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franklyshipping · 2 years

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Tickle While You Work ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

AND HERE WE BEGIN THE NEWEST LIST OF PROMPTS, STARTING WITH A LOVELY ANON PROMPT WITH HAROLD AND OUR FAVOURITE MUSICAL PRISONER! LET’S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @yancelee

You wouldn’t think that cleaning a bathroom would bring someone joy, and yet here we have Yancy. He was smiling from ear to ear, humming as he listened to some music through his wireless earphones… and scrubbed at the grout between the floor tiles with a toothbrush. This is unorthodox, I grant you, but to Yancy this was just habit. When he was in prison this was always his chore, and this was the only method he’d had at his disposal. He’d hated it at first, finding it such hard and gross work, but over time it became part of his routine. Soon the chore became muscle memory, which meant he could occupy his mind with plans for musical or dance numbers, so he came to enjoy his chore-time.

So now he was free and living in the manor, he decided there was no reason why he shouldn’t carry on that part of his routine – his bathroom wasn’t especially dirty, but he’d hit a rut with his inspiration lately, so he figured some scrubbing along with some music would help kick his brain into gear. He was right too! Already he was thinking about some new compositions, however, he was about to find himself interrupted. Harold B. Darrensworth had headed into the bathroom to source some bleach, since their utility room was completely out of stock. However he froze in place when he saw Yancy and what he was doing. Needless to say… he was incredibly confused.

‘Yancy… what IS this?!’

Yancy jumped, so surprised that one of his earphones popped out, making him squeak. But when he saw who it was he sighed and laughed, taking his other earphone out and setting them to the side as he grinned. He didn’t get a chance to reply to Harold however, because true to form, Harold started on one of his frantic – yet quite endearing – rants.

‘I mean of COURSE I highly admire your dedication to cleanliness, the grouting looks SPOTLESS, but are you not highly uncomfortable?! Your knees and back must ache terribly, and why use a TOOTHBRUSH of all things as your utensil?!’

Harold finally took a breath, and Yancy took the opportunity to interrupt.

‘Harold, buddy, relax. I’m doin’ this for a good reason.’

A couple of good reasons, actually. Harold was struck silent as Yancy explained everything. The truth was, this little process was less about cleaning, and more about being a therapeutic distraction for the ex-prisoner’s body so that his mind could work better. Though this sort of thing had been a punishment when he was imprisoned, he’d discovered that it satisfied the itch he always seemed to have in the back of his mind – basically, it was the best form of stimming that Yancy had ever found! Needless to say, Harold was most intrigued.

‘How fascinating…’

Harold murmured, because that’s how cleaning in general made him feel. When his brain was too noisy and haphazard, cleaning and tidying was what allowed him to feel clearer and more focused on the inside. Yancy then smiled up at him.

‘Do youse wanna have a go?’

‘Me?’

‘Yeah, I got tons of other brushes!’

Yancy opened a pencil case he had nearby, which revealed a number of toothbrushes spanning every single colour of the rainbow. Harold sat cross-legged next to Yancy as he perused them all, before he decided to pick up a hot pink one. Yancy grinned at him playfully.

‘Cute choice.’

Yancy winked, making Harold smile and bow his head a little bashfully. Then Yancy watched Harold settle on his knees and start experimentally scrubbing at some of the grouting with the brush, and it only took a few seconds for the satisfaction to hit him. The way the toothbrush perfectly fit into the grooves between the tiles, and the pleasant scratching sound that came from the toothbrush was just incredible! It was truly a sensory heaven for him.

‘This is AMAZING! I’m DEFINITELY going to do this in my bathroom!’

He beamed at Yancy, making him smile – he was so glad that it made Harold feel happy, just like it did for him.

‘Told ya. Hey, in time youse might even be as good as me.’

Yancy nudged Harold’s shoulder playfully, but then to his surprise Harold softly scoffed. He raised an eyebrow at him as he replied.

‘Oh PLEASE, I’m already the best cleaner in this mad household!’

Harold then returned his focus to his scrubbing, wearing a proud – though definitely smug – smile as Yancy raised an eyebrow at him. Now, Yancy knew that he himself could be pretty arrogant and smug sometimes… but seeing smugness on other people, especially his friends, always gave him an urge. An urge to wipe the smugness right off their faces. But, how to do that with Harold? He thought to himself as his eyes flicked over the focused man… before his gaze landed on something. Harold’s exposed feet. For some reason, he’d decided not to wear socks on this particular day. Yancy smirked. That was going to be his big mistake.

‘Oh you think?’

Yancy mused, and Harold replied brightly without even looking at him.

‘Of course!’

Yancy’s smile grew into a smirk, and he cocked his head at Harold as he purred.

‘Okay, prove it. See if you can clean all the grouting in here, without getting distracted.’

‘Pfft, EASY!’

Harold didn’t suspect a thing. He just kept on cleaning, enjoying the feeling of his mind clearing, and as ever feeling entirely sure of himself. Meanwhile, Yancy silently and deftly picked out two clean toothbrushes from his little collection, and shifted so he was sat cross-legged behind Harold. Harold still hadn’t noticed that anything was amiss… but he sure as hell noticed when he felt bristles being lightly dragged down one of his soles. He gasped audibly and straightened up, which made Yancy snicker.

‘Somethin’ wrong Harold?’

Harold felt his face go almost as pink as his toothbrush, his embarrassment and nerves bubbling as he realised what he’d just gotten himself into. He knew it would have been so easy to stop this. Tell Yancy that perhaps he didn’t mean to be so smug… but that wasn’t in Harold’s nature. He was determined, resolute, stubborn. So, despite knowing full well that he was probably going to be tortured and flustered beyond belief, he decided he would carry on.

‘No! N-Nothing at all!’

Harold cleared his throat and resumed his scrubbing, but this time he was nibbling his bottom lip, his feet twitching in anticipation. Yancy grinned. This was going to be a LOT of fun. With every scrub Harold made, Yancy ran his brushes over Harold’s soles, arches, heels, ankles, and up to the even more sensitive balls of his feet. Harold was a trembling mess of badly repressed giggles, whines and squeaks, doing his utmost to pretend the tickling wasn’t happening.

‘Youse seem super giggly today, did ya have somethin’ fun happen?’

Yancy asked casually. Oh yeah, and there was the teasing. Yancy insisted on constantly chatting and asking Harold little questions to keep him talking, which just made the entire thing even more embarrassing.

‘N-Nohot r-reheally…’

‘Huh, is there a joke that I’m missing out on?’

Yancy asked, and Harold whined under his breath as Yancy used both toothbrushes to scrub evil circles against the balls of his feet. It meant Harold couldn’t even focus on his own scrubbing, bowing his head as a torrent of giggles bubbled out of him. Yancy grinned, his eyes gleaming as he teased.

‘Must be some amazing joke, I don’t think I’ve ever seen youse giggle this much!’

Harold let out a snort of laughter, before the toothbrush fell from his hand, landing on the tiles with a clatter as he buried his face in his hands.

‘Ohoho gohohod Ihi cahan’t dohoho THIHIS!’

‘Can’t do what? Aww, is the cleaning a little too much for you?’

Yancy teased, before deciding to tease the pads of his toes with the toothbrushes. That was Harold’s breaking point. He let out a sudden shriek, immediately moving to scramble away from Yancy, looking at him with wide eyes as he babbled.

‘NONO NOHOT MY TOES NOT MY TOHOES!’

Yancy grinned a feral grin. Harold might have been finished cleaning, but Yancy certainly wasn’t finished tickling.

‘Well now I gotta!’

Harold squealed when Yancy hooked an arm around his ankles, trapping them in a headlock, before using one of his toothbrushes to brush furiously at the pads and stems of Harold’s vulnerable toes. The poor man was in instant hysterics!

‘AHHHH NONONOHO NAHAT FAHAHAIR!’

‘Serves ya right for being a smug little shit!’

Harold’s blush was crimson, even reaching his ears, as he threw his head back with mirth. The tickling had his mind and voice frantic, not just because his toes were literally his worst spot, but the toothbrush was the most torturous tickle tool Harold had ever felt! It was rough and incessant, able to get in all the hidden places where his most sensitive nerves usually stayed safe. Yancy giggled, loving the sound of Harold’s laughter – such wild mirth from such a measured man.

‘IHIHI’M SOHORRY! IHIHI’LL NEHEVER BE SMUHUG AGAHAIN!’

Harold cried out, making Yancy hum playfully. They then teasingly focused his tickling on one of Harold’s pinky toes as he replied.

‘Do you promise?’

As soon as Harold felt the targeted tickling he screamed, fists pounding the tiled floor as he yelled without even taking a breath.

‘YEHEHEHESIPROMISEIPROMISEIPROMISE!!’

Yancy laughed, and after one more sneaky drag of the toothbrush down one of Harold’s soles, he had mercy. He released Harold’s feet gently, and watched as the man gulped in air, panting and gasping residually as he hurriedly brought his feet in close. Harold closed his eyes, resting his cheek on the edge of Yancy’s bath.

‘Oho dear, ohoho my gohoodness…’

Yancy snickered, and scooted over to sit next to him with a smile.

‘Yohou good?’

Harold pursed his lips at Yancy, his messy hair falling a little over his eyes as he mumbled.

‘I’m putting a ban on toothbrushes as… a-as tword tools.’

‘Pfft, good luck with that. I know quite a few people who like using them.’

‘WHAT?! Who?!’

Harold squeaked, his feet scrunching as Yancy snickered, wrapping and arm around his shoulders to give him a half hug as he replied.

‘Ohhh I’m sure you’ll find out soon, ticklish guy like you.’

‘Y-Yancy!’

Harold squeaked and hid his face in his hands, letting out a quiet whine as Yancy rubbed his back affectionately. Yancy gave Harold a few minutes to recover from his embarrassment, before he smiled and asked.

‘Youse wanna carry on cleaning with me?’

Harold peeked through his fingers at first, but then his hands came away from his face to reveal a happy smile as he nodded.

‘Yes please.’

So the two of them resumed their work, although of course you all now know that for Yancy and Harold this wasn’t really work at all. Different people find peace and comfort in different things. Some people unwind with massages, videogames, naps, food, or slime – for Harold and Yancy, their satisfaction came from cleaning with their unorthodox tools. One other thing they discovered however, was that their minds truly became the clearest – and the happiest – when they did it together.

WOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS FIC, LEMME KNOW IF YA DID! WOOOO LUV YOUS!!

#markiplier #markiplier egos #harold #harold darrensworth #yancy #sfw #platonic #prompt #ego fic #ego fanfic #tword fic #tword fanfic #tword #twords #twording #twordish #luv these bois

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tsarinatorment · 2 years

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N for the OC ask?

Also I am in awe of how much effort you've been putting into your cabin 7 OCs <3

Aah, thanks, Moth! Honestly it's mostly me digging myself a way too deep rabbit hole so I can keep all Will and Apollo’s references to other Apollo kids straight in my fics, although I am semi-seriously considering joining the pile of “Will’s time at camp” fics, which of course I need a lot of Apollo kid OCs for (thank you, Apollo, for being so prolific...)

OC Alphabet Soup - send me a letter and I’ll talk about an OC whose name starts with it

Another Cabin Seven kid coming right up; there's actually a couple beginning with N, so I'll just pick one for now, but if I get another 'N' ask... there's more! For all Cabin Seven kids, I’m doing the same basic format, including an image generated by rinmaru’s mega fantasy avatar maker because while they’re not perfect to how they are in my head… they’re close enough, so here we go!

*disclaimer, this particular kid does appear in canon but he's never named; this is me giving information to a Random Background Kid this time around.

N is for... NATHAN LISTER

Pronouns: He/Him Date of Birth: 27th March 1994 Parents: Apollo and Jackie Lister (a baseball coach from Alabama, USA) Etymology: Nathan - gift of god. Lister - son of the arrowmaker from Scottish Gaelic Mac an Fleisdeir (and, yes, also a reference to ‘Lester’) Years at CHB: 2007-2009 (Year-Rounder) Status: Died aged 15 during the Battle of Manhattan Inherited Domains: Archery*, Music, Poetry, Healing

Nathan is a loud, often overconfident individual. During his first summer at camp, he took part in the chariot races as the Apollo cabin’s driver and made the mistake of goading Annabeth and Percy (”You’re mine!” the driver from Apollo yelled. He was a first-year camper. I didn’t remember his name but he sure was confident. - The Titan’s Curse, ch.19). He can also be rather arrogant and cocky, and isn’t likely to back down from an argument - it’s reasonably common for him to be the reason disagreements continue instead of settling down and reaching a conclusion. Lee kept him under control reasonably well, but once Michael took over and they entered the feud with the Ares cabin over the chariot, he was one of the more vocal aggressors. His mother finds his attitude difficult to handle, largely because hers isn’t that dissimilar, so he stays at camp year-round with occasional trips home to visit. It also stops him being kicked out of various schools for his confrontational attitude. He is, however, very loyal to his family (especially his half-siblings) and will always take their side (unless it’s an internal agreement, in which case he takes no-one’s side, usually telling all involved parties they’re being idiots).

Like all of his half-siblings, Nathan has a degree of healing ability. It’s not particularly powerful, but it’s useful enough in a pinch and can keep people alive long enough for the stronger healers to arrive. He has an innate sense for triage, but terrible bedside manner. He’s one of the Apollo kids capable of casting rhyming curses, and is incredibly willing to do so if provoked. Nathan also has a solid sense of rhythm and plays the bass guitar; his singing voice is pleasant to listen to.

Nathan’s primary inherited ability is his aim. He’s good at any sort of ranged weapon (or sport; he’s particularly good at baseball, likely due to his mother bringing him along to her coaching sessions as a kid), and like most Apollo kids openly favours the bow. He prefers a composite recurve, much like those used in Ancient Greece, but is capable with longbows and modern recurves as well.

He was killed in the Battle of Manhattan at Williamsburg Bridge (16th August 2009), when Hellhounds dragged him away (Hellhounds leaped ahead of the line from time to time. Most were destroyed with arrows, but one got hold of an Apollo camper and dragged him away. I didn't see what happened to him next. I didn't want to know. - The Last Olympian, ch.11)

#burning-moths #riordanverse oc #original character #nathan lister #child of apollo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #riordanverse

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softkuna · 3 years

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Toji Fushiguro || Toy || Fic

The Sukuna one had me like ✨✨✨ Now I must ask, can you- a toji x fem reader and him seeing Gojo eyeing up what's his and her responding to it and then toji being like oh hell no and basically railing her as punishment (degrading kink please it makes me jello) you don't have to write it if your not comfortable btw take your time and stay safe.

Content ║ Toji Fushiguro x Fem Insert. Toji’s shoulder pressed into the wall with such a force the damn thing could’ve dented. Arms crossed tensely against the broad puff of his chest. His teeth ground together, the sound of squeaking canines reverberating in his mind. Toji was seething. For a man with the physical prowess of a god, his tolerance was about as thin as a wet napkin. A wet napkin this woman decided to poke a well-manicured finger into.

Count ║ 1,311 words.

Consider ║ NSFW. Degradation Kink. Objectification. Female Insert (she/her). Alcohol. Grammar issues. Basic degeneracy.

Creator ║ So this is the first NSFW thing I have done like this ;v;. I’m not sure if this hit the mark for ya Anon, but hopefully it’ll do until I can get some more practice. It took a little while since I wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing. Honestly this just feels subpar gomen. Enjoy jealous Toji, though -finger guns-.

The club was barely lit with black light and neon strewn about the solid concrete walls in seemingly random intervals. A particularly bright hot pink one cast across her collarbone, dowsing the tops of her breasts deliciously in contrast to the black latex dress. As much as Toji would like to shove her against that very wall, she had a job to do. For him. And he regretted it.

She was pushing her luck when she approached the table with a certain sway to her hips. Gojou peered around the tinted sunglasses, brow piqued in interest. She flashed a smile, smoothly setting a large bottle of some random high percentage alcohol onto the table. Sliding into the booth next to Satoru, the woman leaned a hand on his leg, the other moving to playfully snap the strap of a birthday hat under his chin, “I hear it’s someone’s birthday?”

His head tilted up along with the corners of his lips, “Guilty as charged. Are you my present, doll? Always heard the hostesses here were the best,” His voice purred against the thrum of the bass. She tucked hair behind her ear, eyes flickering back to the ravenette with a dangerous composition. The corner of her mouth twitched up at the obvious frustration resonating in the man. He couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t even dream of it if he wanted any semblance of information on this guy. It was the perfect opportunity to test a theory. Toji was the jealous type.

Toji’s shoulder pressed into the wall with such a force the damn thing could’ve dented. Arms crossed tensely against the broad puff of his chest. His teeth ground together, the sound of squeaking canines reverberating in his mind. Toji was seething. For a man with the physical prowess of a god, his tolerance was about as thin as a wet napkin. A wet napkin this woman decided to poke a well-manicured finger into.

He slammed down a shot, the burn at the back of his throat accompanying the burn of his own gaze. She wasn’t anything to him aside from an in. Yet somehow, the not-so-shaman made it a point to speak with her at least once a week, which usually lead into fucking her like a play thing. The lay was just as good as the information she could pry out of loose mouths. Immaculate. This go around, he needed information on someone in particular. Someone who just so happened to be here with a group. Someone who decided it would be a good idea to get a little handsy with his toy.

“Y’know,” Satoru murmured, “’s pretty sad to be alone in bed for my birthday.” Chilled pads of his fingers rested at the back of her neck. His gaze was hungry and she was a full course meal. Just his type. Perfect shape, perfect charm, perfect headrush. Her hand cupped his ear, whispering something his buzzing mind couldn’t fully piece together against the dense music.

She kept up the sweet act despite not getting a lick of information. The only dirt she dug up was that he could finish half a handle before getting buzzed. By the end of the night, Gojou’s hands squeezed at her thigh like he did her last string of patience.

The last thing Toji saw was the exchange of cards.

As the black-clad hostess passed by Toji, her hand trailed along the muscles of his chest, stiletto nails pressing just slightly into him. He followed close behind until they got to their regular spot. A private room tucked into the corner of the club. Commonly used for rich men thirsting to empty their wallets on a good lap dance. It was sound proofed, dimly lit, and somehow hot pink velvet was a prime design choice to set a steamy mood.

She crossed her arms, gaze hard as the door shut, “So, I’ve got bad new. He didn’t let a word slip-“ The sentence stopped as soon as it began.

“So doll’s got a sense of humor, huh?” His voice held an edge to match the snide smirk flashing over pointed canines. She knew exactly what was up and oh was it a dangerously delectable sight. One that made her cunt throb on nothing but adrenaline. The crease of his brow, the way his lips set into that hairpin curl, the tensing of each thick muscle along his arm – all of it leaving a sense of satisfaction in the pit of her stomach. Theory confirmed. He took a step closer; she didn’t shrink away. A lost challenge if he’d say so himself.

A large calloused hand shoved her onto cushions of the booth, catching her open mouth in his own with a bruising force. The man wasted no time with his prodding tongue, tasting the sweetness of peppermint and lapping it up while fending off her own slick muscle. A hand snaked into the roots of her perfectly done hair, white-knuckling just at the base of the skull. With a sharp yank, her head was yanked back, allowing break for air. Smug and breathless, she chimed, “Jealous?”

Toji blew air out in a single blackened laugh, “I’m not one to share my toys.” Teeth connected to her lips, rolling the flesh then moving to her throat. Purple marked his territory trailing down. The heat of his breath tickled the space directly next to her ear, “Now, you’re going to beg for me to forgive you. Make myself clear, slut?” Toji’s grip on her tightened, “Or is doll better for something getting used?” A rough tug to the back of her hair triggered a low moan from her heaving chest. After so many sessions, she knew he didn’t really want an answer. He wanted a reason go harder.

The hand once in her hair now gripped her jaw, keeping her gaze on him, “Answer me, toy. Or do I need to pull a string to make that cock-obsessed mouth move?” On que, free digits wrapped around the gusset of her thong, second knuckle just grazing the entrance of her heat before he pulled the sodden fabric taught, letting it snap back to place. The impact triggered another empty clench and gasp. Her hips writhed, a sappy pout puffing the bitten lips. More.

Toji maintained her heavy-lidded stare as he brought the knuckle to his lips. He watched as her own parted when his tongue swept up the sweetness collected at the joint. The way her hips rose to match the zipper’s height, the lock of her teeth on her finger, the desperation in her eyes – all of it made his stiffened cock twitch against her adorably hopeless grinding, “Looks like my toy is broken. Guess I’ll just fuck the apology out of it then.”

A wicked grin whipped onto his handsome face. Her mouth opened in rebuttal, only to get interrupted, “This is to teach a lesson, toy. What did you do to deserve the prep?” The gravel in his tone grew slightly dark, “Couldn’t even get the dirt I paid for.” His long digits did work past the gusset, slipping over her entrance, gathering the arousal, “Look how wet you already are for me.” A heated coil pressed in her at the words. She knew what was coming now and every inch of her craved it.

In what seemed to be a single motion, jeans and boxers were torn down. Her dress was hiked up with a satisfying peel, thong quite literally ripped off and thrown to the ground before she was flipped so that her back was pressed against his chest. Sturdy, veined arms wrapped at the backs of her thighs and under her knees. Truly, she was a doll for him to pleasure himself on and he made it a point to do so.

Toji lowered her so that the thick tip of his length pressed against her heart-beating heart. Her walls fluttered around him as he slid in. “For a broken toy, you’re pretty damn tight for me - ready to be played with. Get used- fuck.” Amusement broke through as she bit back a breathless sigh. His cock filled her easily, slick sliding down his shaft and pooling at the base. As he fully sheathed himself, he craned his neck forward, lips pressing at the shell of her ear, “Now, I want to hear you beg, bitch.” With that, the man snaked back and up, setting a relentless pace from the beginning. The sound of skin slamming into wettened skin filling the room along with the aroma of arousal.

She was stubborn. He was tireless. They’d both cum before the apology even had a chance to.

#🥩 .ask #🥩#🥩 .fic #🍺#🍺.ask #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #satoru gojou #gojou satoru #gojo satoru

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mirrorforevers · 3 years

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here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

#graham coxon #alex james #damon albarn #dave rowntree #blur #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #graham coxon x reader #graham x reader #y/n #fluff #au #fanfiction #blur band

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x0401x · 3 years

Text

Kagerou Poject Reboot: RealSound Interview

Jin x Shirakami Mashirou x Yuumao

Their takes on the changes that each of them has witnessed in the past ten years and the things they have been seeing in the whirlpool that is the VOCALOID scene.

Translation commissioned by the amazing @sodasexual!

Celebrating the tenth anniversary of Kagerou Project, the Re:boot project has commenced. An interview has been carried out to ask about its background and prospects.

The ones we have interviewed are a trio consisting of the author of Kagerou Project and multi-creator Jin, as well as Shirakami Mashirou (bass) and Yuumao (drums/Hitorie), who are also production members of the original music piece and were listed as the performance team of “Children Record (Re:boot)”, which was released the other day as the first part of the Re:boot project.

We had them talk about the true intentions behind “Re:boot”, which means “to restart”, about the recordings where they created the concept of “overcoming the original composition” and about the near future, including the new song, along with the steps they have taken in the past ten years.

The “pain” that comes with creating something unprecedented.

——How did Kagerou Project’s Re:boot project begin?

Jin: Kagerou Project was set into motion back in 2011, so this year is the turning point of ten years since then. In that meantime, there were lots of things I fretted over, but as I discussed with the people around me about whether there was anything I could do, we came up with the idea of “remaking the old compositions”. I thought if that’s what we were going to do, then I wanted to try doing it with the original members of Children Record, so I contacted the two.

——How did each of you feel when Shirakami Mashirou-san and Yuumao-san received the proposal of a remake?

Jin: Regarding Mashirou-san, I was contacting him for the first in a long time. “Let’s go out for a drive,” I told him.

Shirakami: Right, right. We went on a car drive together. Just us seeing each other already felt nostalgic in itself, so we talked like normal about lots of things and were like, “Yeah, it was fun back then”. I felt that “Aah, I’m looking forward to this”.

Jin: While talking to the staff, I honestly felt uneasy about creating something new, even though it was a remake. If I had to use a word to represent these ten years in which I’ve been writing novels and making music for Kagerou Project, it was extremely “painful” to me. So I wanted to talk to Mashirou-san first-thing. On a different occasion, when a staff member asked me, “Have you been keeping in contact with Mashirou-san lately?”, I suggested, “If it’s okay, can I contact him myself?”, and then invited him for the drive. Rather than the request for the remake, I firstly wanted to discuss with him, “I’m planning on doing this thing; what do you think?”

Shirakami: There was one more person taking part in that drive, right?

Jin: That’s right. Since the coronavirus was going on, we went driving in three separate cars, and the third person was INPNE-kun, who made the video of Children Record Re:boot. That was INPINE-kun and Mashirou-san’s first meeting. At that time, INPNE-kun hadn’t started working on the video yet, but thinking back on it now, I’m glad the two of them were introduced to each other that way. It feels like our hearts bound the music and the video together.

——Yuumao-san, what about you?

Yuumao: Jin-kun and I were seeing each other constantly. I had received a request to tackle the recordings of the songs he had been making until now. Amidst that, there was a day when I received a request, amongst other matters, and was scheduled to “record Children Record”. Up to around three days before the recording, I spent my time wondering, “What’s this supposed to be?” (laughs).

——Jin-san, what did you think when choosing Shirakami-san and Yuumao-san, the original duo?

Jin: I only felt that I wanted to do it with these two. I didn’t have any other choice in the first place. I’m awfully fond of the contents that they performed in the original song, and I had no complaints other than towards my own abilities for making musical arrangements.

——You said earlier that “the past ten years were extremely painful”, but what kind of feeling was it?

Jin: The year when I began these activities, 2011, was the time when I was attending a vocational school; the band I was playing with back then disbanded midway, but by sheer coincidence, the older brother of a friend of mine was using VOCALOIDs and he taught me about them, so I really started doing it without any backing. Having played in a band until then, there was a lot of passion and many messages that I wanted to convey inside me, so this project was about me taking them and beginning to paddle off, and one of the aspects of it was that VOCALOID made the things I wanted to do into a reality. But that was a period where it felt like the VOCALOID culture wasn’t yet acknowledged. On top of that, other than the music, Kagerou Project had novels, and a lot of it had no precedents, so I believe there were parts of it that were difficult to understand for people who weren’t already into it. I didn’t know if the path I was going through was right or wrong. But the people around me kept telling me “not to take my foot off the accelerator”. In that sense, I definitely have negative memories of it. I also had the feeling that I was estranged from the music scene.

——Indeed, the music of Kagerou Project is unmistakably rock, and I believe it was something that pierced through Japan’s rock culture, but I think you might have felt that you were not understood by the rock bands of back then.

Jin: That’s right. Surprisingly, the people around me, including creators and those who were in bands, gave off an air of ridicule with a “he’s a faker” kind of nuance to it. I understood the awesomeness of rock bands, so of course, there were times when I’d wonder, “What is it that I’m doing?”. During these ten years, there was a moment halfway when I almost broke down. Due to many primary factors, I might’ve been unable to go on – like, there was a time when I found myself thinking that it was weird to keep it up while I was so at loss. There was also a period where I was unable to create anything for Kagerou Project.

——When did that happen, exactly?

Jin: Rather than breaking down all of a sudden, it’s more like I slowly became unable to create any more. Although I was being criticized on one side, I was also being demanded on another, so I was at a level where I was obligated to write. However, while all sorts of emotions were whirling up, I suddenly thought of something. There was a time when I got closure from that feeling of “not being acknowledged” that I mentioned earlier.

——When was that?

Jin: Around the time when I was making the previous album (“Mekakucity Reload”, which was released in November 2018). I was called “inexperienced” and “unskilled” not only in the rock scene but also in the light novel scene, so I made effort to sweep it all away. It felt like I was being treated like a tumor in everything I did. But then I suddenly thought, “Yeah, that’s fine”. There was a moment one day when the mists actually cleared, like, “What was I so at loss about?” It’s not like I’ve been going at it just so that someone would praise me. If anything, I lived my life constantly being made fun of. I’m no good at sports, I’m not smart, and I by no means did I ever excel at communicating with people at all. By the moment that I thought, if this is my character, then maybe being praised isn’t the only right answer, I was suddenly alleviated. If I’m being called a “child deceiver”, then I’m going to do that with all my might and apply myself to it, is what I thought. I refused to go to school for a while when I was in middle school, yet I had the feeling that I wanted to face this part of me, not in a fashionable or trendy way but in a miserable state, and fight him head-on. I guess that’s what suited me best. To me, Shirakami-san and Yuumao-san are people with a “chosen vision”. They have the sense to perceive beauty. I think I don’t have that in me. Which is why I was in pain. I was in a dilemma where I couldn’t grasp music as an art. However, it’s not like I’m making fun of hamburgers, but I started to think that I wanted to compete using something punk, something hamburger-like. It took me a while to get there.

——How do you feel after listening to what Jin-san just said, Yuumao-san and Shirakami-san?

Yuumao: Jin-kun said just now that he was “fretting” and “stuck”, but I knew about his circumstances to a certain extent, so I imagined that he was unable to move on. But while talking about all sorts of things with Jin-kun, when producing stuff in the last three to four years, we had the feeling that it basically boils down to “if we don’t provide this and that, it won’t be interesting”. This isn’t limited to KagePro – I just personally felt that the productions of his works were shifting towards not “making something good”, but rather making something that could be properly verbalized. For me, as someone on the performing side, I was also in a situation where, rather than just providing good content one way or another, I became increasingly able to explain it. In the end, we change just like that, is what I felt. And you base yourself on this to make new songs, right?

Jin: That’s right.

Yuumao: Thought so. That’s why I feel like the stuff that will come from you in the future will have stronger colors.

——Shirakami-san, what about you? How did the scenario change in the past decade and how do you think that you have been progressing as a musician?

Shirakami: The biggest change that I felt the most on my skin is that the huge Vocaloid movement itself has completely gained familiarity with the public in the last ten years. About a while after I had started associating with Mafumafu-kun, amongst the musicians that I’ve met, the number of people who came up to tell me, “I’ve been listening to Vocaloid” has increased. It’s been one round ever since we began doing this stuff, and the people who were the consumers back then became producers, is what I mean. That’s not us, the first generation – it’s a kind of follower generation, and we’ve completely permeated them. The context of what was born not only from VOCALOID but also the so-called internet culture has blended with the category named “ordinary rock bands”. That’s what I’ve been feeling for three or four years now. Therefore, the “feeling of being a knock-off” that Jin-kun innitially talked about has disappeared with the change of times, so to speak. I feel this keenly even in regards to myself and I think it’s an objective truth. However, from a personal point of view, even though changes are happening in many places, what is fundamentally required of us hasn’t changed much. For example, I believe that VTubers are also getting public familiarity now, but I think the reason why VTubers are trendy is that there are human beings underneath. For VOCALOID, too, the composers, so-called Vocalo-P’s, are the ones who get popularity, and one way or another, there’s also a phenomenom where the songs sung by popular Utaite become widespread. In the end, I think what matters is the fact that there are people behind it. I personally think we have to create stuff that we can be proud of while paying close attention to these things. In short, just because all internet content is intangible isn’t enough; we, the creators, have to carry the literacy of how society is going to approve of us.

Jin: That’s right. I think that VOCALOID music up to this point, Kagerou Project included, will have to be supplemented. Since we have words that are so easy to understand, such as “rock band”, “singer” and “songwriter”, for example, people go, “What the heck is a Vocalo-P, then?” At first, there was this impression that we were being given a weird alias by strangers, and I also felt like the adults, the people who are in control of the media, made us into something easy to digest. In regards to “deceiving children”, in order to earn money the fastest with it and make it spread the widest, the most effective method was probably to make it marketable, simple to understand and easy for adults to put labels on.

Therefore, I think that things such as “What is it that I can’t give up on?” and “What did I even want to do to begin with?” are the true identity of the realization that I mentioned earlier. It’s like wondering whether or not you can say aloud in the middle of a classroom that you “enjoy anime” or “really like cute characters”. Back in those days, I couldn’t to it at all. The class had castes. But I want to say this in a loud voice. Rather than trendy and fashionable overseas music, I much sooner believe in Summon Night EX-THESE’s theme song (“Byakuya” by Matsumoto Eiko) and other such music that I’ve always liked. Therefore, I want to start off from the fact that people think, “Aah, this guy has no sense”. It’s like I’m saying sorry to my middle school second-year self for almost forgetting the feelings I had back then. I seriously don’t care about winning. Being number one or being famous doesn’t matter at all to me. Only, I just don’t want people to act on their own accord like I’m a loser. I think that means I want to do something to fix this.

Earning recognition for creating KagePro content is still a few ways ahead.

——Back in 2013, we had a conversation between Jin-san and Suganami Eijun-san from THE BACK HORN, and back then, Jin-san said, “I’m handing bombs over to my grade school and middle school selves”. And that live concerts were the detonators.

Jin: That’s right.

——Regarding KagePro, I feel that this thing about “handing bombs over” is very prominent. Just as Shirakami-san said, VOCALOID “earned its own rights”, but in KagePro’s case, when I see the responses to the reboot, each and every one of the comments is very passionate.

Yuumao: Lately, be it with KagePro or Hitorie, the number of people who say either that they’re listening or had been listening to VOCALOID in the past year and a half has truly increased a lot. I kind of feel on my skin that many people are getting rooted in it.

——Jin-san, do you feel this too?

Jin: No, I don’t. This is a twisted way of putting it, but I think it’s a few ways ahead for us to receive that evaluation. I feel like it’s not over yet. When I started off by myself and decided to move on from my child self to the future, I wasn’t acknowledged by my elders and seniors. I feel inside me that this still isn’t over. I intend to be in a whirlpool. It hasn’t been proven yet whether I’m a knock-off or not. It makes me really happy that there are people who were influenced by us, but that opinion doesn’t make me change my mind.

——Jin-san, how do you think of KagePro in the near future?

Jin: When I look toward the future, I simply want to finish it. I will be taking my time to create content, but first things first, I want to devote myself to the completion of this project. I definitely won’t abandon it midway. I have this firmly in mind now. As for its contents, it’s mainly two things. For now, firstly, we have started the reboot from Children Record, but of course, there’s also a reboot for the project’s story. Moreover, there will be new developments coming next. There are also new songs and new stuff story-wise. And I want to do them with these two members, for as much as they allow. There’s the possibility that I’ll be making the drums play at 200 BPM when we’re in our 50’s. I think the announcements will be slow, but I’m very positive about this, so I myself am looking forward to it too. And, on the other hand, I also would like to ask these two for their ideas in regards to making music for this project and their opinions, like what they want to work hard on.

——What do you mean?

Jin: I honestly think that Children Record was extremely well-done. When it comes to creating something new, I want to destroy the approach that I’ve been using until now. How about it?

Shirakami: If we’re talking about approach, I believe we’ve been witnessing all sorts of possibilities. We went to studios together the past ten years for that, but we can also do it online like we did this time. Ah, we haven’t gone on a training camp yet.

Jin: I want to go on one.

Yuumao: For sure.

Shirakami: That might be interesting too. Now, if we’re talking just about the bass, it seems this production will turn out as one where I’ll get to confirm once again up to what point I can go – that’s what I thought when listening to you talk. I think the stance of trying to challenge yourself no matter how much you age is, of course, the way that musicians should be and I believe that challenging myself is the path I’m going to take, but there are genres, ideologies and aestheticss when it comes to music makers and performers. Personally, amongst the things that I’ve been producing together with Jin-kun until now, whenever we had a subject in front of us, we would only think about how to do our utmost to give a displayable form to it, but be it with the phrasing, nuance or melody, I feel like we have options for all of them. In a sense, there’s a side of Yuumao and I that has been branded as performers as we worked on productions with Jin-kun. So the extension of the straight line that we have been charting until now is, of course, still there. Now that ten years have passed, if I can make new songs with you from now on, I seriously think it might be okay to reflect once again on how my style is being processed. It’s as if it has matured. I have chosen this job out of free will, so one way or another, I’m aware that it’ll be important to keep polishing it from now onwards.

Jin: Thank you very much. That’s literally it. Even in the current Children Record, I think there’s some aspect of it that was made up from the minds of you two, the rhythm section members. Both Mashirou-san and Yuumao-san make new proposals every time. You never try to trace the past at all. The way you think about sound is insanely serious.

Yuumao: I’m planning to do my best to create sounds in a more loose manner from now on. As for what I mean by “loose”, to put it simply, I think it’s quite important to be inspired by present-time musical instruments, and that we get influence from that, when we’re making the sound details. I think it’s bad if we don’t accept and face these things. In particular, I believe that the bass and drums are the parts that change the most. KagePro won’t change yet it has changed, and I think we should keep bringing out that aspect of it.

――Indeed, as a concept, this reboot is not something made to arrange things in a completely different direction from before. Be it a ballad or programmed music, for instance, there would be nothing of that in it. It’s a remake, a rebuild – at any rate, it felt like you are building it up.

Jin: Thank you very much. In the end, we also shouldn’t think that we just perfomed it over again. So it felt like a rematch. We were all at home, but we did that recording ready to beat our selves from about eight years ago. What should I do to make the original members say that this one “was cooler” than the precious song called Children Record? I think I was able to find an answer to that one.

Shirakami: In a way, using VOCALOID might have been its forte. For example, whenever a band remade a song from ten years ago, I usually felt that “the vocals have none of the freshness that they had back then” or “the reckless feel from that time was better”. But because it’s VOCALOID, that part doesn’t change. It might be that we managed to grant positive changes only to the good points.

Jin: I see. I think that’s possible. My mindset this time was to play the guitar so much that my fingers would bleed. I want to take on more challenges from now onward too.

#kagerou project #kagepro #mekakucity actors #kagerou daze #kagerou project reboot #jin #shirakami mashirou #yuumao #realsound #interview #my translation

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binunus · 3 years

Text

college bf!jinjin

a/n yes yes yes 100x yes, here's the next installment of the college bf!astro series hehe, hope you enjoy it love 😙

{request: Would it be possible to get a college boyfriend Jinjin too?? I super loved the Bin one you did!!!! Thank you in advance 💜}

→ genre: fluff, smut

→ word count: 3k

_________________________________________

alright theydies

jinwoo–like everyone else in astro–makes me hella hard and soft at the same time so this is gonna be fun

major: music engineer technology

i saw that one ddoca where he was directing all the members for his song and just !!! grr bark bark

literally a fucking sweetie

one of the kindest people you will ever meet in your life

his face is so gentle, especially when he smiles

and then you hear his voice and you're like woah why is it so deep and raspy hey

and then he laughs or giggles and you're like ahh that looks more like you hehe

roommates with university famous dancer!rocky bc i love rap line

such a good roommate and hyung omg

will always make sure rocky eats dinner or takes a shower before going to bed even though he’s exhausted from dance practice or whatever

always shows off how talented rocky (and the rest of the boys) is

very chill

which is a bit of a surprise to everyone bc one of his best friends is literally myungjun

anyway, how do you two meet??

you're a vocal performance major

coincidentally, the same major as myungjun

oh god so you can bet he really played matchmaker for you two

you and myungjun were doing a duet together for one of your final projects during your second year

and you two were joking around like

damn, we should record this, we sound pretty fire

*cue myungjun immediately calling jinjin*

mj: ARE YOU AT THE STUDIO?? ARE YOU FREE RIGHT NOW??

jin: hyung why are you yelling it's literally 6 pm

anyway, it was spontaneous but you and myungjun end up going to one of the recording studios in the music building where jinwoo very often frequents at

you're like a bit shy, like wtf myungjun you didn't tell me that your friend was cute?? you would have worn something better than sweats and a tank

jin's so nice ugh, just imagine him smiling at you as he introduces himself

literally you melted

his fit? bucket hat, glasses, shorts and a tee

it was so casual, but why did he look so cute??

myungjun convinces jinwoo to let you guys record in the studio

it took him just 10 minutes to set up the equipment and everything

you were just looking at him like ooo looks so professional

sksksk im gross

myungjun goes first bc you were nervous

and yeah duh he was a natural, but you couldn't help but admire jinwoo in his prime

he looked so attractive in the producer chair just like instructing mj in the booth

he didn't even know what kind of song you guys were singing, but he directed him so smoothly so that the best parts of myungjun's voice came out

mj joking around: why's your mouth open, y/n? amazed at my voice?

you roll your eyes: sure if that's what you want to believe

your thoughts: ah haha i was totally not oogling your best friend myungjun, totally not

and then it was your turn to go in the booth

you don't know why, but you were hella nervous singing in front of them–or more so, in front of jinwoo

which is dumb bc you're literally a vocal performance major, you sing in front of strangers all the damn time

but you really wanted to impress him for some reason??

okay, you had no reason to be nervous because as soon as you opened your mouth?? jinnie?? literally awestruck

he's heard a lot of singers, obviously bc he's had to record so many of them

but you?? your voice?? a literal siren for him–but in a good way!

your singing entranced him

and then you looked out of the booth to see him just staring at you and your throat went dry

your voice cracked, you've never felt more embarrassed in your life

you: ah! oh my God I'm so sorry, that was horrendous

myungjun's laughing at you, what a nice duet partner

but jin just smiles bc you're whining and hiding your face in your hands

you were so cute??

jinwoo: it's okay y/n, you were doing really good. let's try that again, okay?

he was so sweet about it, ugh you were blushing

you end up recording again, and this time you made the smart decision to close your eyes and just try and focus on the lyrics

and shit, if jinjin wasn’t already a bit interested in you before, he definitely was now

because the way you looked completely immersed in the song and lyrics

his heart skipped like ten miles i dont know

myungjun just knew from the way jinwoo was staring at you

you didn’t get his number from the first meeting

bitch you were too shy, you just squeaked out a “thank you, hope myungjun and I weren’t too much of a bother”

jin: hyung’s always a bother, but you were totally fine

mj: hey!

anyway you leave with a bit of regret, like you should have at least gotten his snapchat or social media or something

or make a dumb excuse to try and see him again

ah but mj was already ten steps ahead of you and jinjin ;)

when you get back to your apartment, there’s a text from myungjun like

“come back to jinwoo’s studio tomorrow for the final mix of our duet”

you immediately jump at the opportunity: okay! what time?

damn could you be any more obvious??

this time you actually tried to look cute, like you were going to see jinwoo again, you couldn’t look like a rat

you get to the studio at the time myungjun told you and you’re like?? oh it’s just jinwoo here?? maybe myungjun’s running a bit late??

jinwoo: oh hey y/n! wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon

you: ???? myungjun told me to come here to listen to the final mix...

jinwoo being shy: he didn’t tell me about that haha

you’re embarrassed, about to turn on your heel and book it

maybe also thinking of murdering myungjun on the way back to your place

but then jinwoo grabs your wrist before you could leave

and you literally felt a spark at his touch, it made you jump a little bit

jin: you can stay if you want–I mean, you came all this way already, I’d be a bit of jerk if I just make you leave

you: I-uh-don’t wanna intrude

he just shakes his head with a smile: you’re not, don’t worry. besides, I’m actually working on your song right now, you can tell me what you think

and that’s how you end up hanging out with jinwoo alone in the studio

you were obviously very awkward and nervous at first

what do you say to him? should you ask him questions? what if you’re bothering him? god you don’t want to sound like an idiot

jinwoo noticed your nervousness––and yes he was nervous too, but he just hid it better than you

he hands you a pair of headphones: here, listen to what I have done so far

you’re like pleasantly surprised??? you and myungjun sound so professional?? like damn put this out on spotify or something

you’re smiling and jinwoo just feels like a huge sense of relief like phew okay you like it so far

and then you two just get to talking while he’s still mixing

you ask him how he got into music and his major and all that fun stuff

you find out that jin’s always loved music and the actual producing aspect of it, he hopes to be a music producer one day and he just flirts with you like

“hey maybe one day you can sing my songs on stage”

and you’re like ??? me???

jin: you have one of the best voices I’ve ever heard, it would be an honor for me

ugh jinwoo stop im blushing

you two end up ordering food and eating at the studio bc he promised himself that he wouldn’t leave until he finished your duet and you didn’t wanna leave him alone tf

you and jinwoo exchange numbers this time hehe

before you leave, he’s like “this was nice y/n, you should come over and keep me company more often :) if...you want of course”

you: i’d be happy to! just text me any time :)

internally you’re screaming like yes !!

you can bet that you start spending a lot of your free time with jinwoo in the music studio

sometimes it’s just you two

sometimes myungjun and their other friends make appearances too

and that’s how you get introduced to their friend group

myungjun to either of you: you’re spending a lot of time with jin/yn lately ;)

about a month after meeting each other, jinwoo asks you out on a date

with the encouragement of astro

it was all expected let’s be honest

cliche first date at the movies, but like you both loved it

wouldn’t be surprised if astro was spying on you two, sitting like a couple rows behind and watching your every move

but shhh if they did, you and jinwoo didn’t notice

the transition from liking each other → going on dates → making it exclusive went so smoothly

you and jin were hooked on each other after the first couple meetings that it just seemed so right

myungjun will never stop saying that he’s the reason why you two are in a relationship

you and the other boys grow very fond with each other–particularly sanha

and that was important for jinwoo bc the guys are like his family and it’s basically a dream for him that his partner and friends are close too

sanha is his child do not @ me

so by osmosis, sanha becomes like your baby too

the two of you literally coddle sanha, it’s cute okay

they all go to you and jin for relationship advice sksksk

bc to them, you two just seem so made for each other :’)

the !! sweetest !! most perfect !! boyfriend

will walk you to class in the morning even if his class is all the way across campus

and you’re like: jinwoo it’s okay, i can see you after this class, you might get late!

jin being pouty: i just wanna spend more time with you :(

im in love with jinjin

loves holding your hand, even when you two are in the studio and he’s mixing something for class or just for fun, he’s still holding your hand

whenever he makes a composition, you’re the first person he shows

really values what you think of his work

vice versa, when you have a song you need to sing, you always ask him to listen to you first

you don’t sugarcoat with each other when it comes to music

will ask you to sing literally all the time

jinwoo gives the best hugs :’)

it’s just so comforting, one of his hands strokes your hair, while the other one rubs your lower back

you know what kind of picture im creating?? yeah

ooooof baby you go with him when he gets his tattoos

you hold his hand through it the entire time even though he probably didn’t feel much pain from it

and like his big ass chest tattoo??? are you drooling??? 1000%

when jinwoo realizes that you get ??? turned on?? by his tattoos, you bet he begins to walk around shirtless in your apartment

is this my transition to down and dirty? yes it is

your first time with him was mmm rough and it’s all thanks to that chest tattoo

you and jinwoo have been steamy before, like makeout sessions and dry humping, and oral (both receiving), but the actual action of fucking? y’all haven’t done it before that night

ofc he’s being a little tease and walking around shirtless

he was always touching you though, not explicitly, but like say you were washing the dishes, he would walk past you and brush his hand passed your waist and he’d whisper in your ear like: sorry baby excuse me

and like he’s done this the whole day so just at one point you lose it and literally push him against the wall and start making out with him

ah he knew you were gonna crack

and god you were so turned on at this point that you were not having any of that soft shit, like you needed him to fuck you asap

jinwoo fucks you so hard your first time together that you couldn’t walk the next day

hehe

oh boy he likes to bite

yes he’s the sweetest, but in the bedroom?? lowkey a bit of a masochist

it’s okay bc you don’t mind a little bit of pain ;)

daddy!! kink!! i dont make the rules

will call you baby girl/boy

he’s the dom, like will very rarely let you dom him

very private with your sex life, you won’t catch him teasing you in public with other people around

and if you try, like say if you whisper daddy in his ear or something while you are hanging out with the guys, oof it’s gonna be a rough night for you

alright but studio sex

has he recorded your moans before?? or you two having sex in the booth?? yes

debatably, studio sex happens more than bedroom sex, but that’s only because most of jinwoo’s time is literally in the music building

jinwoo dirty talk !! with his sexy ass raspy voice !!

ugh jin moaning in your ear what a good girl/good boy you are for him while he’s just fucking you

will slightly degrade you?? like yes you are his cocksleeve

but he also praises you a lot during sex too

ooh you better hope you don’t have a gag reflex bc he’s all into throat fucking

favorite position is actually missionary, believe it or not

he loves seeing you come undone for him

eye contact during sex?? yes

like he will make sure you’re looking at him when you cum, periodt

favorite place to cum is your face oops

also very much into cockwarming

most of the time, your sessions are rough just bc your vibes are like that

but when they’re soft and slow?? and like making love??

literally the most passionate man ever

jin makes it all about you and your pleasure when he’s being gentle

after care is full of kisses and cuddles and I love yous

always makes sure you drink water after having sex

stay hydrated kids

and jinwoo’s back to being the bestest boyfriend :’)

first i love you was when you two were in bed together

you both just woke up and were cuddling

jin was watching the video you sent him of you practicing this one song for an upcoming performance

and you were still drowsy, so you were literally drifting in and out of sleep while he was listening to your video

and jinwoo was just awestruck, he’s always been in love with your voice from the get go, but the way you executed this song? even though it was just practice? his chest was constricting

you’re like mumbling when the video stops: i still need to work more on the bridge, my tone gets a bit flat during it, right?

and he just smiles softly at you even though your eyes are closed and you can’t see him

he thought it was perfect already, you were perfect already

and he just calls your name: y/n

you: hmm??

jin: I love you

and suddenly you’re awake and meeting his eyes

they were so genuine and serious and full of love, you don’t even hesitate to say it back

honestly not the jealous type, he’s so patient and trusting and knows that you’re crazy about only him

will constantly reassure you about any of your insecurities: body, voice, school, your relationship, anything

jinwoo just has such a calming aura around him that you can’t help but feel like, as long as he’s by your side everything will be okay

the two of you have many deep talks together, especially at night before going to sleep, it’s what makes your relationship so solid

jinwoo just knew that he wanted to marry you, even early on into your relationship

there was no one that supported him more in his dreams, no one that he’s ever truly felt connected with, no one that he’s shared all his deepest fears with than you

and like after a year of dating like he couldn’t picture a future without you in it

he’s a romantic :’)

shortly before graduating, he makes a song about you and he’s actually singing in it

ugh main vocal jinjin rise

and he shows it to you in the music studio where you first met

and it’s about how much he loves you and admires you and treasures you

basically a proposal but not really

and you’re so touched, like literally moved to tears because it was so beautiful

and lowkey he was cringing at hearing his singing voice but you still loved it nonetheless

and afterwards, jinwoo was like: I wanna spend the rest of my life with you y/n, I’m not asking you to marry me right now, obviously I’ll propose to you in a better way in the future, but I’m serious about you and I can’t imagine being with anyone else.

you jump into his lap and kiss him and just keep saying I love you in between kisses

and jinwoo’s all smiley and giggly like: do you feel the same??

and you hit his arm all jokingly, yes of course you do

you just sit on his lap and he’s hugging you while the two of you are listening to more of his projects and jinwoo’s just thinking like wow I love this person so much

maybe the two of you do owe it to myungjun for playing matchmaker

i guess mj can be the best man at your wedding

y’all this was so soft??

but yes jinnie’s the best bf/husband material out there

im in love with him

_________________________________________________

2-8-21

107 notes · View notes

ruzek-halstead · 3 years

Text

the one that (almost) got away

"my friend dragged me to this party and i just saw my ex - quick, make out with me"

university au

masterlist || ao3

It was a month before finals and Julie's to-do list was piling up. Her music courses were slowly starting to drive her insane (best program in the country my ass) and she had absolutely zero time to even breathe, much less be dragged to a party by her roommate.

The past few months had been filled with lectures, compositions, performances and impromptu Netflix binging sessions. She was already stressed enough with everything happening academically, it didn't help that she found her boyfriend of two years on a romantic dinner with another woman (I mean, his tongue was down her throat, what would you make of that?). It hurt like hell, don't get her wrong, but having him out of her life didn't bother her as much as it probably should have. Luckily, she kept herself distracted with classes, extra-curricular activities and her best friend and roommate, Flynn.

"You're going," Flynn stated with the utmost serious expression. She busied herself with rummaging through her closet to find the perfect outfit for tonight's frat party, while Julie focused on the lyrics splayed out in front of her for composition class. "You've been so focused on school that you haven't had any time to enjoy the night life."

Julie rolled her eyes without sparing a glance at her best friend. "Yes, because I'm in university because of the night life," she sassed, "it has absolutely nothing to do with excelling in the most prestigious music program in the country so I can become famous and fly you places in my private jet."

"Details," Flynn muttered, waving her hand in her direction. "Alex's frat is throwing the party, so it won't be overly crazy."

Flynn and Julie made eye contact and Flynn cringed at the unimpressed look on Julie's face.

"Okay, so maybe I can't control that," she admitted. "But still, Alex says you have to come! You can finally meet some of his friends!"

Julie snorted. "I know his friends. I don't like his friends."

"You know Luke," Flynn countered, "you haven't met Reggie or Alex's boyfriend, Willie! And Luke isn't that bad, I promise; he's super sweet."

"Sweet?" Julie spit, eyes widening in annoyance. "He pushed me into the pool at that last party!"

Flynn cringed, yet again. "Okay, yes," she relented. "But it was more like 'he knocked you' into the pool because he was trying to catch the football. And he did!"

"Excuse me for not caring!"

"Just trust me, okay?" Flynn busted out her puppy dog eyes as she jumped on Julie's bed. "They're great, and we can't discuss this anymore. You need a break and you're going. I don't care if you leave twenty-minutes after you get there; you are making an appearance."

Julie and Flynn engaged in a brief stare down, to which Flynn ended by pushing against Julie's shoulder.

"Fine," Julie reluctantly agreed, "I'll make a brief appearance, and I'll meet Alex's friends. But as soon as Luke says something stupid, I'm leaving. Is that clear?"

Flynn's face broke into an excited grin. "Crystal clear, girl!" She squealed. "Oh my god, put your lyrics away. We have to start getting ready right now!"

Julie entered the frat party with a newfound attitude and a clear mind. Flynn forced her to take two tequila shots before leaving their apartment, so she could forget about her studies, and so far, it was working. She also didn't want to be the only buzzkill at this party, so she promised herself and Flynn that she would actually try to have some fun.

"There you go, there's that smile!" Flynn cheered, nudging Julie in the direction of the drinks. Together they mixed a creative concoction and set out to find Flynn's good friend, Alex.

They found him relatively quickly; he was dominating at the beer pong table. When he saw Flynn and Julie, his face lit up and he tapped a random guy next to him, shouting, "sub in for me, my bestie's here!"

With that, he ran over to Flynn to give her a bone-crushing hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek (he was definitely more than two shots and a cocktail in). "Hey Jules!" He greeted the brunette, wrapping her under his other arm. "Ah, my girls are here. I have to find the guys!"

"Julie's going to love them!" Flynn added, following as Alex pulled them along. He pulled them until they stepped into the backyard where the party was just as lively as inside. "Look, there's Reggie!"

Alex dragged them over to two guys who seemed to be in a heated conversation.

"I can't believe you don't like The Office!" The one with a red flannel shirt tied around his waist exclaimed, throwing his arms up for emphasis. "Michael Scott is the single greatest character ever created."

The other one with his hair tied up in a bun rolled his eyes. "If that's what you think, then you need more help than I can offer."

"Whatever," Red Flannel replied, turning his attention to the newcomers. "Flynn, you're here!" He exclaimed, reaching over to give her a hug. "I'm Reggie!" He told Julie excitedly.

Julie sent him a polite smile. "Hey, nice to meet you. I'm Julie."

"And this," Alex yelled drunkenly, wrapping his arms around the other brunette, "is Willie! He's my boyfriend!"

Willie let out a laugh. "He is so wasted. Nice to meet you, Julie."

Julie sent him a warm smile in response.

Alex turned his attention to Julie. "Julie," he slurred, wrapping an arm around her shoulders again, "is Flynn's best friend and roommate. I've been trying to get her to meet you guys for ages. Wait, where's Luke?"

Julie's shoulders stiffened.

Reggie shrugged. "Who knows."

"I'll go find him," Alex muttered. "Go get another drink, mingle, but you're not allowed to leave until you meet Luke!" He yelled to her as he walked backwards across the room (he was definitely going to trip). "No leaving!"

"Is he forgetting I've already met Luke?" Julie whispered to Flynn, who just shrugged.

Willie hesitantly started after him, turning to say, "I should probably make sure he doesn't do something really stupid."

"And I'm going to go mingle," Julie replied, turning to Flynn who look thoroughly unconvinced.

Flynn pursed her lips. "You better not leave."

"I won't," Julie laughed, "I promise."

With that, they all went their separate ways. Julie stayed outside and watched the beer pong championship for a while, but eventually decided to go back inside because the chill was getting to her. She was also hoping to find Flynn because her 'mingling' was getting boring and she was inching to leave.

She walked back into the building, intent on getting herself a new drink to pass the time. She was about to turn into the kitchen, when she spotted a very familiar face that she hadn't seen in a number of months.

Her ex-boyfriend, Ryan.

And the girl he cheated on her with.

"Oh my god," she muttered, ducking out of the way. She made eye contact solely for a solid millisecond but she knew he saw her. "Fuck."

In her attempt to escape and leave the house party (and the university, if she's being honest), she ran smack into a hard body. "Shit," she heard a deep voice. "Are you okay?"

His hands were wrapped around her upper forearms and she looked up to realize they belonged to her one and only nemesis, Luke Patterson.

"Oh, it's you! Pool girl!"

In any other circumstance, she would probably wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze but she was genuinely too panicked.

"Julie?"

Oh god, Ryan was calling out for her.

"You pushed me into a pool months ago, right?"

Luke's eyebrows narrowed. "Okay, well, it was a little more complicated than that..."

"But you owe me!"

"Uh — sure?"

He looked genuinely confused and regardless of how smart Julie considered herself to be, she was incredibly dumb when it came to men and social situations.

Which is why she uttered, "I'm so sorry, but my ex —" before crashing her lips against his. He seemed to freeze, his hands loosening their grip on her forearms.

Julie quickly doubled back, realizing how stupid of an idea it was. It was Luke, and even though she wasn't particularly a fan of him, she had basically just mauled him without even asking for consent.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," Julie apologized quickly. He was staring at her as if she had three heads. "I'm so sorry. I just saw my ex-boyfriend with the girl he cheated on me with and he was calling my name and I figured, 'oh, why not just make out with someone so he doesn't think I'm a complete —'"

This time, Luke interrupted her with a wicked smirk. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She squeaked in response, but was distracted when he tipped her head back and kissed her. It was soft at first, but he pressed harder against her mouth with an intensity that momentarily took Julie's breath away. His body pressed further against hers, until they rested on the wall behind her.

A moment later, he pulled back and admired her shocked expression.

"How was that?"

His voice was soft and warm and Julie was so stunned, it took her a moment to reply.

But when she did, her recollection and sass came full force.

"Good enough, I guess," she lied through her teeth (it was fucking fantastic). "Your debt is paid, thank you. And stay away from the pool."

With that, she whirled around, dead set on walking away. She was so mind-blown from the kiss, she completely forgot Ryan was still behind her.

"Julie!"

"Shit."

She didn't realize she said it out loud until Ryan's eyebrows furrowed.

"Babe! Wait for me!" The obnoxious voice of Luke Patterson rang through her ears before she felt his arm wrap around her shoulders and hang off her neck. "I'm Luke, Julie's boyfriend. Who are you?"

Julie cringed. She wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Right now.

"I'm Ryan," he answered apprehensively; his new girlfriend was nowhere to be found. "Nice to meet you."

"Is it, though?" Luke replied and Julie's eyes widened. She whipped her head to glare at him, but he was too focused on Ryan. He was wearing a playful smirk but the look in his eyes was everything but playful. "You're the one who cheated on my girl, isn't that right?"

Ryan's face went pale. "I should probably go... Nice to see you, Julie."

"Yeah, you probably should go! Wouldn't want my fist accidentally connecting with your nose!"

Julie's eyes widened and she angrily pushed Luke away from her. "Oh my god, what is wrong with you?"

"I was defending you," he explained like it was obvious, "you're welcome, by the way. Or maybe I should be thanking you," he winked.

Julie never wanted to die as much as she did in that moment.

"Oh my god," she muttered, utterly mortified. "Do you even hear yourself?"

Luke smiled cheekily. "Yeah, I do. And that was," he made the chef's kiss motion. He actually made the chef's kiss motion; Julie wanted to throw up. "Do you think we could continue that? Maybe go out to dinner or something?"

Julie blinked.

"This may shock you, but not everyone here likes you," she replied after a moment. God, this whole situation was getting so far away from her.

Luke smirked. "Sounds ridiculous, but go on."

"You pushed me into a pool, I don't need to like you! And I appreciate you helping me out with my ex, but that was all! This ends here!"

Luke's eyes softened, but there was still a wild gleam in them.

"No."

"No?" Julie spluttered. "What do you mean no?"

Luke shrugged. "You can deny it all you want, but our kiss was definitely something. And I may have my moments, but I'm not dumb enough to let something like that go."

Julie found herself stunned once again.

"What the hell is going on right now?"

"And yeah, I probably could be more charming," he admitted. "And I really am sorry about the pool thing. That wasn't supposed to happen like that!"

Julie looked around for Flynn or Alex or literally everyone who could save her.

"So, what do you say? Dinner on Friday?"

Julie barked out a laugh, but she had to admit, he looked adorably optimistic. She took a moment to admire his appearance and obviously he was ridiculously attractive but — she really had no reason to object.

"Are you out of your mind? I hardly know you!"

"That's the point of a date, Julie. Keep up," he teased, his hazel eyes sparkling.

Julie was genuinely starting to feel faint. This was too much action for one day.

"Slow your roll, Casanova."

Luke's eyebrows rose in amusement. "Want me to slow it down? Even though you just had your tongue down my throat?" Julie squeaked in indignation and Luke chuckled. "Shit, I'm really bad at this whole charming thing apparently. Can I start by getting your number?"

"I honestly don't understand what's happening right now. So, I'll give you my number, but you have to work your ass off for that date."

Luke nodded, biting his lip to hold back a smile. "Yeah, that sounds fair.”

“Oh, look!” Both of their head swivelled around to see Alex, stumbling drunkenly in their direction with Flynn by his side. “Julie met Luke!”

“Dude, they’ve already met. How drunk are you?”

“Wait, why does Luke have lipstick all over his face?”

109 notes · View notes

dennou-translations · 4 years

Text

Tokushima Shinbun Interview with Yano Shougo

Interviewing Yano Shougo-san, who has starred for the first time in the topical anime “Given” and is originally from Tokushima. “I wanted to be an actor that would make people go, ‘I’m glad I entrusted the role to him’.”

Yano Shougo-san (30), who is from Tokushima and belongs to the troupe Super Eccentric Theater (SET), played a starring role for the first time as a voice actor in the anime “Given”, which aired from July to September on Fuji TV. “Given” is a heartrending story that centers itself around a romance between men from the same rock band. Having received high evaluations for his acting and singing voice, which portrayed with excellence the delicate emotions of the protagonist, Satou Mafuyu, Yano-san has told us about the feelings he put into the role and about his future goals.

Raw || Index || Ko-fi/PayPal ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

——Good job on your first starring. Please tell us again about your impressions from when you were entrusted with the leading role.

Thank you very much. Playing a leading role in an anime series was my goal for 2019, so when my manager contacted me saying that I had passed the audition, I was happy to the point of shedding tears, but at the same time, I was also relieved. I could not sleep a wink the day before the recording of episode one, and at any rate, I was nervous. On the recording day, I was thinking as I headed to the studio, “It’d be great if the recording were tomorrow”, but I got over it a little by the moment that I thought, “If this anxiety would continue until tomorrow, then it’s actually better for it to be today!” and I remember relaxing straight away at it

——Yano-san, your fragile voice was a perfect fit for Mafuyu. What did you keep in mind when performing him? Were there any points that differed greatly in comparison to the roles you have been playing until now?

Mafuyu has an extremely painful past, unable to move a single step from where he was, as he bore a huge wound. Still, he has proper thoughts and feelings of his own, as well as a stubborn side, and though he has a mild and introverted personality, I figured that he was someone who had a strong core.

Other than that, when I saw him playing basketball with his friends, smiling and earnestly absorbing himself completely in music, I had the impression that he was a “high school boy that you can find anywhere”. This was something I always cherished when performing.

I have played uke roles before, but this was the first one where so many of my lines were “...” (laughs).

——What parts of Mafuyu do you think you have in common, Yano-san, and what parts are the total opposite of you?

I think we are just a little bit alike in that we are greedy about the things we like, and we are unable to concentrate on anything else when there is something that we need to do our best in order to achieve. What I feel to be the opposite is that Mafuyu gives off the impression that he is a big shot in some way, even without speaking much, while I am talkative and shy (laughs).

——You were also in charge of singing the insert song and ending theme song.

I knew ever since the audition phase just how essential Mafuyu’s song was for the series, so rather than my being happy about singing, the pressure was much more prominent. As a matter of course, the frequency of my voice training soon increased, and learned the basics and techniques of singing as much as time allowed me to. When I was first told about the composition, I thought, “This song was made for Mafuyu’s sake”. That is exactly why, rather than the technique, I reflected about why and how Mafuyu would be singing those lyrics, as well as the emotions that would be overflowing from him, and I thought I should sing it with care, without sugarcoating it.

——What did you keep in mind when singing as Mafuyu?

The song that Mafuyu sings bears his definite resolve to face his past and live in the present, thus I believed that I had to make it into something like a love confession, so to say - a song that could be sung because Mafuyu was the one doing it. For this, of course, technique was important, but I kept in mind that it would be okay even if it was rough-hewn or even if my voice faltered, as long as I sang in a way that would spit out everything Mafuyu had been shouldering.

——Although Noitamina has produced countless master piece animes, this has been their first Boys Love (BL), a series that depicts romance between males, so was there anything you were particularly conscious of when performing?

There was not. Just as I do when performing roles from other series, I performed while keeping in mind that I was going to live in the world of “Given” as Mafuyu with all my might.

——I believe there was such a huge response to “Given” due to its painful content, but did it get to your ears?

There are many fans of the original work not only in Japan but also overseas, so I became aware once again of the popularity of “Given”. That is just how high the expectations were for the anime adaptation, and I wanted people to like it even more when watching the anime, so I was truly happy when I actually did get evaluations like that on Twitter, etc.

——The airing of the anime “Given” is over, but a movie adaptation was green-lit. Please leave a message for the fans.

The story of “Given” will continue from now on too. I hope everyone can watch over what kind of sounds will come from Mafuyu’s song, Given’s (as in the band that Mafuyu and the others formed in the show) music and their romance from now onward.

——From here on out, Yano-san, I want to ask you about yourself. It seems you wanted to be an announcer at first.

I had the vague desire to move into the television business, and from yet another vague motive of wanting to become an announcer and engage with my favorite variety show, I started thinking in my third year of high school that I wanted to be an announcer.

——Why did you aim for voice actor from there?

After graduating from high school, I took a gap year in order to attend university, and during that time, I watched “Neon Genesis Evangelion” as per a friend’s recommendation, so with this as the trigger, I became interested in anime. I had almost never watched anime until then and was unfamiliar with voice actors, so I was shocked when I read in the end roll that Ogata Megumi-san was the one who played the role of Ikari Shinji, a boy, thus I became interested in them.

——Was there anything you put effort into in order to become a voice actor?

During my gap year, I watched many animes, looked up the voice actors that piqued my curiosity and imitated their acting, and performed lines from anime and manga with as much emotion as I could. I also bought a training book for becoming a voice actor and practiced enunciation while keeping it a secret from my family.

——What are the details of your joining SET?

I was was part of a the theater research association in university, but when I was in my fourth year, I once gave up the way of an actor and went job hunting. Even so, I wanted to have a job that was related to acting, so I took the recruitment test of a major production company hoping to become a manager, but during the individual interview, the person in charge told me, “Are you really all right with giving up on becoming an actor? If you want to be a voice actor, then go study theatre”.

And so, I began wanting to challenge myself one more time, so I stopped job hunting and after looking into audition magazines, I took an audition to become a research student of SET, where I could learn the essentials for musical, action and comedic theatre. I became a research student at 23, and after about a year of lessons and a graduation performance, I became an official member at the age of 24.

——Please tell us about the works and roles you did before your voice actor debut.

During my first year in becoming a troupe member, I played the role of Saburou, the protagonist of the TV anime “Nobunaga Kyousoukyoku”, as a motion actor - the kind of actor who does the gestures that are used as base for the characters’ movements.

I also participated in the troupe’s own public performance. It was a role where I had to drink coffee and say only one phrase, “It’s sweet”. It was a sentence that connected with a funny punchline, so I had been thinking all along about how I should act it out in order to induce laughter, and even during the performance, I did many attempts.

——After that, you debuted as a voice actor in the anime “Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V”.

When I was selected, I was really happy to be able to take the voice acting job that I had once given up on. I was brimming with confidence for some reason, even though I had no experience points. But when I went to the studio, I was no good at all; I would get nervous every week and had to stay overtime a lot, so I honestly hated going to the studio (laughs). Even so, thanks to the director and all the co-stars not throwing away someone like me, who did not know left and right, and instead nurturing me during the three years of “Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V”, I changed my thinking and posture in regards of acting.

——Afterward, you became capable of being entrusted with important roles, such as in “iDOLM@STER SideM” and “Tsurune —Kazemai Koukou Kyuudoubu—“, but were there any parts of them where you could feel your own growth?

In that I started thinking it was fun to perform. Even now, I still get nervous when going on-site, but as I would read the script, think about the role and create a foundation for my acting, I feel like I have become able to perform in front of the mic by responding to the acting of the person playing the other role, without thinking about unnecessary things, little by little. The moment I feel that the air has set to motion and it has turned into a drama is, if nothing else, enjoyable. I started having challenges, aspirations and goals for myself, such as, “I want to perform like this more” or, “I could bring this role into life more if I performed like that”.

——What are the fun and difficult parts of voice acting? Please tell us about your future goals too.

I believe the fun in being a voice actor is that we can perform roles that would be difficult in filming or on a stage.

There are many things that you can only learn in a recording site. When I go to them, I find a whole lot of people who are better at acting than I am, so I have to earn a role for myself. I fail most of my auditions and get depressed each time. Even so, I want to keep showing up in those series and play a role that moves the story. I always strongly think that I want to become an actor who can make people go, “I want to use Yano for this” and, “I’m glad I entrusted this role to Yano”.

——From now on, between actor and voice actor, which one to you plan to put more strength into?

Voice actor. That being said, in order to broaden my ranges as an actor too, I think I have to take on all kinds of jobs that require technique for different facial expressions on-stage. For us voice actors, charming people are mostly those who are also charismatic on the stage, so I think I also want to become a charming actor.

——Are you able to return to Tokushima regularly even now?

I make sure to go back as often as I can during summer vacation and New Years.

——Are there any parts of your life in Tokushima that have been put to good use in your acting jobs?

I seldom have any chance to come in contact with anything related to acting in Tokushima. Even if I had interest in voice actors and acting, wanted to attend a training school or thought about going to watch a play, they were all things that could not come true if I stayed in Tokushima. That is why I created many opportunities to come in contact with acting after moving to Tokyo, such as joining my university’s theatre research association and attending a school where I could study voice acting. I think I could cultivate something like a hungry spirit exactly because I used to live in Tokushima.

——If there is anything or any place in Tokushima that you like, please tell us.

Awa Dance, I guess. I did not like it that much when I was little, but after I became an adult, the group dance I watched from a box seat was stunning, and it made me so emotional that I started crying.

Also, the park that my grandfather often took me to when I was a child, though I don’t know if it still exists. I would put rice balls and pickled horseradish in a big plastic container and go there. I have memories of eating them with cold tea from a polyethylene teapot with my grandfather, after playing badminton. I want to do the same with my children and grandchildren when I become a parent and a grandpa.

——Yano-san, since you have made your dream come true, please leave a message to the young people who are chasing their dreams in Tokushima.

Time passes in a flash. For now, please do what you can with all your might. It can be anything, like classes, club activities, cultural festivals, sports festivals or romance.

If there is anything you can work your hardest in over there, please try facing it with all you have. It will certainly become a sustenance for your life from this point onward. I believe that it is better to do something and regret it than to regret not having done it.

Should there be anyone aiming to become an actor, please take action while constantly thinking about how you can get closer to the future that you have as your goal. I think there are surely many things you can do even if you are in Tokushima.

If you do not know what you should do after doing a research and reflecting on it, have courage and go consult someone who can give advice. Nothing is in vain, but rather than spending time not thinking about anything, I believe that spending time thinking about whatever is more worthwhile.

Please do your best. I will do my best too.

——Please leave a message for the fans who are cheering for you from Tokushima.

Thank you so very much for supporting me. The other day, when I took part in a recital play being held in Tokushima, I was able to show my acting to my family for the first time. They were very pleased.

Most events are held in the Tokyo Metropolitan Area, so I believe that people cannot go watch them even if they want to. My wish for more and more people to experience an event in Tokushima and see me working has become even stronger.

I will be doing my best from now on too in order to be able to take part in more series, play all kinds of roles, get to do an event in Tokushima again someday and have people come talk to me. I will be counting with your continued support from this point onward too.

#fyeahgiven #satou mafuyu #dailygiven #givendaily #given #yano shougo #my translation #seiyuu #interview

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 4 years

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Dreams

Summary:

Another fic where you can’t sleep, and Jihoon is there to make your heart flutter

You can’t sleep.

God, how were you unable to sleep? How was it possible that you weren’t able to sleep after the intense day you had just had? Sure, you had known that going camping with Seungcheol and his friends would be intense. They were chaotic the little you heard of them at work and in the instances that you had them in small doses, so there was no way that they wouldn’t be intense on their own in the woods, with nothing but the thin walls of a cabin to give you guys any privacy.

You had literally spent the entire day doing activity after activity- you weren’t sure how some of the boys had this much energy. You played baseball with everyone, went out fishing with Jeonghan and Wonwoo, made lunch with Mingyu, started a water balloon fight with Seungkwan (big mistake), danced around a campfire with Chan and Soonyoung, and that only scrapped the surface of the multitude of the day's events- you felt like you should be in a coma right now.

And yet here you were, lying in bed staring up at the ceiling recalling the day's events instead of letting your mind be at peace and finally getting the rest that you so desperately needed.

You did feel overwhelmingly exhausted. You were completely drained of the urge to get up and do anything, to the point that even going down to see if Wonwoo was still awake reading wasn’t really an option for you.

You knew that in the end it was okay if you didn’t get much sleep. The boys would easily be able to reinvigorate you with their energetic personalities tomorrow, and you would probably be able to push through the day and then hopefully knock out by the time everyone was sleeping again tomorrow.

But it would be nice if you didn’t have to count on sleeping tomorrow. You wanted to get rest tonight too. It would just be a waste of time if you laid in bed all night tonight trying to sleep.

“I see you can’t sleep.”

You jolted upright in bed, coming face to face with a figure standing in the doorway. Your initial reaction was to bite a small smile at whoever it was, knowing it had to be one of the thirteen boys, it was just which one that you weren’t entirely sure of.

In the end, it came down to taking in his height in the door frame, and the way that his voice sounded as he spoke to you.

“Jihoon,” you greeted, your voice soft.

Your relationship with Jihoon was as good as it was with any of the boys. Honestly the only prblem that you could find between the two of you was that you two could be a little too competitive sometimes. When it came down to it, neither of you were afraid to participate every now and then in a somewhat overly cruel competition that could only end in one victor.

Of course, the next day, ask either of the two who had won or why you two had even competed in the first place and neither would know. It wasn’t about the results of the competition anyways. It was about the competition itself. Having a good time trying to completely and utterly obliterate the other opponents.

“I can’t sleep either,” Jihoon mumbled. He stepped further into your room so that the moonlight seeping in from your window illuminated him. He was wearing a large grey shirt and a pair of Mingyu’s sweatpants. It made you look away, but only to hide the faint blush that spreading over your cheeks at the sight.

One minor problem that you had with Jihoon- a problem that truly was just... So small was that from the very first moment that you had laid your eyes on the boy, you couldn’t help but deny that he was cute. Sure, everyone in Seungcheol’s friend group was really really cute. To the point that some days you wondered why they hung out with you when they were some of the most popular boys at school and you were merely notable by association.

But Jihoon had always been something different to you.

It was hard for you to ignore the racing of your heart when he leaned too close to you as you two raced in Mario Kart, or to keep your face from getting red when you two were about to commence in another impromptu foot race to see who was fastest.

Luckily for you, neither Jihoon, Seungcheol, or anybody else who happened to be around seemed to notice. Most people honestly believed you and Jihoon to hate each other- or at least be self- proclaimed rivals. But you and Jihoon knew you were friends and that was all that mattered to the two of you.

In fact, when the others weren't around Jihoon had even admitted to you that he was interested in music composition- even going as far as to show you some of the music he had written. Maybe that was when you started to let yourself far for him more then you really meant to.

Sure, he was really cute, but you had been hopeful that you would be able to overlook that, and eventually your growing feelings for him would die... But when he revealed to you something so personal and important to him...

It was no wonder you often found yourself fighting your own strong feelings for him.

Jihoon wandered into the room and sat down on your bed, not bothering to ask if it were okay.

Honestly, you didn’t mind.

As mentioned, before you two were close enough that there was no reason for him to think there should be any problem in him sitting near you. You guys had practically spooned once before when he had gotten a little bored and you had been playing video games.

You still remembered how he felt, curled inside your arms while Super Mario Odyssey music played softly. The way that his hair felt as it brushed your arm. It had been a pleasant day. He had napped in your arms for a good few hours that day until Mingyu had woken him up and teased him for being the little spoon.

“What are you watching?” Jihoon asked. The question caught you off guard. You had forgotten that you had your computer out playing a television show for you to sleep to and despite the fact that the earbud was still in your ear, you were basically numb to the sound of the show in the background. You glanced at the faint glow of your computer screen and then back at Jihoon.

“Oh, it’s uh, The Simpson’s...” You replied. He looked at the screen silently for a little while from where it was sitting in the corner of your bed.

“Can I listen too?”

You gave Jihoon a wary look at the question, wondering what motive he could possibly have for wanting to listen to it with you. Jihoon’s expression didn’t change, he just gazed at you with an even look, that seemed sincere enough to you. You shrugged and offered him your other earbud. He took it and you both laid down, once again, his body in front of yours.

“What’s been happening?” Jihoon asked softly.

“Oh, it’s the episode where Homer becomes that superhero. The more recent seasons are less... Serious than the earlier ones, so they’re easier to just listen to,” you explained. Jihoon nodded ad you two both listened in silence as Homer got chosen to play the role of Every Man in comic book guys movie. As the show rolled on, you closed your eyes, trying your best to let sleep lull you away.

But the combination of Homer’s voice in this episode and Jihoon’s near presence, prevented you from being able to sleep. You sighed and opened your eyes, surprised to see that Jihoon wasn’t trying to sleep at all. He had instead turned his body around and was staring at you with an earnest look in his eyes.

“Why do you watch this when you’re sleeping?” Jihoon asked you, you rolled your head slightly, so that you could meet his eyes better. You wondered if you should tell him the truth or maybe just lie to him about it like you would most people.

You weren’t sure why you lowered your eyes to the blankets, pursing your lips nervously.

“Because when I sleep without it, I dream,” you explained. His eyes pierced into yours, burning holes into yours even though you were suddenly terrified to look at him.

“What’s so bad about dreaming?”

You risked a look back up at him.

“It’s just... Risky, I guess,” you responded. “When I dream, I dream about things that could never happen.”

Dreams of having him, for instance, in your arms. Holding him tight against you being able to call him yours... You knew that the possibility of Jihoon liking you the way that you liked him... It was rare, to impossible.

You didn’t dare to hope that he might share the same feelings for you. That’s why you couldn’t dream. You didn’t need to fantasize about him possibly saying that he wanted to spend more time with you. That the love songs he texted you in the middle of the night were written about you.

You knew that you were just projecting your own feelings onto his actions towards him, and you didn’t want to do that, so you had to drown out the thoughts that you weren’t just making it all up. And those unfortunate thoughts were the most prominent in the middle of the night.

“Things that could never happen?” He questioned, clearly wanting you to elaborate. You hummed.

“Things I’d prefer to keep secret,” you asserted softly. “It’s just safer for me not to mess with those thoughts. They’re... Distracting. They keep me from thinking about what’s right in front of me and instead I think about what could be right in front of me.”

“Dreaming isn’t so bad,” Jihoon mumbled. “I get my best song ideas from my dreams.”

“You do?” You asked him. He nodded.

“My mind is more creative at night, and when it’s quiet and I’m alone, I can hear each separate thought more clearly,” he replied. “I was writing something not long ago. That’s why I was up so late.”

You laughed, a small smile crossing your lips.

“Interesting that you would still be working when you are supposed to be taking a break with all of your friends,” you teased lightly. Jihoon rolled his eyes but didn’t for a second look away from your eyes.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t help it. I had a suddenly rush of inspiration.”

You felt your heart pick up its pace at the words and the possible meanings behind them. God, that was enough for you to dream for weeks and weeks all on its own and to think he was so close. This scenario almost felt like a dream in itself.

You swallowed hard and glanced down at your phone screen.

“It’s late. We should try to sleep,” you whispered back to him.

He nodded.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Do you mind if I stay here with you?”

You were glad that it was dark in the room, because if there was any light, then Jihoon would definitely be able to see the color in your cheeks at his words or at the very least hear the loud pounding of your heart in your chest.

“Of course not.”

You let your eyes drift closed and you tried to focus on Lisa as she spoke to her father. You knew that if you were careful enough, you would be able to forget where you were, who you were with, and what Jihoon had just said to you. If only you just listened a little harder to the show in front of you.

But just as you were losing yourself in the dialogue, feeling yourself finally drifting off Jihoon reached forward, pulling the earbud out of your ear. He closed your laptop and set it aside, so that all you could hear was the deafening silence surrounding you.

“Tonight, you should risk dreaming,” he murmured. “Who knows? Maybe your dreams will come true.”

You opened your mouth to protest but before you really could, Jihoon’s arms were wrapping themselves tentatively around you. He pulled you closer to him, and you felt yourself turn in his arms so that once he had you close enough- your back was against his chest.

You were suddenly nervous, wondering what sort of game he was trying to play with you but before you could question him, his thumb rested over your stomach, rubbing small circles into you.

“Can’t you hear how hard my heart is beating for you?” He asked you softly. “Why do you keep pretending like your feelings are completely one sided?”

You felt Jihoon bury his nose in your hair, and it made your breath catch in your throat.

“Jihoon-”

“Dream about me,” he interrupted you softly. “When you wake up, I’ll still be here, so there’s no reason to be afraid okay?”

This time you didn’t argue with him or ask him what he meant. His intentions were clear. You felt your body relax in his arms, and you nestled your head into the pillow beneath you.

“Good night Jihoon,” you whispered.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered back.

This time, it didn’t take you nearly as long before you finally felt yourself falling asleep.

#Turns out this was a VERY ironic time to be posting this LMAO #we love not sleeping at night !#woozi #Seventeen #Lee Jihoon #Jihoon #Seventeen Kpop #Seventeen Fanfiction #Seventeen Fanfic #Woozi Fanfiction #Woozi Fanfic #Fluff #Seventeen Fluff

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quickspinner · 4 years

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Take a Chance - Ch 1 First Meetings

Summary: Lukanette college AU. It all starts with a little mix-up. One look in her notebook and Luka is intrigued. One look in her eyes - and he’s in love.

This story came from the prompts for the first week of Lukanette September 2019. I was still pretty new to posting my stories and I wasn’t confident committing to the whole month but I figured, I could manage a week!

This story is complete on AO3

Marinette didn’t get a lot of phone calls, and she never got calls in the middle of the day. She stumbled a bit as she tried to get her phone out and walk at the same time. The number on the screen wasn’t a known contact, but it looked familiar. Wasn’t that Juleka’s number? But then why wouldn’t it show up under Juleka’s name? Frowning, she answered the call, trying not to sound too breathless. “Hello?”

“Uh, hi, I’m looking for Marinette?” The voice was male, so, definitely not Juleka.

“I’m Marinette,” she said cautiously.

“Cool, I’m Luka, I’m Juleka’s brother? I think we might have met once a few months back.”

“O-oh,” Marinette stammered, confused.

“Jules gave me your number because I have something of yours and I’m kinda hoping you have something of mine. A plain black notebook that basically looks exactly like yours, except mine has music inside instead of clothes. Sound familiar?”

“Oh gosh—um, hang on, let me check.” Marinette dug through her bag and pulled out her sketchbook. She flipped it open and her stomach dropped as she found that it wasn’t hers at all. It was full of music notations and scribbled notes that might have been song lyrics. “Yes, I have it,” she confirmed. “I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz. You live with Juleka right? I was over there this morning and I knocked over a stack of things and I thought I put it all back but I must have switched these. I hope you didn’t need it, I’m so sorry—“

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Luka said, soothingly, a touch of amusement in his warm voice. “As long as you have it, that’s fine. I do kind of need it tonight though, is there somewhere I can meet you and trade?”

“Um, let me think. I’m on my way to class now...it’s Tuesday, so my next break is at 3.”

“Okay, I’m in class until 3:30, but I could meet you right after? Um...there’s a coffee shop near the music building, do you know it? I can’t remember the name, but it has a red awning. I can meet you there after my class is over.”

“That sounds perfect,” Marinette agreed. “I know the place, I’ll meet you there.”

“Great.” Luka seemed to hesitate. “Okay, I hope this isn’t weird, but I was wondering if I could look at some more of your sketches? I only saw a few before I realized it wasn’t mine and found your name, but they looked really cool and I’m really curious to see the rest.”

Maybe it was a little weird, but it was also flattering. Marinette appreciated that he asked instead of just snooping through and not mentioning it. “Um, sure, there’s nothing really personal in it, just designs for one of my classes.”

“All art is personal,” Luka said easily, and then she heard someone calling to him. “Shit, you’re right,” he said, voice a bit distant before returning. “Marinette, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go before I’m late. I’ll see you a little after 3:30.”

“Okay, see you then,” Marinette replied, half expecting him to hang up before she finished speaking.

Instead she heard, “See you soon, Marinette,” before the line cut out.

***

Luka headed to the coffee shop with a quicker step than strictly necessary after escaping yet another boring, pedantic lecture from his least favorite professor. He hadn’t even heard half of it, fascinated by the book in his hand. He knew less than nothing about fashion in general and even less than that about the process of design, but there was so much life in the sketches covering the pages of the misplaced notebook. He couldn’t judge her talent, but Marinette’s passion was clear and he was curious about the girl behind the designs.

He found her easily enough, sitting in a booth facing the cafe’s entrance, his composition book placed prominently towards the edge of the table. For a moment, he felt disappointment. He wasn’t sure what he expected, and there was nothing wrong with her exactly, but...she didn’t really stand out, dressed in shades of pink and black, sweet but without any of the edge he’d seen in her art.

But it wasn’t like him to judge on appearances and he silently berated himself as he made his way over to the table. “Marinette?”

Then she looked up and locked eyes with him, and the deep blue of the sea fell into the endless blue of the sky and he swore he heard music.

***

Marinette had met Juleka’s brother once before, if you could call a hurried introduction and hello-goodbye a meeting, as he was rushing out to perform with his band. All she was really left with was the impression of blue, and lean muscles highlighted by body glitter.

She could see neither muscle nor glitter at the moment, but the blue was there, in his eyes and the tips of his shaggy hair. He wasn’t classically handsome but he had an interesting face, and she thought to herself that she’d like to dress him. It would be a nice change from cookie cutter models and he looked like he had a fun style.

He smiled and gestured at the empty bench across from her. “I’m Luka. May I?”

“Oh sure, of course,” she said quickly, shuffling her things ineffectually before realizing there was plenty of room. He slid in across from her, sleepy eyes a deeper shade of blue than her own fixed on her. She blushed faintly without really knowing why and his eyes flicked away.

“Thanks for meeting me,” he said. “I hope It wasn’t too far out of your way.”

“No, it wasn’t too far, and I’ve gotten some work done, so it’s all good. I’m so sorry about the mixup.”

He took her book out of his bag and slid it across the table towards her. “Thanks for letting me look at it. Way more interesting than my music theory class.”

“Oh,” Marinette blushed deeper. “A-are you interested in fashion?”

“No,” he admitted. “Honestly I never thought about it much, I just wear things that are comfortable and make me feel good. But I am interested in art, and I can see now that fashion is art too. So, thanks. For...a new perspective, I guess.”

Marinette couldn’t help smiling, there was something so sincere about the way he said it. He must have a really interesting way of looking at the world.

Which maybe shouldn’t surprise her so much. Juleka was hardly known for conventional thinking.

“I wish I could get as much from yours,” Marinette said, gesturing towards his notebook where it still lay on the table. “Not—not that I looked through it or anything, but just what I saw when I opened it, It’s only gibberish to me, I’m afraid.”

Luka smiled slowly. “You think so?” For a moment Marinette was afraid she’d insulted him, but he only took his notebook up and turned the pages for a moment. Then he laid it back down and turned it so she could see the open pages. “What do you see here?”

She looked, and at first it was only gibberish, as she’d said, a mix of notes and musical terms, with occasional notes that made sense but didn’t, like “dark, flash flood, drowning.” Marinette glanced up at Luka, who was watching her with a small smile on his face. She looked down at the page again, and this time she noticed the dark lines and deep grooves, the places where things were not just crossed out, but scratched through or scribbled black. The whole feel of the page was frustration, maybe even anger. “This,” she said slowly, looking up at him. “This was not a good day.”

Luka’s smile widened. “See? You can’t read the notes, but the feelings still come through. I felt the same way about yours.” Marinette slid the notebook back to him, smiling herself. “Can I ask you something?” Luka asked. “You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.” He gestured to her notebook again and she handed it back to him. He thumbed quickly through the pages until he found the one he wanted. He put it back down in front of her, watching her face. “What happened?”

The page was scribbled over with thick black marker lines, zigzagging across the dress that had been coming to life on the page. Beneath the thick scribbles, there were notes written around the sketch, some scratched out and some visibly messier than others. Marinette winced looking at it. “It couldn’t do what I wanted to,” she said, after staring at it for a moment. “It was...the dress wasn’t right for the concept, or the concept couldn’t be a dress at all, and the more I tried to fix it the more frustrated I got. Then my TA reviewed my work for the week and ripped me a new one over it, and...I just knew I wasn’t ever going to be excited over it again, so I scrapped it.”

She felt ashamed as she said it, like she was admitting she was a quitter, but Luka just nodded, as if she made perfect sense, then reached over and turned a couple of pages.

“Not that my opinion’s worth much, but this one was my favorite. It just has so much energy. It feels...hopeful. Like it’s waiting for great things to happen.” He glanced up at her, looking uncertain for the first time in their conversation. “I hope that came out right. I’m not always great at explaining things.”

Marinette just stared at him in wonder, a bright smile slowly spreading over her face. “No, I think you got exactly what I was thinking. It’s a first date dress, I mean, that’s what I was thinking when I made it.”

Luka nodded slowly. “Potential.”

Marinette beamed. “Yes, exactly.” She leaned on the table and put her chin on her fist, looking at him with renewed curiosity. He looked back for a minute, and then straightened abruptly.

“I think I’m going to get a drink, would you like anything?” Luka said, sliding from the booth.

Marinette blinked. “Um, yeah, that would be great. A cinnamon latte?”

“Got it. Be right back.”

Marinette sat back as he walked away.

He seemed nice.

***

Do you believe in love at first sight?

He’d heard the question many times before, usually from people trying to pick him up after performances, but until now he’d been largely agnostic on the matter. It could happen, but I’ve never seen it.

Luka was a thorough believer now.

Of course he knew the term coup de foudre but he’d never known it was so...accurate. He’d never experienced a shock to his system like the one he’d felt when he locked eyes with Marinette.

They were supposed to just exchange books and go on their way. He was bad at small talk, he knew it, but jumping into such an intimate conversation hadn’t been his intention either. He fervently hoped he wasn’t scaring her off. He knew his natural intensity could be off putting when he was too focused on a single person, and right now he was very, very focused on Marinette.

Luka ordered the drinks in to go cups, just in case.

When he returned with the drinks he felt a bit better. Marinette looked more comfortable and relaxed, and made no move to flee once he set her drink in front of her.

When he was back in his seat, Marinette surprised him, asking, “So, um, is music your major or just a hobby?”

“Music Ed, actually,” Luka replied, wrapping his long fingers around his cup.

“Really? You want to be a teacher?”

Luka chuckled. “I’d like to be a musician and not starve. Honestly, I’d like to give private lessons so I can work one on one with the kids and still work on my own music.”

“I remember you play in a band,” Marinette said.

“Yeah, we’re playing this weekend actually.” Luka rummaged in his bag for the stack of fliers, grateful for the opening. He pulled one out and handed it to Marinette. “I’d love for you to come.” Her eyes met his again and he felt that same shock run through his system. He wondered if she felt it too.

He flexed his fingers, wishing for his guitar.

#quickspins #take a chance #backlog #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #miraculousladybug #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculous ladybug #ml fics

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peanutpinet · 3 years

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Lin Yanjun (mentor) x reader

In honor of finishing my 5th semester that the final assignment was to do a major composition (and I somewhat reference Yanjun a bit, okay, I used some of his pics to enhance my composition but yea), this is a one-shot of Yanjun from a dream I had of him. In this dream, he was sorta, one of the mentors for the Youth With You competition and you’re his secret girlfriend.

It was no shock that this cold making joke person also appears cold since the majority of time, his face was basically an RBF. But seeing it in real-life gives you even more chills. Especially when he is the mentor of many trainees. Lin Yanjun, debuted as the 5th member of Nine Percent back in the first ever Youth With You or Idol Producer as it was known. Now, he, along with his ex-bandmates are all mentors to the new 100 (girl) trainees.

Though he seemed unapproachable due to his cold (RBF) looks, he was actually kind and caring towards the trainees; just like his bandmates. Each of them paid close attention, point out the trainees’ mistakes and even practiced with them to make the trainees feel more comfortable with them. Not to mention, when Yanjun was not only known to be the master of cold jokes but also flirting. Whenever some trainees seemed stressed, Yanjun would always either make a lame, cold joke to lighten up the mood or even flirt when they were practising (ofc to a friendship kind of level). Which is why it’s not a surprised when many trainees get excited when they see him walking along the hallway, waving at them or even when they have classes with him.

However, there was one secret about Yanjun that only his family and bandmates know (and a few other ppl that he trust). That is, Yanjun actually already have a girlfriend. That’s right. This cold (yet hot) face that loves making lame/cold jokes and flirt with literally everything is in fact already taken. Which is why he doesn’t flirt as much as he used to. He knows how flirting can make their significant other feel. Which is the main reason why he tones it down, unless he is with his girlfriend, of course.

He met his girlfriend not too long before becoming a mentor, from one of his shoots for a film. But due to the difference in country origin, the two had to be in a long distance relationship. Though worried how it’ll affect their relationship, it turns out that the long distance actually made them even closer than ever before. No matter how busy both their schedules were, they would always connect each other through messaging applications and even find the time to have a long call with each other at least once every two weeks.

Yanjun wouldn’t admitted it but he does miss the physical interaction and quiet moments when he in the same country as his girlfriend. Especially when he had a long day of work. It doesn’t help that today was one of those days. It has only been 3 months since he last saw his girlfriend, and 1 month since he became a mentor. Normally, it wasn’t as bad since he would normally get the morning classes instead of the late ones like Kun (because he is the main PD in my dream while Yanjun and Ziyi are side PDs). Unfortunately, this day was not his day. Because the trainees were now finalising their performances for the position evaluations and he was in charge of the vocal groups.

For the past month, the trainees were all doing well in class. But for some reason, when it was time to practice on the actual stage, Yanjun noticed multiple mistakes. Whether it was their pronounciations on several english words of the song, their synchronization, or even when they were off-key. This resulted in Yanjun staying back for quite a long time, dismissing his break time and even eating schedule. To Yanjun, if he hasn’t finished work, then he wouldn’t take a break. Especially when the trainees still want to keep going.

It took a lot out of him, pointing out the trainees’ mistakes, repeating each part multiple times before repeating the performance as a whole. After what seemed to be hours of reteaching the trainees and giving them encouragement, Yanjun was finally done for the day. But unfortunately, it was not a good sign for the trainees who were seeing him the next day.

Throughout the whole morning, Yanjun didn’t give any smile whatsoever. Returning to his RBF face due to lack of rest and food. It even escalated when one of the staffs mentioned to him that he had to go to one of the stage halls before all the other staffs and trainees. Though slightly irritated, Yanjun kept it to himself and headed towards the stage halls. Passing through the hallways of the dorms, Yanjun kept a cold gaze and attitude. Only nodding to the trainees and staff he passed by while the trainees bowed at him, not wanting to meet with his cold gaze.

When he finally reached the stage hall, he heard music playing. Confused to why there was music, he closed the hall and slowly crept towards the stage, seeing a familiar figure. As he got closer, he caught a glimpse of the mysterious figure that was right before the stage. Recognising the figure, Yanjun crept every so slowly and hugged them by the waist, placing his head on the crook of their neck.

“Well, I’ve missed you too Jun” you giggled, turning around to see your boyfriend

“Is this why you didn’t text me back this morning? After a long, dreadful day I had the other day?” Yanjun complained, his breath was by your neck

“I wanted it to be a surprise. Did you know how hard was it to get permission? Not to mention coming here without the worry that someone may get a picture of me? I practically had to have the other 8 boys, especially Kun, Justin and Zhangjing beg the producer to allow me to come” you complained back, but in a more playful tone

“Thank you for coming. Thank you for taking the time to come all the way here, just for me” Yanjun sighed, hugging you even tighter, kissing the side of your cheek

“Well, I didn’t come here just for you. That’d be selfish” you teased

“Well, I’m hurt now. Can’t believe you didn’t come here just for me” Yanjun pouted, pulling away from the hug

“You’re adorable when you’re jealous. Don’t you think I don’t know about your flirting with the trainees?” you confronted him

“Well, I toned it down. I know that you would get jealous. But like, they’re my students. While the boys are basically, them!! And let’s not even start with Justin” Yanjun exaggerated

“Alright, alright. C’mon, let’s go have haidilao!! I already made reservations!!” you exclaimed, pulling Yanjun’s hand and directing him towards the back exit

“Hehehe, alright, alright. It better be just the both of us!!” Yanjun warned, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, kissing the side of your temple as the two of you went out to have lunch

Ahhh!!! Another story about Yanjun. Alright, originally, in the dream, Yanjun knew you were coming and he locked all the doors to make sure the two of you have your privacy but I decided to elaborate more. Also, quick note, in my idea, Yanjun, Kun and Ziyi are all PDs but Kun is still the main PD. Yanjun takes care of vocals, Ziyi with rap and Kun with dance but all three takes care of the stage performance. This is mainly because Kun and Yanjun have both become leaders and centres before. While I chose Ziyi because he is just so sweet when it comes to group performances and all. Alright, thank you for reading!!

#linyanjun #lin yanjun #evan lin #lin yanjun scenarios #lin yanjun x reader #lin yanjun imagines #youth with you #idol producer #idol producer scenarios #idol producer imagines #idol producer lin yanjun #林彦俊 #nine percent #nine percent yanjun

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mnthpprt · 4 years

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Chapter 20: The Actress Drops Her Mask

[edited to add my cover because a couple people liked the last one]

“What a terrible composition.” Several minutes into the sonata, a man standing nearby begins to complain. “I don’t understand why the host likes him so much, that hornswoggler can’t even play well.”

I turn to the man, and raise an eyebrow upon seeing the rounded, short-nailed fingers gripping his glass close to his face. A jealous pianist, no doubt. And a very drunk one, too.

“Really? I’ve heard some people claim him to be Mozart reborn,” I say, nonchalant, and hold back a smile. If only he knew. Thankfully, no one seems to be paying attention to us.

“Then those people are imbeciles!” he declares angrily before downing what’s left in his glass. After he regains his composure, he gets uncomfortably close to me. “What is a belle mademoiselle like yourself doing all alone here?”

Shit, apparently some men will be gross regardless of the time’s customs.

“Actually, I came here with...”

Halfway through my sentence, I spot Shakespeare talking to another gentleman, not too far from us. I wave my hand in the air to catch his attention, and soon he is walking towards us.

“Guillaume!” I exclaim, and curl my arm around his. “You know I hate it when you leave me alone like that, my love.” Unfazed by my whining, he plays along without missing a beat and reaches up to stroke my cheek.

“My sweet rose, thou knowest I shall always come back to thee. For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation.” I recognize the quote from one of his plays, but I fail to remember which one.

“Oh, Guillaume, you’re making me blush!” I pull him closer, effortlessly playing the role of the smitten lover, and lean up to whisper into his ear through a fake smile. “Get me out of here.”

“Let us go out into the balcony, my dearest Anaïs,” he says, wrapping his arm around my waist. “We shall find more privacy there, where thou shall need not whisper these sweet nothings that make my heart flutter.”

The second we set foot outside, hidden from view, I let go and step away from him.

“Thanks,” I say before taking a much needed sip of champagne. “That man is green with envy, it was insufferable. By the way, I hate roses,” I chuckle, remembering the nickname he gave me.

“But thy beauty is that of the most lovely flower. Besides, it is always my pleasure to aid a damsel in distress,” he smiles, and I roll my eyes. A damsel in distress? Please, I practically dragged him here.

I look inside to make sure no one is watching, and proceed to set my glass on the stone railing and lift the hem of my dress, this time to grab the box of cigarillos tied to my left leg. Shakespeare observes me in silence, and shakes his head when I offer one. I light mine and lean on the balustrade, inhaling a deep puff of smoke.

“Thou art full of surprises, Anaïs,” he finally speaks. “I knew when I laid eyes upon thee that thou art not an ordinary woman.” I perk up and look at him.

“Did le Comte not tell you? I’m from the 21st century.”

“I was aware of thou being a guest of his, but he neglected to mention thou hadst traveled through time as well,” he says, his mismatched eyes shining with curiosity. They almost look like they’re glowing, like a cat’s. He gives me a tilted smile. “Thou art quite the actress, I must say.”

I playfully take a bow, stifling a laugh.

“You’re not too bad yourself. Although I should expect nothing less, from the great Bard of Avon himself,” I say, lifting the cigarillo to my lips. I thoughtfully look out from the balcony and breathe out the smoke before turning to face him again, my eyes narrowed. “Did you write ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ as a tragedy or a comedy?”

“A tragedy,” he answers immediately, and a satisfied smile grows on my face.

“Carlos owes me 50 pounds.” He tilts his head at my celebratory statement. “I just won a bet against a friend,” I explain. “There is a lot of debate in the future about how the play is supposed to be interpreted. The general consensus is that it’s a comedy. My friend Carlos studies literature, and he thinks the misogyny portrayed is just a product of its time, but I always thought you were making a point. Same for ‘Romeo and Juliet’. Isn’t that one a comedy?”

“Of course, what else could it be?” he laughs.

“See? They got everything backwards.” I sip my champagne. “Two literal children commit suicide after knowing each other for... what, like three days? Yet people still see it as the epitome of romance. I don’t get it.”

“Most people lacketh the insight to see what thou see, it appears. Which is why I only base my plays on those whom are extraordinary, for I have lost interest in the unremarkable dealings of lesser gents.” He pauses and glances at the ballroom. “It soundeth like Mozart hath ended his performance.”

He’s right, the music has stopped. I put out my cigarillo and return the box to its place under my dress.

“I better go before he starts looking for me. I enjoyed our talk, William.” I smile and excuse myself with a nod before heading back inside.

I discard my glass on a nearby table when spot him in the crowd, receiving the praises of a small group of people. Were it not for his striking white hair, I don’t think I would have recognized him. He’s acting like a completely different person.

“I do not deserve your kind words, monsieur,” he tells one of the men, the same one with the beard that went on the stage before. I assume he is the host of the ball. He puts his arm around my back when I enter the circle. “This is my companion, Anaïs Bertran,” he introduces me with a charming smile I did not think he was capable of.

“Pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle Bertran,” he greets me, taking my hand when I hold it out. By now, I have learned the basics of social etiquette in this period. “When I heard you were a guest of my dear friend Saint Germain I could not wait to have you here,” he tells me. I guess ‘Guillaume’ filled him in on some details. “Oh, how rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself! Pardon me, mademoiselle. Marcel Rossignol, at your disposal.”

“Thank you for inviting me, monsieur Rossignol,” I say with a polite smile. “Tonight has been lovely so far”

“I am glad to hear that. It is about to get even better. I trust you like waltz?”

Before I can answer, the small band that now takes up the stage begins playing, and ‘Wolfram Theophilus Perti’ extends his hand for me to take, to the delight of the group, who observe us in fascination.

“Will you dance with me, Anaïs?”

“It would be my pleasure, Wolf.” I take his hand and he guides me to the center of the ballroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I could swear I just saw a young lady swoon, and I can’t help but quietly agree with the sentiment. With his insufferably haughty attitude kept in check, Mozart seems to be quite the charmer. Not to mention how incredibly beautiful he is.

He leads effortlessly, and I follow his impeccably coordinated steps with his hand on my waist and mine on his shoulder. The dance itself is easy, like skating without the wheels. Once he knows I can keep up, he twirls us into increasingly elaborate moves, carefully avoiding other couples that have joined us.

“I am surprised you haven’t tripped yet,” he says, suddenly reminding me who my dance partner is.

“God, you’re the worst.”

He sends me on a spin with incredible speed, which I interpret as retaliation for my remark. This is his passive aggressive way of challenging me.

“Where did you learn to dance like this?” I ask once we slow down.

“My father was always strict and obsessed with perfection. Socializing is part of being a musician, especially when the aristocracy is involved. I hate it with a passion, but I do what I have to. For the music.”

“Oh.” This is the most he’s ever talked to me, and I don’t really know how to respond. Before I can think of something to say, he ends our brief conversation by spinning me around once again.

By the time the song ends, I need to catch my breath. Mozart’s surprising agility is incredibly hard to keep up with, and I am exhausted from the effort it took to prove him wrong and avoid stepping on his feet. It was undeniably fun, however, and I enjoyed the challenge. The next song is slower, which provides a much needed break for my concentration and an excellent opportunity to keep talking. I am intrigued by this beautiful man, and his cold demeanor just makes me want to tear down his walls even more.

“I like how passionate you are about what you do,” I tell him. “I wish I was more like you in that sense.” I mean every word of it. Mozart is so devoted to his music that he has become one with it, to the point of using it as his language. During the week and a half that I have stayed at the mansion, I couldn’t help but notice how his emotions are so clearly displayed through the songs he plays. When I bring him hot chocolate, his melodies tend to become light and comforting. A few days ago, his music sheets flew out the window of his room. After I went to return them, the notes became fast and aggressive, because he was upset that the papers had become soiled from falling in the garden. What he feels is bare for all to hear, despite how emotionless he acts. One only needs to listen.

“Why?” he simply asks. It’s like he can’t understand what I am saying.

“What do you mean, why?” He just stares blankly at me as we keep dancing. At least he is no longer spinning until I get dizzy. “To have something to live for. To have a purpose,” I answer. To me, it’s obvious. “I’m just going through the motions, you know? Like waltz. I take the same steps every day, just to keep moving. I breathe, I eat, and I sleep. I water the flowers, I read... And all for what? I just feel like I keep waiting for something, but I have no idea what that is. I’ll be stuck in this pointless cycle until the day I die.”

I want to blame the champagne on an empty stomach, but to be fair, he’s the one who asked. After making me realize how tired I am of pretending, no less. Everything’s fine, I tell myself, ignoring every single thing that makes it not fine. In truth, I am merely surviving, keeping myself busy to forget how much I wish I could just... become a lump of moss, or something. That would be an easier existence. No consciousness, no problems.

“You sound like Jean.” I have no idea what that means, but I don’t bother to ask. “It’s not pointless... You make good chocolate.”

I chuckle at the compliment. This is the first positive thing Mozart has ever said to me. I look up at him as we dance, and am surprised to see him smile. It is so faint, but undoubtedly genuine this time, and the light tug at the corners of his mouth makes me feel better. I am starting to like him.

“That shall be my newfound purpose, then,” I joke, mirroring his smile. “Making you chocolate.”

The song comes to an end, and Mozart leads me away from the dance floor. He finds Rossignol and lets him know that we must leave, before thanking him for the evening. Though it is still early, I don’t complain. I think I want to get out of here too.

#ikemen vampire #ikevam #ikevamp #ikemen #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevam fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire shakespeare #ikevamp shakespeare #ikemen vampire mozart #ikevamp mozart #cover

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years

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Story about Joey being a vampire hunter and Sammy being a vampire. You can bring in Norman ((human or vampire))to to safe him

Summary: In which Sammy is sometimes a very ugly bat, and his boss might want to kill him. Normal workplace issues.

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[[MORE]]

Hypsignathus monstrosus. Commonly known as the hammer-headed bat (or big-lipped bat if you preferred a more unusual denominator), is a frugivorous species of megabat widely distributed in West and Central Africa. It's the only member of its genus, Hypsignathus, which in itself is part of the Epomophorimi tribe alongside other four unique genera.

The largest bat in continental Africa, with wingspans approaching 1 m (or about 3 ft), and the males being almost twice as heavy as the females. It's a sexually dimorphic bat species, with differences including several adaptations that help males produce and amplify vocalizations. Mainly the differing size of the males' larynges, which are about three times as large as those of females, and the large resonating chambers on their faces that give them such a distinct look.

The females in turn, appear more fox-like as is the norm of most megabat species.

All in all, information that really didn't help Sammy in the slightest, as he tried to make sense of three different books that, in theory, should give him a vague idea of what the hell was going on with his body this time...

To put it in simpler terms, he'd turned into a bat, as per say of those ye olde queer tales of vampires that were capable of shifting into those little chittering flying rats that flew out of caves and dreary old castles at night…

But then what he'd seen reflected (because most modern mirrors were not backed by silver or other such pure metals) had most definitely not looked like a squashed-nosed winged rat. It had looked truly like a freakish monster.

But that was getting a little ahead of himself really...

There were things one had to note beforehand to really comprehend what Sammy Lawrence was currently going through: Starting with the attack.

Two years ago he'd been assaulted by what he'd once assumed to be a creature of mere legend, although at the time he'd thought it was a random dog attack because what had taken a chunk off of him looked inhuman (more like a very warped looking pug-snoutted thing now that he really thought about it).

On awakening the next morning at the hospital, he'd been informed that he'd henceforth be barred from entering such facilities because he now suffered from vampirism, and that his name and records had been archived by some secret governmental agency that then directed him to a sub-civilization of non-humans.

Shocked and confused, he'd been quickly integrated into a coven that took no time to teach him the basics.

He was to live life as if nothing had changed, hidden among mere humans, yet he'd be judged as a pest by those that recognized specific documentation he now had to carry for "security reasons" (aka clearance for services to deny him due to his ailment).

Oh and he had to cope with the harrowing realization that food did nothing for him other than eliciting a form of pleasure (through stimulating his taste buds) and that he needed to instead find nourishment in human blood, otherwise he'd either die or go into an uncontrollable frenzied state (in which case he might end up dead anyway because if he so much as killed a person he'd be put down like a rabid dog).

No pressure right?

Funnily enough, Sammy had actually adapted to this drastic change. The poor man had to, otherwise he was screwed.

And then again it hadn't been all that difficult since the coven was less of what you'd assume from the olden tales of groups or communities of vampires living in the same roost, and more of a civil service in of itself.

It was like having a parole officer really. One that gave you some pointers in the right direction, and that reminded you of feeding schedules.

Feeding itself wasn't as bad either, twice every month in specially assigned locations where cattle would be provided to them by a few sponsored ranches.

What really bothered Sammy about all this was the maturing of his vampirical traits. Specifically the part when one night he found himself ripping out of his clothes and seeing his body grotesquely transform into a quadrupedal flying thing that he couldn't quite put a name to. Hence why he'd come to the library in search of answers.

Still the best description he got was for some African fruit bat that had a face that not even a mother could love.

How could a vampire seemingly become a herbivorous bat, when he knew for certain he'd slaughtered two horses the previous night?

"Found anything yet deary?"

Sammy startled slightly as Mrs. Harrison, bless her for being the supportive sweet old grandma figure that she was in his time of need (and one of the few humans who knew of his predicament and didn't judge him for it), joined him with a couple of books.

She'd taken them both, plus Abigail, to the library to help him figure out about his strange transformations.

She was also the one who took Abby on the nights he needed to feed because he couldn't trust himself not to attack her.

He was too akin to a wild animal on a frenzy when he felt the hunger calling, which Mrs. Harrison had stated was normal for fledgeling vampires like himself.

"Honestly, just this ugly looking thing… it's the closest I've found to what I saw in the mirror."

"Ah, the hammer-headed bat! They're quite unique I'd say… My dear husband, god rest his soul, used to stuff them back when he hunted in Africa. He thought they might bring him luck, the nutter." The old linguistics teacher smiled, the gaps where she was missing teeth making it look slightly crooked but no less endearing. "It isn't unusual for vampires to instinctively take on forms that don't quite match their dietary needs. Most who change become similar to a species that best suits their needs. This one I'd say has qualities befitting of you deary."

"That's… not very comforting." His nose had always been a sore spot. Turning into an animal whose face was 90% nose was just insulting to him.

"Don't take it so badly deary." Mrs. Harrison chuckled. "What I mean to say is these bats, specifically the males, are known to be quite vocal. You, my dear, are quite vocal, are you not?"

Well, when she put it like that…

"That's a yes in those pretty eyes of yours deary. And besides, not many new vampires can say they naturally became megabats. You're very well endowed in that aspect."

She took great joy in getting him to blush at such a comment. He could see the devilish glee in her kind old eyes, accentuated by crows feet and wrinkles.

They picked up a few books on the "specialized" area, Sammy vehemently ignoring Abby's questions of why his face was so red, and soon enough the trio was on their way back to the apartment.

Sick leave (which he took twice a month as mandated by the coven) would be over tomorrow, so Sammy needed to prepare.

Because working in an enclosed cartoon studio run by Joey Drew would definitely spell trouble for a vampire that had just earned their shifting ability.

There are a set of very specific rules for new vampires. Don't expose yourself, don't expose the community, don't expose the sponsors or patrons.

Sammy had gotten pretty lucky, Mrs. Harrison was a patron and one of the best at her job.

She provided rehoming possibilities to fledgeling vampires, and ensured their safety within the communities they'd been integrated in.

She also kept an eye on hunters.

So of course Sammy was quite aware that Joey Drew was a person he needed to watch out for.

Joey Drew, who was notorious for having at least 36 confirmed kills under his belt. Here's where things got tough: Joey knew Sammy was a vampire, so he tended to keep a pretty good eye on the music director as well.

It was a perpetual game of cat and mouse.

A very dangerous one that had just reached a new level.

Because Sammy's overall safety lay within what his coworkers thought of him vs what they thought of their boss's eccentricities.

No one was crazy enough to believe that their coworker was secretly a vampire, or that their boss was essentially the equivalent of a vampire poacher.

And that is what Sammy wanted to maintain. A veil of normalcy to keep himself safe. One that would be much harder to maintain now that he had matured out of the first two years of being a fledgeling and developed such a large and rather monstrous looking shift.

Hazel eyes locked with icy blue ones as the music director locked eyes with the founder of Joey Drew Studios. They drank coffee in the break room, surrounded by oblivious employees, and maintained this tense stare-down until Henry came by to drag Joey away.

Then Sammy would let out a quiet sigh of relief and go back to work ironing out the flaws in his current composition.

Jack would pass by his office to drop off a few new lyrics, he'd point out which needed a bit of tweaking, and then he'd be alone with his thoughts and his sheets up until he had to help Susie with recording.

Then he'd spend a good hour or two conducting the band, catching the brief glimpses of his ever watching boss in the corners of his eyes.

The staring contest would restart on every break, and Sammy would have to seek safety by mingling with coworkers (some of which he could not stand).

Norman was often his go to, as Joey never risked these sorts of behaviours with the larger southern man around.

The projectionist was a very bright man after all, and could dig up dirt on anyone that so much as rubbed him the wrong way.

It was a miracle he hadn't figured out Sammy's little secret thus far.

"Runnin' from the boss again?"

"That man is insane… I swear he's obsessed with me, Polk. It's creepy!" He'd replied after sneaking away to practically glue himself to Norman's side during another much needed coffee break. He desperately needed a smoke, his skin felt tight and uncomfortable.

"Drew don't know no boundaries. Yous should consider takin' it up to Henry." Norman suggested. "Only man ta boss will listen to."

"I wouldn't want to bother Henry because of Joey." Sammy huffed. "The poor man isn't his keeper."

"Sure coulda fooled me." Only three more hours of this. Three more hours and he could go home.

"Mr. Lawrence, a word." Speak of the devil… Joey Drew himself feeling bolder than ever as he moved over to address Sammy in Norman's company. "About the most recent composition."

"Devil's Swing. What of it?" He'd worked hard on it to act as a counterpart to Angel's Tango. One of his finer masterpieces if he did say so himself.

"I find it's going in the right direction… But it just lacks this… shine to it." Joey gestured vaguely "Like it's missing something that'd make it just right."

"Shine… you think it's missing some shine?" Sammy suppressed the need to growl. What was the man on about? Just this morning he'd been happy with it!

Lord forbid Mr. Drew could ever make up his mind.

Norman watched the exchange quietly, keeping a close eye on both of them as Joey gave one of his signature grins. The kind that'd make the little devil darling himself quite jealous with just how much tooth it showed.

"As we're on a tight schedule, I have to ask you to fix it by midnight tonight. Since you were on sick-leave recently, I'm sure you can compensate for setting us back with overtime." Oh, oh dear.

Sammy could now see what he was up to.

By midnight the studio would be virtually empty. Just him, the ever oblivious Wally Franks, and Joey Drew himself.

Oh he was in trouble… Unless he could do the alterations well before, but then if Joey wanted to trap him in the studio where he couldn't get help, who's to say he'd accept any of his corrections?

"I…"

"Well, on with it then! No time to waste!" Joey gave him an overly friendly pat on the shoulder, those icy blues glinting with manic glee as he walked off.

Norman wrinkled his nose.

"That man ain't right in the head… Yous just came back from the doc."

"You know how it is. Only thing Drew cares about is money." And Henry, to an obsessive degree actually. More so than following Sammy around now that he thought about it.

Either way, he had to get to work now, or he'd be screwed. "I'm going back into my office. There's no way I'm sticking around until midnight."

"Best o'luck. I'll be in my booth if ya need anythin' from me."

Sammy needed an escape from their boss, but he couldn't exactly tell Norman that. He was the last person that needed to find out one of his coworkers was a damn bat-shaped leech. The blackmail would be horrid!

The clock read 23:47 by the time Sammy had finished, and honestly the blond was ready to break.

One by one everyone in his department had packed up for the night and gone home. Susie had come by to give him a quick peck on the cheek before she'd saunters off humming a chipper tune.

Jack had come by to remind him not to stay too late and then been on his way as well. Wally himself was nowhere to be seen, probably cleaning that spill he'd heard about in Heavenly Toys, so the music director was completely and utterly alone.

And he was running out of time.

Joey was going to get him.

"Damn it… I've been good with this. I haven't even tasted human blood, and I'm still going to get put down by some crazy asshole…" he put his face in his hands and groaned. The tightness if his skin had only worsened as his stress piled up.

Stress-shifting was very much a thing and he really didn't want to chance transforming in the studio to release some of the tension.

With his luck Wally might walk in on him.

"What do I do…?" He could try scaring his boss into letting it go. That bat form of his was pretty ugly, it'd scare the devil right out of Drew himself.

Or it'd just make him step up to the challenge.

A knock startled him out of his thoughts.

"Y-yes?" He chastised himself for sounding so shaky, especially when it wasn't that grinning bastard who opened the door. "Norman?"

"Hey Sammy, I need a favour." The Louisianian greeted him. "I messed up my arm pretty bad while fixin' one o' them projectors. Yous wouldn't mind drivin' me to the hospital right?"

"I… No of course." He was surprised, noticing the makeshift dressings on Norman's arm. They were messy but he couldn't see or smell his injury so it was likely a burn of some kind. Those projectors tended to overheat and catch fire at times.

"Good, I'd ask Henry but he wents home early tonight… Strange really, Mr. Drew let a lot of folk go home early tonight..." Norman shrugged "And even if he could drive, I wouldn't bother ta boss t'do this for me."

"I'll drive, I was done anyway." He left the sheets out so that Joey would find them as they were with ease. "Nearly midnight too, so Drew can't get on my case for leaving a little earlier."

This was the escape he needed.

He owed Norman his life, even if the other man didn't realize it.

The two made their way outside at a leisurely pace before Norman motioned for Sammy to follow, much to the blond's confusion.

They ended up in an alleyway (not dodgy at all, nope) where Normal pulled off the bandages and revealed his arm was just fine. Sammy stared, eyebrows raised.

"I lied, I don't need to go to the doc, but I don't think that butcher needs to know that… Have a good night Sammy, and stay safe." The much taller man grinned cheekily before transforming before Sammy's very eyes, into a truly massive Mauritian flying fox.

"Oh you're kidding…" The larger vampire chittered, clearly amused by his reaction, before flying off into the night. "So much for having something over Polk…"

The music director huffed and began walking towards his car, stopping when it dawned on him. Norman would likely cash in this favour when he least expected it…

"Son of a bitch, that man better not ask for something impossible…"

You win some, you lose some.

As much as he hated to lose to Norman so often, Sammy was at least glad to win this despute with Joey.

For the time being at least.

#Eps Writes:#Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Sammy Lawrence #Norman Polk #Joey Drew

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randombtsprincessa · 5 years

Text

Bells and Roses

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Park Jimin x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 4.4k

Genre: Smut

Summary: You pay your muse a visit. Or alternatively; you and Jimin haven’t defined a relationship but does it stop you from turning it wild? Lol no.

Warning: Jimin dancing, no real relationship defined, pink! Jimin, a lot of handsy behaviour, fingering, oral (female receiving), riding, sub! Jimin, unprotected sex (be safe kiddos)!

A/N: Happy Birthday, my love, my life, my beautiful Park Jimin! I was inspired for this fic from Cake Waltz! You can listen to it while reading this!

I love feedback!

An idle glance was cast at the delicate chain watch circling your wrist, eyes flickering over the glittery digits before returning to the front of the hall. A hush fell over the murmuring crowds surrounding you, the well-dressed masses shifting and straightening in their plush seats with their eyes drawing to the front as well where the spotlights had been directed.

You waited keenly, the rest of the ambient lights dimming till darkness hid you in its embrace, masking away the slight change in your face, if any occurred.

You, of course, knew it was inevitable. You were an expressive person, some might say a little highly strung, but it was all in a day’s work. You were here to have fun, let loose. Maybe even get another stroke of inspiration but you weren’t going to be specific about it.

This wasn’t about you, not really.

The curtains rose and colors exploded in your vision.

A dusky shade of pink was first, circling spotlights forming a halo upon the wooden stage where stood perfectly posed, curled ballerinas in glittering costumes of the same pink. The pink light dimmed, the ballerinas sinking to the floor with their feet curled behind them, a bow of sorts.

Another light burned, a blinding silver this time, hitting just the edge of the curtains and unbidden, your body lurched forward in anticipation.

The light flickered, building tension as a brush of strings echoed, followed by a deep thrum of beats that pulsed in your blood. It was an unusual combination, mellow, sweet tinkles that contrasted against the sultry bass, sending chills down your back.

The spotlight was back and from it – just as the beat dropped – emerged the reason why you were here, sitting among people who held no delight for you.

The figure threw itself into a spin that had you gasping in concern, feet flying over where a head should be, before landing squarely in the centre of the second spotlight, this time a raging purple. Loose, white shirt that hung around the torso and black tights caught the light, glinting and winking at the audience with its sequins.

No, your delight lay in this, watching the figure unfurl, standing straight and proud, a tilt to his head that had him eyeing the crowd, a particular trance in those orbs that made you bite into the glossed surface of your lip.

The ballerinas moved in synchrony, as they reached up on their toes, a perfect throw arabesque pointing towards the figure of your interest but he still didn’t move, taking his time to study the audience that watched. You sent a silent thanks to the darkness that shielded you because when he was done, he turned his back to the stage before opening the dance with a pirouette, a brush of his fingers trailed onto each dancer that had been turned to him.

You slumped in your seat, chin stuck to your chest as headiness clouded your mind. Your eyes never strayed, fixed on the man that pranced, settled and then took flight (almost literally) on the stage. The bass never seemed to reduce his pace, his feet, encased in white, following the faerie precision of the composition.

The dance was a mix of his contemporary and ballet, the ballerinas more an accessory on the stage, paling next to his vitality but of course you could be biased. It wasn’t like you even saw what the girls and boys in the tutus were doing. Your eyes were fixed on the man who with a roll of his neck, turned a seducer and then as innocent with big glimmering eyes and a too familiar pout.

The music went on, and your delight soared with him.

It was almost too short but it was more than enough for you, overwhelmed as you got to your feet with the rest of the audience when they rose for a standing ovation.

He finished off the dance with an over exaggerated flourish, a mischief that he loved when he knew that he had rendered a mind blowing performance. His head was tilted again, eyes roving.

You could’ve sworn there was a hint of a smirk brewing on his face but there was no way it could’ve been aimed at you. You had shrouded yourself from him exquisitely. He had no business having that smirk on his face.

Park Jimin

The name lay as exquisitely upon your tongue as the finest wine, the sweetest delicacy. Meeting him had been the rarest coincidences, but knowing him now felt like serendipity. You had been a fresh out of college artist, eager with your skill and your degree.

Everything had been lovely until you were prompted to hold your own exhibition in one of your friend’s galleries and you were struck without inspiration. Landscapes…cityscapes…abstract…nothing seemed to fit. Canvases were discarded, paints tossed around, palettes and brushes broken in frustration and quite a few tears shed before an impromptu walk through the city landed you standing dubiously in front of the Theatre.

Slumped in one the same chairs as you had been, you’d laid eyes first on the lead dancer for Calico Dance Academy, the rising star. You had both been much younger back then but even then he had been graceful, sleek like a striking cobra and just as entrancing.

He had basically pried your third eye open with his beauty. So, when you learned that his doors were open for admirers, you knew you had to take your chance.

You gazed at the bouquet in your hand, clasped loosely within your fingers as you studied the flowers.

“How may I help you?”

You flinched at the customary questioned posed to you by the cheerful florist, soft cheeks lifting as she welcomed you to the counter.

“Yes, hi,” you stammered before clearing your throat. “I would like some flowers, please.”

“You’ve come to the right place.” The girl laughed softly, but not deprecatingly, moving to the side so you could see the arrangements behind her. “How would you like them?”

You studied the shelves, moving from the simple collection of a few stems tied neatly together to an extravagant affair of lilies and daffodils, too big for you to carry.

You thought back to the night before and the lapels of the man’s costume.

“Can I customize a bouquet, with sunflowers and roses? And could you add those small bells to it?”

It was relatively easier, finding Jimin’s delivery address and dropping the flowers off. The studio was not too big, considering the academy was still finding itself but Jimin was certainly quick to find you, following you out one day when you were done leaving the flowers at the front desk.

“Hey, you’re the secret admirer.”

You turned to see the beaming man taking quick steps towards you, still in a tight black shirt and leggings that enhanced his thighs. You were surprised to say he was much shorter up front and that much more beautiful.

He smiled at the startled look on your face and you could’ve sworn flowers blossomed from the cracks of the concrete sidewalk.

“You leave me flowers,” he prompted.

You nodded, more for your sake than his as he stuck out his hand. “It’s not much of a point being a secret admirer. Let’s make friends.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Some people would like a secret admirer.” You told him, catching his hand in yours nevertheless.

“Some people would also be creeped out by it but you seem nice. I’m Jimin, and you are…?”

You stared at the expectant look on his face, a part of you itching with some indescribable emotion.

“Y/N,” you managed at last. “I’m Y/N.”

Park Jimin proved to be a great friend. With the most charming disposition, he was also equally brainy. As clichéd as it seemed, he helped you see things that you didn’t in your not so humble artistic perspective. He was a storm, bubbling with gossamer energy and you had never been so grateful to have your life thrown in the path of so impressive a storm.

So, after a soft afternoon spent in the park with ice cream after his practice you popped your question.

“So…you know, I am a painter right?” you asked lightly.

Jimin slurped at his strawberry scoop delicately. “Yup,”

“I was, just thinking, you know, that – if you don’t mind awfully – I could paint…you, I guess.”

Jimin stopped with his tongue still gracing the side of his scoop, his eyes flickering to yours in amazement. “You want to…paint me?” He asked.

You shook yourself a little, ready to save face. “It was just a thought. I mean, you don’t have to even consider it. I know most people get freaked by the thought of getting painted and it’s a whole lot of hassle.”

Jimin cut you off, laughing as he streaked an ice cream soaked finger across your cheek. You squealed in turn, sliding away from him on the seat.

“Stop trying to put me off, Y/N. Of course, I’d model for you. I’d be honored. We can go now; I have all the time in the world.” Jimin leaned in and before you could even register the motion, he’d kissed the line of pink sugar from your skin, popping his lips as he did so, careless and ignorant of the way your eyes lingered on his mouth.

Four hours later, your masterpiece was ready of sorts. Jimin held still the way you told him to, hair fluffed as he stared out your window in one of his somber stage expressions.

“God, Y/N,” Jimin grinned, peering over your shoulder, watching you apply the small shades and contours to his neck and collarbones. You’d yanked his sweater down a little, much to Jimin’s amusement to reveal the sharp bones beforehand. You thanked your insight now; they looked beautiful in the fading evening sunlight.

“Is that a good god or a bad god?” You halted your hand, staring at the picture in trepidation before Jimin laid a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Good, Y/N, I can’t wait to see myself up on your friend’s wall.”

You invited Jimin with your customary selection of flowers, delivered to his house this time, the invitation to the exhibition tucked within the stems.

It seemed Jimin was much more excited about the exhibition because he showed up an hour before you; seeking his picture while you ignorantly mingled, clueless until you spotted a familiar figure, studying the one picture you were responsible for.

“Jimin,” You called the man, his head tilted to the side as he stared at his likeness against the lavender wall.

“Y/N,” he greeted, not looking at you, thankfully because you were blatantly staring at your friend.

You had never had occasion to see Park Jimin in a suit but by god, it was a sight.

Tight black satin clung to his figure, stretching over his shoulders and hugging his waist. “I see you found your picture.” You had to smile.

Jimin turned to you with a smirk. “I don’t know if it’s the lighting or the finishing touches but I do look mighty fine. You picked a fantastic model.”

You shoved at him. “That’s just your ego talking. I have it on good authority that the painting is just fine.”

He pouted at that. “What have I said about the self depreciation, Y/N?” He didn’t wait for an answer, aiming a hopeful look at his own self. “So, when do you need another painting of a hunk?”

It was during the third painting that you and Jimin ended up on your too messy bed. Fast, rough and brilliant, Jimin rolled off of you in a daze, eye glimmering in the shadows.

“If I’d known you felt that good, I’d have jumped on you sooner.” You managed in a huff, causing Jimin to break out in a guffaw that lasted well into the minutes that you took to clean up and slip into a nightgown.

He stayed on his back, gloriously naked with no signs of wanting to pull the comforter up across his body. You stepped cautious when you saw that the light in his eyes had changed, something deeper and serious flickering in them now.

“What’s wrong?” you’d asked.

Jimin was mum for a while before speaking, “I don’t want you to think of this the wrong way.” He said slowly before wincing, realizing the start had been wrong itself.

He sat up, finally tugging on the covers to recover some dignity. “I meant, I don’t want you to think that I’m just into the whole wham-bam-thank you ma’am thing.”

You continued to frown, silence prodding him into further speech.

“I want this, I really do but I don’t know how much time I can devote to you.” He said finally.

You broke out laughing. “Jimin, you know we don’t have to define a relationship just because we slept together one time. We can still be friends.”

“I don’t want to just be friends though. I want to define something, just in case you go and find some other muse.”

It had taken a few days to discuss out terms to define a relationship between you and Jimin. Both of you were busy people, what with your exhibits picking up and needing you to focus on extensive travel while he toured for his own shows.

You didn’t want to look it to face but you knew Jimin was a very attractive man with a healthy amount of libido that needed to go around along his charisma. That was one of the first things you’d brought up; exclusivity. However, your friend turned potential lover had quickly shot the idea down, vehemently stating he would very much appreciate some form of stability, something solid to come back to.

Did that answer any of your questions? No, neither did you manage to put a finger to what exactly it was that Jimin and you were.

However, it did not stop either of you from falling into bed with each other whenever Jimin and you happened to be in the same city.

You were at your florist again; much more upright and sure of your order this time as you smiled at the long term girl friend behind the counter.

“Y/N! It’s been a while.” She greeted, straightening the uniform cap perched on her bleached hair.

“Hey Solji, yes it has.” You agreed, your eyes screening the assortment of flowers.

“I take it the special receiver of the flower is back in town then?” She asked, moving to the usual selection of sunflowers, fresh and dewy, high near the sun.

“How do you know?” you gasped, looking around as Solji smirked, wrapped a pretty blue paper around the roses and sunflowers.

“I’ve been wrapping flowers for a good many years, Y/N. I’ve seen a lot of flower givers. You’re timed and only get one particular customization. Of course, he or she is special.” She plucked out a tiny string of small bells before tying the package off.

“Pretty observant, I’ll have to be more careful.”

“Or one day you can just introduce us,” she teased back, cashing you out. The soft giggles followed you a good way as you carried the bouquet towards Jimin’s building.

It had been a few months since Jimin had moved out of the small apartment that he’d had to share with roommates. With the success and acclaim that followed his dancing troupe, he had purchased an apartment of his own, making it easier for you to show up whenever you wanted to.

You deigned to be sneaky about your approach, leaving a small painting of his last performance, on cheap canvas first at his doorstep, sliding it in and ringing the doorbell, quickly concealing yourself in the alcove of the stairs. You watched the door swing open quickly before a head peeked around, looking slyly around before shutting the door again.

You let out a giggle, flitting down again to place the bouquet in front of the door when the door flew open again, nearly scaring you into heart palpitations as you were met by the crinkle eyed grin of none other than Park Jimin.

Clad in baggy grey pants and a pale blue shirt, stood the man who’d been your muse ever since you’d laid eyes on him. As your eyes drifted over his features you fixated on one change that had you gaping.

“Jimin,” you gasped out, “…your hair is pink!”

On his part, he looked sheepish, raising a hand to pat at his head before opening the door wider to let you slide in, swiping the bouquet from your hand and taking a whiff.

“Ah, my favorite,” he sighed, complacent as you looked down the apartment you hadn’t stepped into for months now.

The deep, woody scent of new furniture still lingered, clearly from having been locked ever since he got it and you wondered if you should’ve gotten a bigger bouquet so he could smell something better than varnish.

The sweet bliss of his arms wrapping around you diverted your attention, turning to look up at him.

“I saw your name in the audience listing.” He mumbled, lowering his head to nuzzle within the crook of your neck.

“And hence the smirk,” you realized, placing both hands on his chest. “You knew I was there. And here I thought, I’d surprise you,”

“I always check audience listings in case some company is scouting.” He shrugged before smiling slyly. “So, did someone miss me?”

“Nope,” you shrugged away, walking off to remove your coat, knowing that Jimin was sporting a spectacular pout by now. Such a spoilt baby…

“Ugh, come on, I missed you, you know…pay attention!” He whined, catching you near the couch, back to wrapping his arms around you.

Spinning you around he caught your lips in a nostalgic kiss, scorching in the way his plump petals caressed yours, trying to find a break in your armor.

You let him find it, wrapping your arms around his neck as he tugged you closer, a satisfied hum escaping the pair of you, his hand drifting over your waist and back before pulling away.

“I wanted to come back ever since I got on the plane you know,” he told you.

You smiled, remembering the pained expression with which he had dropped your hand, disappearing through security with his eyes returning to you every few seconds.

“I know, I could tell.” You brushed kisses over his jaw line.

He tilted his head back before looking down at you, amber eyes glinting in the afternoon sun beaming into his living room. “Stay with me.” He whispered, a lull of command in his voice that made the dull ache in your stomach sharpen, keening you towards him.

He raised his eyebrows in a way that told you he knew his effect on you and you allowed him to bask in the knowledge. “I already planned to.” You let him know.

“Good, because I’m taking you to bed and not letting you up until we’re hungry and gross.” He said, not waiting for a reply as he tugged on your hand, leading you further into his home.

You barely had time to glance around the space before Jimin was locking the bedroom door, pressing your bodies up against it and leaning over you. Warm breath wafted over your bottom lip when he brushed his against your tingling skin.

Your hands crept up his back, moving to pink fleece on his head. It must’ve been hard to maintain it without getting it fried completely but the strands felt silky enough with your eyes closed.

Jimin walked backwards, hands drifting down to his shirt and pulling it off and moving to his windows, drawing the shades and casting the room in gloomy lighting.

“Come on then,” he grinned and you followed, pulling at your clothes until they decorated your steps towards him where he sat on his bed, watching you with his lip caught between his teeth. The strip tease probably wasn’t as sexy as you wanted it to be but at least you tried and by the looks of it, it was enough.

Jimin’s hands wrapped around your waist, squeezing with abandon. “I missed your skin, your warmth.” His eyes drifted to you lazily, his fingers moving to the band of your simple underwear. You placed your hands on his shoulders, balancing yourself as he began to tug the garment down your legs, the action even more erotic when he groaned; catching sight of your glistening slit.

Jimin’s thick fingers landed first at your knees, slipping around the back and sliding upwards, his eyes still glued to yours, minutely examining each expression or change that passed over your face. The way you tilted your head back before down again to look at his actions, the small pants; they were only making Jimin harder, wanting to rip into you with wild, wicked intentions. He held control, of course, no need to rush.

His breath hitched when his thumb finally made contact with the apex of your thighs, eyes flashing to the point of contact before up at you again. Was that a hint of apprehension?

“You’re already wet.” He mumbled, your eyes fluttering and cheeks reddening but you held fast to him.

Jimin had clearly been working out. His shoulders were broader; muscles more pronounced at you latched yourself on them while he attended to you in his gentle yet teasing ways.

And then he lowered his mouth…

You were glad that you had had the foresight of grabbing Jimin before because even before those luscious lips touched your skin, you were buckling, a rampant moan escaping you when he carefully parted your slick flesh, exposing your clit to his punishing tongue. Jimin pulled away, his tongue swirling before retreating back.

“I missed your heat.” He said before diving back in.

There were few things in your life that compared to Jimin giving head. Maybe the first time you had seen him naked, his skin glowing but still full, nothing chiseled about him as of then. Now he was harder, his planes more defined but you loved him just as much, the rake of your fingernails still shone the same and your kisses worn with as much pride as he used to.

Jimin was far into you for you to think much ahead. The way his hand migrated to hitch your leg up, placing it on the bed next to him to give him more access before dipping his fingers into you, curving the way he knew he reached your sweet spot, waiting for the groan to be satisfied before he returned to sucking your clit into his mouth, tongue pushing forward so he could collect more of your juices on his tongue.

He barely took a breath, finally pulling away and retracting his fingers from you gently, feeling the tightness of you close on his hand, trying to keep him there.

“Fuck, don’t be greedy, babe. You’ll get what you want.” He chuckled, deep and throaty. His eyes were nearly black now, pupils blown out.

You’d loved that, how he could be so fucked out even when he barely received any pleasure himself.

You removed your hands from his shoulders, studying him carefully. His cheeks were sunk in, a little more angular than you remembered. His biceps bulged where he leant on them, his thighs were thicker. You made a mental note to feed him while you had him here and another to ride his delicious legs while you were at it.

Jimin smiled a little at your scrutiny, “Y/N, what are you thinking?”

You didn’t answer immediately, instead reaching up to undo your bra, letting it drop at his feet. “I’m thinking…I want to ride you.”

Jimin’s mouth dropped, you could see him clearly swallow before he was nodding. “Yeah, okay, we can make that happen.”

He began to back further onto the bed but you stopped him, placing a hand on his knees to bunch the material of his sweats and tugging at them.

Your lover gave you a wide eyed stare. “Like this?”

Your eyes ran up the newly acquired abs, placing a kiss directly on them. He clenched at the contact. “Like this,” you whispered.

Jimin was quick to lose the sweats at that, eyeing you for further instruction as you flicked your hair behind you, placing a knee on the bed beside his hip and the other on his chest, anchoring yourself as he held himself at the base, angling the tip to brush against your entrance. You sighed, the thrum of his groan as you sat down on him bracing you.

The stretch burned you deliciously, the girth of him sliding against the right spots as you tried to get him in as deep as you could.

Jimin’s back arched, the tips of his fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he mumbled unknown, unheard words. His eyes opened to see you kneeling over him.

“Fuck me, please.” He begged, a hint of desperation plaguing him that you couldn’t ignore.

Raising yourself, still using your hands for support, you dropped back down, using his pants of breath as a metronome, your hips gyrating and thrusting in time with him.

Jimin lay obediently still below you, letting you fuck the both of you into a pleasurable oblivion. His skin was starting to collect sheen.

You bent over him, feeling him whimper before bracing himself against the floor and thrust up into your warmth. His hands moved up your back, digging into certain special spots before wrapping into your hair, trapping you against him as you sunk your teeth in his shoulder, hiding cries of pleasure that he could hear anyway.

“Are you close?” He asked, yanking on your hair to look at your face, contorted a little.

“So close,” You arched your back, further pushing your body into his skillful hands.

“Good, me too, I want you to come with me.” Jimin let his hand cup a breast, while the other fell where your bodies connected. His thumbs set to work, rubbing sparks of extra pleasure into your peaking nipple and clit.

You whined, back tilting as your nails dug into his thighs as you exploded on top of him, a similar groan sounding below you as Jimin let go as well.

You felt his seed flood you as you convulsed on him and you probably would’ve toppled over if Jimin hadn’t sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close while he kept thrusting, slowly letting you both come back down to earth.

By the way his hand moved back to your ass, a light squeeze placed on it, you knew you were far from done.

#smutcentralnet #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #jimin #park jimin #bts #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts jimin #jimin scenario #bts scenarios #happy birthday jimin #bells and roses

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