notes shooting out of the sides, folders of Irish poetry I can hardly understand, tattered photocopies of Hozier lyrics, every work of Shakespeare staring at me from my overcrowded booksheld — dusty, messy, probably even dank. Miss Carter has decided to set three more assignments onto my workload for the week. An essay on crime fiction (I haven't even read the first book on the reading list), my creative writing portfolio and then another essay analysing a piece poetry of my choice. Reading and highlighting Hozier's lyrics of 'I, Carrion (Icarian)' is the only thing keeping me going. Phoebe Bridgers blasts through my ears. It's quarter to 11. I need a break. An early night would be nice. Or TV. But do I really want to sit next to Robert whilst he watches his weird YouTube videos?

I kick my table. Not out of anger. Not out of irritation. I just want to see all of my notes topple ontp the floor. They do. Then I'm kicking the table three more times. Or maybe eight. All my flashcards are on the carpeted floor, next to my discarded, empty packet of pinballs. I'd stolen them from Robert's stash. He'll never find out.

Climbing over my pile of unread books by my doorway, I push open the door. It squeaks. Some oiling would be nice. Trinity college really provides the best for their students!

I still wish my roommate was also doing English, someone to bond with over shared trauma, to gossip about our nightmarish teachers and fellow students. But no, this guy is doing a degree in bloody mathematics. The complete dichotomy of English. No similarities. No way of comparing the courses to eachother. Him and his terrifying videos that he watches with his shoes up on the armrest, cheek in his open palm, drinking a cup of tea. Like it's that simple. Numbers and sin, cos, tan and circle theorems and whatever tragic nonsense is being spouted in his lectures.

He hardly speaks to me. Three years together and I barely know him. Sometimes I tag along with him when he goes out for breakfast. Once every two weeks. Sunday morning. We talk about school, about friends, about anything that pops in our heads. Yesterday we spoke about music. He originally wanted to pursue a career in music. A band. But they didn't work out. He took a gap year to pursue this group. So he's a year older than all of the other third years. He doesn't let that faze him. When he told me stories about his band, 'Inhaler', I had to lose eye contact, look down at the pink marshmellos floating about in my cup. He looked lost. This wasn't the place for him. He missed the confidence upon stage, the ability of making something out of nothing. Life is unfair. That is when I realised it. Hearing about shattered dreams and names of songs that were never produced.

I also realise life is unfair right now, as I accidentally bang my hip onto the kicthen island, the knife-like corner lodging itself into my skin. It's like the world is against me.

Sometimes I wonder if Robert thinks I'm an idiot. I feel like I'm an idiot when I walk past his bedroom, hunched over his laptop, headphones on as he works through the most difficult maths questions I've ever encountered in my life. He makes university seem easy. Has his allocated times for study, going out with friends, the gym, practicing bass, going though record shops, meals, watching TV. Everytime he gets home, he drops his things down in the kitchen. I sneak a glance at the big green 'A*' on all of his test papers. I look up to him. His intelligence, his masterful management of time. I'm always too frightened to ask him how he does it. He'll think I'm stalking him.

Me, on the other hand, I waste time. I don't have balance. I never have time to be with my friends. Always locked up in my room. A prisoner. Essay after essay. Poem after poem. Book after book. A constant cycle I've been in for three whole years. The stress is weighing down on me like a hundred bags of bricks. I need to stop for a second. To breathe in. To calm down.

So I do the last thing I would normally do. I go into the living room and sit beside Robert on the sofa. He's half asleep, jeans cuffed, hair all over his face. He sees me walk in, glances up, eyes big and speculting. He instantly moves his spindly, spider-like legs from the armrest to give me some space. I can hear some sort of maths video playing on the TV. I'm scared. At least it's not English. I'm immune to maths. It doesn't affect me anymore. Whatever logorhythmic scale this American YouTube man is yapping about isn't making my face contort at all — it's like sorcery.

This could be a way of winding down. Maths. I'm calmer now. No changes of focus or narrowing of perspective. No pathetic fallacy or magical realism. Just messes of words that don't really make sense at all.

"'D'you want to watch TV? I can turn this off if you want." Robert has his thumb on the home button.

"Leave it on. I just need a moment."

He dubiously puts the remote back down. He yawns, stretching out his arms and leaning back. I hate it when boys do that. With his parted, manspreaded legs, adams apple bobbing, head rolled back. It's idiotic. Completely idiotic. He doesn't seem too intrigued by Mr American man. The video is a guy next to a whiteboard writing millions of brain-numbing equtions. Robert is nodding along. I think I'm going to cry. I don't know why I want to right now. My hip is actually starting to throb and ache. I look down at my jeans. There's a hole in them. There's blood. It's wet. I hadn't noticed before. It's properly pouring out blood.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I exclaim, hand pressing down onto the cut through my jeans.

Robert swiftly nears me. He's looking at me up and down, hands trying to find a place to move to. It's dark in the room. He reaches for the lamp switch. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm bleeding. Jesus christ. That kills. Fuck me."

He passes me his jacket and says, "Apply some pressure."

Then he runs out of the room. Fast as a plane. A man on a mission. Long curls dancing to the rhythm of his steps. Mr American man won't shut up about algebraic expressions. He's got a really bald head. Glimmering.

Robert is back. He has bandages. I don't know where he got those from. Antiseptic wipes, plasters, sweets, even a cup of tea. He was only gone for about five seconds. How did he manage to get all of that? He hands me the cup of tea and sweets whilst asking, "What happened?"

"I walked into the island like an eejit. I'm so feckin' stupid."

"Just breathe, okay. You're not an eejit. I do that every day."

I have to unzip my jeans to let him check the cut. Which is awkward, to say the least. He's looking at me like a doctor — not really caring about seeing my skin — but I'm still so shy around him. He sees me struggle with the button. He undoes it, fingers coming in contact with mine. They're slender. So very perfect for the bass guitar. Then he's unzipping my jeans. Only the tiniest bit. A mere centimetre of my knickers appear out of the top. Any more than that and I'd be flush as a tomato. I've always had a little crush on Robert. Being stuck with a really smart bass guitarist with the dreamiest eyes for three years is enough to make a person fall. The reason I've been avoiding him lately has been due to that fact. I don't want to make it obvious.

He finds the cut. It's bled through my knickers, making a big blot of dark red. He pulls down the waistband of my pants, prepared to wipe the wound. I have to grind my teeth together to prevent a sob from escaping me. I'm crying. Stressed and hurt and just wanting to dissolve into nothing. The cold draft of wind isn't improving the situation. If only there was no such thing as coursework and I couldn't glide my way through university like Robert.

More and more blood. I think I might pass out. The blue-eyed boy is knelt down on the floor, knees biting into the carpet so that he can properly see where to put the bandage.

"So how's English going?" He's not looking at me. Only at the wound. I don't think he's noticed that I'm crying. I don't want him to. I cover my face with bloody hands, accidentally smearing the metallic substance onto my nose.

I don't know what to say. Do I tell him how much I regret picking it? Do I make this already awkward situation about ten times worse? I hate when people pity me. I hate when I feel like eyes are lingering for far too long when I cry. But when Robert looks at me, it's different. The pools of serenity circling his iris aren't looking down at me with a sort of aristocracy. That's how my English peers stare me down. No, instead, he's looking at me like there's a billion questions rushing across his forehead. He just needs to decide which one to ask. Or to simply say nothing. Like I am. We've both learnt how to cohabit in silence. To walk past eachother and ignore the feathers of conversation falling between us. We're busy. Always busy. Except for those perfect Monday mornings that I always look forward to. Especially the one time when he showed me around his favourite record store. He had asked me to choose him a record to buy. I walked through the entire shop, fingers shifting records, reading unfamiliar artist names. Then, I saw it, the — now bane of my existence — Hozier's 'unreal unearth'. He bought it. He'd told me he only really knew 'Take Me To Church'. I'd leant against the till as he paid and said, 'it'll change your life.' Then he'd locked himself in his room. Through the ever so thin walls — paper thin — I could hear each track hum into my room. I never got the chance to talk to him about the album. I think the thought of bringing it up made me feel sick — due to the English essay upstairs still waiting patiently to be finished.

Now there is an excuse. To talk. I'm injured. I don't want to move. He's still attempting to wrap a bandage over my stomach, then across my back until it's around my torso. I feel his fingers graze my skin with every subtle movement, along my spine, the small of my back, my abdomen, my hip bone. He's still looking at me. Searching. Like I'm a new island and he's an explorer trying to name me.

"What's up, sweetheart?" He finally talks again. His words are throaty, emananting from the pits of his throat. He's still wrapping, waiting for an answer.

"Just college. You know. It's killing me."

He shakes his head. "You're so smart."

"Says you."

He shakes his head. "Look, this might be a bit weird but sometimes when you leave random essays lying around or even creative writing. I read them. They're incredible. Your mind just works in such an interesting way."

I'm at a loss for words. He reads those? Those are usually just failed attempts that I toss aside. Scrap paper. Strange drawings. I don't even want to look at them.

"You get top grades in every test," I sigh. "I'm barely passing. I'm the worst in the class. My professors hate me, I've got so much work, I'm falling behind in every assignment—"

Then I'm properly crying. Sobbing. Breathing so heavily I think I might collapse. Heaving. Sniffling. Covering my face so he can't see me. I'm like a child. Pathetic. Stupid. Worthless. I was never good enough for Trinity. Why did they let me in?

Warm arms, press of skin. Just above the wound, over my chest, arms dig into my body, hugging me from behind. Head burrowing onto my shoulders, knees into the sofa. His lips ghost the back of my neck. Tears are falling down. He turns me around to face him. I hate how he's seeing me like this. My cries are usually saved for when he's out with friends or blasting music on his record player. He's never seen me this vulnerable, just utterly ripped into shreds by the hands of life. His scent is making me feel better, the tissue now on my cheek makes me feel better, the quiet words of 'breathe, let it all out, it's okay' make me feel better. He's calming me down. I start to forget what I was even crying about when I look into his eyes. This intense eye contact. Remembering his height. Even sat down, his torso is far longer than mine.

"I've got an idea," he murmurs, peeling his body away. I miss the warmth. I miss the touch.

"What is it?"

"We should go somewhere. Get out for a bit. Say it's a 'mental health field trip'." He curls his fingers to accentuate the apostrophes."Maybe down to the Cliffs of Moher. When you're all healed up of course."

"Give me a week."

"A week? I'll be the judge of that." He raises an eyebrow, now tying up the bandage.

"Where did you learn all this?"

"I'm actually first aid trained. Did it in my first week of uni." He takes a deep breath, settles back onto the sofa.

I take a sip of my tea. My eyes are surely blotchy and red. I bet there's mascara all over my face. "Thank you so much."

"No problem at all. Do you want to tell me what's going on? Is there any way I can help?" He's referring to my school work. "I was alright at English in high school. No where near as good as you are. But maybe another opinion might help you."

"I'm really stuck on a Hozier analysis."

"I never told you how much I love that album. It's perfect." His eyes glow like they do when he's talking about something he loves. Usually it's caused by talking about playing bass, but right now it's due to the beauty of Hozier's music. "I learned the bass line of De Selby part two."

"Show me. Now." I don't even ask. It's simply a demand. Anything to take my mind away from that cut still bleeding profusely. A little concert would be nice. Especially if said concert involves watching Robert play bass. I sometimes peek through the crack in the doorway to see him sat down on his bed, pick between his index and thumb, bass guitar on his lap, headphones over his ears. The pure concentration on his face is unparalleled. Notes thrum quietly through the room. He falls into any piece of music.

"Alright." He laughs at my enthusiasm. "Then I'll help with your English."

"Thanks." This is probably the most I've ever spoken to him. I'm mumbling each word, not wanting to look into his eyes.

He disappears once again. This time I hear the thudding footsteps over creaky floorboards. I hear a door squeak open, the faint patter of rain upon the ceiling, the quiet murmur of distant sirens as night blooms. It's tranquil. For a moment, I'm at peace. Until I remember the stack of unread books in my bedroom. I groan into my hands. Everything just keeps getting worse and worse and—

He's back. Not empty handed. Bass in one hand, Hozier lyrics and my pencil case in the other.

"I emailed your professor about the trip. I'm sure she'll be okay with it." He's off again. He comes through the door with his amp and lead. He plugs both in.

"You're a life saver, Rob," I say.

He starts twisting around the knobs on the bass. Volume up. Then he's tuning. He smiles up at me. I think I'm staring. I think he can tell. His long fingers, tattoos, rings. It's all too much. My fingers are restlessly tapping the armrest. My legs are up on the coffee table. He pulls out his phone and plays the song. Then I'm lost in the music. His eyes are closed as he slides his fingers up and down the neck of the bass, as he stomps his feet down on the carpet to every drum beat. If only I could go back to the days I'd go to concerts every day. If only I could go back and see 'Inhaler' on a world tour, watch Robert from the crowd, completely in his element. Exhilarated, chanting, knowing every lyric like it's my mother tongue. Sometimes I wonder what life could've been like if the band had worked out. If the world did realise just how incredible they are. But, here, appreciating each pluck of every string, the grin as he watches me. I can't take that for granted.

153 notes · View notes

pineapplefulfillseveryneed · 4 months ago

Text

Annette (the original Sparks pre-movie 2013 version)

I've been waiting for this to be released since my early days as a fan! I've not seen enough hype about it out there and I think that is because there's not been a lot of info about this to put things into context for newer fans. So let me remedy this!! (I know they've added some more info in the newsletter but I don't know if everyone gets that.)

At the end of the THOM era Sparks started teasing us about "the new album", which would be in a similar format to Bergman as it was also a full story in audio format. They were fully intent on touring it as a 3-people live theatrical performance with them + Rebecca Sjöwall performing the roles. (They would've liked to tour Bergman as a live performance as well, but logistically that wouldn't work so they were excited about this.) … And then we stopped hearing about it. Until the first news about the film came out!

I've seen people refer to this as a demo or even a mockup album (?), but let me set the record straight: what we have here is the FINISHED Sparks album for Annette! This is what would have been the new album in 2013, the original story for Annette, exactly how Sparks themselves created it (before the film collaboration with Leos Carax). For the film some things were changed, for example I think Carax said that a lot of the irony and humour wouldn't work in a film so that aspect of it was mostly taken out. AND NOW WE GET THE VERSION WITH THAT IN IT! I kid you not I had to be one the phone with a friend to yell about it for 2 hours straight, this is one of the most exciting things to happen!!! (Also, Annette being a literal singing pram? R&R remain the funniest guys alive - this is SO GOOD! I'm so hyped about the beautiful art by Galen Johnson, too! (Who also did the art for the THOM era, and was one of the directors for some music videos over the last few years.))

What we get with this release is Russell as Henry McHenry (and believe me, YOU WANT TO HEAR RUSSELL PERFORM AS AN EVIL GUY), Ron as the conductor as well as some other voices (RON ON VOCALS, THIS IS NOT A DRILL!), and the wonderful vocal performances by Rebecca Sjöwall as Ann/Annette (she was the Hollywood starlet on Bergman and she also sang on Life With The Macbeths - a highly relevant song in reference to this release we're getting, I think, "each murder the ratings soar"). I am a huge fan of the Bergman album, but I'll be very honest and say that while I love their choice of accurate voices to tell the story - the most beautiful voices out there are Ron & Russell's and that's the only thing that might have made me love the sound of The Seduction Of Ingmar Bergman more. And now we're getting that! This is them taking on the roles of the characters they wrote! I love it when they're acting, because honestly they are really really great at it!

[SPOILERS IN THIS PARAGRAPH] Russell Mael - looks like a cinnamon, can actually kill you - will be committing murders, Ron - looks like he could kill you, actual cinnamon roll - will once again not get the girl as the guy portrayed by his brother takes her away from him in more ways than one. (Fuck I still so wish I could've seen this on a stage.)

Also there will be songs we've not heard at all, there will be songs that might sound very different than what we've heard in the film, the story ends differently (and I personally really like that). …I don't know what I'm most excited about, I JUST CAN NOT WAIT. While I'll forever be curious what their stage performances would have looked like, I'll not have to remain curious about what the album and their original version of Annette would have been like. Because here it is!!! :)

I say this without slandering the film, but this version of Annette is the one that's going to hit me hardest. (I am calling my 2013 self to tell them the good news, holy hell!)

As a final note, here's something they've shared in the newsletter:

"Writing in the sleevenotes of this boxset release Ron and Russell Mael have said "...we feel that this earlier version of Annette should be listened to not as the preparatory or demo step toward a filmed version, but rather as a complete and alternative version in itself. We are very proud of it.”

#i'll also upload the video from their instagram post in a second because I'll be so happy to always find that back with ease #(lmao the amount of typos in here that I only saw after posting - too hyped hahaha)#annette (2013)#annette #sparks #sparks (band)#ron mael #russell mael #NEWS #2024 #20's

40 notes · View notes

sailforvalinor · 8 months ago

Text

After seeing this post I was struck with a vision of how a Star Wars musical would work, so bear with me for a sec:

(Also please keep in mind that I studied theatre in college but NOT music, haha.)

The musical would be pretty dang long but would still be two acts, Act I covering the prequels and Act II the original trilogy.

I think it makes a lot of sense to give the musical an omniscient narrator (like The Narrator in Into the Woods or Hermes in Hadestown). The choice that seems to make the most sense is C-3PO (accompanied by R2-D2), but my vote is actually for Obi-Wan—though the story follows Anakin, he is the throughline for the tragedy and the one who probably experienced it the most personally and I NEED people to understand that, okay.

The musical opens with an introduction by Narrator Obi-Wan, and then launches into a 7-10 minute ensemble piece which covers the entirety of the events of Episode I, narrated by all the characters involved. I don’t want this to sound like the opening of Hamilton, but I don’t mind a reference or two (“how does a podracer, orphan, son of a slave and the Force (huh?) dropped into a forgotten spot in the Outer Rim by happenstance, impoverished, in squalor, become both a dictator and a martyr?” you get the idea). Qui-Gon makes a brief appearance in this scene and duets with Obi-Wan (in this instance I’m not sure if this should be a different actor? Probably, as it would make the transition into Episode II smoother, I just worry that it might be confusing) in which they bicker over Obi-Wan’s rule-following nature and Qui-Gon’s go-with-the-flow ideology. He then sings a section about the will of the force (maybe this whole song is called Will of the Force?) which is interspersed with interjectory melodies from the arrival of Jar-Jar, Queen Amidala and her handmaidens (the handmaidens are a mini-choir), and Padme (with the introduction of her theme), and this section ends with them running into Anakin. The rest of the song involves the introduction of Palpatine and his theme, and the only appearance of Darth Maul, and then the lightsaber fight ensues (fully choreographed) and Maul dies, then Qui-Gon dies in Obi-Wan’s arms (Narrator Obi-Wan looking on sadly), singing one last chorus of Will of the Force, something something “train the boy…it is the will of the Force” (Narrator Obi-Wan echoes “will of the Force…”), then the full ensemble sings one last big chorus, with Adult Anakin joining and then trading places with Child Anakin (a la Shrek’s Fiona). End of song.

Transition to Episode II. This is mainly going to focus on Anakin’s personal tragedy for the sake of time, so the galactic politics might have to get sidelined a little bit—BUT, this is important, after the opening number, whenever Palpatine is not on-stage, he is always sitting in a side balcony closest to the stage watching the events on-stage in full view of the audience. He’s the one pulling the strings, I want him to be LOOMING over the proceedings, got it?

It starts with Anakin’s “I Want” song, as he sings about how he wants recognition from the Jedi, recognition from the Council, from Obi-Wan, etc. We get the sense from this song about how he seems like a bit of an outlier among the Jedi due to his unusual circumstances.

The story proceeds. Narrator Obi-Wan now acts as himself in the story, switching between his role in the story and his narrator role.

Anakin and Obi-Wan probably have a bickering duet (a reprise of the Qui-Gon Obi-Wan duet? Probably. I’ll call it the Padawan Song). They meet Padme again, during which she reprises her theme. Her and Anakin’s romance plays out, they sing a gorgeous love duet, it’s wonderful, it’s beautiful, it takes part of the melody from Across the Stars, you get it.

These other things happen, though in what order I can’t decide:

• The Senate has a Senate Battle song, and the Jedi Council has a Jedi Council Battle song. Both songs very explicitly mirror each other.

• Palpatine has a theme that he debuts early on which he reprises in minor when he finally shows his cards to Anakin as a Sith Lord.

• Obi-Wan has a ballad about how he doesn’t know how to train Anakin, addressing both Qui-Gon and the Force.

• Qui-Gon makes a brief Force Ghost appearance when Anakin kills the Sandpeople (although I’m not sure how naturally this plot point can be incorporated? So I think this one’s a maybe. Qui-Gon appears when he does something evil, anyway.)

• Ahsoka is there because I said so (and her leaving the Jedi is instrumental to Anakin’s fall). They have their reprise of the Padawan Song in which it becomes very apparent that Anakin is trying to imitate Obi-Wan as a master at first, but fails miserably.

• C-3PO and R2-D2 have a song about their frustrations with having to hide Anakin and Padme’s marriage. 3PO sings traditionally, R2 sings entirely in beeps.

• The Clones get a fun song. Because I said so. Rex gets a solo. But this also means that they get a horrible reprise of their song when Order 66 happens. Because I’m evil. They also march through the aisles.

• The Ahsoka leaving the Jedi arc happens (though shortened/possibly altered for the sake of time), ending with a heartbreaking duet between her and Anakin where he begs her to stay. It ends with a solo power ballad in which she escapes the narrative at a cost.

We get to Episode III, all the main events happen as usual, evil Palpatine ballad and Order 66 as described above. Anakin’s turn is marked by a reprise of his “I Want” song overlapping with Palpatine’s song (the “I Want” turning into how he wants to save his wife), and as he succumbs he succumbs to Palpatine’s melody. Also, I want to somehow heavily imply that Palpatine is responsible for Padme’s death.

The fight between him and Obi-Wan is both a song battle and a physical one, the duet sounding like something from Jekyll and Hyde and interspersed with lightsaber choreography. It’s gut-wrenching. It’s goosebump raising, it’s beautiful. I would love the battle to rage through the audience, but that would probably depend on the size of the aisles and whether or not there’s danger of the audience getting bapped with a lightsaber.

The duel ends, probably ending on “you were my brother, Anakin…/I loved you” with Anakin burning on the ground. Obi-Wan then steps out of the scene, and turns to the audience as the Narrator, singing to us about the aftermath—the destruction of the Order, the reiterating the death of Padme (no worries we’re not leaving that offstage), his flight to Tatooine—but then he starts to sing about the twins, and we hear the glimmers of a hopeful theme that isn’t a reprise of anything we’ve heard before. But then the music darkens again. Obi-Wan looks up, and we see Darth Vader standing in the balcony behind Palpatine (now in his Emperor’s garb). The two stare at each other. Curtain.

ACT II. We open on Narrator Obi-Wan again, who is the same actor, now in a gray wig. Luke enters, and sings his “I Want” song.

Now, about Luke. I don’t have any particular ideas about vocal parts for anyone. But I HAVE to insist that Luke be a high tenor (maybe sounds a bit like Orpheus in Hadestown)—I want him to sound VERY vocally different from everyone else in this musical. His “I Want” song, while it should certainly have callbacks to Anakin’s, I want to be entirely his own, as a lot of his other songs are going to be reprises. He wants to fly, he wants freedom, he wants adventure in the great wide somewhere, etc. Luke is a typical teenager, but he’s also a delight and brightens any scene he’s in. You can SEE the Force radiating off of this guy. I am determined to make him your favorite character in this musical.

He meets Ben, they meet Han and Chewie (does Chewie sing? I don’t know?), etc etc. (Do Luke and Ben get a Padawan song? Maybe? I don’t know, I don’t want to overdo this one.) The Cantina Band gets a bit of a song, and Han gets an introductory song.

I’m unsure of how to do the Falcon as a setpiece, but like, it’s a thing. Somehow.

Leia gets a song, although I don’t have a lot of ideas on that front.

As they try to escape the Death Star, Luke, Han, and Leia have a bicker song (a la Into the Woods) as they run around, shoot Stormtroopers, swing over chasms (if it’s physically viable), etc. I would love to somehow work out the trash compactor but I don’t know if it’s possible.

We then get the Ben-Vader fight. (Vader is still played by Anakin, though I think his voice might be another actor, at least until he takes off the helmet.) It begins like the Padawan Song on Vader’s part, but Obi-Wan transitions it into their duel theme and they fight. The fight is more subdued and calculated this time (doesn’t rage into the aisles if it did originally), and of course ends as it usually does, with Obi-Wan letting Vader kill him, Luke screaming from a part of the set where he can’t get to them.

After they escape, Luke looks sadly for a long, silent moment where Narrator Obi-Wan used to stand. He then takes his place and his role as Narrator.

Narrator Luke launches into the story of how they destroyed the Death Star. I genuinely have no idea how to stage the X-Wings, but the number is an ensemble song between Luke, the pilots, Leia, Vader, and Han and Chewie flying in at the last minute. It’s great, it’s glorious, lots of light effects, maybe projections, it’s beautiful. Obi-Wan’s voice (offstage) sings to Luke to turn off the targeting computer (maybe to the melody of Padawan Song).

Luke narrates the events of the next few years.

Again, these things all happen in what order I can’t decide:

• Han and Leia reprise the Luke-Han-Leia bicker song, except without Luke there, it suddenly transitions into a love duet and they break off, confused. Later on the Falcon, they sing it for real and it ends with the kiss. When Han gets frozen in carbonite, they sing their song and the melody starts to drift into Anakin and Padme’s theme. Though it’s subtle, Vader is affected by this.

• C-3PO and R2-D2 have a reprise of their song, this time they are complaining about being saddled with the Death Star plans and being put in constant danger.

• No Wampa (sorry), Luke probably just wrecks, but he sees Ghost Obi-Wan. This is either done through bluish lighting, costuming, or a combination of both. When he encounters him again on Dagobah, Ghost Obi-Wan takes over as Narrator again, it’s quite triumphant.

• On Dagobah, Yoda is played by an actor with a puppet (like Milky White) as he is in all the previous Jedi Council scenes. He has his own kooky comedic song, and then he and Luke have a Padawan Song as he trains him, with Obi-Wan involved here and there.

• Obi-Wan sings a reprise of Will of the Force in which he tells Luke he has to kill Vader, which he of course he isn’t a fan of. The dark side cave scene? I want it but I’m not sure how it would work.

• An easily-dropped Stormtrooper song (doesn’t specifically echo the Clone song, but they march through the aisles in a similar fashion).

• A reprise of Palpatine’s song, in which he duets with Vader, and Vader unsuccessfully tries to hide the fact that he’s discovered that Luke is his son. Important note: up until this point, Palpatine has NOT been in the balcony, but he appears there immediately after this song.

• Lando gets a jazzy introductory theme!

• Luke and Vader have their own battle duet that MIGHT briefly harken to the Padawan Song when he tries to convince Luke to join him.

• …though I desperately don’t want to, I think I’m legally obligated to give Jabba a song. *siiggghh

• Luke and Leia have a duet when he tells her she’s his sister.

• The Ewoks should be there. I don’t quite know how to do it, but they should be.

When Luke confronts the Emperor (presumably on a raised platform with some significant height), Palpatine begins with his villain song, with Luke wavering with his “I Want” song, similar to how Anakin does in Act I. However, instead of succumbing to Palpatine’s, he refuses Palpatine and suddenly breaks into Padme’s theme. Vader is briefly shaken, but he attacks, and in the ensuing song battle (that again might rage through the aisles), as Luke (though he briefly dips out of it when Vader mentions Leia) harkens back to Padme, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan’s themes, finally defeating Vader.

Palpatine then electrocutes Luke, there’s cool lighting effects. Narrator Obi-Wan looks expectantly at Vader. There’s a pause as Vader looks at his son. He sings a line of his and Padme’s love duet. Pauses. Sings another line, Vader’s voice is joined by Anakin’s. Sings another, louder, and then, with a cry of rage, throws Palpatine down the shaft (behind the setpiece and onto a mattress).

He then collapses, Luke rushes to him, Vader tells him to take off his helmet (in Vader’s voice), and Luke does, revealing Anakin, aged and scarred. In a broken voice, he sings a joyful reprise of his “I Want” song, all about his wishes for his children. He looks over at Narrator Obi-Wan. Back at Luke. Smiles, and then passes into the waiting arms of the Force.

There is a musical interlude as all of the set pieces are cleared offstage. Narrator Obi-Wan summarizes how the Rebels succeeded and the Empire fell. He looks offstage expectantly as the Ewok party assembles, and Force Ghost Anakin joins him. Obi-Wan gestures for him to take over, and after a moment’s hesitation and an encouraging nod from Obi-Wan, Anakin does, telling the fates of all our main characters as the party kicks into gear. He finishes with Luke, and at the sound of his name, Luke’s head snaps toward him and watches his father talk about him with a beaming smile on his face. They share a look, and then the whole ensemble breaks into the finale, a final reprise of Will of the Force, at first beginning with the characters at the Ewok party, but eventually incorporating all the main characters (including a Skywalker Family Moment). Narrator Obi-Wan is the last to join, looking back at the audience with a smile of true joy on his face before he does. Because, in the end, it wasn’t a sad song, and he’s gonna sing it again.

Curtain.

#I got…way more caught up in this than I expected #Star Wars #musical #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #luke skywalker #padme amidala #anidala #ahsoka tano #leia organa #starwarsblr

59 notes · View notes

marchentraume · 2 months ago

Text

Quick Wicked Part 1 Thoughts

Wicked (and Oz as a whole franchise) has impacted me probably the most, the songs are part of my blood, sweat, and tears as they helped me through emotionally painful chapters in my life

So the movie had a lot to live up to in my tiny little smooth brain, so here we go (SPOILERS! FOR THE MOVIE! AND WICKED AS A WHOLE!!!)

Keeping these bulleted as that's what I like best!

Part 1 is the entirety of Act 1 from the show, which they paced WONDERFULLY keeping every song and not cutting anything for length. You'd think this would make it feel long, in fact is was one of the best paced films I've seen all year, thank you Winnie Holzman for coming back and adapting it for the screen <3

I am in no way surprised it's a hit, as Act 1 has some of the best crowd pleasers in the entire show. Act 2 is where it starts to get...unique. And I can see it creating split opinions, but that depends as well how much they keep vs change for a movie

Ariana and Cynthia proved me wrong and surpassed all expectations. Wicked is a show I hold on such a high pedestal I really never had a fan cast in mind, but both charmed me to the point of tears. The comedy timing, the growth, everything from them felt so natural and genuine

Jonathan Bailey, the man that you are! Amazing how a movie actually improved on a character/relationship dynamic (Fiyero with both Elphaba and Glinda).

As whole the ENTIRE cast, from our leads to the supporting and background characters, understood the whole assignment.

To get some things I don't like out of the way: Michelle Yeoh...I have no idea why they went with the direction they gave you but it just didn't work. She has the look, her singing even was workable considering Morrible really only has two songs the entire show with prominent moments (though I wonder if Part 2 will give her one more...we'll see)

And like everyone else I was bothered by the lighting choices, such a shame as it distracted some of the beautifully radiant costumes and sets. At this point we just have to accept this is what they wanted for the films and Part 2 will be more of the same

Song wise, the stand-outs to me were 'No One Mourns the Wicked', 'What is this Feeling?', "Dancing Through Life', 'Popular', and 'Defying Gravity'. That isn't to say the remaining songs are awful, far from it. But those being the 5 standouts I think makes the most sense to grab out attention back

Can I just say, 'The Wizard and I' made me feel like I was in my room singing and reenacting it at age 12 all over again <3

If I had to pick a song I was a little disappointed on, 'I'm Not That Girl' felt a little too filler despite being a big fave of mine (though shout out to Jonathan Bailey with his subtle performance during this whole sequence)

I would still watch this movie over and over again, because it gave us a one of kinds experience from the stage while still respecting and understanding the source material. I'm so happy to exist in the timeline where we have Wicked <3

#wicked #wicked movie #wicked musical #wicked spoilers #wicked movie spoilers #spoilers #elphaba thropp #glinda upland #fiyero tigelaar

20 notes · View notes

hjnxx · 3 months ago

Text

doesn’t it make you feel bad? having full control. she woke up and you ruined her. now she’s hurting and you hide your hands. it’s your fault. it’s your fault. it’s our fault. FEB 2022.

on february fourteenth twenty twenty - two, hijinxx would release their second extended play addiction: take down on all streaming platforms.

five tracks to the ep’s name, the group would come back after two months since their previous digital release sweet juice, the song acting as a segue into the new body of work.

ahyeon is credited across the board on the ep, from lyrics to composition to the final arrangements. #ahyeonfirstwin! it did spark a lot of fans worried about her being already so overworked… but she was quick to assure fans that her passion could never be draining to her.

take down is described as the first breaking point. if sweet juice is them indulging themselves to their fill, answering the call and falling to their respective demise, take down is the first inkling of something truly wrong. it’s the weird gut feeling when things are too still for the actions you’ve committed, sinking to nestle in your stomach to fester slowly. slowly do you begin to realize what you’ve done and the first thing you do is panic as your actions cannot be undone. your prayers go unanswered and your begging falls on deaf ears. the consequences are yours and yours alone to bear. still, you blame outside forces on the choices you made with your own two hands.

each song can yet again be interpreted as a look into each entity’s experience through their respective turbulent time. in order, as well. with ahyeon vowing to topple each obstacle in take down to yuina’s confession during the bridge of chasing dreams, the girls then come together to collectively blame love as their reason out. and isn’t it so convenient to always have a way out?

STYLING & COMMENTARY.

the idea was to show the slow progression of deterioration due to lack of self - regulation. the outfits start in their usual coordinated but detailed to each member fashion, but as they perform more and more stages, each entity slowly begins to become sluggish—shown through ripped seams or loosely draped fabric. of course, in order, the changes were noticeable in yuina first, then eunji, followed then by micha and ahyeon.

the stage outfits began to get progressively ‘worse’ alongside their performances. previously sharp angles turned into sloppier with each stage, the formations falling apart more and more. makeup would look as if a toddler had been given the liberty of head mua and hair stylist. it would leave netizens divided until a fan would take it upon themselves to string a cohesive in-lore timeline, a thread that would soon cement itself as an great fandom reference for new fans. the account, an anonymous user by the name of jinxedtwice would even be acknowledged by the girls themselves, leaving fans to wonder how the person knew so much.

COMEBACK SUMMARY.

comeback on valentine’s day with a dark sound about the consequences of overindulgence? don’t mind if i doooo… trixx welcomed the concept with open arms! (un)happy trended the highest that month as fans used the song to post their own ruined makeup looks for the rest of the month, even breaking into local territory. in total, their comeback boasted six wins, including a show! music core win. and speaking of mucore..

did we tell you that yuina was selected as a host? no? well now you know! she was chosen to replace minju in november the previous year after the actress would step down for personal reasons and quick to become a fan favorite for her quick with and facial reactions. and she would soon claim netizen’s hearts once again as she would breakdown before announcing her group’s win on the show.

#𝜗𝜚 ࣪ › discography.#fictional girl group #fictional idol group #fake girl group #fake idol community #fake idol group #fake idol oc #fake kpop girl group #fake kpop group #fictional gg #fake gg

20 notes · View notes

ilovearthur-morgan · 7 months ago

Text

She Keeps Me Up | Chapter 1

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem/afab!reader

Plot summary: Modern AU, John Marston is in a band, you're in the band. (as the bassist). One day, Arthur is dragged to one of John's gigs and sees you playing and develops a lil crush

warning: very slight nsfw themes if you squint, and I mean squint but other than that there are none

authors note: this is my first fan fic so constructive criticism is welcomed! can you tell what instrument I play? ;) can't tell if this story will turn into anything so this might be abandoned.... sorry!

The mashup mentioned in the fic, is this one below. My band plays it, and it is very cool.

-------------------------------------------------------

The bar was dingy. Why did John even bother to book this place? Arthur wondered to himself as he stumbled in. The band was still setting up as John wondered over to him. "You excited, Arthur?" John questioned.

"No" Arthur replied bluntly. John expected this. His band only played covers and mashups, and that was not Arthurs scene. "Well even so, I hope you enjoy it" John said to Arthur. He just shrugged as John walked back to his band. Arthur walked over to the bar and ordered himself a beer as he waited for the band to start.

The lights dimmed, casting a red hue over the bar. It must be starting soon. Arthur wondered to himself. Almost as soon as he thought that, the opening notes of Seven Nation Army could be heard throughout the bar. The lights shone up on the band, and that's when he saw it. You. There you were playing the main riff to seven nation army. As basic as the song choice was, Arthur couldn't help but think to himself how well you played.

He was surprised, as he was getting into the song, John sang a different song? it was not seven nation army, but sweet dreams are made of this. He actually enjoyed it. Usually he didn't like the music John played but here he was, tapping his foot and humming along. Maybe it was you? the way your fingers worked sent him into a trance. He wondered what else those fingers could do....

He shook his head. He couldn't be thinking this! You were John's band member! But then it happened. You looked at him from the risen floor, which was a pathetic attempt of a stage. You looked at him with those peircing eyes of yours, sending him into a blushing mess. This has never happened before? he was blushing over someone looking at him! He was thankful for how dark it was in the room because he was certain he was bright red.

He stood there in a trance throughout the whole gig, only looking at you. You had hypnotised him as if you were a sorcerer holding a watch in front of him and rocking it back and forth.

Before he knew it, it was the end of the gig, and the lights were turning on. He slowly, hypnotically dragged himself over to John. "Well done, that was actually decent" he congratulated him. "Thanks, Arthur, means a lot" John replied.

"Let me introduce you to the band!" John takes his arm and drags him over to meet everyone. "That's Taylor, our drummer, Kaylee is on rhythmic guitar and you know I'm on lead guitar and singing" He then points you out and says your name "That's our bassist". You wave and smile at him. Arthur can't speak, he can't do anything but wave back. You finish packing up your instruments and walk over to John "Alright, I'm out" you say, patting his shoulder and waving goodbye. He couldn't believe it, your voice was softer than butter, as airy as a sponge.

John turned to Arthur as he followed your form leaving the bar. "We're getting drinks here same time tomorrow, you up for it?". Arthur only nods.

Same place, same time he'll get to see you again. Of course, he'd be there. He couldn't wait

-------------------------------------------------------

notes: thanks for reading! I hope everything was decent and pls lmk if people want another chapter! chapter 2 available now

#Spotify #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #rdr2 #red dead redemption #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

40 notes · View notes

bobfloydssunnies · 11 months ago

Text

there's a hole where something was...

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Reader (its not a main focus really)

Rating: PG they make some jokes but nothing crazy

Summary: The daggers find out about a couple little secrets Bob has been keeping

Word Count: 2k

Note: This was born from me talking about fall out boy songs I think Bob would listen to and then turned into this wonderful idea after talking about it with @bobgasm and @pinkdaisies9285

I am also posting this before I can talk myself out of it because I've reread it so many times in the last few days I'm starting to hate it just a little

(I may have hidden a couple fall out boy reference into this as well)

Since the mission months ago and the daggers getting stationed closer together more often than not this meant they would meet up and get drinks together. Every night out usually ended up with tipsy games of pool or just talking about life outside work and learning things about new friends.

Somehow on this particular night out at the hard deck the topic of what everyone looked like when we were younger before their navy days had come up. Which is how we all ended up seated at the tables not far from the pool tables swapping phones around with everyone showing off pictures of them at various stages of childhood and adolescence and everyone laughing at the questionable outfit choices or bad haircuts. Slowly everyone else had their turn and had left Bob to be the last one in the usual fashion because he had hoped staying quiet would save him from having to show off his own photos. “Alright Bob you are the only one left who hasn’t shared pictures so are we gonna see you in those dorky glasses as a kid of what” Jake threw out across the tables that had been grouped together for us. “No one wants to see them, trust me they are pretty boring compared to everyone else” Bob stuttered out avoiding looking at anyone at the table. Slowly everyone started begging to see pictures and poke fun at him for now wanting to show pictures of himself saying they couldn’t be as bad as some of the others we had seen from the others tonight. Eventually, Bob decided he had enough of the teasing and pulled his phone out, unlocked it, and started scrolling. After a bit of time he seemed to pause and look up at the table and he seemed nervous like whatever he was about to show us would change something. Jake caught on that he was hesitating to show the group his phone and snatched it out of his hand, “No way this is you” he exclaimed looking at the photo causing everyone to flock around him and the phone in his hand. Suddenly everyone was freaking out and throwing questions about his hair and the piercings on his face. “Is that really an eyebrow piercing?” Phoenix asked looking at her wso, Bob shrugged not knowing how to handle everyone asking things at the same time.

The picture in question showed a younger bob with a lip ring on the left side of his mouth, a silver barbell eyebrow piercing on the right, and his hair outside his normal look with it the top being longer and dyed dark with the ends of his hair being dyed red while the sides were cut shorter. “Who knew the little wallflower had an emo phase”, Bob laughed at that knowing there were other things about him that would surprise them more like the tattoos he has hiding on his ribs and upper thigh or the 3rd piercing he’s still got but managed to keep hidden all these years. I smirked after seeing Bob’s reaction knowing exactly what he was thinking. “What else are you hiding from us?” Bradley asked, noticing both our reactions. Bob gave me a look and I just shrugged back as if to say the ‘choice is yours’. “Let’s just say those are the only piercings I got done” he replied with a smirk, Bob was just messing with them now. Natasha watched you both like she was waiting for one of you to spill exactly what it was or where it was.

The others seemed to have calmed down from the news that their quiet wso had a secret past and were now making a list of different piercings that they thought he could have. You both knew they wouldn’t guess correctly because honestly, they wouldn’t expect Bob to have his nipples pierced. Bob looked good with the lip ring and eyebrow piercing, but him shirtless covered with a little sweat showing off the little collection of tattoos on his ribs and the nipple piercings was a whole other vision to behold. The list of piercings and where they had been/are included his ears (varying types for this one), his tongue,his nose, someone suggested a belly button piercing and they didn’t seem serious about it but someone joked about having a dick piercing.

As the others broke off into little side groups dropping the discussion of what other secret their friend has, Bob took it as a chance to go get drink refills up at the bar and leave me to my own thoughts. It would be easy to show off the piercing Bob has hidden away just not in the current setting we were all in because there is no way to really do it without Bob taking his shirt off in the middle of the bar and Penny probably wouldn’t appreciate that. But since hearing the list of piercings and the theories that up from the discovery about their teammate I could stop looking the general direction of Bob’s chest and how someone hadn’t caught on to the not so subtle staring was amazing because Bob was dressed in a loose button up outside his usual casual t-shirt and some nice jeans. And since talking about him I couldn’t stop thinking about what he has hidden under his civvies and uniforms. Near me someone cleared their throat breaking me from my thoughts and making me look away from Bob while he leaned up against the bar waiting for our drinks , I looked over to see Fanboy who seemed glad to have caught me looking at Bob “any thoughts to share with the group” he asked with a grin “ these aren’t ones y’all need to know about Bob” I reply feeling a heat creep onto my face “oh having some fantasies about baby on board” Jake jokes “at least someone thinks about me like that” Bob shot back as he returned from the bar.

After that it went back to being a normal night out just having drinks and catching up and playing darts, singing at the piano with Bradley and of course taking over the pool tables. When they eventually started up the games of pool it let you pick the best spot to watch Bob as he leaned over the table to take shots. He seemed to have caught up to why you had exactly picked the spot you had or had caught you staring earlier before rejoining the group because he seemed to have no shame in trying to find way that made sure his shirt moved just enough to show more of his chest of than necessary or he’d move just right to have the shirt rise up a bit had show off just a sliver of his stomach.

The current game was maybe half way through when a gasp fell from someone's lips you were unsure who’s but it seemed to silence the group and got Bob to look up from the shot he was about to take. A confused “what” came from the group but wasn’t answered instead I noticed Natasha staring at Bob from her place opposite him as the pool table “So nipples piercings is the other one you got'', Bob grinned “surprised Tash” he asked while pulling himself away from the table. “Gonna be honest, had you pegged more as a guy to go for a nose ring or maybe your ears” she replied smiling “I gotta keep y’all guessing I wouldn’t want to come off too boring” he joked. The others joined in joking about his choice of piercing and started asking a bunch of other questions about them. “Are you even allowed to have them like does it go against regs at all” Bradley asked “ I mean maybe but I’ve had them for awhile now and no one has said anything it's not like I can hide them really during physicals and med evaluations” Bob replied before standing next to you. “Why didn’t you get rid of them when you stopped wearing the other two?” Fanboy asked “Oh I got them after I joined and was done with basic and most of the training like I had a decent amount of leave saved up and just decided to do it one day” Bob explained like it was obvious. “Why are we just now finding out about them though like it’s not like its something easy to hide I mean I’m pretty sure we’ve all seen you change at some point at time in locker room or ready room at work” Payback asked from his spot beside Fanboy “I cover them up usually when I’m on base just to avoid people seeing them or any other problems like them getting caught or me forgetting to put in the right jewelry I’ve learned its better to prepare for a possible problem than to be unprepared and hope one doesn’t happen plus it make it easier for myself that’s some of why I wore my shirt that day during dogfight football before the mission” everyone was silent like they were trying to picture it or just come up with something else to say “you know I don’t think we’ve ever actually seen you shirtless” Jake said “thinking about Bob shirtless now Bagman” I joke “no, pretty sure that your job” he shot back “hey I don’t blame you I mean between the piercings and the tattoos it’s a nice view” I say looking at Bob, who had a flush to his skin after my comment. “Tattoos too!” “Oops” I said sheepishly. “It’s just like 8-10 small ones that are random little things on my ribs, and some on one of my thighs. It's not like some big piece," Bob said, shrugging it off. I felt a little bad letting it slip, he had tattoos but Bob didn’t seem to be upset with me and was just more uncomfortable to still be the center of attention.

The pool game was long forgotten at this point and the conversation had moved to everyone talking about their own tattoos and what they were getting next or already had ( everyone learned Bradley has a little goose on his ribs for his dad). I pulled Bob a bit aways from everyone to let us both have a moment together away from your friends “I’m sorry for telling them about the tattoos babe” I say holding his hand. “It’s alright darlin they would have found out eventually plus all this coming out makes it easier to add the new stuff we’ve been talking about” he smirked. You and Bob had been talking about him getting new tattoos and maybe looking into some other piercings (once you find the time to look through the navy regs to make sure it wouldn’t cause any problems for him at work) and the more time you had spent talking about it the more excited you both got it was probably for different reasons but you both wanted to see the art on Bob’s body grow. After a bit of time alone Bob takes us back over to our friends who are still stuck on talking about tattoos and what they can and can’t get done because of the navy rules. Natasha notices us both and pulls me to the empty chair next to her making me drag Bob along with me “Hey Tash” I say sitting down, “I can’t believe you never told me about all this that’s what our hang out are for we talk about our partners” she said pouting, okay so she’s a little tipsy “Trust me Tash I wanted to but I know Bob hasn’t told you and I didn’t want to share incase he didn’t want you knowing for some reason” I tell her honestly. Bob it seemed like had been roped into answering Payback and Fanboy’s questions about how much piercings hurt to get done when I heard Javy ask the question of night I’m sure “So you gonna try and get any more things done or is this are far are you’re going with the look”. Bob looked over at me and winked before responding “Who knows maybe inspiration will strike soon and I’ll show up with something new”.

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fic #mission report [aimee writes]

142 notes · View notes