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comfortless · 5 months

Note

hades! konig and persephone! reader

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. abduction, voyeurism, dubcon, not very explicit smut.

notes: this has been on my mind for an eternity actually thank you sweet anon for finally encouraging me to write it out! if you celebrate, merry christmas! and if not consider this just a lil gift for absolutely no reason apart from for being my first Kö request. 💕

A hollow grows within him the moment his gaze meets hers. A chance crossing whilst collecting a rare offering of fruit laid out just for him. Most mortals wouldn’t beckon his attention, and the gods often left him just as well. He knows better than to take insult and become reckless, though… recklessness comes as easily as breathing when his stare settles on her across the glade. She twirls in silent dance, pirouetting carefully as if to avoid crushing the nature that springs up, brushing against her soles. Her voice picks up in a song when she notes the figure watching her from a distance, her cadence no less beautiful than any choir despite the flighty waver in her tone.

When the nymphs rise up from the stream to listen, he stands transfixed for a moment as they pull her in with them for a more elaborate dance, voices all melding until they break into a chorus of giggles and stories.

It should have been left at that.

She walks an earth made for her; flowers blossoming beneath her bare soles, each root extending for just a chance to brush against tender flesh, a breeze that flits gently against her hair. The daughter of Demeter, something unattainable, too precious to be dirtied by the howling abyss below her feet.

He is tethered to darkness and unknowns, an enigma with dried blood beneath his fingernails; the only songs he hears are screams. He’s since stolen flowers from the meadows she dances in. Beautiful peonies and soft green things that smell sweet. Flowers don’t bloom in the dark, they wither and dry.

Days are spent in melancholic longing, nights his roaring grief melds with the wailing of lost souls. Ugly and tainted noises that he dreams will reach her ears, that she will come to him with her lashes wet with tears, wrap him in her arms and quiet all but her own voice as she tells him that he’s more beautiful than her rivers and her blooms.

Yet, she never does.

König takes it upon himself to walk the land of mortals, teemed with life and pleasures more often now. He pulls himself from below with unnatural fire behind his eyes, a horrible, yearning abyss in place of the feathery, clumsy love that he’s watched so many others allow for themselves.

She notices him while he watches her bathe amongst the nymphs, stood upright and imposing beneath the shade of a tree. Each time, while the nymphs shy away with giggles and hands curled over their breasts, she merely keeps her eyes on him; lips-parted and pulse raging. He knows, would swear by it, that his obsession is not entirely one-sided.

Once, she chooses to wave at him, a demure flick of her wrist while his stare remains fixed upon her. The droplets of water from the curve of her neck, down to the swell of her breasts and the pebbled nipples there— down, further into the water that envelopes her and sends his mind to flicker, a roaring flame building from his chest to his groin.

All of his frustrations pale and cower at the fantasy that he just may be able to grant himself the liberty of sinking into something writhing and warm from just one, simple gesture.

He knows he’s fucked, because his first thought after the lullaby of attraction subsides is to poke her just a little; prod her and see what makes her cry the hardest, blanket her in the shadow of himself and pick her apart like a vulture to a cadaver, do things to her that no man ever has or should. It’s not right, and he has to force himself to turn away, the fabric of the veil obscuring his face as he slinks back into the dark where he belongs. Away from the untouchable maiden who seems to haunt him endlessly with her teasing.

The giggles and splashes of the nymphs whisper through the air like the chirping of birds. Though, one voice stands out above the rest of the noise, causes him to halt in his tracks.

“Why does he never speak to us?”

Her voice, so sweet, asking about him when she should be speaking of nothing but the beauty surrounding her, the warmth of the sun and never the cold darkness of the moon.

It’s eating away at him, he realizes, when he can no longer satisfy himself. Nights lain in a haze, staring up at blackened walls with his length in hand. All it takes is the memory of wet lashes and a soft smile, usually. Her beauty is enough to bring even him to his knees, yet, he finds himself instead on the brink of hysteria the first night he finds a vision of her is not sufficient enough to reach the brilliant white haze of a climax.

The thought of stealing her away from her world of beauty to drag her down into the dark with him fills him with both elation and a terrible guilt. Zeus himself is no different; the thought shouldn’t warrant a seeping coldness in his veins, nor should it have caused him to spill his seed into his hand with only a mere flick of the pad of his thumb over his tip, yet it accomplishes both. A waste, when it should be buried deep inside of his beloved.

It takes only two nights for him to plot, to have Gaia choose to favor him, and on the third day the Narcissus flower blooms, pretty and golden. It echoes false promises, softness and beauty beyond even the daughter of Demeter’s imaginations. She will hate him, she will. Her very soul will sour the moment she lays her eyes on him next, but eventually… she will come to understand, return his love with a whisper of her own. Lightly, at best, but it would still be more than he had ever known.

He watches the roots of the plant from below, a pinprick of warm light shining down. The thumps of footsteps overhead, shaking down loose soil like raindrops, giggles like crackling thunder. She’s roaming about with her nymphs again, gentle with her and all of her beauty. After watching her for so very long, he’s more than certain they will be braiding the flowers and falling asleep after fits of laughter with the taste of fruit on their tongues. Only, she’s condemned herself by being so predictable. She will fall, not into soft grasses with a woman’s arms thrown over her, but directly into his own. She won’t eat the fruit of the earth, but drink his wine and allow him to lose himself in her flesh, bedded down against the pelts of beasts and blackened out by shadows.

The wait isn’t long. Her voice breaks through the quiet of the earth below her feet, seems to light up even the space between the two of them as her footfalls halt only several paces away.

“Look at this one!,” she calls out.

Several steps follow after her as one of the ladies of the river comes to join her. He imagines the smile on his beloved’s face, the way her body curves as she kneels down to his trap and his fingers twitch in anticipation of what’s to come.

“Maybe not that one, sweet,” the nymph warns. “There are prettier ones by the bank.”

König can feel his jaw tighten, eyelids pausing to narrow up at the small light as he tries, forces himself to believe that this was fated. She wouldn’t turn away— she couldn’t.

“No... just look at it. We’ve not seen one so lovely since last spring.”

“What if someone else planted it for themselves?”

“But… I want it.”

She sounds so pitiful, so gentle, and he can feel that swell of heat curling inside of him again. The urge to simply love her feels all-consuming with each word that passes from her mouth.

The two above giggle to themselves at her mischief, before finally, the roots begin to move from a gentle tug above. In a matter of seconds, the entire plant has been uprooted. For a daughter of nature to not long for its beauty would be unrealistic, yet he still exhales his relief. The earth riots beneath the women’s feet, splintering cracks and loud discordance echo through the valley. The nymph’s shrieks join the disarray as her featherlight footfalls lead her far, far away from what belongs to him: the dark, the rot, and now her.

With so little time to react, she falls headfirst into the abyss, clutching the narcissus tightly between her soft breasts. Waiting arms are raised to the glimpse of sun and beauty to catch her as he pulls her tightly against his chest, tucks her head against a broad shoulder and grasps at her waist. Whatever he had imagined her flesh to feel like paled in comparison to her warmth, the softness that gives with each press of a digit that makes her tense beneath his touch.

She’s crying, shaking, terrified as she weakly raises her head and offers him a smile. It’s the kind of smile that screams savior, and he can’t bring himself to correct her. No one has ever looked at him with such tenderness.

Everything quiets the moment she looks up to him like that, after condemning herself to him as though she knows nothing of men and gods. She looks at him like he’s an angel, in turn he bites his tongue so hard he can feel the pinpricks of blood and soreness blossom from the wound. He knows he isn’t good, but the heavens have got their filth, too.

“Thank you.” She speaks in a whisper as the world above falls back into place, blanketing them both in shadow and the scent of soil and brimstone. Politeness seems unnecessary, now, though he places her gently onto her feet.

He’s far too mesmerized to stop himself from dropping to his knees in front of her and trailing a hand from her knee to her thigh, squeezing flesh so warm that the very feeling lingers pleasantly against his palm.

If a god couldn’t pluck him from this emptiness and set him on a right path, perhaps a goddess could, as he has always imagined. It’s only confirmed the instant he realizes she isn’t flinching away from his touch.

“I didn’t save you,” he explains calmly.

He’s struck down titans, claimed rulership over the underworld, and yet nothing has made him feel smaller than the fretful look in her eyes as she looks down to him kneeling before her like little more than a common man. As if to provide comfort, selfishly to himself, his massive hands drift higher to rest on her hips still wet with river water and blades of grass clinging to her just as he has longed to do. For what’s felt like an eternity of waiting, of pining, only to have it end with something as simple as a flower.

“I brought you here.”

She’s still beautiful when she cries; a palm is clasped over her mouth, eyes swimming as she trembles in his grip. Of course, she knows what this is about without ever having to ask, yet she still does as if to plead him to tell her that her thoughts are all wrong— that she’s safe and will return to her lovely friends, to her mother that would assuredly be worried sick and furious.

The rise to his feet feels like a mile long stretch, whilst he keeps her caged between the dirty wall and the vast expanse of chest. He shushes her with a gentle tone, wipes her tears away with the ghosting of fingertips before pushing up the veil covering his face to lie claim to her mouth as though his very life depended upon it. Perhaps it did. Though he did not fear Demeter, nor his brothers should she call upon them, he feared not having this ethereal, gentle thing at his side. He feared the creep of loneliness that ravaged his bed each night.

She sighs against his mouth, but does not reciprocate. Everything about her is tense and stressed, a wild mare preparing to kick out for the first time. His tongue lolls out to lap against her soft lips, just twice before he forces himself to part from her.

His beloved brushes away stray tears from her cheeks with the meat of her palms, shivering just a little as she tries to force herself to straighten up, appear braver despite the way she teeters on the edge of falling apart so easily before him. The heavy gaze of obsession fixed upon his face turns further predacious when she apologizes for not being able to help herself in response.

“I didn’t know it was yours,” she explains, holding out the ruined flower to him in one, shaking hand. She protests in her own way, eternally kind, but it all falls on deaf ears as he brushes the petals from her palm and takes her up into his arms again. With an arm beneath the backs of her knees and the other wrapped tightly around her middle, he leads her deeper into the underworld.

A mere taste wouldn’t do.

Her protests are nothing more than soft sniffles when he does take her to his bed of pelts, her arm even thrown over his shoulder as her body presses tightly to him. He thinks for only a moment that he could take his time, stop this all before she truly does grow to loathe him, but the descent into the bed only fortifies his resolve; his belief that this gentle woman of the earth, who smells of magnolia and clear waters belonged entirely to him. For now and forevermore.

“You are to be my wife.”

That quiets her for a moment, her eyes finally meeting his once more as he hovers over her, a palm to either side of her head. She has a mind to shyly curl her hand against her chest then, centered between her breasts which rise and fall with each flighty breath. It’s not panic, but more— curiosity, a misleading thing that he takes to be acceptance until she graces him with a mere murmur of her voice again.

“I don’t belong here.”

König knows that she doesn’t belong in a place like this, for all her grace to be lost to the cold, the rot; his kingdom is nothing but a wasteland riddled with the dead and subjects who take up the mantle of cruelty in his stead. The thought of actually allowing her to go instills rage and melancholy so quickly, he curls his fingers into the fur below to keep himself from flinching.

“You will.”

A digit reaches to trail across her bottom lip, tentative, but the need to touch overwhelms him past the point of caring for much else. To his amazement, she still does not push him away.

“How could that be?”

He doesn’t respond.

More than bedding her, a matter more pressing pushes to the forefront of his mind. Though he knows the likelihood of anyone being aware of her disappearance is nonexistent, a mere whisper from the beaks of crows by this time, he would do well to ensure that she wasn’t leaving. Just as every other soul resigned to dwell here with him, she too would remain.

“You’re famished,” he whispers the suggestion as he splays a palm out over her bare abdomen, only backing away enough to allow her a small length of space between them.

Her concerned stare shoots from his palm to his veil in an instant before she weakly nods her head and props herself up on her elbows.

“Quite… yes.”

She allows herself to be pulled into his lap without a fuss, doesn’t make mention of the hardened cock beneath her. His mind is swimming with the fantasies that kept him tame on so many nights without her as he presses his nose against her temple. A shallow intake of breath, and her lips part readily for him as he pushes the sweet pomegranate seed into her mouth, savoring the brush of her tongue against his fingertip. She eats without thought, never knowing how she’s tethered herself to his plane.

There’s an offering of sweet wine followed by a gathering of honeysuckle for her to sip the nectar from as well before he’s convinced she’s pliant enough. Despite the desire raging within him for all of this time, he would not be cruel to her. The thought of hurting this sweet, little dream doesn’t excite him. It’s her love that he wants, not her anguish.

He lies her back with sweet whispers, gentle caresses as he listens to her murmurs in response. She speaks of the stories only small creatures would know; the way the winds change and the rivers flood, the prettiest places she’s been. No fruit has ever tasted sweeter to her than the pomegranate, and nothing has ever filled him with such emotion as the moment he penetrates her.

He speaks to her through it, tries to, whilst he’s overcome with a pleasure that assuredly no other has ever had the blessing of. She affixes herself perfectly to him, clinging to him as he takes her with gentle thrusts. Gritted teeth and barely contained grunts are met with dulcet mewls as her hands reach for his. His heart aches, truly, at the knowledge that she isn’t meant for this place; his kingdom is nothing but suffering, and she belongs beneath the sun in meadows of flowers. His last thrust is deep, reminds him of the places he dares not tread often, the domains of his brothers, pillow soft clouds and a heaven far above, lost to him.

It’s her consoling him when he fills her to bursting with his seed— delicate arms curling around his head, cradling him against her breasts as she silenced the tears he hadn’t even realized he had shed. He had damned her, yet her soul had not soured; not all flowers withered in the dark.

The endless night is easier on his beloved after the first. She visits with the other souls and comes to him for comfort when the screams and cries in the darkness become too much to bear. She’s less fragile than he had anticipated when she demands he bring her home, and those demands so often end with little else than König taking her into his arms to lead her elsewhere. The underworld can be beautiful too, when seated upon a throne being hand fed by a man that knows little more than to blanket her in as much softness as he can muster. He tells her of the titanomachy, of the white tree, of anything to keep her entertained. His tongue does not shy from telling her that he loves her, too, often met with a shy glance or a soft giggle. Not outright disdain, and for now it feels enough.

She cries often, in longing for her mother and her friends, though never over this love she had never sought herself. Her loneliness only fuels her need for comfort. Selfishly, he believes that he’s saved the night she willingly wraps her arms around him, pulls him close and falls asleep nestled against his chest.

— — —

With the reliance on mortal offerings and Demeter’s anguish having been brought to light with seasons of failed harvests, it was only a matter of time before she was forced away from him. The months without her feel dreadful and empty, but he doesn’t dare disturb her while she walks the earth at her mother’s side. The agreement was beneficial for all of the gods and goddesses, and he knew better than to tread upon it by rushing to her like little more than a pleading dog. When winter took hold, bathing the lands in its icy touch and withering the plants she cherished and freezing over the rivers her nymphs played in, she would return to him as she must.

Each time is different. His beloved is not simply a thoughtless vessel as many of his subordinates. She is the most incredible thing he’s ever had the joy of meeting.

When she returns in tears, calling to him for his comfort he does not hesitate to kiss them all away and remind her that her summers will return and everything above will be just as it was on the day that he brought her below.

Sometimes, she’s angry, jealous even. She asks him often why he doesn’t come to see her while she’s away. He is her husband, after all. Was there anyone else in which he spent his nights with? Someone fairer than even she? The satisfaction of seating her on his cock, satisfying her as she does him on their shared throne far out rivals even ruling the domain itself. He would do anything to prove to her that she was his only; the sole thing he even thought of whilst her mind was filled with new songs and tales from the nymphs she spent her time away with.

Never has she returned with a gift.

Yet, she stumbles back into his realm clutching a small satchel, dripping with the scent of a juice sweet and familiar. A pleasant smile paints her features as she seats herself next to him on the throne. The bench of marble felt far too vast and dreadful to hold someone so delicate, the sight is something he’s grown accustomed to; emptiness is replaced with familiarity seeing her interact with anything here. It may not be home to her, but something in the way she looks to him— as she always had with tenderness, makes him question if a part of her sees him as home.

“I’ve brought something back for you,” she chimes as she pats her thigh.

Each time was different, but it had never been like this before.

He pulls himself to her side before slumping down to rest his head against her, tracing his fingertips along the length of her leg as his gaze drops almost sheepishly.

“Did you?”

She hums in reply, plucking one of the seeds from the satchel before slipping her hand beneath the veil to feed him. His lips part as he takes in the flavor of the aril, the honeyed taste almost akin to the look in her eyes.

“Just like…” She trails off for a moment as she lowers her head to press a kiss to the cheek of his veiled face. The delicate laugh that follows is unlike any he’s heard from her prior, it’s unique, saved solely for him.

“The six that I fed to you?” He asks her quietly, as he pulls himself away from her to meet her eyes directly. The air around them feels thick, loosely charged with a feeling that he can’t quite place; an intensity that he’s never felt before. Any groaning or wailing off in the abyss is silent now, just quiet words spoken.

Things have always felt warmer since her descent, but he’s learned to not expect anything more than she was willing to give. Still, hope cinches his heart tighter than it ever did prior. Even in battle, slaying his father alongside his brothers, he had never felt his heart race the way it does now.

She nods her head, opening up the satchel just wide enough to reveal the other five arils.

“I don’t think that I understand.”

“You should.”

He mulls over that for a moment before the fog finally clears. Any doubt that he had is remedied by a mere two words. He stares at her dumbly, searching her eyes for any hint that this is some horrible, cruel trick; that the implication is something he’s horribly misunderstood.

She couldn’t possibly come to love him… could she?

“To tie you to me,” she says softly.

The smile remains on her face when she closes the distance to kiss him. Not over the veil, but beneath it this time.

Her descent was one of a selfish longing, and his felt as though he was plunging into a world of flowers.

#König x reader #konig x reader #könig x you #konig x you #König #konig #cod fanfiction #konig fanfiction #cod fanfic

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toomanybandstocare · 2 years

Text

{Nose Kisses}

Program: Eddie's not as scary as everyone thinks. Actually, he's as terrifying as a doe. He can't help but feel a little shy when you show your interest after a Corroded Coffin show.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Length: 987w

Camp Upside Down Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and bar fights. Compliments (Gorgeous and Dazzling). Couple of swears.

Counselor Notes: Thank you dear @staygoldwriting for the lil ask! I really just wanted some sweet boy Eddie, and I was all smiley when writing it.

Eddie Munson is as courageous as a mouse in a suit of armor. His acts of bravado often cause people to spare him a startled glance. Van speakers booming with Dio as he cruises to the Hideaway. A patch jacket that seems to sag under its new additions after a weekly music shop visit.

Eddie Munson speaks so loud and commands a room with outcast authority just to avoid attention. His logic: why allow anyone the chance to make him the social circle sacrifice.

Eddie Munson feels a flame in his chest and visibly shrinks in size when he catches your electric look of adoration after a Corroded Coffin show. His fingers twist the sweaty, silver bands wrapped around them as he sneaks glances over to your friend group at the bar.

“Hey, Romeo,” Jeff snaps Eddie’s attention back to the booth, “Your turn to buy the round”. A chorus of snickers rumble across the table from Sebastian and Gareth, and Eddie flushes from his friend’s knowing looks.

“Huh,” Eddie squeaks. Sounding like a freshman in high school certainly will not help him defend himself from the onslaught of teasing brewing.

“We’re doing you a favor,” Sebastian chuckles and slides his glass across the booth. It lands with a dull clink, and it’s soon followed by two more.

“Practically doe eyed and Bambi bashful all night,” Jeff points out and starts to shift his weight. Leaning into the side of the booth bench that Eddie occupies, Jeff pushes his shoulder into Eddie’s with a sudden shove.

“Don’t go cheap on us this time, and don’t chicken out like every time,” Gareth chides as he pushes the glasses into Eddie’s waving hands.

Anyone watching the scene would think that Eddie’s headbanging to the Motley song. Frizzy, black curls flying everywhere as he shakes his head.

“Guys come one,” Eddie pleads, “I’ll cover. That’s not an issue. Just someone else grab them.”

“Sorry,” Jeff shrugs and lays down on the bench completely. He sends Eddie an upside down, lopsided grin.

“Just too tired,” Gareth yawns and slouches into his seat.

“Stuck on the inside of the booth,” Sebastian rests his arms on the table followed by his chin.

“Go get us something good, and don’t come back without a number,” the boys simultaneously shoo Eddie away.

“Assholes,” Eddie breathes under his breath while taking the glasses into his hands.

The faint sounds of their laughter blend into the rowdy drunken chatter when he turns to walk over to the bar. One final shake of his head allows Eddie to shield himself with his hair. Every bump to his body causes a flurry of butterflies to tickle his tummy. He just needs to get to the bar and back to the booth. Nothing he can’t manage.

With an anxious tremble, Eddie sets the glasses down and flags Jodie with a small salute. Eddie’s eyes flicker from bottle to bottle before meeting his reflection in the mirror behind the liquor shelf. When he notices your familiar figure standing right next to him, Eddie jumps back a little in fright. His sneaker tripping on your boot as he tries to catch himself before causing a bar fight.

“Easy there, Bambi,” your calm voice floods Eddie with ease. Your hand quickly dashes out to grab his elbow. Securely holding onto him, you help him steady himself and rub small circles into his jacket’s soft leather sleeves. “You alright?”

“Shit, yeah. I’m sorry. Jesus Christ,” Eddie starts to ramble and apologize profusely. “Wait. What did you just call me,” he sends you an incredulous look before tumbling back into his apologies.

“Bambi. Big brown eyes. A smitten smile. So shy and sweet, you can’t even look at me,” you mumble to yourself. You unconsciously start to tap your foot in thought.

An amused look graces your face as you try to catch Eddie’s gaze, but his hair keeps swaying in the way. You tug the emergency scrunchie from your wrist and take a step into Eddie’s space. A small laugh warms you when you realize Eddie is so absorbed in his words that he doesn’t notice you pressing into his chest and reaching your arms around his neck. Softly trailing your fingers at the base of his neck, you feel Eddie’s breath hitch. You gather his locks with gentle care and wrap his hair into a small bun. A hum of approval tickles your lips when you inspect your work.

“There. Now I can see those beautiful, brown eyes,” you smile at the blushing boy.

“Thanks,” Eddie squeaks.His eyes wide in shock as he finally sees you clearly and so close. Eddie can’t even think to wince before the sound of your melodious laughter relaxes the tension in his posture.

“Need another, Eddie,” Jodie calls both your attention as she sets down four replenished glasses.

Eddie’s blush burns his skin as he coughs, “No, just the four”. He hands her the money plus tip before daring to take a glance back at you. Your smile sends him into a dizzy state of glee.

“I think both our friend groups are dying to call us back, so here,” you step closer and tuck a piece of paper into his pocket. “My number. We can figure out how to get my scrunchie home another day,” you explain while looping his bandana around your finger.

Eddie doesn’t know what came over him. Maybe it was the beer from earlier. Maybe it's how gorgeous you look under the shitty spotlights. Maybe your dazzling smile finally made him crumble.

Carefully gathering the glasses between his hands, Eddie turns to you and pauses. Shifting his weight back and forth on his heels, Eddie swoops closer and presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. Feather light and excitement overcomes any second guesses. Taking a step back, Eddie shoots you a bashful smile, “Sounds like a plan, Thumper”.

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tessatales · 1 year

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Is That What You Think? (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: Hey! This is a quick Song Fic because I’ve had this song on repeat and I had a vivid image of several of the marvel crews reaction to hearing Reader sing this song. I picked one character to write for rather than a ‘Marvel character react’ kinda post (did that make sense?)

Anyway! Enjoy!

Theme: Comfort, Bucky helps, words of encouragement, you can read this as a mutual pining/love story or as a platonic friendship (up to you lovely’s)

Warnings: non really, swearing (mainly in the lyrics) negative self image.

*Bucky’s POV*

‘I don't go out much

'Cause parties are too much

And I don't need any more judgement’

Bucky didn’t make a habit of listening in to people singing in their room, but something about the lyrics mixed with the emotion in Y/N voice made him pause.

With trained silence, Bucky crept closer to the door, stoping when the muffled sounds through Y/N’s bedroom door became clearer.

‘So, you keep your gossip

You're cool and you're toxic

Already got someone who does it’

Bucky went to knock on the door, only to have his hand dangling in mid air as the door creaked open with the first tap. Through the now ajar door, Bucky watched as Y/N continued to sing, their large headphones deafening them to their visitors knocking.

‘It's me, and that voice in my head

Telling me that I'm better off dead

If you think that you can make me cry

More than me, myself and I

Well, go ahead and try’

Better off dead? Bucky thought, his body going still with the shock of the statement. Backing away from the door, the ex assassin took a deep breath as he felt the wall make contact with his back.

‘If you talk to me like I talk to myself

I'd give you the finger, I'd say, "Go to hell"

You can be mean, make it sing pretty well

But you can't say shit I don't say to myself’

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” Bucky whispered as he moved slowly away from Y/N’s door.

‘Yes Mr Barnes?’ F.R.I.D.A.Y whispered back, the female voice so close that if the person existed, they’d of been right beside Bucky.

“How do I find that song?” Bucky asked, his voice returning to normal as he entered his rooms.

F.R.I.D.A.Y was silent for a moment.

“I could get the song up for you Mr Barnes. Or you could listening to it via Y/N’s public playlist” F.R.I.D.A.Y replied.

Bucky thought for a moment, before taking his headphones from the stand by his bed.

“Send it to my headphones please”

“Of course Mr Barnes” F.R.I.D.A.Y confirmed.

*A few hours later*

‘I wish you could hurt me

So maybe when I bleed

I could blame somebody else

But she's sick and she's twisted

A bit masochistic

There's no point in calling for help’

As the chorus played again, Bucky made another note in his journal, his handwriting barely legible, as he scribbled to keep up with his own thoughts.

‘Like you're useless, you're stupid

You're hard to love

No one likes you, you're crazy, you're totally fucked

If you talk to me, like I talk to myself

I talk to myself’

Bucky paused the song, barely able to keep his emotions in check as he re-read the lyrics he’d noted down. Useless? Stupid? Hard to love?

“How can you think this about yourself Doll?” Bucky asked the silent room, his heart thrumming against his chest uneasily. With a sigh, he pressed play, hoping the song didn’t get any worse.

‘It's me

Yeah, that voice in my head telling me

That I'm better off dead

If you think that you can make me cry

Well, me, myself and I

Make me wanna die’

As the chorus played for the final time, Bucky could hardly see, his eye a blur as he read and re-read everything he’d written in his tiny black book. The Winter Solider sat motionless and unseeing for a moment, allowing himself to process everything he’d heard before reaching for the red pen he kept spare on his nightstand and getting to work.

*Your POV*

“Whoever’s knocking on my door at 1 am better have a good reason!” You shout as you stumble sleepily to your bedroom door. After a particularly turbulent mental health day, you’d hoped the extra sleep would help prepare you for a better tomorrow, but apparently the person at your door didn’t care about your beauty sleep.

“Who- Bucky?” Stunned at the Winter Soldiers presence, you stop your angry rant before it comes. Bucky looks disheveled in your doorway, the weak hallway light barely hiding the messy hair and stress lines on his face.

“Who died?” You asked, only half joking. Bucky didn’t blink, only stepping forward to envelop you in a hug. You hadn’t realised how ally you’d needed one until you’d felt his arms cross your body firmly, holding you tightly against him as you felt your legs buckle slightly.

‘We love you Y/N” Bucky whispers into your hair, placing a kiss on your forehead before letting you go.

“Of course i do, why are you saying that?” You replied, frowning at the man in front of you.

“We all don’t say it enough. Here” Bucky said, handing you what seemed to be several pages from his notebook.

“What?” You said, barely getting the word out before Bucky walked away.

“Read it” was all he said as he retreated back down the hall. Closing the door, you stared at the tiny bundle of notes in your hand, confusion shaking you fully awake.

Sitting on your bed, you unravelled the notes, looking at each page scrawled with black and red writing. Some of the writing was almost eligible; although it only took you a few moments to realise what you were looking at.

The song

You could see it now, the lyrics you’d woken up with playing in your head; letting you know that today was not going to be a good day to be in your own head. But something was different.

You could see the original lyrics, all of them scribbled in deep black ink but it was the red notes on the side that crisscrossed between the margins of the song.

Like you’re useless, you’re stupid What a ridiculous statement!

You're hard to love Bullshit! We love you, I love you.

No one likes you, you're crazy, you're totally fucked If i could climb into your head and tell you how all of this is totally wrong, i would. But I’m not asking Stark or that ant dude about the science of that.

Further down, where the lyrics talked about death, your breath hitched at what Bucky had wrote.

Well, me, myself and I

Make me wanna die.

How long have you felt this way? Do you feel this way all the time? Or just sometimes? Why don’t you come to us? Why don’t you come to me? You know we’d be here for you. You are loved, you are smart. You couldn’t be hard to love if you tried! Please read these notes when you need them. Please don’t suffer alone. We’re here. - Bucky.

It was the little red heart scrawled next to his name that broke the dam inside. Your tears spilling over until they spilled onto the page. You dabbed at the paper quickly, stopping the liquid before it distorted the only below.

‘Thank you’ you whispered into the darkness. You’d express your thanks, your love and your gratitude in the morning, but right now, all you wanted to fall asleep to was the deep red letters etched on the paper in front of you.

A/N: Hey guys! I wasn’t sure really how to end this one- you know when you get a half baker idea but it just won’t go away until your write it down? Yeah that was this story- yet no matter how much I though- the rest of the story wouldn’t bake! So apart from that, I hope you guys enjoyed this little story- I hope to make some more one shot fics soon

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moonjella · 9 months

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my ranking of golden age that nobody asked for:

𝟏. alley oop — it’s the most hype song on the album so you know it’s going to be my top song, it’s exactly what i’ve been waiting for since nct 2023 was announced. a super hype song with an incredible rap line, but let’s also not ignore the vocals because yuta and jisung’s vocal lines are so heavenly! every member snapped in this, even winwin with his teeny tiny lines. this is going to be my anthem when i walk to class everyday, it’s incredibly motivating

𝟐. pado — sm really know what they’re doing putting xiaojun and haechan in the same unit again, their vocal chemistry is seriously unmatched. and the unit as a whole is probably one of my favourite u combinations because everyone’s voice (raps and vocals combined) sounds so perfect bouncing off each other. and the song itself is so fun and sexy, it actually surprised me. and idk how to explain this but the trumpets?? were so sensually teasing which i feel reflects the lyrics and the song as a whole, ughhhh i love it so much!

𝟑. the bat — i (s)creamed when i saw the videos from nct nation. it opens with them telling me to inhale, exhale but the jokes on me because i lose the ability to breathe with this song. i don’t even know what it’s about, wtf is bats on wheels lmao but i don’t care i’m still jamming hard to this song. also, the vocal trio of taeil, yuta and jungwoo is insane, and hendery and jeno’s rap?? hello??

𝟒. interlude: oasis — listening to this in the shower lead me to having an out of this world experience lmao it’s so heavenly and quite the nostalgic song, it reminds me of something that i can’t quite name. but at the same time, it’s a new and refreshing vibe that i’ve never heard from nct before, but i love it anyway. i just wish the song was longer

𝟓. call d — when it comes to tenyong duo, i don’t think anything can ever top baby don’t stop but call d is such a chill and fun song, and the instrumental breaks did surprise me. it’s not my fave on the album but i do love how the song is both fun and sensual. also ten’s rap and taeyong’s vocals?? they are so versatile

𝟔. baggy jeans — i’ll be honest, i’m not a fan of the chorus however! the rest of the song is so good! it’s so nice to see t7s unit back together again after 7 years. it’s one of the most catchy songs on the album which is great if you like the catchy parts. but for me, i’d rather have a different song on repeat. but the low, deep vocal ranges? jaehyun and mark really surprised me. i like the last third of the song more than the rest of the song, and getting through the first part feels like a chore

𝟕. not your fault — nct ballads usually linger towards the bottom of my playlists but don’t get me wrong, i do love them. i just don’t listen to them a lot. the lyrics are so sweet and gentle, i’m definitely going to listen to it when i need a pick me up because the message is so beautiful and intimate. and the vocals were so amazing, renjun really shined through

𝟖. kangaroo — i didn’t like this one at first but it grew on me after a few listens. the lyrics have a cute, fun meaning but if you squint enough, they’re a little dirty? did anyone else notice it, or was it just me and my filthy mind lol? this song is totally the song to listen to on a summer roadtrip with the windows down, and it honestly felt like a nct dream song rather than nct u, but it was fun regardless

𝟗. golden age — i don’t want to be one of those entitled nctzen but i really did expect a full group song with the same vibes of black on black/resonance throughout the song, but golden age is like a hybrid of black on black/resonance and beautiful. it really does enhance all of members’ qualities by allowing them to shine with their individual lines, be them vocal or rap. it’s such a feel good song, but it did give me whiplash lol

𝟏𝟎. that’s not fair — this song was going great at first but something about the chorus was very....idk how to explain it, i just didn’t like it. i did enjoy the dark, sinister feeling. it gives you the same vibe you’d get watching something scary. i know it’ll grow on me because every nct song does eventually. but there needs to be a song at the bottom of the list and this one fits the shoe which is a shame because i loved it at first

#nct #golden age #☆ ─── 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 ─── ☆

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betouma · 3 months

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touma raps and dances to the hit song idol for next gen.

touma doesn't know what drove him to fill in the form for next gen season two, but somehow he has. it was probably an impulsive decision, honestly he doesn't even remember what he wrote down now—he does remember the image he sent in, where he looks a little goofy with his button-up, bare face and messy hair. and yet, he passed that stage. he got the message when he was walking the dogs. one of them barks, like it's congratulating him. touma smiles and pets the dog, as if saying thank you.

now he has to prepare for what's to come. so he decides to do what's fun for him. if he does that, surely everyone else will have fun in turn too... right?

—

it's unexpected. he watched the last season of next gen, and he's pretty sure there wasn't a rapid fire question round back then. he doesn't mind, touma thinks he's pretty quick on his feet when it comes down to it. that doesn't mean the pressure isn't on, especially when they have to showcase a 'unique skill' afterwards too. he does have some spray cans left in his bag, and he wonders whether he's allowed to do use it later.

for now though, he'll focus on his performance. time passes fast and suddenly it's his turn to face the judges.

touma introduces himself: name, age, what he's doing right now, the names of the dogs he walks every few days—okay, fyi, but he thought it was important. then, he thanks them for their time ( maybe he should have done that after ), and begins his performance.

he starts with the face-paced rap, missing no beat, keeping up with the rhythm. a quick few seconds, then the song continues onto the chorus. touma fosters a big grin on his face, hopping and skipping in place, stretching his arms as he dances to the music—complicated hand gestures done. he's jumpy on feet, as the song requires him to be. he sends a heart to the camera at the right time—it's a little embarrassing and his ears feel a bit warmer, but it fit into the song too perfectly. and then he poses towards the end, smile ever-so-present despite trying to catch his breath.

unfortunately, he has to gather himself for the round of questions he's about to get. so he does.

“what style of music/performance suits you best and why?”

touma hums, considering his options for a while. "if i'm being honest, i want to try everything at least once." that's not the answer they're looking for right now though. "but i think fresh concepts would work best with me, those that are upbeat but also heartfelt. throw in a bit of rock or pop... and i can make a choreo out of that too."

“why do you want to become a kpop idol?"

that's a question he knew was going to be asked in this round. "oh, well. i like to dance... and i want to dance for other people to see. i also like to rap, and to perform..." that being said, he definitely has to get better at singing itself.

“what would you do if you won ₩1,000,000,000 (~$750,000) in the lotto?”

touma laughs. "not sure, i'd probably say i want to spend it for myself. but i'd end up using it for my family. specifically my brother. help him get into school or something. and then... expenses for my future pet?"

“what was the first thing you thought about when you woke up this morning?”

he tries to recall the morning. "honestly, i was thinking about this moment. hoping i'd make a good impression." now he sounds likea pick-me, but it's the truth. it's because of the nerves. "i also thought about what i should eat that morning. i ended up going with eggs."

“what can you bring to the table that we won’t see in any other contestant?”

the pressure is definitely on. "hm, good vibes." he means it though. "i think that's important, particularly when you want to keep an audience hooked. right?" he laughs once more. "i'm also determined, i want to learn more. i know i'm not perfect right now, but i think i can be a great performer if even the chance." he supposes that's eventually up to the judges though.

now it's time for the unique skill he has to show off. "okay! is it alright if i ask for some sort of... canvas? anything is fine." the judges seemed a little hesitant, but somehow they do have an actual blank canvas. so he doesn't have to use the stage itself, which he's grateful about. it's medium-sized and not what he's used to ( he's used to walls, after all ), but he can make do with it.

"thank you! please give me some time. it won't take too long!" touma takes out his paint spray cans from his bag. he doesn't have too many colors to work with, but this will do enough. he's used to running low on supplies, it's not like he has a huge budget for his hobbies.

touma was right, he doesn't take too long. after a few minutes, he comes up with his newest masterpiece. this time, more people will see it. and know who made it. a part of him is flustered about that.

it's done now. after this, he can only put faith in the judges. but mostly on himself.

#( solos. )#be:ngs2p1 #/ yeahhh #im gonna drive myself crazy woo #“were u inspired by the smcu idol cover”#yes

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worstlovesong · 6 months

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asks for distractions: what are your favourite lucy lyrics? (solo + boygenius inclusive!)

Thank youuu <3 I apologize in advance for anyone who thought I could be normal about this because I am simply Insane about Lucy’s writing <3

“We had a lot to measure / We had more past than pleasure / And time grows deep like weeds” - Dream state…

This song hits me hard post-bad-friendship but this lyric sticks with me. Realizing that even if there was a lot of memories built with someone, they may not be Good Ones. Realizing after the fact that perhaps the time spent together wasn’t as good as it once seemed. Time is always moving forward and now that you’re away from them, you’re left with a mind full of invasive weeds to pluck through in search of new growth.

“If beauty is the only way / To make the nightmares go away / I'll plant a garden in your brain / And let the roots absorb the pain” - Trust

This chorus makes me so !!!!! Like oh my god. It’s just beautiful, it’s a promise of a loved one wanting to ease your pain and soothe your fears in the gentlest way. It’s a promise to yourself, to find beauty in the world and hold onto it because then there’s a reason to keep going.

“Don't hold your breath, forget you ever saw me at my best / You don't deserve what you don't respect / Don't deserve what you say you love and then neglect” - Night Shift

This song in its entirety is just a fucking masterpiece. I love it so much and I struggle to express why. This part specifically gets across exactly what I want to say to someone who hurt me and it honestly helps me reframe my thoughts because No this person does not deserve me at my best or at all because they did not respect or love me like they said they did ‼️

“Believe me, I'm speaking plainly and painfully/Trying to stay elegant, eloquent and delicate to you” - Body to Flame

This one just scratches my brain tbh. This whole song is beautiful and just the very human concept of knowing someone so well and yet somehow not fully understanding them because we are all so unpredictable

“The future isn't worth its weight in gold / The future is a benevolent black hole” - Cartwheel

Not being ready to face the future, especially when it takes things and people away from you. Change is hard, change is scary, change is autism’s worst nightmare (and therefore mine). Yet she also implies that the future, while vast and unknown and forcing change, is not inherently evil. The future can bring good things, even if you’re not ready for it.

“I wanna run my fingers through you / You say nobody understands you like I do” - Partner in Crime

Once again this just makes my brain go ‼️

“You called me cerebral / I didn't know what you meant / But now I do, would it have killed you / To call me pretty instead?” -Brando

This line and I Don’t Wanna Be Funny Anymore hit me for the same reasons. Growing up being forced into the role of the funny one or the smart one but I was never pretty. It’s just that frustration with people who can’t even bother to give straightforward praise/compliments, calling you an old soul or wise for your age or cerebral. What does that even mean, when you’re 10 years old and just like to read books but they paint you as a scholar or you’re 15 and you’ve never had someone other than your grandmother tell you you’re beautiful. Like goddamn just let me be pretty for once.

“I'm staring at my hands / Red, ruddy skin, I don't understand / How did they betray me? What did I do?” - Triple Dog Dare

After I came out to my family at 15 years old I wasn’t allowed to see my friends outside of school for months. I internalized it, I mean I was still dealing with severe internalized homophobia from the church and I thought it must be My Fault. I remember apologizing to my friends, crying, because I wasn’t allowed to come over or hang out with them. As if it was my fault. I would spend hours regretting coming out, wondering what I did that was so wrong. This line just sits in my brain and wow Lucy Dacus is just like me fr

“I want you to tell me that you miss me / Want you to hold and hurt and kiss me / I wanna run away and live on your family's boat” - Triple Dog Dare

As you can tell by my pinned post I have Feelings about this verse. I’ve posted about this before but this song is the perfect example of young queer love and how adults interfere and see it as impure. This line specifically just highlights that need to be with that person, for them to hold you and kiss you and even if they’re hurting you at least it’s proof they’re there. The need to to run away with them because even if you’re missing at least you’re together in the end. God this song makes me fucking feral.

“But it feels good to be known so well / I can't hide from you like I hide from myself / I remember who I am when I'm with you / Your love is tough, your love is tried and true-blue” -True Blue

I’m really gay and I love my girlfriend <3

But also like this song just fucking hits oh my god. Being known and loved by someone in a way that is so genuine, so honest, so raw. The parts of yourself you are ashamed of they embrace openly. A dependable and honest love that makes you remember yourself, truly see yourself.

“I wanna live a vibrant life / But I wanna die a boring death”

AND

“Oh, it hurts to hope for more / Oh, it hurts to hope the future / Will be better than before” - Afraid of Heights

I remember after my first listen of this song I just sat there stunned, crying. This song is so dear to me and Lucy has my entire heart. I relate to the concept of a toxic friendship in which the person pushes your boundaries and shames you for them. Every word of this song resonates and I’m so tired so I don’t think I can do it justice but I truly have many thoughts on it.

The wish to just live a bright and exciting life but not die in a risky, stressful, painful way. The pain of the unknown, of the future, once again going back to the benevolent black hole. Just hoping that one day things will be better because it’s all you can hold on to but it hurts so much some days

This got so long 🫠 I recognize I have a problem and I just want y’all to know I love Lucy Dacus she’s everything to me <33

#also the entirety of we’re in love but I didn’t think y’all wanted me to add that agsjdjd #Lucy Dacus songwriter of all time #I can’t help that I’m a lyric guy and I hyperanalyze everything I listen to #cj.txt #asks #anon !!#lucy dacus

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riot-hellion · 4 months

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Lightning in a Bottle

&Team Fuma x OC

—5,391 words (please be nice)

“Sparklers? Really? Those are for kids.” He giggled at his girlfriend’s giant smile as she held out one of the unlit sparklers to him. They were at a fireworks show and her mom had handed her a lighter and some money to go buy some of the sticks for her and her boyfriend. Her mom encouraged them to go further up the hill so they could be alone and not have to be around the little kids and the parents.

“Yeah, but they’re fun and we can draw things in the air with them.” She continued to hold out the sparkler until he finally took it and held it out so she could light it for him. “There we go, now come on and have some fun. Not like we have forever.”

~~~

“Toni!” Vic shouted. He was tired of having to snap his vocalist out of a trance every time they practiced her oldest song. She had wanted to release it for years, but could never force herself to. “C’mon, we can’t keep having you leave us when you sing that song. You zone out after every time we play it and it’s setting us back further and further each time because something feels wrong.”

“Sorry Vic,” Toni never meant to zone out when she sang their oldest unreleased song. It happened sometime around the bridge, the part made for two voices instead of one. It would forever be incomplete, it was never created to be complete without a second person. “I know what’s wrong, I just . . . I can’t do anything about it . . . nothing can be done about it.”

Vic sighed and sat in front of where Toni sat, “I know you want to release the song, but can you? Maybe we should just test it at one of the concerts and see how it would even work live. It would give our fans a taste of it and it might make you finally feel like it’s complete.” Vic offered the solution, not knowing exactly why Toni couldn’t fix what was wrong with the song. He saw the others start to come back into the studio and stood. “Think about it, we have a few days until our concert in Osaka, maybe we could do it there.”

“Nia, hun you alright?” Evelyn, their bassist, asked in her thick southern drawl as she walked into the practice room they had to prepare for the concert. Toni just nodded as she stood, ready for another round of the set list. “How about we call it a day, Nia? You look exhausted.”

“Yeah, T.” Ghost, their lead guitarist, spoke up. “You look like you haven’t slept since we got off the flight. Maybe we should rest and take it easy for a day or two.”

Toni thought for a moment, only for the sheer exhaustion from the previous day to crash as hard as it could on her. “Yeah, that sounds. . . good. We should take a day and rest. I’m gonna go to the hotel and nap.”

~~~

“‘Rollin’ with the thunder, not take a breath we’re goin’ under

We’re gettin’ busy on the backstreets, we don’t need gravity, here in the afterglow’.” She sang as they both leaned over her notebook, staring at the lyrics she had written about their last date together. “How does that sound? Like with a super upbeat backing track and some hidden harmonies on one half of it?” She was hoping he liked it, it was a song for him anyway.

“That’s fantastic, but what if we changed the bridge to being a full harmony?” He asked as his eyes drifted towards the simple lines, “We could make it a higher register and lower register harmony. Recreate it so it would work and form a union almost. One chorus and verse is the masculine, deeper register. Second verse and chorus is the higher register, then they converge in the bridge and through the final chorus.”

“I think that would be amazing. . . “ She turned her head over her shoulder to see him. Their lips met after they chuckled about how she said it, “If it worked it would be like-“

“Catching Lightning in a bottle.” He could finish her sentence any day of the week.

~~~

She was distraught. They had performed the song in Osaka and it was well received, but Toni couldn’t allow it to be released like that. It still didn't sound right, it was still incomplete. It would always be incomplete. The attention from the song managed to make articles from publishers all over Japan, they were saying how their band debuted a new song with a positive reaction despite none of the crowd knowing the lyrics.

“Can you feel at peace with this fuckin song now? It’s a hit and it’s not even officially released.” Vic was frustrated, Toni refused to leave her hotel room. She couldn’t stop crying, it was incomplete despite how everyone seems to love it.

“No I can’t, Vic.” Toni buried herself back in her covers, unable to face the world. All she knew was that she was expected to release the song officially after the tour.

“Toni! You can’t keep saying this song is incomplete! It’s been done for years!” He was shouting now, Vic was fed up. He knew about this song before the others, he was the one who watched as she said it was perfect, it just needed to be recorded. “You told me when I first found out about it that it was perfect and you couldn’t wait to show it to the world! What happened to that? What happened to the girl who wanted to put this song into the world even if it was hated by the whole world except one person?” Vic took a breath to try and calm down in order to not send Toni into another sobbing fit.

“You need to face the music Toni. He’s not gonna find you until he knows you still remember.” She stated at Vic with fury in her eyes, he was the only one who knew why that song was never going to be perfect. “And unless you find him and tell him, he’s not gonna find you.”

“I’m not releasing the song. They can have this one performance, but never again. It will never see any more light after this.” In the time after the concert, Toni grew to hate the song she cherished. She was tired of the constant emails and calls from their record label telling her to put out the recorded song after the tour was finished. “No more practice with it, no more listening, no more reading the lyrics. Nothing.”

~~~

Stars decorated the sky as they laid in the bed of the truck. No wind, just them admiring the lit the sky in a way they never got to see. “They say you will need your soulmate under the stars.” He spoke, startling her from where she laid on his chest.

“Where did you hear that?” She propped herself up in order to look at him properly, “Cause I’m pretty sure it’s more like you and your soulmate will meet IN the stars, if you never met in life.”

“I’m fairly certain it was my version,” He held a smile on his face, “Cause my version makes sure that the beautiful girl I met under the stars is my soulmate.”

“You’re a dork, what makes you think that in my version you can’t meet your soulmate under the stars? For all we know you can meet your soulmate under the stars and in the stars.” She straddled his lap and leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead. He breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief at her words.

“Good, cause I don’t want to have to meet someone else after I’m gone, it seems like a lot of work.” He let a smile decorate his lips as he listened to her giggle at his remark.

~~~

“Dude! Dude! Dude! Listen to this band!” K ran up to his friend, holding a video that went viral of the band Stars of the Night, “This song is amazing, I can’t find the name of it anywhere though.”

Fuma took the phone and clicked play. Lyrics long forgotten poured into his ears, lyrics he inspired and helped refine. He couldn’t see the singer, but he could never forget the voice. “I know the name of the song.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he fought singing the part of the song written for him, it was etched into his memory as if someone took a brand to his brain.

“You do?! Tell me please.” K was begging for the information to be disclosed, “Please it’s stuck in my head and I can’t find it anywhere, even if I type in the lyrics only this video comes up. The band is called-”

“Stars of the Night?” Fuma cut off K with the name he had come up with for the band.

“Yeah,” K was caught off guard by his friend knowing the band already. “Do you listen to them? Wait- that’s not important, what's the name of the song dude? You said you knew it. Tell me, please.” K was practically on his knees to know what the song was called.

“It’s called Lightning in a bottle.”

~~~

“Why are you leaving me Antonia?!”

“Listen to me!” She shouted right back, “I don’t want to leave! I don’t have a choice in this, if I did I would stay right here!” She was leaving in a week to go to the states, her mom wanted to be back where she grew up and she wanted Antonia to finish her teen years there, despite her daughter already being mere days away from 18. Antonia had to break the news at some point that she would be leaving, she just didn’t want it to go this way.

“Then don’t leave!” He yelled, trying to hide how frantic he was trying to come up with ways she could stay with him. “Find a friend who will let you stay! Fuck, I’ll ask my family to let you stay so you don’t have to leave! We’ll find a way . . . just- just please don’t leave me.” It was getting harder and harder to yell through the tears. “Please, please don’t leave me, mi estrella. I love you too much to lose you.”

~~~

“Where are goin’ Nia?” Evelyn whispered as she watched Toni pull on her shoes at 2 in the morning. It was their last day in Japan before they were traveling to Seoul for two days then down to Australia for the rest of the year. Toni wanted to see if it was still there after all these years.

“Just . . . out. Don’t worry about it. . . I’ll be fine.” She grabbed the key to her hotel room and her phone before stepping out of the door and walking to the elevator. Her breath could be seen outside as she walked through the streets as if she had never left. Her hood was up and she was holding hope within her heart that it remained untouched.

She turned down the alleyway they used to take and crossed through the park. She disappeared into the treeline and found the small carving in the tree they first kissed at, letting her know she found the trail. A ways up the trail, another tree with a carving stood one she hadn’t seen before, Te amo mi luz de las estrellas. I always will. It was the same carving style as the one before so she knew he had made it. She wanted to sit right at the foot of the tree and sob as she remembered everything she had to leave behind, her friends, her family, her love. Toni knew she couldn’t just sit there and mope, so she kept walking along the trail that opened to a pond now frozen over.

“It’s still here . . .” She whispered as she walked to the edge of the old dock and sat down at the place she would sit during the day as he tried to get her to swim. The same place she laid during the night and watched the few stars that could be seen.

~~~

“Where do you think you’re going?” Antonia asked, half asleep, as she felt him get up from the air mattress they had been sleeping on.

“I’m just going to the kitchen for something, don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” He placed a kiss on her temple to punctuate that he would be fast. He ran into the kitchen to grab the small cake in his fridge for her. ‘Happy birthday, Mi Estrella.’ was written on the top and a single candle was on it. He wanted to celebrate her birthday with her, but that was the day she was leaving. So that night was dedicated to her, everything was about her; the movie she wanted, the games she wanted, every little thing she wanted he gave her.

As he lit the candle he had to stop before taking the cake to Antonia, his head hung as he fought tears. The idea of not being able to spend both of their birthdays together made him angry, they weren’t supposed to just spend one birthday together, it was supposed to be every birthday after this, every last one. He pulled his head up and took a breath to keep his composure before grabbing the cake and bringing it into the room where the mattress and Antonia lay. “I know it’s not your birthday yet, but happy birthday love.”

~~~

That same night, Fuma laid in bed, thinking about the old pond they used to go to. He thought about how he went to her house near christmas one day and made tamalés with them, all the jokes they made, how her dad pulled him aside and said he was good for his daughter. Every memory he buried after that day at the airport came back. He waited till the morning to walk out to the pond, he passed the first carving, then the one meant for her birthday. “Te amo, mi luz de las estrellas . . .” He read out as he ran his hand over the carving. He was supposed to take her to the pond that day, he had a whole set up planned for her. They were going to go swimming, then have a picnic for dinner, and after the sun had set they were going to go past the pond to a smaller opening in the trees where you could see all the stars they wanted.

He looked out at the pond which now had a thin layer of snow covering it and the dock. He noticed footprints leading to and from her old spot, along with a butt print in her spot. He followed right next to the prints and sat down in his spot, unknowingly placing his hand over her hand print. He stared at the ice, thinking about how they spent Valentine's day at the pond, dancing around on the dock. Eventually he got up and walked back to the tree line, stopping and looking to see light snow beginning to cover the prints. The hands seeming to stay despite everything else being covered.

“I miss you, Mi Estrella. I still do.” Fuma whispered as he vanished within the trees, starting his way back home.

~~~

Fuma stood at the gate to Antonia’s plane, it was 3 am and he wouldn’t have gotten to see her before she left if he wasn’t there. He held a small bag of little items she had said she liked in the time they were together, and a hot chocolate with marshmallow fluff and a little dab of whipped cream, just the way she liked it. He waited and saw her and her parents walking towards him. Her father looked tired, as if he had just woken up which was likely, her mother was wide awake and ready to go. Antonia looked terrible to any onlooker, she had clearly been crying all night and appeared to be on the verge of crying again, but to Fuma, she was just as beautiful as ever. He waited for her to register that he was there, almost breaking down when Antonia dropped her luggage and ran to hug him. She started crying into his chest as he set down the bag and held her with one arm, being careful of the hot coco so it didn’t spill on her. “I’m here, it’s me. I even brought you hot coco just how you like.” His voice was low, barely a whisper as he spoke to Antonia. He didn’t want to upset her more than she already was, this was meant to be goodbye, but it wasn’t meant to be painful.

“You’re here, even though we aren’t together you’re here,” She sobbed against him before pulling back to see him with tears lining his eyes. He pulled away more and placed the drink in her hands, then grabbed the bag and placed it in her other hand.

“I’ll always be there, I’ll only be a button push away.”

~~~

Everyday they had been in Japan, the rest of the band wanted to do touristy stuff. Toni hated it and asked if they could do something that she wanted for the last day. Her band mates said yes, so now they were going through her old favorite neighborhood, trying all the different foods she grew up with. “You never told us you lived here!” Ghost scolded as he took another bite of noodles.

“Well I grew up here, left on my 18th birthday with my parents.”

“Can we see your old house?” Evelyn asked as she wiped her mouth, she wanted to see where their singer grew up and maybe meet some of her old friends. They all pestered Toni for a little longer before she agreed and they got on the train to Toni’s old town. They walked for a while before reaching a worn down home where an elderly couple sat on the porch.

“Excuse me, Ma’am, Sir?” Toni walked up to the couple and got their attention, her Japanese as if she never left, “Hi, I’m one of the old residents of this house and me and my friends were in town. They asked if we could go in and I could show them around where I grew up. Would that be alright?”

“Absolutely!” The woman cheered and stood from her seat as Toni gestured for her band to follow them. “We always wondered who the couple in the polaroid were.”

“Polaroid?”

“Let me get it,” She gestured for the group that had formed to follow her into the house and to the kitchen. She opened a drawer and pulled out a polaroid photo that had a date on it, 16/12/23. It was a picture of a young couple making Tamalés and laughing about something unheard. “You look just like the girl in this photo. We don’t know who it is though, it was left here when the other family moved out.”

Toni couldn’t breathe as she flipped the photo to reveal neat handwriting she recognized as her father’s. If you want to, you have my blessing. Take care of her. This was the photo her father handed to him on Christmas that year, he had given it back to her father after he found out they were leaving. “T-that’s me ma’am.” She stumbled over her words, “Could- could I keep this? This is the first time I’ve seen this picture.”

“Of course you can keep it, that was always the intention. I wanted to return it to the young couple or at least one of them.” The old woman grinned and left the group alone so they could walk around the house and so Toni could recall her memories.

They walked through room after room, Toni recalling every odd memory she had. She got quiet when she got to her old bedroom, it hadn't been touched meaning the scratches near the head board were still there and so were the little affirmations he wrote on the walls for her. Vic suggested they move on after seeing the tears begin to collect in Toni’s eyes. As they walked out of the house, they thanked the old man and were about to thank the woman, only for Toni to see someone she thought she’d never see again.

“. . . Fuma?” She was holding a pillow on her bed as she stood in the doorway. She could’ve sworn she was hallucinating from grief if he hadn’t been carrying a new blanket and a bag of snacks.

“Hello, Mi Amor,” He smiled as he stepped into the house, placing the new blanket over her body and wrapped her in a hug. “I was told everything is horrible and you need a little comfort?” She nodded and he moved them back to her room, curling around her body once in the bed and placing his much warmer hand on her stomach. “It’s not much, but I hope it helps.”

“It’s perfect.”

~~~

“Where are you going?!” Their manager screamed at Toni as she walked further into the airport, holding a duffel bag of clothes as a carry on and enough money for one flight back to Japan.

“I didn’t want to leave the first time! I couldn’t stand being there the second time!” She shouted back, “I’m not fucking up the third time!”

When the plane landed it was 11:00 pm on New Year’s eve, she had one hour to get there. So she hailed a cab and told the driver the name of the park, and 35 minutes later she was running through the large park to get to the tree line.

Swerving through the trees, she stopped to touch the first mark, and continued on to the second. She got to the second and checked her phone, 11:47, she was fine on time. So she slowed down and walked slowly to the dock, placing her duffle bag on the grass. “I thought you left before Christmas?”

His voice caused her to spin around and stare. “I- I did. I did.” She almost couldn’t wrap her head around why he would be here instead of with his company at a party. “I guess I couldn’t stay away from home for another holiday.”

“You know,” He started, walking to the end of the dock as he spoke. “I had thought you forgot about me. I had never heard Lightning in a Bottle released, hell I thought you gave up on music.”

“Now why would I do that?” She joined him on the dock in time, “You of all people would know that music is my life. And how would I ever forget you? Just cause I didn’t want the world to see our song?”

“You still call it our song?”

“Of course . . . it was created for us, why would it not be our song?” She was confused by him not thinking it was about him anymore. “Fuma, if it’s still about you and the time we had. I never released it ‘cause it wasn’t good enough to be released without you singing it with me.”

“Good enough? You made it, that alone makes it good enough.” He was amazed by the way she genuinely thought that him not being there made the song not enough. “Everything you make is perfect. If people disagree they can fuck off cause they’re wrong. I thought you picked another name for the band or never made the band, so I never looked for it. I wanted to see how you were this whole time, I just didn’t know how to find you. After I got shown the footage of that performance; I looked you up, I listened to everything, I watched it all.”

“You looked me up and listened to everything?”

11:53

“Absolutely, I went to the very fucking ends of the internet to find all of the performances I could and every bit of footage of you. I wanted to see you from the moment you got on that plane and the second I heard your voice on that video everything I wanted came back to my mind.” He stared down into the frozen water in order to conceal the potential tears that would form in his eyes. “I never stopped wanting you, Antonia. It hurt every single day knowing I couldn’t walk to your house and ask if you wanted to go out, or that I couldn’t text you good morning, or- or that I couldn’t see your beautiful face when I was sad . . . I- it hurt the whole time.”

“Good to know I wasn’t the only one.”

11:55

“What?”

“Good to know I wasn’t the only one that . . . that couldn’t just walk away.”

11:58

“So what now?” Fuma looked up to Antonia, hoping she would follow the same thought that he did.

She looked down to her phone and saw the time, 11:59. “I think we take advantage of it being basically midnight on New Year’s Eve.” Fuma laughed as the clock struck midnight before leaning in.

“Absolutely, mi Estrella.”

~~~

“Dance with me!” Antonia grabbed Fuma and pulled him to the dance floor during a slow song. Fuma willingly followed Antonia and placed his hands on her hips as she placed her arms around his neck. Fuma’s parents had thrown a new years party and Antonia had spent the night messing around with Fuma, making him laugh and confusing all the adults around who hadn’t actually liked their spouses for a few years.

The song was slow enough for it to end at midnight, which it did.

All the other couples leaned in and kissed one another as if it was an obligation. Fuma didn’t want that.

“May I?” He smirked as he asked his girlfriend for her midnight kiss, she nodded and laughed as Fuma spun her elegantly and ended in a dip. “Wonderful, I wasn’t quite sure I would make it without a kiss to start the new year.”

~~~

Antonia shivered slightly as Fuma carried her duffle bag and helped her out of the woods. “Do you have a place to stay until you go back to Australia?” He asked as he hopped down one of the large almost step-like formations in the forest. He held his hand up after pulling the duffle bag onto his back, only to stop his actions after Antonia tried to sit then slide down. He shook his head, “Nope. You are not going to sit in the mud and snow while it is freezing outside and I don’t know if you have a place that’s warm. May I, please?”

“Fine. . . “ Antonia wasn’t sure what he was planning, but trusted him enough to let him. He placed his hands on her waist after putting her hands on his shoulders, then lifted her off the step and gently placed her on the same level he stood on.

“There we go,” Fuma smiled and removed his hands before gesturing forward in an ‘after you’ way. Antonia used the night to hide her blush, walking in front of Fuma praying she wouldn't trip. “Now, about that place to stay.” He continued his previous question about where Antonia would be staying.

“Um,” She hesitated, unsure of how he would react. “I . . . well, I kind of don’t . . . have a place . . .” Fuma was in complete shock. Why did she not have a warm place to stay while she was there?

“Okay . . .” He thought about any possibility that would ensure she had a place for the night. “What about you stay at my dorm for the night? I can kick K out of his room for the night or Euijoo and I can stay in the living room.” Antonia nodded and agreed to those arrangements, against displacing anyone for her comfort.

By the time they arrived at the dorm, Antonia was wearing Fuma’s jacket and he was still carrying her bag. He had insisted that he would be fine without one extra layer and she needed at least a layer more than a t-shirt. He walked in the dorm to see Taki and Nicholas battling it out on Mario Kart, while K was stacking all the food he could on his arms. That food was very quickly placed on the counter as he noticed the girl being escorted through the door. “Holy shit! You’re Toni! From Stars of the Night!” K practically leaped out of the kitchen to meet Antonia, followed by Nicholas and Taki who were also fans.

“Yeah that’s me. Sorry to intrude-”

“Intrude? What? No- no, you are not intruding what so ever.” K practically yelled before Fuma took over.

“Guys, back up.” He placed his hand in front of Antonia to get them to move back slightly. “Antonia is gonna stay here tonight. She doesn’t have a hotel room.” None of them noticed Fuma say her full name as if he knew her.

“My room!” Taki shouted, not thinking about his volume, “You can stay in my room, I’ll stay out in the living room.” That offer then began an argument between the three.

“Guys!” Antonia got their attention, “I can stay on the couch, not the first time I stayed on a fan’s couch. Although definitely the first time one of those fans has been my ex.” Fuma was now mortified at the idea of allowing his love to sleep on the couch. The three didn’t seem to hear that last sentence.

“Yeah no, I’ll fix this argument. One of you go check if Euijoo is awake, if he's not she’ll take K’s room for the night. If he is awake he can stay in the living room with me.” Nicholas nods and goes to Euijoo and Fuma’s shared room, then coming back with the aforementioned walking out of his room with a blanket and a pillow in his arms. “Okay, let’s go make sure you’re comfortable.”

He gently pulled Antonia back to his room. He set down her bag on his bed and pulled some extra blankets out of his closet. “4 blankets and 2 pillows still?” He smiled, proud of his memory when Antonia nodded, a blush coating her face again. He went to move her duffle, only to notice the key chains he gifted her years ago. “You still have them? Even the button?”

“Yeah, they were the last thing you gave me before I left. Now everywhere I go they come with.” Antonia stopped looking around and walked next to Fuma, who was leaning over looking at the key chains. “I never did find out what that button did, the batteries didn’t survive the first flight before I could use it and I didn’t know what type to get after.”

“I think I might have some . . .” He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a pack of small batteries. “Here.” Fuma unclicked the back of the button and replaced the old batteries, “Try it now.” He handed the button over to her. She pushed the button and waited for it to make any noise.

“Nope, still not working. It’s okay though, the thought was what counted.” Fuma grabbed the button again and inspected it, finding a small pull tab that he had replaced after recording his message. He smiled and pulled the tab before handing it back to Antonia. She pressed the button and listened.

“Hey amoré, I know you’re already gone but I wanted to give you a little piece of me in case you felt down.” Antonia held the button close to her head as she listened, her eyes not moving from their position against Fuma’s face. He watched, worried as he saw tears gather. “I just want you to know that you aren’t alone. I may be on the other side of the world, but I’m still there. Te amo, my darling . . . forever and always.”

“Fuma . . .”

“Yeah mom said it was cheesy, but I hoped you would like it-” His sentence finished as he suddenly had Antonia pressed against him, sniffling.

“It’s perfect.” His arms wrapped around her, cradling her head and pressing her closer as a living weighted blanket. Then a yell was heard from the living room. “Wait a fuckin’ minute- EX?!”

#&team #andteam #&team fuma #murata fuma #fuma x oc #&team fics #&team fluff

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tired-reader-writer · 2 years

Text

Shapur didn't think today could've gotten any stranger, truth be told.

One moment he'd just found out Isfan and his mother had been cast out into the mountain, the next he rode out alone to go fetch them, only to find them both surrounded by wolves and Isfan held in a young man's arms.

The man's face, indulgent and gentle towards the toddler, hardened the moment he laid his eyes on Shapur, then drew a blade and pointed it at him.

“Have you come to finish them off?” he asked, wolves growling behind him.

Shapur looks at him now, digging a grave under a large, dark tree adorned in bone-white snow. The same shade of white as his hair, he notes somewhat absently, a warm bowl in his hand. The soup poured from the waterskin is still somehow warm even in this cold weather— how strange. It couldn't have been a short trip, or else he would've made it in time to save Golnar as well.

And the wolves...

Isfan is cooing at one, reaching out a small hand to touch the nose. The wolf moves closer, allowing the boy to touch it. It licks Isfan with a rough tongue, making the boy laugh.

The man turns to meet his eyes, face much kinder than it was mere moments before. “Did you know her name?”

“Golnar,” he answers readily, and his heart does a little leap at how the man's eyes lit with approval.

“Golnar,” he echoes. “Thank you.”

Shapur looks at her, wrapped in a pale shroud. The man's cloak, that he gave up without complaint.

His heart aches for Isfan, for both of them. She didn't deserve to die like this, and Isfan doesn't deserve to lose his mother at such a young age.

If only he'd done more for them, if only he could've protected them, if only, if only...

He is brought out of his thoughts when the man sings, a voice soft yet strong, resonating in cold crisp air as if he sings to the mountains themselves and the mountains sing back, soft-packed earth and sunlit snow and naked branches. As if there's a thousand singers, thousand and one, overlapping and saturating the air like ocean waves, but there is only one singer and none other.

With deep-dark soil and half-melted snow still on his hands the man has the heel of his palms pressed together, one up and one down... It's a gesture Shapur has never seen before, just like he's never heard the song either. He knows none of the words too— a foreign language, he realizes. But they're still in Pars, in the Elburz mountains of the north. This should feel wrong, this should feel out of place, nothing is familiar.

And yet, and yet...

And yet Shapur feels at ease. It's comforting, even, though he doesn't know why. The song has made a home in his bones and warmed him from within, the wintry winds won't reach them here.

He listens, in silence, closing his eyes and adding a Parsian prayer in his thoughts. He may not be able to follow along a foreign song, but this he can do.

The man's prayers blend with his, and the wolves start to sing too. A mournful, restless howl— their voices join the chorus and his own thoughts, together making the song full and complete.

After they'd lowered her into the grave, he belatedly realizes that he hadn't asked the man his name. He takes a deep breath, uttering the question though his voice comes out shakier than he'd have liked.

“What is your name, kind stranger?”

The man looks up from where he kneels, smoothing the earth with his hands, as if startled. A heartbeat passes, and he answers, softly, “Ayunnen.”

“Ayunnen...” He tastes the name on his lips. What an unusual name. “I am named Shapur. And this boy... Isfan. My half-brother.”

“Yes, so you told me.” He smiles.

Daylight dwindles above them, the sun's rays fading behind soft grey clouds, taking with them what little warmth they had before this point.

“You best head back now, if you hope to make it home by night. Dusk is coming, and soon it will be nightfall.”

“Come with me,” Shapur says suddenly, clutching the now asleep child in his arms. “Come work for me. You will be rewarded, and provided for. Gorgan could use someone like you.”

“I cannot,” the young man replies, fondness in his eyes. “I will not.”

“Why?”

“Things I must do, people I must protect.” Ayunnen turns to stare deep into the woods. Does his home lie there? What does he see that I don't? “People like Isfan,” he says, and then looks at the fresh grave before them. “People like her.”

He stares at the grave, a sharp pang of pain stabbing through his chest. Like her, like them. Has he had experience with this? Is that why he was so ready to cross blades with Shapur, so sure that he was a hunter sent to finish them off? Tears cloud his vision, unbidden, and there's something lodged in his chest.

He almost jolts out of his skin when a gentle hand cups his cheek. “I can't come with you,” Ayunnen says. “This is for the both of us. Please understand.”

He cannot answer.

Neither of them acknowledge the tears shed silently.

That was their first meeting.

It was not the last.

---

The next time he sees Ayunnen, it's a year later, almost two— when the leaves turn gold and trees have begun to shed them for the coming winter.

He would oft ride up the mountains all alone, in search of the kind stranger that would not leave his mind—

I've finally found you again. I've been searching all this time.

There he is, seated underneath a hornbeam tree, birds nesting in its foliage and singing alongside his own song. The song has a light, airy sort of quality to it, the sound of strings filling the air with sweetness.

The wolves were nowhere to be seen, though, which he finds odd.

Ayunnen's face blooms into a gentle smile when he sees Shapur. “It's you,” he says. “Where is your little one?”

“Home,” he says, “My parents aren't there, and my men will keep him safe.”

Ayunnen pats the spot next to him. “Come sit.”

They talk.

They talk about Isfan, about their days, about mundane things, anything and everything at all. He wed a girl he's loved since childhood. Isfan's growing healthy and strong. There's a small group of bandits seeking to cause trouble. Did you know that the wolves belonged to my wife, actually?

Their conversation is more than words. It's the smiles, the gentle shrugs and the light in their eyes. The content of the conversation itself ceases to matter anymore, only that they're here, next to each other.

They fall silent afterwards, as silent as they can be with birdsong and music in the air, as silent as can be with the rustling of leaves and the whisper of the wind... Even without words this feels comfortable.

He stares at Ayunnen, his gentle hands and gentler voice, humming softly as he idly played his oud.

“Come with me,” Shapur asks again. “Come with me to Gorgan.”

Ayunnen looks at him, fingers halting on the strings. He shakes his head. “You know I cannot, Shapur.”

“They will be protected too,” he pleads. “Gorgan will care for them.”

He will make certain that it shall be the case. Ayunnen, his wife, and whoever's up there that he's sheltered and provided for. He swears it, in the deeps of his mind. They will be safe. They will be.

“You know it can never be. You can't put Gorgan in conflict with the entirety of Pars, can you?”

“That's—”

“It's more than just sheltering a handful of people, Shapur. These are escaped slaves, victims of cruelty and abuse— and Pars was the one who wounded them. Taking us in will put you at odds with the country itself.”

Shapur's words die in his throat. There it is, the truth he hadn't been able to face. His father's lack of care and his mother's cruelty, they were not things unique to only them, or one-off events— no, the problem runs deeper and deeper still, the country he loves from his core hurting its own people.

People like Isfan. People like her, Ayunnen had said back then. People I must protect.

How many more? How many people like them are out there? How many had been saved, and how many had not been? He feels a hand in his hair, tucking away the frayed edges of his mind, grounding him in a way he's never been before.

“Ayunnen, who's that?”

Shapur's head snaps up. It's a boy, younger than them— fifteen at most, cat-like eyes squinting warily at Shapur. When did he get here? He didn't hear anything— The boy's arms bear winding patterns of bright bold colours, not unlike the fallen leaves of this season. He spots the design of a leaping cat. Painted on? Tattoos, perhaps?

“Where's your sister, Kazai?” he says, smiling. “And he's my friend. I met him two winters ago.”

“The one with the little brother?”

“The one with the little brother. Kaz—”

“Oh!” the boy— Kazai— brightens. “So it's you! How's your little one? I was so surprised to hear Ayunnen didn't bring him home, y'know? That's never happened before.”

“Uh... He is well—”

“Why are you up here, by the way? Chasing another brother up these slopes? What about your brother? Will he be alright?”

“I came here to look for Ayunnen, actually,” he says, barely processing the sudden onslaught of conversation. “I wanted to thank him.”

“Ah, Ayu shoulda told you there's no need. It's our job and all that.”

“Your job?”

“You didn't know? We look after these parts. Somebody always winds up—”

“Kazai, where is Kashi?” Ayunnen interjects, with the practiced patience of someone who's used to dealing with him a hundred times or more.

“Hm? Oh yeah. She was moping around, like usual, y'know? Then she suddenly got up and hopped into the woods. She said she wanted honey.”

“Oh dear.” He doesn't even look the slightest bit surprised.

“You know how she is, Ayu. She probably had the epiphany of her life or something.”

Kashi. Ayunnen mentioned her. His wife, and the master of the wolves. Whenever Ayunnen mentioned her his voice was full of warmth. She has blue eyes, he said, deep and dark as the midnight sky. Her head is always full of thoughts, and her hands are strong. This boy must be her brother. Ayunnen said he was bit like a whirlwind, that one, and Shapur can't say he disagrees.

He watches them talk, not sure when he should say anything but also not wanting to anyways. It's a warm sight, and soft. He'd like to watch this forever if he could. Which...

“Oh Araya's boots— I'm gonna be a man next year, y'know?”

“No, Kazai.” Ayunnen flicks his forehead, evidently stifling a laugh. “You'll always be our precious boy.”

“Why must you be like thi—”

Shapur takes a deep breath. “Will you not consider my offer?” He sends Ayunnen a look, hoping it conveys his sincerity enough.

“My answer will not change, Shapur,” Ayunnen says, sadness in his brown eyes. “Why don't we head back now? You too, Shapur. Surely your little one must miss you.”

“Is there really nothing you will accept from me?”

“I wouldn't say so, no.”

“Then what can I give you that you won't refuse?” What will he ask for? They don't seem like people who'd ask for riches and rewards, and he awaits the answer with bated breath.

“The promise to nurture your brother, safe and sound.”

He can't help but wilt. “Is that all?”

“And I'd like to be your friend.” Ayunnen gives him a warm smile. “You are a good fellow.”

Shapur blinks. “Will we meet again?” To become friends... surely they will, right? And maybe finally he'd be able to do something for them when they are friends.

“If you wish. Only, don't wander in blindly, it's easy to lose your way in these woods.”

He feels his cheeks warm a little. “You knew?”

“I had a feeling. Oh, and try not to come too often. We'd like to avoid... prying eyes, so to speak.”

And his heart's back to being heavy again. Anger roils, deep beneath the surface— oh, not at him, never at them, but at the whole situation itself, and his own helplessness.

If only I can do more...

“I understand,” he makes himself say. They'll be safe if they're by his side, he is sure of it. He just needs to make them see it. “Then... I shall see you again.”

---

They continue meeting like this.

Their meetings aren't planned, and they often miss each other, but that just makes the times they actually run into each other all the more precious. The hornbeam tree becomes the first place he goes to find them, and often he does find them there— though sometimes they'd run into each other elsewhere.

Like today, for instance.

“Hah, when will those guys learn?”

“They need ta stop tryna invade our turf. That's just rude.”

“Well at least the fight's done and over with today. Ahhh, the noise probably chased our game away, damn the jerks.”

“Oy, Kashi, ya ain't coming?”

“You lot go on ahead. I'll catch up later.”

The blood-red blooms of poppies and tulips have begun to wane, as spring goes by and summer approaches. Under the dappled sunlight among the boughs and bright green leaves, he rode up in hopes of finding them today, only to run into a skirmish between Kashi's people and a group of bandits— a cacophony of battle-cries and metal-on-metal and the cries of crows.

“Well, if yer sure.” The man gives Shapur an uncertain glance before walking away, his friends in tow.

He stepped in to help, but really they didn't need it. Under Kashi's lead the group fought bravely, and the bandits had been soundly defeated, even as the bandits outnumbered the hunters and they were fighting on difficult terrain.

The crows certainly helped, in any case, swooping down and taking eyes.

Kashi's strength was nothing to scoff at, either. If only she were born a man, outside these mountains and in a good enough household, she might've become a marzban.

They're both seated on a log, Kashi pouring something into a small wooden bowl, intricately carved. She's in her armor, as she always is, worn over dark long-sleeves.

“Here.” She hands the bowl to him. The scent of tea hits his nose.

“Thank you.”

They fall into a comfortable silence. The crows are probably up in the canopy above— He may not see them but he hears them. Ayunnen's crows, as the wolves are Kashi's. Summer light dances on them, on the earth under their feet. Kashi's chewing on some nuts, eyes staring somewhere faraway. No doubt her mind is wandering elsewhere.

“Is this a regular occurrence?”

“Hm?” She blinks and turns to him. “Want some nuts?”

“No, thank you,” he says. “The bandits, I meant. Do they come often?” He will have to dispatch some men to help deal with it, if that's the case.

“Sometimes. They were quieter before but I think they're getting restless. They want control over these parts.”

“I see...” He supposes it makes sense— In the southern parts of Pars the Zott clan reigns stronger than the rest, but one would be hard-pressed to find a clan like that here up north. The clans are smaller, more scattered— it's no surprise that one of them may try to claim supremacy. He ought to do something about it.

“It's a mess. The other night we found a wreck of a caravan. Only a kid lived.”

“Only the child?” His stomach churns at the thought. “How are they now?”

“Only one. We were looking for other survivors, if there are any— No such luck yet, sadly,” she says, gulping down a mouthful of tea. “In shock, that poor soul. Ayunnen has him, he'll settle down soon enough. Oh, that kid. He's about the same age as your boy, actually.”

Shapur blinks. “He is?”

“Probably. Looks like five or six at most. He was shaking and hiding, and he thought me a bandit too.”

He imagines Isfan in that boy's position, alone and scared in the dark of the night, and feels bile rising up. No. He will not allow it to happen. Never. He doesn't even want to entertain the mere idea of it.

He decides to divert his mind instead. “How are they?”

“Kazai and Ayunnen?”

“Who else?”

Kashi snorts. “Well, that's my bad,” she says, “Ayunnen's working on new weaves. Sehara and Tulnokhi started moulting, you see.” She pops more nuts in her mouth. “Kazai's back home too. I left him there to take care of Ayunnen and Gieve— that's the boy we found the other night, by the way— and well, the usual. Climbing everything that can be climbed, making mischief.”

“The boy is in good hands.”

“He is.” Kashi smiles fondly. “How are things on your end? You look tired.”

“That's...” He sighs, looking ahead, into the deep green woods. “I am the lord of the castle now.”

He can't see her, but he can imagine her eyebrows going up. “Truly?”

“Yes. My father passed.”

Kashi sucks in a sharp breath. He looks at her. She isn't looking at him, only ahead, somewhere beyond these woods.

After a long silence, she says, “I'm sorry for your loss.”

She says no more.

His father... When Shapur was a boy, he looked up to his father like any little boy would. He thought his father strong and just, the pinnacle of what he should strive to be, but... it turned out to be untrue. The older he grew the further the gap between them became... Until his father sired Isfan and refused to do anything for his little brother.

Things were irreparable by that point.

He still doesn't know what he should feel, truth be told. The man was callous and uncaring, but his father all the same.

“Won't you come with me?” He is the lord of Gorgan now, with more authority than he had before as the heir. They've always steadily rejected his offers, but maybe now...

“Have you gone mad? You'll only earn enemies if we do.”

“That is untrue,” he insists. “My name shall protect you. You shall be safe, as well as your people. You will have resources and safety more than ever. Why do you not see it?”

“Listen here, Shapur. You can't lift an entire village and drop it in your castle. You're a young lord, new to the scene. This will just cause unnecessary conflict and headaches for you.”

“You can leave the village. I will make sure it is looked after, I swear it. Surely the three— no, four of you can come to Gorgan?”

The gaze she gives him is stern and harsh. “We're watchers of the mountains, the mountains sheltered us in our time of need and we serve it in turn, and take in people like us too. We swore it, an oath before the Heart Tree.”

He bristles. “I am saying you need not confine yourself to this remote place— your oath can still be fulfilled from within the castle too. You will have easier access to resources, even!”

“At what cost? A target will be placed on your back, larger and bolder than any other. You're already shouldering many a responsibility, ruling a castle and protecting your brother. Adding more would only make you trip and fall.”

“I can handle it.”

“Can you? What will you do when some lord or slaver inevitably kicks up a fuss about the escaped slaves, branded or otherwise, under your protection? They will be in no less danger than before, and you and your brother will be placed in more trials to boot. Protecting one person is different from... from this, you ought to know.”

He cannot say anything. What would he do? He racks his brain for a solution, anything that might convince her, but there is only darkness and silence.

“Shapur.”

He has nothing to say. How can he meet her eyes?

“Hey.” He voice quiets. Softens. “I know you're just trying to help. All three of us do.”

“But Shapur.” She lays her hand on his thigh. “You ought to know that some things... they're out of our reach. Trust me, I've thought of saving everyone. Dreamt of it. Wept for it.”

“You have?” His voice is hoarse.

“I have. I learnt it, the hard way. That sometimes there's truly nothing you can do. You don't go out and wave your sword at a storm.”

“...What happened?”

She looks up at the sky, an indescribable look in her eyes. Haunted, gaze even farther and more faraway than usual. “I don't want to talk about it,” she whispers. “Not now. Not today. Maybe someday, I'll tell you, but...” She shakes her head. “Those guys must be wondering where I am.” She stands up. “What I was saying is, don't beat yourself up for not being able to do more for us. The situation is well out of your hand, well out of our hands. Being friends, like this... That's enough. So don't ask again. We want you safe too.”

He stands up too. What does he say to this? The heaviness in his heart, the feeling of helplessness, the clawing edge of wanting to do more, none of that has gone away. They still churn, they still burn, bright and hot and sharp.

“...I understand,” he says instead. The words taste like ash on his tongue.

“I'll get going. You should too.”

“Alright.”

He watches her retreating back with a heavy heart.

It is his duty to protect his people— the people of Pars— and they're counted among them too. Or they should be, they should. And yet there's not a thing he can do...

He stands there, for a long time, even after she's nowhere in sight anymore.

What can I do? a small voice inside him cries. Why won't you let me help?

But Shapur, Kashi's voice resounds in his head.

You ought to know

That some things...

They're out of our reach.

The skies darken and the world turns grey— rain is coming, and he needs to head home.

He sighs, turning around to where his horse stands in wait.

“I'm sorry for making you wait,” he murmurs softly. “Let's go home.”

#Winds of Wolfsong #Wolfpack AU #Shapur #Ayunnen (OC)#Kashi (OC)#Kazai (OC)#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #heroic legend of arslan #rotten egg's shitty writing #how long is this I don't even know #the mood kinda got derailed my bad #Kashi's part...#oops

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redpiperfox · 2 years

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It is a good idea, I think, to organize and verbalize one's thoughts when words and organization are suddenly available. To one. That one being me.

I admitted to myself a couple nights ago that ᴵ ᵐᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁿᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ and after a proper breakdown, I find myself in a multitude of clear and rational thoughts of processing that had escaped me for so many weeks.

So basically, I present:

Ranting, but Maturely and Diplomatically, and using two songs to Convey Emotional Processing, because I am a Nerd and a Philosopher and have No Business being in a Science Field as my major

An Essay by Red

I am not a person taken by regret.

It doesn't fit in my worldview, my faith, or my personality. Granted, I might be a little extreme about it, but I genuinely find no good reason to look back on things with anything but gratitude and respect.

As a Christian, this stems from the simple idea that God is good, God does good, and the tapestry looks ugly on this side, but hey, He sent Joseph to slavery, Job through extreme loss and depression, and Jesus to the cross, and look at the beautiful stories He weaved from that. Who is the clay to shake it's fist at the potter, y'know?

But it is very, /very/ hard not to look at things and be regretful these days.

In summary, I am three out of four years into a program that looked very shiny and new when I applied. Currently, past me is looking very naive, and should have kept her nose to the ground and did what everyone else did and joined an established program.

...But I won't say that to past me, and I won't let current me dwell on it.

Allow me, if you will, to bring you through a very difficult path with two songs.

youtube

I did not vibe with this song when I first heard it. Again, regret? Resentment? Doesn't sit well with me. But today...

I do a funny thing where I rewrite romances into metaphors. I'm able to breathe a lot of TSwift easily this way-- she's a brilliant lyricist who writes one thing and paints it with such emotion that it becomes relatable no matter how outrageously unique the situation or story is.

My story is grief over my major. This beautiful new chapter of my life, which cost a little extra to get into, a little extra hope that the program would take off, and had a little bit of forbidden intrigue to hook me in.

Would've, could've, should've played it safe, but she danced with the devil to play with destiny and chance.

Where I find myself stuck in a time loop, is in the mournful heartsong between the bridge and the last chorus.

This year has already pulled me away from fellowship in the Church, from staying and ministering to people, from serving, from being emotionally available to people who I know need me, and yes, I would've stayed on my knees, in a solid and secure place if I hadn't made this gamble and found every hour suddenly something precious that no longer belongs to me. It belongs to my books, my lessons, these modules, to studying more, harder, faster.

Nineteen tipped from romantics to harsh reality.

Girlhood has officially been ripped from my fingers, replaced by the stress of adulthood. Give it back, it was mine.

I can't sleep well, I'm tired during the day-- the list goes on. A good description of my feelings? Sit with an empty head and let Taylor's panicked voice in the chorus and bridge and the breathlessness towards the end wash over you. It's like defending the unworthy, tripping over my words and falling short, because I really had no idea what was in store for me.

Honest truth? Being busy was fun the first two years. Being in uniform is bedazzling. Being in the workforce is amazing.

But "now that I'm old, I'm scared of ghosts." And let me tell you-- I fear nothing. Past and present. Another personality and worldview thing, I suppose. But this year?

Why hello there spontaneous anxiety, where did you come from? Oh, lack of sleep and overwhelming workload let you in?

How rude, they didn't ask me first.

Perhaps it was when the professors said we needed to learn to cope differently than most, or implied burn out would happen sooner than we expected, but I got lost somewhere in the punchline.

What do you mean this feeling of my soul slipping through my fingers doesn't end? I thought school was the hard part?

Memories of college life are going to haunt me. I have nothing but tears to bring out of this.

Taylor's wailing hit something deep in me today, and twisted it till I found out I was bleeding.

...but then?

For my soul, I sat in on Bible Study (my dad teaches and it's in our home), red eyed and exhausted, and we were in the passage of one woman who falls at the feet of Jesus and weeps, annointing his feet with expensive oil.

It reminded me of another song.

youtube

(God bless this man)

Another amazing lyricist, but I'm going to start with the music.

The song begins lamenting, like a funeral dirge, low and sorrowful. It's /crawling/ with grief, and drags us where we're told to be, with little hope or sight or joy about it.

"Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest." But it's before we know what we're getting. "Look upon the bronze serpant" but we don't know we'll be saved.

I woke up Wednesday morning to my alarm, real early, with a full day ahead of me. I love Wednesdays, but not this Wednesday. I was pretty sure I was going to pass out at the most and maybe fall asleep at the wheel at the least.

"Lord, strength. Just give me strength."

Simple line, little prayer in my head, because the only thing I knew to do in weariness was to pray. I was so tired.

He sent a possum to scurry across the road to wake me in the morning, and a truck to nearly kill me in the afternoon. In between? A lady who was very confused and a little boy who couldn't keep still. Oh, and a music lesson where my fingers remembered more than my mind. And a review session where I was given plenty of chocolate to keep me awake.

I lived to tell the tale, so I think He gave me what I needed...? XP

The song builds to another bridge that I find myself caught in: the key shifts, the lights turn on, and the singer lifts his eyes and realizes--

Coming to the feet of Jesus isn't /just/ to lay your burdens down. It isn't /just/ to pray for deliverance and ask in supplication. It isn't /just/ to mourn.

One might come to do that, but once I am on my knees, and my burdens are lifted, my eyes are able to look up, and /see/.

I've seen the darkness and muck and corruption, and when I look up, how much brighter! How much fuller! How much more overwhelming in beauty!

Lament turns to worship, there at the feet of Jesus.

Who looks back on that tapestry, and smiles at whatever it's being made to, while I walk through every stitch as faithfully as I can.

Hallelujah, there's no place for regret here.

Hallelujah, there's no room for remorse.

Hallelujah, /look at how beautiful/.

I'll stop there to keep from preaching.

It's by no means a solution.

Am I still exhausted? Yes.

Has this made my workload go away? No.

Do I feel a little less burnt out? ...ᴹᵃʸᵇᵉ

But I sat today, after three or more weeks of a long process of burn out, that certainly doesn't magically evaporate today, I found my tears marking a tipping point.

My words, which had been held captive under some spell of anxiety, had suddenly come loose. Emotional stagnation finally burst into a thousand little fires which I can /feel/ and be burned by. The skin is sensitive and raw, but that means its human.

And I can sink back into what it feels like to be me.

I don't regret being here. I can only look down at my feet...

...and make the next right step. Knowing it's already laid out for me.

#ignore red #red's personal sitcom #theological #music analysis #personal #Youtube

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nimbus-cloud-90 · 1 year

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Alright gang, more of the story you didn't ask for:

Chapter Three:

Convenience Store Hijinks.

You know how they say you can hear the muses playing a soft symphony as you take up a quest?

Well, what I got was a horrible banjo rendition of On The Road Again.

"Hey, I never claimed to be a musician, be grateful I’m trying something new for you!"

"I thought you’d leave me alone until I summoned you."

"Where’s the fun in that!" He said and went back to singing the chorus, the only part of the song he seems to know.

"Can I at least change the station?"

"Sorry no can do, I refuse to do a cover version of Unholy with fucking banjo instrumentals."

"I hate you."

"I’ll believe it when I see it, tough guy." He said and changed the song choice to Country Roads.

I am once again going to ignore that dickhead.

Anyway, mosing on into town I noticed a weapon shop, with the windows broken in, and the door forced off the hinges. Newspapers flying everywhere, and two people in the alley possibly negotiating a drug deal.

Ah sweet, free stuff!

"You can’t be serious."

"Yes, I am, now go back to singing your folk tunes."

"Someone with a squishy and fleshy mortal body like you is going to get mutilated in there!"

"If you’re so worried about that, why don’t you come down here and stop me yourself?"

"I hate you."

"No you don’t~"

"You know what, fine, go ahead, have fun."

I walked into the store, goosebumps crawling all over my skin as I felt the temperature of the room. I scurried along the isles, the further I walk the darker my surroundings get. Luckily I brought one of my hunting flashlights with me. What it does do is light the path in front of me, what it doesn’t do is light up anything else around me. I managed to make it to the front counter and climb over. I pointed my flashlight on the glass, seeing boxes of ammo my hopes skyrocket so high I almost squealed. But I immediately came back down when I saw they were .73 bullets, and my gun uses .77….

“THIS! IS! BULLSHIT!” I say and throw the box into the other side of the darkness, unable to control my temper.

As I listened to the sound of breathing I heard a groan. I heard footsteps. I saw an eyeless being with no jaw and teeth, staggering toward me. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, all I can think to do is throw everything I have at this former shell of a man, but my body won’t move. The being shuffled it’s way closer, letting me see it’s bitten into the torso, my eyes trailing the organ it’s carelessly dragging around from its stomach.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come in here after all.

When my body finally let me move I pulled the flower out of my pocket, pulled a flower petal off, put it on my tongue, and swallowed.

I heard the sound of screeching agony, I heard squelching noises. I heard the sound of footsteps scurrying along the other way. I felt myself being lifted by the shoulders, “Don’t say I never do anything for you.” I couldn’t do anything else but nod and lean on the body before me. The being just chuckled and said, “Hey, we’re not in a rush to go are we?” the being patted my head as I felt tears roll down my cheeks. He seemed annoyed when he noticed, but I think that’s because he had to sit me back down, otherwise I don’t think he’d allow me to cry on his godly robes.

___________

As always I encourage: @computerglitch306 @shadie-cat reading but anyone can read these and I want to add someone new to the call out group if you don't mind: @ask-and-i-answer expect updates more often I forgot you even had a Tumblr oops.

#some writing #pls humor me #pls read #pls spread the word

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asherlockstudy · 3 years

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How to do perfect staging: a lesson from Italy

I mentioned at some point I might actually make a post drooling over Italy's Måneskin performance and staging. I was kinda bored to be honest and decided against it but then all those trashy rumours that try to bring the winners down seemed so disgraceful and embarrassing to me that I decided again to do it. Now, the truth is that their performance was a little better in the semi-final introduction act. Perhaps this was due to the anxiety of the Grand Final. This is why I am going to use photos and gifs from that act and perhaps this will show to some that the perfect package might need a little bit of everything, and not just slap your language on the audience's ears with the expectation that this alone is always enough. *Did I make this too personal?*

Anyway, I digress. And I don’t mean that the Grand Final performance wasn’t still the best of the night, I just mean it wasn’t at the same God Tier level as the semifinal one.

Here's why the Italians took advantage of the Dutch stage until its very last millimeter and way more cleverly than any other country.

This is the only act that starts from the back of the stage, where the singer Damiano David waits for us alone.

Even with the rest of the 25 competing countries, this intro makes you forget that you are watching a contest with 26 countries as guests. Unlike anyone else, Italy looks like the host, like this place belongs to them and the frontman waits for you to show you around and possibly drag you to the world of Måneskin. In fact, you almost forget it’s Eurovision - this now looks like a Måneskin concert or, even better, a more private space of theirs with an ominous industrial feel. One of the most impactful things now is the lighting. Take a look at it. Almost all contestants throw all the lights on themselves or on some important prop they have prepared. The Italians are the only ones who chose to just light the stage itself. The simple white lights on the black stage give the impression of depth and it is the only act which shows emphatically the size of the stage. Why this? Well, we already established that in the first seconds the viewers feel they are in a new space belonging exclusively to Måneskin - the lights make us feel that their area is vast and dark and we are about to be drawn to its depths.

Damiano indeed guides us to the front as he sings, where the rest of the band are on the top of a platform. The other members won’t come down and join Damiano until he sings the appropriate verse “Buona sera, signore e signori” (=Good evening, ladies and gentlemen) and accompany it with a theatrical flamboyant bow (that feels very Italian). That’s when, technically introduced to the audience after the official greeting, bassist Victoria de Angelis and guitarist Thomas Raggi come off the platform and join Damiano.

There’s nothing excessive about the visual effects. Only the use of white lights that give the perception of depth and in the background the big shadows of the group’s silhouettes. They are in the front and they cast their shadows in the back; they create to you a feeling of being trapped by them but do you really want to escape?

When the second verse starts, Victoria and Thomas take the paths left and right of the stage and leave Damiano alone. They take even more advantage of the stage and in a typical classic rock band way. These two play with the side cameras but the focus is more on Damiano, whose verse sounds more like a tongue-twister. Since the cameras are rightfully on Damiano, I must now address the elephant in the room. Damiano is particularly attractive. In fact, the whole band is almost mind-bogglingly attractive and they clearly take a lot of care about how exactly they are going to look but Damiano, as the frontman, does especially so. So let’s talk about the outfit. They all have essentially the same outfit, however it is cut differently for each based on the person’s looks and personality. Isn’t it fantastic?

Damiano, who oozes confidence and sex appeal, has accordingly the most “provocative” outfit of the four. His chest and arms are bare so that his many tattoos can be seen. I’ll talk about the other outfits later as they all have their place in the... uh... white lights.

During the second chorus Victoria and Thomas return at the center and after the chorus it is time for the first solo; Victoria’s. The cameras are now on her but the lighting remains modest to accentuate the dark beat of her bass.

Victoria is the only girl of the group and the most dressed of them all - how refreshing! Her outfit is more similar to Thomas but she is buttoned up in the front. How does she wish to underscore her uniqueness as the woman of the band? But of course, with long flamboyant girly sleeves that come to delicious contrast with her aggressive stomping and her wide strides. Both her hairstyle and her outfit is inspired or basically just outright 70′s classic rock look.

It’s time for the bridge of the song right after her solo and Damiano has his attention on her and also draws the viewer’s attention to her some more. This part of the song is lower and softer - in relative terms - that’s why Damiano “chooses” her to sing it to. The lights now turn red, the intensity rises but there’s light flirtatiousness between them, with many smiles to each other and the camera that turns around them as they launch at each other playfully.

Then the song gets darker, more intense, the guitar stronger than the bass and Damiano’s voice turns to a scream. For this part, he turns to his bro, guitarist Thomas and he now draws the attention to him.

He grabs Thomas by the neck in an intense, intimate way (that doesn’t mean sexual, just intimate. His interaction with Victoria wasn’t sexual either). It is clear that through different ways Måneskin want to stress how good and close their relations are and that their singer, who is apparently a show stealer by birth, wants to ensure that they all get equal amount of attention from their audience. I love this.

True enough, nobody is left behind! The last chorus starts with a drums solo and Damiano goes up to the platform to now meet and introduce to us Ethan Torchio. Ethan stands up and his giant shadow is on the now blue background: this is the moment for the - so I hear - somewhat shy drummer to shine in his own aesthetic. The Italians leave none of their assets to fall down and Ethan’s impressive hair rightfully steals the show.

Just like Victoria and Thomas look alike, so do Ethan and Damiano, that’s why their costumes are the most similar. Ethan has a vest that covers him more than Damiano but leaves his arms bare. Because whose else the arms do you need to see if not the drummer’s?

This song has something peculiar because it was not a song originally written for Eurovision; it slows down in the end and does not end on some impressive note from the singer as usual but with the last solo we expect, that of the guitarist, because everything is fair in Måneskin! The focus has to leave Damiano, so now it’s the time for the visual effects to finally catch fire, literally, because nobody is allowed to take their eyes off them! Måneskin use a huge amount of pyro that however feels appropriate for the intense chorus and the ending guitar solo.

Thomas steps up for his solo and I forget we are in 2021. This is the most 70s thing I would ever hope to see.

In a hell of pyro, Thomas looks like he was tranferred right from a 70s rock ‘n roll concert. His outfit would be gladly taken by Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones. The unbuttoned jacket with this boho tie, such a classic 70s fashion touch. His haircut and even his FACE are the epitome of the 70s - what an ending sequence!

But hey we reached the end and this is Eurovision, the song slows down dangerously. Like I said, the Italians forbid us to get distracted. The attention must return to Damiano ASAP. Damiano says one last line and takes the audience with him to the very end with a death drop.

There you have it. Måneskin had me holding my breath for the full three minutes and I did not want to take my eyes off my TV. There are countless shows that are awesome - in this very Eurovision as well - but I was impressed by how they seemed to have found the perfect balance for everything in every single moment. They found the perfect stage concept for the song, they relied on visual effects only when they needed them and they stressed every twist and turn of their sound with a perfectly fitting move or interaction. They also all effortlessly could hold your attention and they made sure that they all would, with members often helping bring out other members. This performance was beautiful and, above all, clever which is why it was undoubtedly the worthiest of the win.

#eurovision #eurovision 2021 #esc 2021 #eurovision song contest #italy #italy 2021 #maneskin #damiano david #victoria de angelis #ethan torchio #thomas raggi #music #songs #zitti e buoni #flashing tw #more

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kward-the-local-cryptid · 2 years

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Bard Beginnings

Mighty Nien Meet Child!Reader, Who is a Bard.

a/n: Hey all! So I got super inspired to write some child!reader fanfic after reading @peach-the-owl and @cornbake stuff. (Seriously go check them out, I love their works!) This is my first attempt at a reader insert fic, but I hope you enjoy none the less. Trigger warnings: This fic contains child neglect and child abuse (hitting no blood).

With a deep breath and a strum of your lute you start to feel the magic within you stir. Pin pricks turn into tingling as you belt out the final chorus. Your magic swelling as faster notes are strummed. The crowd cheers you on as your magic forms into prestidigitation, sending colored sparks just behind your back. Cheering continues as you take a dramatic bow and let the last of the patrons toss in their coin. Zadash was decently kind to your coin purse each time you came. You had learned the tricks to getting the most coin quickly. Simply start with an upbeat tune, then move onto a classic Dwendalian song (one where the crowd could sing along), then somber, then upbeat, and keep that going until the guards start to linger for just a little too long. Though thanks to the harvest close festival, the guards seemed to tolerate you for much longer than normal.

Another bow and a wave as the crowd disperses, you pick up the small hat now filled with coin. Part of your attention is brought to the odd group standing just to the side who had yet to leave. Two Tieflings, a half orc, two humans, a large woman, and a small creature are chatting amicably. An odd group no doubt but you think you saw the blue one put something in your hat, so they can’t be all that bad. You tilt your head towards the smaller creature. Their porcelain mask somewhat unnerving and the high-pitched voice does not match a child’s, odd indeed. When your eyes flick back up, both humans are staring at you intently. Smiling you give them both a small wave.

“Oi Runt!” A slurred voice calls from the alleyway behind you, “where da hells the money?” Your body tenses as you hear your caretaker drunkenly yelling for you. Practiced hand allows you to stuff a quick handful of coins into your pocket before walking towards the alley. As you step into the shadow, you miss the way the group continues to watch you as you retreat.

“Bah! Took ya long enough!” Your caretaker sways and snatches the coin filled hat, “Hpmhf, barely enough in here to get drunk. Yer lucky I’m in a good mood.” The threat at the end of that sentence is not lost on you as you watch the man stumble back into the street. “Find yerself somewhere to sleep tonight, we leave in da mornin.” Biting back a sarcastic comment about his so-called good mood, you go deeper into the alley. Between the smell of candied apples and the silk banners floating above the rooftops you can’t help the smile. It won’t be so bad sleeping in the street tonight, maybe there will even be discarded festival food around. Food brings awareness to the uncomfortable emptiness in your stomach. Two days without anything to eat brings a sigh from you as you jingle the handful of coins you managed to get. Clutched in your hand you find some copper and even a silver piece! Though what catches your eye the most is a crumbled piece of parchment.

Stepping to the side of an oncoming group of festival goers as you enter a new street, you pull apart the paper. Written in very neat calligraphy reads, “The Traveler”. It’s some sort of religion? The few pages talk about pranks and are filled with little drawings that make you giggle. You especially like the mage hand giving a wedgie to someone. You read through the pamphlet a few more times before safely tucking it away in your pocket. Mixing into a crowd this large is easy and before you know it you are munching on some festival food. A large part of you wants to inhale the skewered meat you bought but that small rational part of your brain keeps you from doing so. You eat one stick with much gusto but save the second stick in your pouch. It would be a good breakfast, after all. Between the rousing games and chatter and songs and peddlers, you loose track of the dusk until it is late into the night. Loud drinking and even more singing keeps you on your toes and helps to keep you out of sight. Nights like these are your favorites. Nights where you don’t have to worry about where to stay, or how to eat or what your caretaker will do to you. For a few blessed hours, you get to just enjoy being alive.

Yet before you know it the crowds begin to disperse. Drunks are wobbling their way home, the bards are packing up, and the vendors are cleaning out the last of their stalls. With a stealthy foot and a cautious eye, you manage to find an alleyway tucked away in just the right spot. The Guards pass by without giving it a second look but there is enough room to spread your legs out and lean against the grimy stone wall. A shiver runs up your spine as you huddle into yourself. Harvest close meant it was turning to late fall now. Snow would be in the winds soon and having this pleasant of a night will be a distant dream. Star dotted skies and food in your belly help lull you into a stiff sleep. A smile on your face as you think of the wonderful festival day.

You startle awake, immediately with your hand clutched on the small dagger in your shoe. Though blinking the sleep from your eye leaves you staring down at your legs. A striped cat looks up at you from its perch on your knees. After you blink at the cat for a moment or two, it sticks it tongue out and you can’t but giggle. With more caution than strictly necessary, you present your hand to the creature. Nuzzling and purring makes your smile widen as the cat happily accepts scritches from you. For a few moments the cat simply enjoys your attention before it scampers off towards the opening of the alleyway. With a sigh you snuggle back into yourself. It’s still dark out, and now its cold enough to see your breath. Before you can close your eyes again, a meow sounds off at the end of the alleyway. The cat is sitting, staring at you. Slowly you untangle yourself and step towards the cat. They bound up and begin to walk in front of you, only a few paces ahead, constantly checking to make sure you are still following.

Shivering but with a small grin you follow the cat to a small inn close to the pentamarket. The door is slightly cracked open and the cat slips in. In for a copper, you think as you press yourself into the warm building. The smell of ale and chicken hit your nose as you let out a relieved sigh. You had not realized how cold you were until you can feel the heat slowly melting the freezing temperature from your bones. There are seven patrons left in otherwise empty bar. Looking over the faces you recognize them as the odd group from your performance. They all pause in their conversation and turn to look at you. Except for the human women in blue, who is currently face down on the table with a bleeding head wound.

“Frumpkin, I asked you to find a healer.” A man with copper colored hair and a dirt covered face addresses the cat before bringing his eyes back to you. For a moment, you are lost in the sensation of familiarity in those blue eyes. Haunted. Much like your own eyes.

“UUUhhhhnnnnnn” the sitting woman moans against the table. The head wound still gently oozing blood.

“Hair of the dog that bit her?” You ask to the group with a knowing smile, your caretaker is much the same after a night of drinking. Barfights typically the only thing ending his nights in the tavern. You pull out your lute and begin a soft soothing tune. Almost like a lullaby, its tones melt into a soothing melody. Once the last cord is struck, you gently touch her shoulder and can feel the tension leave her body. The wound on her forehead sealing shut and some of the swelling going down. The woman pushes herself up off the table and blinks for a moment.

“Holy fuck that’s better.” She grunts and you can’t help the smile.

“You may feel better, but no more drinking tonight, okay? You need to rest.” You keep smiling at her even as she leans away from you with a confused look.

“Who the shit brought the gnome?” You snort at her abrasive tone.

“Not a gnome ma’am, just a kid following a cat.” You look down and wiggle your fingers at Frumpkin, and the cat happily attacks your fingers and purrs when you scratch their head. “Though next time you need a healer just go to the hospital, silly little friend.” With a final giggle you look back up to the adults now all staring at you. Thankfully the tiny creature in the porcelain mask breaks the silence when they look up to the blue Tiefling.

“I thought you were a cleric, why couldn’t you do that?” Based on how the half orc leans away the loud response was expected.

“Well it’s not my fault I’m traveling with a bunch of people that keep getting hurt and stuff! The Traveler can only do so much in a day!”

“The Traveler?” You pull out the pamphlet from your pocket, “You mean like this one?” Immediately the blue Tieflings eyes light up brilliantly as she hops up and down.

“You read my pamphlet for the Traveler? Isn’t he the coolest, and he can do so many things! He’s honestly like the best God ever.” The blue Tiefling is speaking so fast you can barely keep up but the excited tone has you smiling up at her, “Did you like it? The pamphlet I mean, because obviously you like the Traveler now.” Another giggle escapes your chest, you’ve been doing that a lot more today than any other time the past year.

“I really liked the pamphlet,” you say and somehow the blue Tiefling smile brightens, “but this drawing of mage hand giving this person a wedgie is my favorite.” Both of you break out into small laughter.

“Oh! We haven’t introduced ourselves! We are the Mighty Nien! I’m Jester! That’s Fjord, Nott, Molly, Yasha, Caleb, Frumpkin, and the one at the table is Beau.”

“It’s a pleasure to make you acquaintance.” You give an exaggerated bow towards the group. When you return to standing, Jester is smiling at you, while Molly and Yasha exchange a look. Fjord, Nott, Caleb, and Beau have a similar expression of confusion and something else you can’t place.

“What’s your name squirt?” Beau asks as she folds her arms over her chest. There is a rise of panic in your chest. When was the last time anyone asked your name? When was the last time you ever used your name? What the hell was your name?

“Er…um..w-well,” your stammering buys you a little time to catch a breath and calm a bit before plastering on a smile, “I c-can’t give away all my secrets now can I? A kids gotta stay on their toes, ya know?” Even your well-trained smile doesn’t crack the expression on Beau’s face, her eyes piercing into you.

“Where are your mama and dad? Won’t they be worried if you’re out this late at night? Should we go look for them? Are you lost?” Jester’s face gets closer and closer to yours with each question you ask and you can’t help the stiff panic that overtakes you. Adults that get that close to you can mean a lot of pain.

“Jester,” the dirty man, Caleb gently says, “maybe ve ought to not badger them, ja?” Relief washes over you as Jester backs up a bit, still giddy but now not next to your face. The way your shoulders sag when you have space again does not go unnoticed by most of the group.

“Whoever the fuck you are,” Bea grunts as she stands, “thanks kid. I owe ya.”

“Just promise you won’t get into another bar fight for at least…three more hours and we’ll call it even.” Beau’s lip twitches ever so slightly at your sly smirk.

“Well, were not a group to leave our debts unpaid.” The purple Tiefling, Molly says, though that statement is met with many scoffs, “How about we treat you to a meal kid, to say thanks for healing our trash person.” Just as you are about to deny, to excuse yourself back to your alleyway, your stomach gives a loud rumble. Molly and Jester laugh, and you smile sheepishly. When a hand grasps your shoulder, you can’t help but jump and spin on your heel. Your hand positioned to start casting a spell. Fjord is standing behind you, hand still raised but his face now fully that emotion you can’t place.

“Didn’t mean ta startle ya, just thought maybe we could all find a place to sit.” There is a gentle nature to the half-orcs tone that eases your nerves. But not so much that you stow away your lute fully. The group shuffles over to a bigger table and sits while Molly and Yasha go to the bar ordering food and one last round of drinks.

“That was a complicated spell for one so young, vere did you learn?” Caleb chose a seat a few away from yours, making it easy to look at the man as he speaks. Though Frumpkin jumping into your lap pulls your attention away from his gaze.

“Magic is a new thing for me Mr. Caleb.” Petting Frumpkin as they purr in your lap, “I’ve been playing music for a while and one day I was watching a performer. They made all these crazy images and sparks and even made this fake dragon, and it was so cool! I decided I wanted to try so I started watching magic more carefully, ya know? Like how plucking a string or the rise of your voice can change how you make the magic flow!” When you look up Mr. Caleb has a ghost of a smile on his lips and the others are staring at you fully. “’M sorry for talking so much.” You hunch your shoulders and bring Frumpkin closer to cover your face.

“None of that darling,” Molly places a bowl with hunk of bread and some soup in front of you, “we asked a question, you answered. No shame in that.” He gives you a wink and starts handing out the drinks to everyone. Except for Beau who grumbles something about a meddling brat under her breath. When side conversations and drinking start, you feel safe enough to inhale the food. Forgetting how wonderful it was to have more than scraps or finger foods. You don’t slurp your soup, but you do eat it with the ravenous hunger that has been gnawing at you. Little strips of meat don’t compare to homemade soup and bread. After you finish, the group is engaged with different conversations, and you happily sit and listen.

“So anyway, Caleb asked about your magic. Did you really teach yourself? How did you learn? Is it different than other magic?” Jester is looking at you, leaning in on her hands as she smiles. There is something so disarming about her smile that you can’t help but answer.

“I’m self-taught, mostly from watching other bards use magic.” You say, absently rubbing Frumpkin who has nestled into your lap. “As for it being more different than other magic, um, well it depends on the type of magic I guess.”

“What about Caleb’s magic,” Nott perks up, “he’s so skilled and powerful, how is yours different than his?”

“What kind of magic do you do Mr. Caleb?” Caleb is decidedly not looking up from his cup.

“I-ah do transmutation.” Caleb eyes dart around the wood of the table. You know that school of arcane! You’ve seen students from Rexentrum cast all the time when you are in the city.

“Oh okay, I think I can show you then.” Digging through your pack, you pull out your notebook. It’s a frail thing, barely having any seem left but the pages are still mostly attached to the binding.

“Here, so one of the cantrips in transmutation is prestidigitation. When Mr. Caleb casts it, he uses this spell structure.” With a practiced hand you draw out the cantrip. Making sure the semi circle and runes are placed just so. “Then he would have to use hand motions to copy the marks to make the magic happen.” You happily turn your journal out towards the group so they can see and wiggle your fingers in a similar pattern to show them what you mean.

“For bards though the spell is cast through our music but it’s not a one for one thing, ya know? This semi-circle doesn’t equal a c sharp, though it would be much easier if it did work like that.” You chuckle to yourself and pull out your hand drum and give it a tap with the drumstick.

“Depending on the instrument the spell can change. Drum, for instance, follows a similar pattern as the spell. So I drag my stick across the surface than hit the places where the runes are.” You follow the pattern and cast the spell, create a small blue spark that dances on the center of the table. “But other instruments can get more trickier, see with the lute, its not notes for runes. It’s more about the…ummm…how do I say this…I guess it’s more about letting the magic feel it’s way out than based on structure? When I see a new spell, I try to feel for the energy. Then I focus on the patterns while I play. It takes some time to learn magic that way but it’s the easiest for me.” As you stash your drum back in its place, you can feel the nien staring at you. Even as you pack your journal away and look from side to side.

Caleb has his eyebrows raised and his hand on his chin, deep in thought as he stares at you. Nott is pushing a piece of paper in front of him but not looking away from where you put your journal. Molly, Beau, and Yasha are just sort of starting with their mouths open. Fjord’s gaze is on you but not focused, as he taps the handle of his sword. Jester has a look of wonderment on her face. The amount of attention is odd, though you are used to preforming, so it doesn’t cause you much stress.

“Um…did I talk to much?” You ask, trying to break some of the awkward quiet.

“Damn that’s impressive for kid so small as you. How old are ya?” Molly has a half cocked grin as the rest of the nien shake themselves out of staring.

“Oh, I’m seven sir. Well, seven and three quarters. My birthday is on the day of the new year.” You reply with a smile. Much of who you are and where you came from is gone. All you can really remember is your time with your caretaker. He told you your birthday was on the new year, and you didn’t have any way to question it, so you agreed. There had never been a celebration of course, but it was still nice to keep track.

“You, ah, must be very smart then.” The tall women, Yashsha, manages out. Much like Caleb she doesn’t like keeping eye contact. So you don’t try to force her.

“Not really,” You say as you boop Frumpkin on the nose, “I just like learning songs and magic.” There are a few hums and then smaller conversations break out once more. You laugh when Molly starts telling a story from his days in the circus. And every now and again you try to peek at what Caleb is writing but Nott starts showing you her small collection of buttons and rocks to distract you. Time passes in the warmth and comfort of company and soon your day starts catching up to you. Between the soup in your belly and the warmth of the tavern you can feel your eyes beginning to droop. It’s bad to be so vulnerable around so many strangers but with these folks, it just feels nice.

“I think I’ve had enough ass kicking for one night, let’s call it.” Beau stands up and stretches out her back. The rest of the group begins to follow her lead and start collecting themselves. You bundle your thin clothes as much as you can and take a deep breath. Preparing yourself for the cold.

“Vere is your coat?” You turn and blink at the question from Caleb, the rest of the nien are looking at you, varying degrees of that emotion again you are not really sure what it is yet.

“Oh-erm,” pulling your shirt closer together, “I wasn’t wearing one when Frumpkin found me.” Sheepishly you play with a button on your shirt before you can force a smile, “I was just out for some stargazing, but my caretaker isn’t far from here, I’ll be fine until I can get to him.” Some looks are exchanged between the adults, and you take that as your cue.

“Thanks for the soup! And remember Ms. Beau, not fighting for at least another…twenty-three minutes.” Beau groans loudly as you give her a smile then wave to the rest of the group, making your way from the inn. There are not so hushed voices as you leave, but you ignore what is being said and start back towards your alleyway. Cold was much more shocking now, your breath clinging to the air. Morning was still a few hours away, so a quick nap before searching for your caretaker is the best bet. He probably won’t rouse until early afternoon anyways. Shivering you stretch back out into your spot once again.

It feels like you just took a blink when you wake again. Your nose is runny and body stiff with freezing cold as you listen to the growing chatter of the town. Daylight brings some comfort of warmth as you manage to stretch your limbs back into place. Strolling into the day, you pull out the skewer of meat and much on it. There’s no way for you to find your caretaker so you mill about for a few hours. Morning turns into afternoon as you traverse Zadash and all its’ backstreets. Between inns and taverns, you don’t make much progress until you see a snoring crumpled form propped up against some crates. The stench of ale and piss hit you. Yup, that’s your caretaker alright. Heaving a sigh you pull your flute from your ragged pack. A quick upbeat tune begins as you let your magic ease and flow with the short notes. With a final little hop you let your magic wash over your caretaker.

You had picked a non-touch spell, hoping that would be enough, that the distance would be too much of an effort, but this was not the case. A large meaty hand smacks you hard in the face and you tumble to the ground into the street. The throbbing in your face means you will be sporting a bruise come night fall. Your caretaker staggers out of the alley way and looms over you. Instinctually you curl into a tight ball with your arms over your head waiting for the worst of it. Yet it never comes, instead you hear a strangled choking noise. Summoning all your courage you peak up from your covered form and look up. Your caretaker stands pale and wide eyed at something behind you. Turning you see the might nien with weapons and spells drawn.

“Guten Tag.” Caleb says with a fierce look in his eyes, a fire spell held in his palm.

“I think it’s in your best interest to walk away, friend.” Fjord has his weapon out, the heavy accent thicker than last night. Your caretaker looks at each one of the faces then his beety eyes look down at you.

“Get up runt, we’re leaving.” He grumbles. You untangle your limbs and hurriedly stand but are stopped by a gentle hand taking some of your fingers. The flinch that goes through you does not deter the hand. Nott is standing at your side, gripping on to you tightly. A crossbow pointed at your now stammering caretaker.

“Back the fuck up before I shoot your eye out.” The high snarl and seeing the skin clearly, Nott is a goblin. Part of you should be concerned about that but at least the mask makes a bit more sense now. Your caretaker huffs.

“Take the runt, they’re not worth the space they take up.” grumbling your caretaker spins on their heel and bolts down the alleyway. Just like that, you no longer have a caretaker. He just left you. A deep sense of shock overtakes you, he just left you here with a group of people he has never met. Your caretaker never cared about you. There was a part of you that always knew but now it was slapping you in the face. Absently you squeeze the hand that is still wrapped around yours.

“Hey,” Jesters’ voice is soft and sweet, “would you like me to heal that for you?” Her hands are outstretched so you can see them, she is still a safe distance away, waiting for you to consent. With a small nod you keep your body stiff as she gets closer. With a gentle touch and a soft hum of green light that smells like cinnamon, the hurt in your cheek fades. The hands don’t leave your cheeks.

“It’s okay, you don’t need that prick. You have us now.” Her voice is so sweet, her touch is so gentle as she holds your face. You look into her soft and wet eyes and realize you are crying. Seven is too old to cry, your caretaker had told you that. But the soft quiet tears keep coming as you stare at this Tiefling. It has been years since you have been held so gently. Without a second thought you throw your free arm around Jesters’ neck. Soon there are two arms wrapped around you and lifting you up. Cradling you against her neck. Jester holds you close, letting the pain and loneliness of your life ease out through your tears. You have never felt so safe before, you have never felt this kind of comfort before.

#fanfiction #critical role fanficton #critical reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #critical role reader insert fanfiction #child reader #critical role x child reader #child!reader #i am so bad at tag #child!reader critcal role #bard reader #bard!reader #mighty nien x reader #mighty nien x child!reader #mighty nien and child reader #mighty nien fanfiction #mighty nien with child reader #mighty nien reader insert

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

You're Teasing Me

Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Sam offers to help you when Bucky refuses to duet with you on karaoke night.

Warnings: promiscuous themes lmao

Word Count: 2200

a/n: we back baby, another karaoke fic lol. This one came to me and I just needed it in my life. Song is Promiscuous Girl by Nelly Furtado feat. Timbaland.

Just bold is you, italics and bold is Sam!

Masterlist

"Bucky, come on!" You pleaded, desperate to get him to agree.

He just huffed, continuing on his path to the kitchen.

"It'll be fun! We can sing something from high school musical! Or something from the 40s!" You tried encouraging him with a song choice.

"Look, Doll. I don't sing. I just can't do it." He wouldn't look at you, no matter where you placed yourself in the room.

"That's not true. I've heard you sing!" You challenged, completely making up the statement.

"Okay, well I don't sing in front of people." He eyes you suspiciously, wondering when you could have heard him singing. "At least, not on purpose."

You let out a low whine, trying to think of a way to convince him. Just then, Sam and Steve walked into the room.

"Uh oh, what did tin man do this time?" Sam chuckled at your pout.

"He won't sing with me at Tony's duets-only karaoke party." It was your turn to huff, jutting out your bottom lip in a pout.

"C'mon Buck! You're a great singer." Steve encouraged his friend, unaware of why he didn't want to do it.

"No can do, punk." Bucky glared at Steve, annoyed that he wasn't on his side.

"I'll do it." Sam cut in, knowing it would annoy Bucky if he sang with you.

"Really?!" You jumped from your seat at the island, excited at the idea of someone singing with you.

"Sure, it'll be fun." Sam replied with mischief in his eyes.

You squealed in excitement, throwing yourself at Sam for a hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You grabbed his hand, dragging him out of the room. "We have to go pick a song!"

Steve turned back to Bucky after laughing at your childlike enthusiasm, not missing the glare on the brunette's face.

Steve just shook his head, laughing again. "You could have just agreed to sing with her."

"I could not. I can't take that chance! What if I stared at her for too long and she figured everything out!" Bucky exclaimed, affronted by Steve's statement.

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Steve knew this conversation would lead nowhere, but he was going to try anyway. "Maybe there's a reason she asked you?"

"Because I'm her friend." Bucky glared again. "That's how she sees me."

"I think you're wrong." Steve shook his head, leaving Bucky to contemplate his decisions alone in the kitchen

"Let's cut to the chase." Sam started talking, cutting off your list of song choices.

"About what?" You questioned back, thrown off by the statement.

"You've got a thing for Buckaroo." He said it with so much confidence, you almost forgot to deny it.

"No, I don-"

"And he's got a thing for you." Sam cut you off, you're eyes going wide.

"He what? How do you know that?" You narrowed your eyes, wanting to know more, but not knowing if you could fully trust Sam.

"Look, I wouldn't joke about this. I can tell Barnes likes you, specifically because of how much he denies it."

You bit your lip in thought, wondering if it could really be true. Ultimately, you tried to change the subject.

"Can't we just pick a song?"

"That's why I brought it up. I think I know a way to get him to admit his feelings..." Sam grinned, the same mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he had in the kitchen.

"O-okay. How?" You slowly asked, unsure if a plan concocted by Sam WIlson would pan out.

"The song choice. I've got the best one to make him regret not agreeing to sing with you."

He smirked again, somehow convincing you to follow along with his idea.

"Our next duet..." Tony glanced down at his list, scanning for the next two names. "Sam and Y/N!"

You squeezed Sam's hand, still unsure about his plan. You refused to look at Bucky, too nervous to see his expression, completely missing the daggers he was glaring at Sam.

The two of you jumped right into the song Sam chose, wearing completely mismatched expressions.

"Am I throwing you off?"

"Nope"

"Didn't think so."

The instrumental track in the background started to ease your nerves, allowing you to actually enjoy the performance.

"How you doin' young lady? The feelin' that your givin' really drives me crazy."

Sam was all smiles, doing his best to keep your nerves from getting the best of you.

Bucky choked on his drink when he took in the song. He had never heard it before, but judging by the first few lines he wasn't going to like that it was Sam singing with you.

"Your dope have a player 'bout to choke. I was at a loss of words, first time that we spoke."

Bucky let the words sink in. He knew Sam must've chosen this song. It wasn't even in the top twenty suggestions you gave him when you were asking him to sing.

Bucky's 'player' status from the 40s never really came back in the present. He was too guilty, too stuck in his head with everything he had been through.

The first time he met you, he was speechless. You were so kind and accepting, he didn't know how to respond to your compliments and reassurance.

"If you lookin' for a girl that'll treat you right, if you lookin' for her in the daytime with the light..."

You still refused to make eye contact with Bucky, knowing if it didn't go well you would mess up the rest of the song.

Bucky held his breath as you started singing. Everything you said applied directly to him, but you were singing to Sam.

"You might be the type if I play my cards right. I'll find out by the end of the night."

Sam winked at you causing Bucky to feel a pit of jealousy growing in his stomach, just wanting the song to be over so he could talk to you.

"You expect me to just let you hit it, but will you still respect me if you get it?"

Sam grinned like a man possessed, knowing the next line would really get to Bucky.

"All I can do is try, gimme one chance."

He looked directly at Bucky. It was taunting, almost as if he was saying "this could have been you."

"What's the problem, I don't see no ring on your hand."

Bucky was seeing red. He knew Sam was doing this to mess with him, but he couldn't figure out why you would agree to it.

Maybe Sam told you about Bucky's crush? But, you wouldn't tease him like this. Not unless...

He tuned back into your performance just in time for the chorus.

"Promiscuous girl, wherever you are. I'm all alone, and it's you that I want."

Sam subtly gestured for you to look at Bucky, encouraging you to take a chance. You made direct eye contact with him as you sang, trying to listen to Sam's advice.

"Promiscuous boy, you already know, that I'm all yours what are you waiting for?"

Bucky couldn't stop the ear to ear smile from growing on his face as you sang those words directly to him. You smiled right back, nerves fading completely due to the look on his face.

You threw yourself into the performance, really wanting to give him a show now that you were confident Sam was right.

"Promiscuous girl, you're teasing me. You know what I want, and you got what I need."

Sam looked between you and Bucky, a smug smile appearing on his face. Of course he was right.

You surprised both Sam and Bucky as you kept singing, dancing with Sam in a less than platonic way.

"Promiscuous boy, let's get to the point. 'Cause we're on a roll, you ready?"

Sam faltered for a second before realizing, you were trying to tease Bucky for waiting so long. Teasing Bucky is definitely something he could get on board with.

The two of you danced around the stage, having the time of your lives. Every so often, you would look at Bucky, making sure he was still enjoying the show.

"Roses are read, some diamonds are blue. Chivalry is dead but you're still kinda cute."

Bucky blushed as you made eye contact again. The way you were dancing with Sam filled him with a mixture of jealousy and arousal.

"Hey, I can't keep my mind off you. Where you at? Do you mind if I come through?"

Steve clapped Bucky on his back, drawing his attention from the two of you as you continued the song.

"Don't say it, punk." Bucky was trying to sound intimidating, but the lovestruck look on his face did little to aid him.

"I'm going to say it, jerk. That could've been you up there. Singing..." Steve drew out the pause. "Dancing..." He chuckled as Bucky blushed further.

Steve himself blushed as you and Sam performed, although not for the same reasons as Bucky. He just wasn't used to modern dancing.

Bucky waved him off as he once again made eye contact with you.

"I'm a big girl I can handle myself, but if I get lonely I'ma need your help. Pay attention to me, I don't talk for my health."

You moved your body against Sam's slowly, dragging out the moves as you smirked at Bucky.

"I want you on my team."

"So does everybody else."

You pouted your lips before your tongue darted out to lick the bottom one. You couldn't help but bite your lip at the thought of finally talking to Bucky when this was over.

"Baby, we can keep it on the low. Let your guard down, ain't nobody gotta know. If you with it girl, I know a place we can go."

You finally separated from Sam, looking at him in mock offense to play up the song. You put your hand not holding the mic over your heart, shaking your head with an innocent expression.

"What kinda girl do you take me for?"

You and Sam danced around through another chorus, although much less suggestively than your previous moves.

The song was like static in Bucky's ears as he stared at you, willing time to move faster so he could finally talk to you.

Sam kept smirking at Bucky as he sang, thoroughly enjoying the other man's misery at watching you and him perform.

"Wait, I don't mean no harm. I can see you with my t-shirt on."

"I can see you with nothing on, feeling on me before you bring that on."

You fanned yourself and bit your lip, playing up the sexual themes of the song. Everyone was having a blast watching and listening to you and Sam.

Nat and Wanda were dancing, knowing smiles on their faces as you shamelessly stared at Bucky during the dirtiest parts of the song, knowing you'd get a rise out of him.

Steve kept looking between you, Sam, and Bucky, for once enjoying that he wasn't the one being teased with sexual dancing.

Tony was trying to grind on Pepper, the two of them laughing and smiling as she swatted him away.

You jumped around the stage through the ending of the song, feeling freer than ever knowing your secret was basically out. Anyone who didn't know, clearly wasn't paying enough attention.

You and Sam slid an arm around each other as you finished the song, taking a bow as everyone cheered you on.

As you left the stage, Sam addressed the applause. "Thank you! Thank you!" He bowed again. "I would like to point out, that song was my choice. You're welcome." He said the last part directly to Bucky, ignoring the ever present glares being thrown at him.

You cleared your throat once you were close enough, drawing Bucky's attention away from Sam, who for some reason was still onstage.

"That was quite the performance, doll." Bucky smiled, slightly nervous now that you were so close.

"Well, I had to make you'd regret not agreeing to sing with me." You cheekily replied, still basking in your karaoke confidence. You moved closer, putting one hand on his chest and reaching the other for the back of his neck.

Bucky groaned at the feeling of your hands on him, reciprocating the touches. He moved a hand to your waist, the other taking up residence on your cheek.

"You're teasing me." You whispered as he just stared at you.

"I'd say it's only fair. I had to watch you dance with Sam." Bucky grinned, enjoying the banter.

"That's your own fault." You huffed, annoyed it was taking so long for him to kiss you. "I asked- no, begged you to do karaoke with me. It's not my fault you-"

He cut you off, pressing his lips to your own. You immediately reciprocated the action, eagerly pulling him closer.

"Let me make it up to you." Bucky breathe out when you finally pulled apart for air.

You smiled, fully separating yourself from him and walking toward the door.

When you were a few steps away from him, you turned back, looking him up and down. "What are you waiting for?"

Permanent tag list:

@averyhotchner

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #marvel #steve rogers #mcu #tony stark #pepper potts #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #marvel fic

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crispyimagines17 · 3 years

Photo

“Maria Bonita” - [ Timothée Chalamet | One Shot ]

Summary: We invite you to take a glimpse to the Chalamet’s house. A teenage parents who would do anything to protect, love and take care of their little one despite all the eyes of society.

Written by: Crispy Imagines.

Soundtrack: main theme

Notes: A promise is a promise ppl, after two years of waiting Maria Bonita is finally here. First of all I want to thank every single person who was asking for this masterpiece, I hope i don’t let you down. Feedback is always welcome and nothing, enjoy it cause y’all deserve it. Also, we attach several audios to make you feel part of the story, so contrast them just as a background sound.

Tags: @miss2001babe ; @lg-vangogh ; @expectodonuts ;

[1]

The creaking of the bed came to a halt as your two-year-old Maddox weigh crashes down the mattress; his tiny feet pressed on daddy’s back, sending a burst of chills down Timothée’s spine. Maddox hands traveled to mommy’s cheeks, pitching or stretching them as he let out a chuckle.

“Mommy?” he whines, kissing your cheeks softly “Mommy” he repeats, nuzzling his face on yours.

“What’s up champ?” Timothée speaks, his groggy voice echoing the room as he stretches his body.

“Daddy!” the little one leaves you and jumps all the way to Timothée.

“Good morning.”

“morning.” Maddox repeats.

You opened your eyes, and the first picture your eyes capture was little Maddox hugging tightly his daddy with a Woody on his right hand. When he saw you, you could see his eyes glowing and leaving daddy’s side just so he can be with you. Immediately you open your arms, letting his tiny weigh crash on yours as he looks at you with pure happiness.

“Hi mommy”

“Hi momma.” You hear Timothée’s voice as you rolled your eyes. He slowly approaches to you two, snugging and earning laughs from both of you. “How’s my family?”

“We’re fine. You need to get Maddox a shower bef-…”

“Noo…” the little kid as soon as he heard shower leaves the bed in such a hurry, leaving his favorite toy in bed. Both of you laughed.

“I’ll make some breakfast and I want you ready by the time I’ll call you.”

“Yes momma.” Timothée gets up from bed and before leaving the room he approaches to give you a tiny peck, then a kiss and later a passionate kiss; grabbing towels from the drawer.

“Come here little man, before I’ll catch you.” You could hear Maddox giggles all over the apartment and timmy’s footsteps running around.

…

“Come on bub, we’re late for school. Just put some damn clothes.” Timothée’s voice came out as desperation as Maddox was running in circles butt naked. He tried everything, baby shark song, let Woody shower with him and even doing some funny voices, but none of them work. He sighs, face palming as he listens to the little one singing “You’ve got a friend in me”.

“Love.” He speaks. “Can you help me with Maddox?”

“Sure, just watch the scramble eggs.” He sighs in relief, and lifting himself from the wet floor walking carefully. When he clashes glazes with his son, he mumbles him

“You’re going to get in big trouble, mommy is coming.” Maddox smile fades and the fear got in his eyes, so he quickly runs to his bedroom bringing the first piece of clothing he found.

…

“Dammit.” You whispered as you tried to adjust the child seat. Timothée was right behind you, holding Maddox; both of them watching you getting pissed.

“Let me try, love. Here, hold Maddox.” You sigh, extending your arms as little Maddox lunges towards you. You lay your head against his, as you rock yourself back and forth. “we’re ready.”

Today was going to be a long day due to your shift, leaving early sounds nice, but also means going to the grocery store, doing laundry, cleaning the house, teaching Maddox, do some paperwork. Although timothée helps you in every way he can there’s still more job to do, like you’re working nonstop all the year. As you drive towards Maddox daycare Timothées hands were on your thing, resting peacefully as he slowly reads some scripts.

“Shit” he mumbles, you looked at him with an arched eyebrow. He realizes his mistake and quickly covers his mouth and watches Maddox, who’s been gazing at the window without a clue of what happened. Timothée let out a sigh as he slowly began to read his duties when the little one laugh.

“Shet” Maddox said giggling as he smashes his toys. Both of you close your eyes in regret, he will now say the word to nonstop and the ladies from the daycare will complain, like always.

“Oh no.” you let out “Maddox, honey.”

“Wa mommy?”

“Remember when we said that kids shouldn’t say big words?” he nods. “You need to stop saying that, it’s rude and people will not like it.”

“Shet.” He repeats giggling.

“Love, say something to your child” you said looking at Timothée.

“Me? Why?”

“Cause you said the big word.” You insist.

“Why I’m always the bad guy…” he whispers as he take a breath. “Bub, what do we talk…”

“shet shet shet shet!” Maddox said out loud causing both parents to sigh.

“Well, we tried” Timothee said as you parked at the daycare.

[2]

Picking up Maddox from daycare was the heavy stuff of the day, receiving each and every day complaints from the teachers about his hyperactivity, molesting other kids or yelling in story time. Today was not the exception, despite the look of irritation from the teacher you were calm and hugging a tired Maddox rocking back and forth.

“Maddox is… a special kid. His behavior today concerned the other teachers due to the fact that the child said the word shit many times. That cause the other kids to follow him and my job here is to ask you, Is everything okay with your… boyfriend and you?” you arched your eyebrows surprised.

“Y-yeah, we’re fine, Maddox is like a sponge absorbs everything, including the bad stuff.” You chuckle nervously. She shakes her head.

“Kids at your age don’t know how to raise a child, it surprises me that you’re still together and with Maddox temper…” you were in shocked, does she tell you that? And in front of your kid? Oh, you’re so mad you’ve couldn’t hold your tongue.

“Believe me that my kid is surrounded by love and emotional stability lady, you have no right to judge me or my husband. We’ve been swallowing some bullshit since I was pregnant, but I will not tolerate to insult me in front of my kid. So, fuck yourself and your stupid business.” You raised your middle finger and walk towards the exit without looking back.

After you put Maddox in his chair, he looked at you in a lovely way, touching both of your cheeks and smiling.

“Love you mommy.” Your eyes watered as you kiss him on his forehead.

“Love you too.”

…

Going to the grocery store was Maddox favorite thing; the thrill of daddy pushing the car so fast; when mommy buys his favorite cereal and the music that always calms him. So when you said your next destination a chorus of happiness filled the entire car.

“Okay, we’re supposed to get the basic. Love, get a car and I’ll see you on the aisle 2.” You grab Maddox hand but he didn’t walk. “What happened?”

“Daddy.” He points with his little finger towards Timothée direction.

“Daddy will come soon. Come on, let’s go.” But Maddox stayed, making his little body heavier so you couldn’t walk.

“Daddy.” He repeats.

“Love he will come back, let’s go.” You tried once more, but he let himself fall on the floor, starting a tantrum that led all the eyes of the store on you two. You smiled awkwardly picking up Maddox as you tried your best to avoid the judge of the people’s eyes, walking down the first hall as you let him down with tearful eyes.

“Maddox, honey, you need to listen to me.” You cup his cheeks in an attempt to catch his attention. After he saw you his concern became evident.

“wa hapen?”

“Here you are, I thought you said aisle 2.” After he saw your eyes, his smile faded and he kneels with you two. “What’s wrong, baby?” you shake your head.

“Nothing, I just-“ you immediately tried to recover yourself and got up wiping your eyes. “We need to hurry up, we still have to make dinner.” You grab the car. “Love, please take Maddox with you.”

And so were you grabbing everything you need and both of your boys were trying hard to cheer you up by singing or listening to Timothee saying stuff like “Mom looks pretty today, isn’t she?” “We’ll make dinner so you can take a rest”

You were in line ready to pay and behind you there was a nice lady pampering Maddox. Timothee smile to her.

“Taking care of the little brother, huh.” She said waving at him. “what a handsome man.” You both look at each other without saying anything. It was normal that many people believed one of you was babysitting a younger sibling or a cousin so you didn’t bother to correct the lady.

“Mommy sleep.” Maddox said, looking at you with tired eyes. Your eyes immediately watch the lady who was quite skeptical. “Mommy.”

“Oh” she only said. Your eyes travel to her, you’ve could see her disappointment on her face, it was something you’ve got used to it. You tried to recover yourself, this was too much for one day and it hasn’t ended yet.

“Love, can you pay? I’ll have to take some air.” Timothee’s eyes were concerned.

“Sure love, here, take the keys. Maddox will stay with me.” You grab the keys and exit the store as soon as you can, fighting hard to keep the tears from falling.

When you get into your car you let yourself go, tears streaming down your face and allowing yourself to feel this way.

The migraine you’ve been dealing with was in its best moment, due to Maddox screams and the tv in all the volume it has. Timothee was in the bedroom with a script; he left you with all the toys, crayons and food on the floor. You sigh, frustrated and just when you were calming yourself you saw Maddox torn one of Timothee’s scripts and laughing. Timothee was behind him with a red face, taking him the pieces of paper to look directly at you.

“Seriously? Are you not watching this kid?” after those words your blood began to boil, throwing him the nearest object.

“Are you fucking serious? I fucking make dinner because you “innocently” forgot, I’m doing laundry so you can go to your fucking auditions clean; I’m washing dishes cause you’re so busy reading your stupid scripts and you can’t watch Maddox. And you’re implicating that it’s my fault that I don’t watch our kid? Unbelievable.” You said furious. “I don’t fucking have a break, I work my 8hr shift, pick up Maddox; do all the chores; helping Maddox with his homework; shower him, giving him dinner; make us dinner; shower myself if I have time; and checking some paperwork. You’re… You’re just auditioning, promising that one day we’ll be in a mansion and lived happily ever after, you do not do anything unless I asked you for.” He was shocked, avoiding all eye contact with you.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You sigh, leaving the kitchen, taking one of your coats and leaving the apartment.

…

You could hear Timothee’s footsteps behind you, but you just keep on walking, breathing deeply so you can’t say something you regret.

“Wait, love.” He tried to grab you softly by the arm.

“So now I’m your love, huh?” you rolled your eyes, stopping yourself to look him in the eye.

“You’ve always been my love. Sorry for behaving like an asshole. You were right, I’m a completely shitty father. I leave you with all the heavy duty while I focus on a stupid dream.” You could see the sadness of his face, eyes beginning to water. Immediately you cupped his cheeks and touched your forehead with his, staying in silence for a couple of seconds.

“You know I’m the biggest supporter of your dream.” You said in a whisper. “But you have to be a responsible father and husband. We are a team; we’re supposed to help each other in every way we can. I’m not asking to give up on what you are passionate about.” you sweetly pressed your lips against his.

“I love you.” He said, with eyes pure of love that your stomach curled up.

“I love you too, handsome.” You stayed hug for a while, while you feel like there was something missing. It was Maddox!

“Oh my god… where’s the kid?” you lift the head to catch his eyes.

“I left it with Maddie, I think we should pick him up before she calls us.” You nod.

An so where you, walking back home holding hands having the warm sensation that everything from now on will be just fine.

[Soundrack] [3]

The sound of nature calms both of your boys, you suggest to travel to the nearest park to set up some wood fire. And now you are carrying Maddox tired body, the little one is closing his eyes so often, and it will not take too long for him to sleep; since he’s got his thump already in his mouth. Timothée was watching the stars, with a sad tone on his face he said:

“Sometimes I forget that I’m a dad. When they invite at some restaurant for brief seconds I forget that I’m someone’s dad, that I change diapers or fed him. And that feels weird, not good weird, like something is missing. I’ll never going to regret being a father at my age, I will have a long way to watch him grow and become anything he wants; and somehow that makes me happy.”

“I don’t regret either. I feel that this kid connects us in beautiful ways; we are his mentors to teach him the good and bad. I think we’re more than ready to take the challenge.”

“I love you. And I’m so happy I chose you to be the mother of my child, even if that means by accident.” You couldn´t help but laugh.

“I love you too. Come on, let’s go to our house.”

“At least let us heard one more song before we go.” Timothee got up shaking the dirt from his pants, he went to the car and shuffle a couple of songs before he found out the one. “This one will work. Let me get Maddox on the car.”

After he let the baby he slowly approaches to you, touching his forehead with yours, rocking back and forth as Maria Bonita was playing on the back.

“Even if this song is made for a Maria. In this park, at midnight with the stars and moon as witnesses you’re my Maria Bonita. The one I will always be in love, beyond my body and soul. I’m all yours baby. Just say the word and we will go to the nearest chapel.” You smile.

“Yes.” You whispered on his lips

“Promised me that you don’t lie just because you feel idolized.” You kissed him. “I love you Mrs. Chalamet. Let the world know I Love this woman.” You shake your head, chuckling, the song ended and to seal the promise he kissed you passionately taking from his coat a jewelry box; knealing.

“Will you marry me?”

#Timothee Chalamet #timothee chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet #timothée chamalet #timothée chalamet imagine #timmy tim #timmy chalamet #timmy x reader #timmy blurbs #armie x timmy #Call Me By Your Name #cmbyn #CMBYN MOVIE #ladybird #Beautiful Boy

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taetaespeaches · 4 years

Text

“I never would’ve thought Agust D would be so soft after sex.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: smut; fluff word count: 3.1K

a/n: ok, so, Kid is ready to give Yoon that good good just after hearing like half the mixtape, our girl hasn’t even seen the damn mv yet guys, like, she’s ready to pounce after just seven songs from her man. And honestly, mood. I hope you lovelies enjoy this, I hope it lives up to your expectations lmao, and thank you for reading :))

YOU paced back and forth from one end of your kitchen to the other as you waited for Yoongi to answer his damn phone. I mean, seriously, how long does it take to pick up the-

“Hello?” Yoongi’s low voice interrupted your thoughts through the phone’s speaker.

Gasping, you eagerly asked, “Can I start listening?” omitting a proper greeting.

“Oh hey, I’m fine, how are you?” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, fully aware he couldn’t see you. “You’re expecting a lot of self-control from me right now, Min,” you complained.

Yoongi allowed himself to chuckle before responding with a humored, “if you want, you can listen, Kid.”

You squealed in excitement, bouncing around in front of the oven. “You’re sure? I don’t have to wait for you or anything?”

“Nah, I’m almost there anyway,” he told you, and you could tell by the tone of his voice he was grinning. “Just no music video yet,” he said in a whiny tone which you knew must be accompanied with a pout. He enjoyed watching your reaction to his music videos.

“No music video, I promise,” you smiled, absolutely fond of the man. “Oh my god, I’m not ready for this am I?” You yelled out, Yoongi scoffing in response.

“Jesus, you’re ridiculous,” he groaned.

“Shush, I’m hanging up, I have a long-awaited mixtape to listen to, thank you very much.”

“Ok fine, fine,” he laughed, but before you could hang up, Yoongi added, “Hey, Kid?” You hummed in response. “Love you.”

You’ve heard the words a million times, but it never failed to make your heart pound. However, that didn’t stop you from teasing him a bit. “Yeah, yeah, love you, I gotta go, priorities, baby. I don’t know if you’ve heard but the Agust D just made a comeback.”

He chuckled into the phone once more before giving you a, “See you in a bit,” and then hung up.

Immediately, you were pressing play on the mixtape on Spotify, already having had it pulled up for five minutes.

The first song, ‘Moonlight’, started off soft before scratching records came in, and then your boyfriend’s voice. When he gave his iconic laugh with an “August D” you smiled in pride. That’s my honey boy.

You turned your attention to the meal you were preparing for you and Yoongi, one of his favorites, stirring the contents in a big pot on the stovetop. Bopping along to the music, you listened to the lyrics that talked about his story, starting in Daegu to flying high with his group, how he goes through feelings of confidence in his work to feeling untalented, the struggles of writing this exact mixtape due to the pressure from a larger audience, expectations, and self-doubt. You knew those struggles all too well. You were with him throughout it all.

You’d been given glimpses of the songs throughout the writing process, some tracks in full while others you only saw lyric scribblings on those yellow notepads he leaves around his studio and that littered your apartment. You first saw the chorus to ‘Moonlight’ written on one of those notepads that sat on your bedside table.

“I like this,” you told your boyfriend, holding the notepad in one hand as the other found its way in his dampened hair, his face resting against your bare chest.

“Huh?” He looked up at you, his hand gripping your waist as his eyelids fluttered. The sheets were in disarray around your still nude forms. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, is it for D-2?”

“Maybe,” he told you with a yawn. “Not sure.”

“I think you should use it,” you told him, your finger outlining the shell of his ear as his lips curved into a lazy smile. “It’s beautiful.”

“You really think so?” He asked, uncertain and a bit more awake.

“Yeah, definitely.”

He kissed the center of your chest before nuzzling his face further against your breasts. “You always know best, Kid.”

You felt your eyes prick with tears as you listened to the song, feeling immensely proud of your boyfriend. Of how hard he worked, of overcoming the doubt and fear, and just simply for the talent, passion, and artistry he shared with so many people.

As the mixtape played, you went through phases of dancing around, squealing in excitement, gasping at lyrics and phrasing, and more bouncing and dancing. You tried your best to focus on the lyrics, though you knew it would take a few listens to catch them all as you were too excited to comprehend everything just then.

Completely invested in the music, you didn’t hear your front door open, unaware of your boyfriend’s presence until he appeared in your peripheral, catching you doing a little strut that resembled Yoongi’s swagger walk he did on stage. Your head snapping to him, you were met with his gummy grin, his shoulders shaking in laughter as ‘Burn It’ continued to play throughout the kitchen.

“Are you leaving me for Agust D yet?” He teased, walking toward you.

“Do you realize how sexy you are? Like do you have any idea?” You asked accusatorily. “Like what the fuck, dude?”

“Jesus,” he huffed, a smile still plastered on his face. “You’re actually ridiculous.”

“Yeah, and you’re ridiculously talented, Min. You’re not told that enough,” you told him seriously. Reaching you, he placed his hands on your hips as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, stepping further into his arms.

“I’m told that plenty,” he dismissed with a bashful grin.

“No, you’re not,” you told him as ‘Burn It’ continued to play. Instead of responding to you, he kissed you which you immediately deepened, Yoongi stepping back a bit by the unexpected force behind your actions, though his arms wrapped tighter around your waist so your body was flush with his.

Pulling away, he chased your lips, making you smile. “I don’t even have the words right now to tell you how proud I am of you,” you told him seriously, tears forming in your eyes. You watched as Yoongi took a deep breath, keeping his own emotions under control at your sincere confession. “Just know I’m really proud,” you said as tears threatened to fall.

He quickly nodded just before bringing a hand to your jaw as he caught your lips again, giving you several quick pecks as he composed himself.

Letting out a breath that sounded to be one of relief, Yoongi peered around your frame, inspecting the food cooking on the stove, as well as the food that had spilled outside of the pot, with a grin. “That looks good.”

“Hopefully,” you said with a smile as Yoongi nuzzled his face against your neck, refusing to let you go. With the overwhelming pride and love you felt, mixed with the fact that the man on the mixtape was all yours, and he was standing in your kitchen, in your arms, pressing sweet kisses to your neck, you had a sudden desire for him.

As ‘People’ started playing, you were instantly struck with the memory of coming to his studio as he was working on that very track. It was just the instrumental then, but it was interesting and different from the other stuff he had been working on. Yoongi must have been thinking upon the same memory as he lifted his head, a gummy grin directed to you as his eyes found yours.

“I remember the night you wrote this,” you smiled, biting your lower lip. That night, you had spent about an hour of it sitting on his desk as Yoongi sat in his chair in front of you, his chin resting on your knees as you both discussed your ideas of life, and people, and changes, and what it all meant, if it even meant anything.

You had already been dating for well over a year, but it was a moment where you and Yoongi felt a closeness between you both that hadn’t really been there before, becoming more mentally and emotionally attune with each other.

The conversation eventually faded out, the intense feeling of understanding between you both leading to you having sex on his studio couch.

“Trust me, I remember it very well,” he chuckled, his mind running through every moment of that night, from the feeling of closeness, to the warmth of your body underneath his as he pressed you against the couch cushions, the way you moaned his name and whispered ‘I love you’s’.

As the chorus of ‘People’ sounded from your laptop, your eyes widened at the sultry soothe of your boyfriend’s vocals.

“Since when do you sing like that, Min?” You teased with a smile, your eyes bouncing around his soft features. As he let out a breathy chuckle, you slid your your hands down his neck to rest overtop his collarbones as you leaned toward him and kissed him deeply.

The action took him by surprise though he easily found his rhythm, his hands slipping underneath your shirt, feeling at the bare skin of your waist.

As you began backing up, he quickly felt around to shut the stove off before following you toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss. Your hands found his waist as his moved to your face, taking control. You began lifting his shirt up, you both separating just long enough for you to pull it over his head and discard it somewhere in the hallway outside your room.

Eagerly, you unbuttoned his jeans, Yoongi helping you get the clothing off him as he released his hold on you to step out of them. Backing up, your legs hit the edge of the bed and you locked your eyes with your boyfriend’s. Smirking at him, you pulled your own shirt off before unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor at your feet.

Yoongi bit his lip, his eyes settling on your chest before slowly dragging them back up to meet your darkened gaze. Tilting his head at you, you quipped, “What are you waiting for?” Yoongi scoffed before approaching you and pushing your body so you fell against the mattress. He reached for the waist of your jeans, taking no time in unzipping them and tugging them down your legs, you lifting your hips to help him. Your panties were removed next, Yoongi dropping them to floor as he allowed his eyes to rake over your body, taking in every inch of you.

You sat up on your elbows, watching the man as he looked over your nude form. “For a man who brags an awful lot about being a king and a boss, you seem a bit timid, baby,” you teased in a sultry tone.

Your boyfriend scoffed again, a smirk forming on his lips. “Be patient,” he scolded, though he stepped toward you, nudging your inner knee with his leg, making you widen the gap between your thighs as he stared down at your center.

“My patience disappeared the moment I clicked play on that mixtape,” you smiled. “I want you.” With that, you sat up, your hands slipping underneath the waistband of his underwear, lowering them until they easily slid down his legs, pooling at his feet. You kept eye contact with him as you left a sweet kiss to his lower abdomen, just above his pelvic area.

He let out a quick breath as he smiled, lowering his body on top of yours, your back meeting the mattress. “If I had known Agust D would get you this worked up I would have released a mixtape two years ago,” he joked, your hands grabbing onto his sides as his lips found yours, kissing you passionately.

One of his arms was being used to prop himself up overtop you as his opposite hand slid down to your core, his fingers feeling between your legs. He groaned into your mouth at feeling how wet you’d become, and you smiled against his lips.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you used your strength to push against his body, rolling him over and straddling his hips. Yoongi’s breath was heavy and shallow as he anticipated being inside you, his large hands gripping your hips, his eyes eagerly taking in the sight of your form on top of him. He always did love you on top.

Placing one of your hands to his chest, your other found his hardened length. You stroked him a few times, Yoongi letting out a soft moan at the feeling, his hand sliding up your abdomen to your breast as he squeezed the supple flesh in his palm. At his touch, you guided him to your entrance, sharply intaking breath at the feeling of him slipping inside, letting the air out in a throaty moan.

“Fuck, Kid,” Yoongi breathed out, pinching your nipple between his fingers as you moved your hand from his dick to his chest, bracing yourself against him as you began slowly grinding atop him. Yoongi’s hand left your breast to your thigh, clutching the muscle as he bit his lip, watching your body move. “You’re so fucking hot.”

You held back a moan as you increased your pace, looking up to the ceiling before squeezing your eyes shut as he hit particularly deep. “Fuck,” you breathed out, lowering your gaze to Yoongi’s face, meeting his hooded eyes as he looked up at you in bliss.

His chest was like velvet underneath your hands and you wanted to feel more of his skin on yours. As if reading your mind, Yoongi moved his hands to your lower back, pulling you toward him so your chest was flush with his. He kissed you messily as he lifted his hips off the bed to move in and out of you as he held you to his body.

“I love you so much,” he confessed shakily against your lips, his breathing erratic due to the pleasure you were giving him.

“Oh my god, Yoongi, I love you,” you moaned, moving your face to his neck where you kissed and nibbled his skin lightly.

Wanting to treat him, you reluctantly pulled yourself away from him, sitting back up as you rocked back and forth on him, arching your back and placing a hand to his thigh to support yourself. Yoongi’s hands grabbed onto the sides of your legs as he watched you, looking more and more fucked out the longer you rode him.

Eyeing his thin but toned body, his smooth skin, and the flex of his abdomen as he took sharp breaths, you groaned. “You look so good,” you told him, admiring the man beneath you. Your man. All yours. “Feel so good,” you moaned.

One of Yoongi’s hands left your leg to find your hand that was pressed against his lower abdomen. He took your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours before bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly as he locked his gaze on yours.

The intimate action had your lower abdomen tightening. Sitting up straight, you brought your hand toward him which he grabbed with his other hand, helping you to support yourself as your motions atop him became hastier, approaching your high.

“Yoon, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby,” he nodded, squeezing your hands as you neared your climax. “Me too.”

You let out a whimper, lowering your body to Yoongi’s again, your dewy chest meeting his, Yoongi wrapping his arms around your lower back as you both worked each other into your finishes. Yoongi buried his face in your neck as he let out small muffled grunts, you breathing out a moan in his ear. As he came, he hugged your body to his tightly, letting go inside you. The feeling of him releasing had you crashing into your own high, biting your lip as you moaned breathily, Yoongi kissing your neck sweetly as you came down.

You relaxed atop Yoongi, breathing heavy as his fingers toyed with the small of your back, soothing back and forth along the curve of your ass. You had a hand on his neck, slipping your fingers into his damp strands, your other hand on his chest, dragging your fingers along his pectoral.

“The mixtape is really good,” you assured him in a whisper, kissing his jaw. “Well, what I’ve heard so far.”

Yoongi let out a breathy chuckle, flattening a palm on your lower back. “Thank you, Kid.”

“No need to thank me, I’m just being honest.”

“No, thank you for always supporting me. In everything,” he clarified, emotion thick in his voice.

You lifted your head to peer at his face, catching the glassy shine in his eyes. “Always,” you assured him.

He nodded, looking at you with a soft smile. “I know,” he whispered, barely audible, giving away that he didn’t trust his voice, knowing it would break if he spoke louder. “It means- you mean the world.”

You lowered your lips to his face, giving his plush cheek a small kiss. “I never would’ve thought Agust D would be so soft after sex,” you teased with a big smile, Yoongi scoffing, though he couldn’t hold back his gummy grin.

He groaned loudly, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m starving,” he changed the topic, making you giggle.

“Well, lucky for you, your girlfriend made you a delicious nearly cooked meal that is probably very cold at this point,” you smirked.

“Oh, lucky for me?” He questioned with a small smile.

“Mhmm,” you confirmed with a small chuckle.

Yoongi sucked air between his teeth, ticking his head to the side. “Remind me to wife you up later.”

You scoffed playfully, rolling off his body as you prepared to stand up and find some clothes. “In your dreams, Min.”

Scooping your t-shirt off the floor, you slipped it over your head before grabbing a pair of panties from your dresser drawer, all while Yoongi’s eyes followed your every move. Sending your boyfriend an air kiss from where he sat at the edge of the bed watching you, you walked toward the bedroom door. “Hurry up and get dressed, Gramps, I need your album commentary.”

You exited the room, turning toward the bathroom to clean yourself up. Yoongi shook his head with a chuckle. “Yeah, in my dreams,” he mumbled as he stood up to get dressed. Taking his sweet ass time, you walked back past the bedroom toward the kitchen, noticing him still stumbling around for a shirt.

“Hey, hustle, Min! I still have a music video to watch, my dude!” You called out to him as he looked to you with widened eyes. “Your shirt is out here, by the way.”

“Ah, what did I tell you about patience,” he whined out, a pout on his lips as he walked through the hallway, grabbing his shirt on his way, feeling full of appreciation and adoration for you.

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