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yourlocalfictionalenthusiast · 3 years

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IN LIFE, IN DEATH..

Part Two

Part One

Warnings: swearing

‘Carefully, you reached towards the piano and tried to touch a vase of flowers but they passed right through your fingers. Your entire hand went numb then a tingly feeling spread throughout your body.

Well, two things were for sure.

You were definitely back, but you were definitely dead.’

“(Y/n)?”

Alex appeared by your side, pulling your hand away from the vase that you couldn’t seem to stop sticking your hand through.

You had been so distracted, you didn’t realize that the girl had come back until you heard her scream. Alex covered his ears and shouted over the noise.

“Please stop screaming!” He shouted.

She did, but she kept eyeing the four of you suspiciously.

She was holding a cross out as she slowly stepped into the room. Her eyes were still wide with fear but she stood her ground. “Who are you and what are you doing in my mom’s studio?”

Luke gave her a look of confusion as he stepped forward. “Your mom’s studio? No, this is our studio.”

He yelped as she came at him with the cross. He jumped up on the piano and slid across the surface. “The grand piano is new, and-”

Luke cut himself off suddenly and in a fit of excited giggles, he ran towards the other side of the room. “My couch!”

You watched as he ran his hands over the worn leather, a dreamy look on his face. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but laugh a little. After your time in the dark room, it was comforting to see some things never change.

Luke’s eyes flickered up to the ceiling, his eyebrows knitting together as he inspected the lights and chairs hanging down and you were reminded that more things had changed than stayed the same.

You decided you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to get to the bottom of this. And to do that, you needed the boys to focus for more than a few seconds.

“Boys, can I see you over here for a minute?” You said, gently leading Alex and Reggie away and gesturing for Luke to follow before turning back to the frightened girl.

“Excuse us for a second.”

You gave her an apologetic smile and shuffled over to the other side of the garage with the boys in tow. Once you got far enough away, Luke frantically whispered. “What is going on? How did she get her stuff in here so fast?”

“Maybe she’s a witch. I mean, chairs are floating on the ceiling.” Reggie exclaimed. You could feel Alex glaring at him as you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“There’s no such thing as witches, Reg.” You said.

“You sure? Cause I used to think that there was no such thing as ghosts.”

Alex nodded reluctantly. “That’s fair.”

“Okay,” Luke butted in, “So, we’re going with witch?”

“No!” Alex scoffed. “We’re not going with witch. Look, she’s just scared. Let someone with a softer touch handle this.”

He turned towards the girl and approached her slowly before practically yelling in her face. “Why are you in our studio?!”

“Real soft, Al.” You whispered to him before extending your hand out to her, wincing at the awkwardness once you realized that like the vase, you probably couldn’t touch her either.

“I’m really sorry we scared you. I’m-”

Before you could finish, she jabbed her arms forward until the cross went clean through your chest. The tingling sensation came back in full force and you resisted the urge to shiver.

“Oh my gosh! How did you do that?” Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared at you.

“Clearly she doesn’t get it.” Alex said, turning back to the boys and then back to her, obviously exasperated. “We’re ghosts, okay? We’re just four ghosts who are really happy to be home.”

“We’re actually in a band called Sunset Curve.” Luke explained, his tone full of pride like it always was when he talked about the band.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie piped up with his signature line and you snorted. It was nice to know that even in death, Reggie was still the best hype-man.

“Last night was supposed to be a big night for us.” Luke said. “It was supposed to change our lives.”

“I’m pretty sure it did.” Alex interjected.

“This is freaking me out!” The girl shouted, keeping one hand held out towards you with the cross and the other pulling something out of her back pocket which she began frantically tapping on.

“What is that?” Luke asked, and the girl rolled her eyes.

“It’s my phone.” She cursed herself and shook her head. “No! Stop talking to them. They aren’t real. There is no such thing as cute ghosts.”

Reggie flashed her a dopey smile. “You think we’re cute?”

You rolled your eyes and Alex leaned forward. “Who are you calling?”

“I’m googling Sunset Swerve.”

You couldn’t help the surprised giggle that escaped your mouth as the boys groaned in unison. “Sunset Curve!”

Over Alex’s shoulder, you could see the bright screen of her phone as she pulled up an article. At the top was your professional band picture you had taken a year before the Orpheum. Luke was goofing around and playing Alex’s leg like a guitar while you stood by his side, sticking a finger in Bobby’s ear.

“Whoa.” She muttered. “There is a Sunset Curve and you did die. But not last night.”

You tried to keep your composure as she turned to look at the four of you, the fear in her eyes replaced with a small trace of sympathy. “25 years ago?”

“What? No, that’s impossible. After we floated out of the ambulance all we did was go to that dark room where these two cried.” Reggie gestured between you and Alex.

“Well, I think we were all pretty upset.” Alex said in his high pitched voice that usually made you laugh, but the mention of the dark room made you remember your moment with Luke. You turned around to look at him only to find him several feet behind you, eyes focused on a spot on the wall just past you.

The fact that he was still avoiding you didn’t escape you, but you forced yourself to swallow the sad feeling and focus on the issue at hand.

“But that was just for like an hour.” Luke said. Despite the tension between you, the sound of his worried tone made your heart ache. “We just showed up here.”

The girl sighed. “I’m just telling you what my phone says. You died in 1995 when you were 17. It’s now 2020.”

“So, this is the future?” Reggie asked.

Your head was spinning. There was no way it had been that long, right?

“It’s really been 25 years? I’ve been crying for 25 years, how is that possible!?” Alex shouted. You rubbed his back softly.

“You’re an emotional person.” Reggie shrugged.

“I am not!” He said, his high-pitched voice coming back as he pouted.

Just then, an unfamiliar voice chimed in. “I thought you were too afraid to come out here.”

You turned around to see a kid standing in the doorway, smiling as he came into the room. “You talking to your ghost friend? Is he hideous?”

“He can see you.” Alex snorted, bumping Reggie with his shoulder.

“No, he can’t.” The girl blurted, receiving a weird look from the younger kid.

She asked him what he wanted and he rolled his eyes. “A normal sister for starters, now stop being weird and come eat.”

The girl blinked at the garage doors her brother had just exited from before looking back at Alex. “He couldn’t see you.”

“Well, yeah. That’s kinda how ghosts work.” Alex said.

The girl huffed and marched towards the doors, spinning on her heels to face you again. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened to you guys, but this isn’t your studio anymore. You have to leave.”

“Wait.” Luke took a step towards her. “We didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Julie.”

“Cool.” Luke smiled. “I’m Luke, by the way, and this is…”

“Reggie! Hey.”

“I’m Alex, how’s it going?”

“I’m (Y/n).” You waved to her awkwardly as Luke stretched out his arms and made a little ‘tad-da’ sound.

“Okay...” Julie said before disappearing out the doors.

“Julie seems nice.” Reggie said brightly, making Alex sigh.

“Did you miss the part where she kicked us out?”

As you patted Reggie’s shoulder, your eyes drifted up to the loft where you could see the outline of more instruments. “Alex, aren’t those your drums?”

Alex followed your gaze and poofed up to the loft. “All of our instruments are up here!”

Luke immediately shot up from the couch where he had been sulking and faced you and Reggie with a mischievous grin on his face.

Half an hour later, you had your instruments set up in the middle of the room. Once it all came together, you could almost convince yourself you were back in the old studio having a normal band practice. The boys must have felt the same way because before you know it, you were singing as loud as you could as Luke played the opening of ‘Long Weekend’

You got lost in the music, smiling and dancing around. Even though it felt like it had only been a few hours since you sang at the soundcheck, it had been 25 years. It was as if everything you didn’t get to feel in all that time started pouring out.

You felt like you were floating - and not in the ghost kind of way.

It wasn’t until you heard Julie’s annoyed rambles that you came back to reality. You stopped singing and the boys followed, though Luke couldn’t resist doing an extra few riffs on his guitar.

“The whole neighborhood can hear you!” Julie yelled. “I thought I told you to leave.”

“Wait, people can hear us play?” Luke asked. Your stomach fluttered with hope as Julie sighed.

“Yes! And so did my dad and my brother.”

Alex stood up from his drums. “So, only you can see us, but everyone can hear us? What kind of ghosts are we?”

Luke gave him a fistbump. “Who cares, man? People can hear us play!”

Suddenly, the door swung open and a man stepped in.

Julie smiled nervously. “Dad!”

“Hey, I was just making sure you’re okay.” He smiled.

“I’m fine. I just had to turn off the CD player.”

Julie’s dad nodded before turning around and looking at your instruments. “Is this the junk that was in the loft?”

“Junk?” You and Luke scoffed. His eyes flickered to yours but you looked away as the man started tapping on Alex’s drums with his fingers.

“Hey, man! Tell him to stop touching my drums!” Alex complained. Julie just shrugged as the man pointed to the CD player.

“I liked that song you had on.”

“Sweet! We’re Sunset Curve.” Luke cheered.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie said as if he could hear him.

“It’s just an old CD I found.” Julie explained.

Her dad smiled. “Well, it’s still nice to hear you listening to music again. Out here you can play whatever you want, whenever you want.”

Something in his voice was a little sad even with the smile on his face, and you noticed something seemed a little heavier about Julie too. You got the sense that the conversation wasn’t just about music.

He stretched his arms and they went straight through Reggie and Luke’s chests. They both shivered but smiled brightly.

“That’s nice.” Reggie said, which made Julie sigh in frustration.

“Stay out of this.” She snapped and her dad gave her a confused look and started to apologize. Julie shook her head frantically.

“No, no. Not you. You know what? Just give me a minute.” She grabbed her dad’s arm and started leading him out of the garage.

Before he stepped out, he gave her a squeeze on the shoulder. “We’ll figure out this music program thing.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

He gave her one more reassuring smile before he disappeared out the doors.

Julie paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. You were just about to ask if she was okay when she whirled around and glared at all of you. If you weren’t already dead, you’re pretty sure that her stare would’ve killed you.

“He liked our song!” Luke yelled.

“He doesn’t count. He’s a dad.” Alex said.

Julie stomped her foot. “Why can’t you just be normal ghosts? Go haunt an old mansion or something! I heard Pasadena is nice!”

She stormed out and Alex whistled. “I think she’s warming up to us.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Pasadena.” Reggie said.

“I feel bad.” You admitted. “I mean, if I was her, I’d probably be pissed too.”

“I don’t think-” Alex started, but before he could finish, Luke poofed out of the garage.

“Rude.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before you heard Luke’s voice just outside the studio. You pointed towards the doors and Alex and Reggie nodded.

You closed your eyes and focused on where you wanted to go. Within seconds, you were standing on the pavement of the driveway, facing Julie as she and Luke talked.

“Look, I’m sorry we came into your life.” Luke said. “But what I just felt in there actually made me feel alive again.”

He looked back to the three of you and you nodded.

“We all felt alive again.” Luke sighed. “So, you can kick us out if you want. But we’re not going to stop playing music. I mean, we can play again! That’s a gift that no musician would give up. You gotta know that. I mean, clearly your mom is into music.”

Julie’s look shifted from understanding to sadness. She took a deep breath. “Was. She passed away.”

Luke exhaled. You could tell he was beating himself up a bit as he chewed on his lip. “I am so sorry.”

“Yeah, we didn’t know.” Alex said. Reggie nodded solemnly behind him.

“It’s okay.” Julie shoved her hands in her pockets and looked at Alex. “You haven’t seen her anywhere, have you? Like from wherever you’re from.”

“Uh, no. I mean you’re kinda the first person we’ve seen.” Alex said.

“Yeah, but she’s not dead so that doesn’t answer her question.” Reggie piped up, making Alex roll his eyes.

“I think she knows what we mean.” Alex turned to Julie. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Julie’s gaze fixed on her shoes and she shrugged. “Thanks. Sorry I got mad. You guys are kinda good.”

“Kinda?” Luke scoffed. “That’s just 25 years of rust getting dusted off.”

“Yeah.” Reggie agreed. “Do you play piano too?”

Julie shook her head, a sad smile on her face as she stared through the studio’s window. “No, that’s just my mom’s stuff in there.”

“No way! She’s an amazing songwriter.” Luke said.

“She was.” Julie tore her eyes away from the garage. “Wait, how do you know that?”

Luke shrugged. “There’s a song on the piano, if that’s hers…Your mom was really talented.”

You nodded and Julie scanned all of you one last time. “I guess, if you need a place to stay…you can stay in there.”

You all cheered and Julie rubbed her temples. “This is just too weird.”

“Thanks, Julie.” You said. The other girl gave you a weak smile before she disappeared behind the gate leading back to the house.

An hour later, as you paced around the garage, you got an idea. Your hand flew to the front pocket of your jeans and you turned to Alex. “Hey, Al. I’ll be right back.”

Before he had a chance to ask why, you had poofed away.

It didn’t take long before your feet landed on the doorstep of the house. You wandered inside and it took a full minute of searching before you arrived at Julie’s bedroom door.

You tried to knock, but your hand went straight through the wood. You cleared your throat. “Hey, Julie?”

“Come in.” Julie said.

Carefully, you stepped through the door and into her bedroom. It was decorated a lot like the garage, with bright lights and pretty paintings. Julie sat in the middle of the room on her bed, and even though you probably couldn’t sleep anymore, you wanted nothing more than to lay down and take a nap.

“Hi. I’m sorry to bother you.” You fiddled with the zipper of your jacket. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about your mom.”

The friendly smile she had wavered before she nodded sadly. “Thanks. I’m sorry again for freaking out back there. I guess I just still kinda think of it as her place.”

“Don’t be sorry!” You told her. “Believe me, I wouldn't have handled it as well as you did.

I know we’re a lot to handle sometimes. And by ��we’ I mean the boys.”

You both laughed and Julie shrugged. “They’re not so bad. As far as ghosts go I would’ve expected them to be a lot scarier.”

“It’s really nice of you to let us stay. But I’m sure we can find somewhere else to go. I wouldn't want to intrude on your mom’s space.”

“No!” She said, sitting up slightly against her pillows, “I think it’s what she would’ve wanted.”

“She sounds like an incredible person.” You said.

“She was.” She nodded. She took a deep breath in, “It’s just kind of hard to talk about her sometimes.”

You nodded. “I understand. My dad died before I was born. All I really have of him are a few pieces of clothes and this picture.”

You reached into the pocket of your jeans, pulled out a polaroid picture and handed it to Julie. It was of your mom and dad on the day they got engaged: your mom showing off her ring and your dad unable to stop smiling as he kissed the crown of her head.

It had been on you since the day your mom gave it to you with a box of his old things. The sight of your mom made your heart wince, but you weren’t ready to think about that yet.

Julie smiled as she stared at the picture then pointed to your jacket. “Is that his?”

It was a dark blue hoodie with sleeves that were a little too long for your arms so you had to bunch them up to fit your hands through.

“Oh, uh. No, this is Luke’s.” You explained, trying to fight the blush spreading across your cheeks. “Or at least it was before he waged a war on sleeves.”

Julie laughed again, and you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter.

“Anyway, I know it’s not the same,” You took the photo back and shoved it in your pocket. “But I do know what it’s like to miss someone, and if you ever want to talk about how much it sucks, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

She nodded, a grateful smile on her face. “Thanks, (Y/n).”

You nodded and waved goodbye before poofing back into the garage.

Between working at Cece’s, going to school, and making music, you never had much time to make friends when you were alive. Especially girl friends.

But you were starting to think that maybe you could have one now.

July 1994

“Slow down!”

You yelled over the noise of the crowds, your tone sounding a lot less intimidating than you wanted due to your laughter as Luke dragged you up the boardwalk.

He responded with a smirk over his shoulder while he waved through dozens of excited carnival-goers. The smell of fried food, funnel cake, and fresh ocean air flooded your senses as you tried to stay on your feet. The pace was almost dizzying, and your body was buzzing from the excitement.

You hadn’t realized where he was taking you until you saw an array of flashing neon lights spinning above you. The Ferris wheel.

“Seriously, Luke?”

“It’s tradition.” He beamed, fidgeting excitedly as he got in the line. It was not lost on you that he was still holding your wrist in his left hand. “I mean, can you even remember the last time we did this?”

You didn’t. But you weren’t going to prove Luke’s point for him.

“Next, please.” The ride operator gestured for the line to move up and before you knew it, Luke was shoving you into the cart. It was a faded red one with a ‘7’ painted on the side.

“You know, it’s okay to admit that you only dragged me over here to avoid everyone seeing me kick your ass at Skee ball.” You joked.

The ride started and your cart was lifted into the air while more people got on.

“Excuse you, I dragged you over here because I wanted to spend time with my best friend.” He said sincerely, but you could see the mischief behind his eyes. “Or maybe I wanted to do this!”

Luke suddenly jerked forward, then pulled himself back, making the cart wobble.

“Luke!” You gripped the support bar and glared at him. Once your heartbeat righted itself, you shoved him with your shoulder. “You’re hilarious.”

“About time you admitted it.”

The ride spun around a few times before slowing to a stop just as you reached the top. The sun was gone now, but there were still soft streaks of pink in the sky left behind. The noise of the carnival faded out beneath you and the playful mood shifted into something different as the sky began to darken.

“Are you cold?” He asked, looking back at you for the first time in a few moments. Something in his eyes seemed softer, but you tore your eyes away before you could figure out what it was.

You shook your head and tried to hide the fact that you had goosebumps from the cool night air. Despite Alex’s reminders, you had forgotten your jacket in the car. But you were too stubborn to admit that you needed it, especially knowing how much Luke would tease you for it.

“Dude, you’re shivering.” Luke laughed and rolled his eyes before shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and wrapping it around you.

The material was warm and soft against your skin. It smelled faintly like cinnamon and laundry detergent and suddenly your head felt dizzy all over again. "Thanks, Lu."

You weren't sure what gave you the confidence for your next move, but you ignored the screaming voice in your head as you slid over and tilted your head until it rested on his shoulder. It was something you’d done before out of comfort, but you felt out of your element in this moment.

Some hair on the top of your head ruffled as he took a deep breath and you could hear the soft smile in his voice when he spoke.

“Anytime.”

There was a moment of anticipation, like just before a big drop on a rollercoaster. Neither of you dared break the silence for fear of shattering the moment and the feeling that came with it. Just as it seemed like maybe it would last forever, the Ferris wheel suddenly moved forward and the moment evaporated.

"So." You said, trying to distract yourself from the fluttering in your stomach. "How much do you wanna bet that I actually can kick your ass at Skee Ball?"

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d-criss-news · 3 years

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Actor And Producer Darren Criss Reveals His Creative Process

The producer, singer and actor talks his approach to songwriting, discovering his sound and how he’s ready for the next chapter.

We don’t know about you, but we’re currently experiencing the Bank Holiday blues. With the realisation that our days of summer maybe coming to an end were in need of uplifting sounds and singer-songwriter Darren Criss is keeping the energy going with his fun-filled EP “Masquerade”. Between the slick alt-pop productions and high-octane energy, the artist puts his theatrical abilities and prowess at the forefront of the EP. Laced with serene dance floor-ready melodies, the actor and musician instantly gets the party going on the project, kicking it off with “f*kn around”.

“The dirty secret is that every song is character-driven,” the artist revealed when discussing the project. “I just chose wording that could perhaps aid people into understanding this exploration of genre, this self-aware exploration of genre a little more. For those people that only know me as an actor, I’m trying to guide them into this notion of music and songs being a form of acting.”

No newcomer to the scene, the artist has spent the past decade gracing our screens in the cult favourite Glee and the thrilling Assassination of Versace: American Crime Story. Wanting to continue his musical journey in the form of producing and writing, we caught up with the multi-faceted artist talking his growth over the years, staying creative in a pandemic and how he’s ready for the next chapter.

Check out the interview below now…

Hey Darren, how are you? How has this past year been for you? It’s a strange question to answer because everybody’s answer is so much more complicated than what you can say in a quick easy tight polite answer. You know, I’m well, as well as one could be given the situation. I feel, you know, luckier than most. Even with the music that I just put out there’s still more that I’d like to do, but I got to do even more than I thought I’d be able to. So that tends to be kind of the theme of the past year and a half. I feel like I’ve been so consumed by working on so many things for so long, that not a lot of people outside of my inner circle know about that. You know, it’s been a lot of high output but seemingly low visibility. So now finally getting to put out some of these things and talk about them… tipped scale of visibility versus output is hopefully having a chance to even out for a bit, to where the amount of work I’ve put in can somehow match that people you know may or may not know about what I’m doing. You know, I’ve been really busy. I’m the kind of guy where if you give me a white canvas it’s a more…I wouldn’t say stressful, but I’m more likely to fill up a blank canvas immediately with as much shit as possible – I guess that is more stressful than having only a few places to fit things in, and I usually keep pretty busy. Ironically when I’m really busy, that’s when I can get stuff done. Like you know that phrase ‘if you want something done ask the busiest person in the room’, and I think there’s a degree of truth to that because you know, the chaos kind of begets chaos, and productivity begets productivity, and in a lack of anything else to do it was like ‘I wanna do all these things!’ and then it gets really crammed, so it’s nice to be kind of simmering down from this overwhelming call to arms to get as many things done as I could with this new unprecedented free time that I had. So, in short, I guess, am well if you wanna use that! I feel, I’m just relieved that a lot of this stuff can exist somewhere outside of my head but it’s a complicated answer, I’ve been able to do a lot more than I thought I’d be able to.

With everything that happened last year, was your creativity affected? The time that it yielded is the kind of time that a lot of creative people fantasise about. Of course, we would have all preferred it in a very different way when you say ‘if only I had time to sit down and work on this’. I think we all have; I say creative people but we all say, ‘if only I had time to paint the kitchen, learn a language, get in shape’, you know do something different that requires a bit of time and focus. We were all given that golden ticket, of course take that with a massive grain of salt, I’m fully aware of the price with which that came, of course if we had the choice, I don’t think any of us would have wanted it to happen the way it did. But none the less, for those of us who did take the time to focus, to hopefully be productive and proactive with the situation we were thrown into, it was creatively beneficial to finally get to address things that had been sitting kind of on deck and dormant in my mind, and it was just a matter of having the time to give them any attention. One of the joys of jumping between acting and music is there is a battle of time commitment, because neither one is a thing you can do casually. If you’re acting in something, there’s a great degree of scheduling that really eats up a large chunk of your day. While I’m in an acting project, I’m writing stuff and playing music but the actual logistics of producing music is as time consuming as the acting. I am envious of people that can kind of just show up, sing a song and leave. I, unfortunately, am not that kind of person. Writing a song is only a small piece of putting music out. Production really does take a large part of my emotional and intellectual efforts, and I really dive in head on. And that’s not even mentioning the promotional side of it. So, it really does take a lot of time to dive into those things, and I was finally given that. If anything, it was hard to decide what part of my musical menu that I wanted to serve up. It just came to a matter of what felt right at the time, what seemed fun. I kind of wanted to put out something that was positive and fun, and unapologetically so. And something that really showed up for a side of me that I felt like hadn’t been represented in the past. The musician side, and unfortunately, we haven’t been able to perform these very much. We’ve done little videos here and there. Stuff that really showed my roots as a musician, a garage rock guy, a guy that really likes getting in the weeds of production. In the past I’ve put up things that are a little more analogue, singer-songwritey, and this is more me as a producer and a musician.

How did you first get into music, what sparked the interest? Well, I’ve been playing music my whole life, and not casually either. It’s such a massive part of my identity, and that’s one of the main driving forces of me wanting to put out as much music as I possibly can. These five songs on this EP are a small part of a much larger body of work that I’m dying to get out whenever I can. When you’re a songwriter, or just in general a creative person, you have more ideas back logged than your body can execute. This is only a small part of a much larger puzzle, and a lot of these songs, the ones that I’ve put out and the ones I’m still trying to put out, are ghosts that have been haunting me however many years., some more than a decade, some more than two decades. The reason I mention this is because I’m trying to illustrate how pivotal music and making music has been throughout my life. I started playing violin when I was 5, and that was a big part of my cultural education, learning how to play an instrument that is so dynamic and requires a pretty specific ear and technical ability. Now I’m not saying I was fantastic at the violin, but I think the training that I had on it from 5 until my late teens really shaped the way that I would create music and think about music, certainly as a writer and a producer, but with just how I would jump between other instruments as well, because the violin was such a great touchstone for me to end up taking up the piano or guitar, or drums, or other instruments that would really formulate how I create music. Between being the orchestra nerd kid that played a lot of music throughout my young life, and also being the guy that would play in bands, its just been such a huge part of my life. As I’ve gotten older and gotten to understand this other version of myself that exists in more of a public view, that has little to do with that I know, I have started to notice that person, that avatar of myself, isn’t necessarily associated with music. And that was troubling to me, so I wanted to rectify that.”

And now you’ve just dropped your EP, talk us through your mindset going into the project? If I was just a recording artist, and that’s all I did, I’d like to think that I’d have a much larger body of work to show for. I feel like a lot of songwriters feel this way. There is just simply too much music…now I’m not gonna say it’s all fantastic, there’s a reason you have to triage the ones that you think are the best at the time, and there are many songs that I feel would be outdated, they feel very of the time 10 years ago. But you’re always trying to put your best foot forward with the pile you have lurking behind you. So, it is a hard thing to decide which thing you want to put out. Killing your darlings is always a hard thing, figuring out which ones to really focus on is difficult and it usually comes down to who you decide to collaborate with – right before the pandemic was one of the most tumultuous times of my career where I was producing and acting in a show for Netflix, and I was also kind of show running, acting, writing music for, editing, doing everything for this other show I created called ‘Royalties’ on another platform. I was doing both at the same time, and one of the things that made this possible was the people that I would collaborate with. A young man by the name of CJ Baron who I produced and wrote this EP with, he’s sort of the midwife that I chose out of working on Royalties because we had a lot of great songs together. I keep referring to myself as a producer, but I do it from a much more cerebral space, whereas he is a much better technical producer than I am. We really shared a lot in common, so by the time I realised that I wanted to make a piece of music you have to decide ‘who do I want to go down this yellow brick road with?’ And when I decide with CJ, that kind of already hinted at the kind of music that I would put out because he has his own fingerprint, and so I thought there’s something that I have that might mesh well with that fingerprint, so that kind of helps the decision process along of what songs am I gonna put out. But in another world CJ wasn’t interested, so then I think ‘Okay let me try and produce an album with this person’, and that person would reveal a different selection of songs. I’m very open to seeing what the universe is allowing and pushing towards, and I kind of follow that northern star to figure out what songs I’m gonna put out. But the mindset was always ‘put something out’, on a completely pragmatic level. What did I want to have to show for if whenever we got out of this crazy, new age of ‘what does this pandemic mean? We have time to do stuff, when it’s over what do I want to sit there and say that I accomplished?’ And at the very least I needed to put out a few songs, so that was really my mindset – no excuses, this is the time that you used to hope for, and so what are you gonna do if you’ve got the golden ticket, you’ve won the time lottery – so don’t fuck it up Darren! That was my mindset.

You describe them as character-driven singles, why is this? The dirty secret is that every song is character-driven, I just chose wording that could perhaps aid people into understanding this exploration of genre, this self-aware exploration of genre a little more. For those people that only know me as an actor, I’m trying to guide them into this notion of music and songs being a form of acting. The number one question I always get it ‘which one do you prefer?’ and I always say they are the same to me. When I’m an actor I treat characters, characterisation of my voice and body, characterisation of how I deliver words like a piece of music. You’re scoring it the same way, there’s cadence, dynamics, volume, nuance, all kind of things that can make ‘a piece of music’ unique to a person. And that’s how I treat dialogue and characterisation. The other side of that coin is I treat music like I’m acting, like each song has its own character when you’re playing live or recording in a booth. You are donning the proverbial mask of that character and what it requires. I really wanted to keep people into this idea that at the end of the day, it’s all performative and all part of a narrative that don’t necessarily have to do with each other and the way that if you ask Alexa to play a ‘Jack Nicholson playlist’ it would be very disjointed. It would be like okay The Shining, that’s a vibe, and then it would go to As Good As It Gets, and that’s a completely different vibe. They wouldn’t necessarily be on the same playlist, but they are distinctly and undeniably Jack Nicholson. So I always thought that it was a bit of a double standard that actors can do this but in music, you know, I’m proud of this but it’s also very annoying – a lot of my songs would probably not playlist together on the same genres because you have more jazz songs, like a trip hop chill tune that might end up in the back of a Starbucks, but that wouldn’t necessarily go on the same playlist as a tune like ‘I Can’t Dance’, which is a crazy song because it doesn’t even sound like me, I’m literally putting on a different voice, I’m singing like two different people putting on an affectation. There’s a lot of things that are very different but uniquely and distinctly me. The word masquerade is a celebration of a lot of different masks, and in theatre we talk about ‘The Masque’, and how each Masque has it’s own style, history and culture, and I really love the genre, and I love Masques, and I love things that make them interesting, and celebrating things that make them unique, and really trying to maximise their effectiveness as a genre with whatever tools I have as an artist, so that’s really what I’m trying to go for, this whole character driven idea is – it’s all a masquerade.

It very much has a fun-filled vibe to it, was this your intention and why? I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I sat in a studio saying ‘Hey lets not have fun!’, especially during a time that was as fraught with a lot of troubled times. This EP was recorded during very troubling times, so I think I’d be delusional to think that whatever joy is in this EP was not some kind of reaction to that, trying to offer something positive is definitely my MO in life in general, so that’s always gonna bleed its way onto my records. Like it or not. The intention is to record things that can be effective. If the vibe you feel is fun, great. If you feel any vibe at all, whatever the fuck that means, that’s a win for me. If that happens to be the word ‘fun’ then awesome, there’s a lot shittier adjectives that can be derived from this body of work so I will absolutely take it. My intentions are again to try and honour the songs. When you write something it has its own magnetic pull, it has it’s own gravitational pull that you have to kind of follow. If a song sounds a certain way, you want the lyrics to feel the same way that it sounds, and you want the production to feel the way that it vibes for lack of a better word. All songs have different body types and dressing it up and knowing how to tailor it to accentuate the things that make it fun or sexy is really sort of a strange alchemy. It’s not up to me how people experience it, but that’s what makes it fun. Once you put something out into the world it’s up to other people to use their own adjectives of the suit you tailor. I’m always excited when it leaves my head and becomes somebody else’s experience. So hey, if it’s fun – great!

What do you want people to take away from the project? Obviously, I hope people enjoy themselves. Any musician or artist would hope that there’s some kind of memorable experience to be had from it. If I was talking about what I hope people take away from it, that doesn’t have to do with the music itself, I hope that every time I put out music it’s me broadcasting this notion that this is something that I do, and that this is a big part of my identity. I think the songs themselves and what they’re about and how they feel are less of an insight into my identity as the notion of me putting out music is, because I feel like for any artist your journey is a constant negotiation between how you see yourself and how you would like to be seen, and how audiences are willing to see you. And you know, sometimes that balance is not always even. Sometimes the way they see you isn’t the way you see yourself, and sometimes the way you see yourself isn’t the same as the way they see you, so you want to be somewhere in the middle. And ‘Masquerade’ is a huge step forward for me to try and represent who I am and what I’m about to folks who might not see that. So that’s the biggest goal I think with any release but particularly this one.

Who would you cite as your inspirations? I’m one of those people that, when I say that everything inspires me, I’m not trying to be cute. It’s a problem. It’s an actual scourge on my life, where I find everything interesting. I find everything inspirational. It’s such a core belief that I have that there is inspiration to be derived from every walk of life. Stuff like from a lawn chair to a Bach cantata, there are so many things that can be interesting and incorporated into some creative output. It’s just all about how you look at it and how you can perceive and understand where it comes from. There are so many things that are inspiring to me. Of course, this is the massive macro answer that you weren’t looking for, you’re probably looking for ‘what artist are you inspired by?’ I think I’m just inspired by people who are really genuine to themselves, and this is an ironic answer considering that I actually try to be as many different people as possible. It’s a strange thing that actors are celebrated for not being anything like themselves professionally. And musical artists are separated for being as close to themselves and putting their souls as close to the chopping block as possible. I think I’ve really found my niche as a storyteller. I’m envious of some of the great troubadours of history, that can put their souls out on the record for us and put their own personal experience into things. Leonard Cohen and Joanie Mitchell, and Carole King, more modern people like Taylor Swift who really can just bare their souls for us. I really admire them because that’s not a muscle I have. And when you’re an artist I think ‘Okay so what muscle do I have?’, and I think ‘Okay I’m like a playwright, I can make each story for these songs and try and bring them to life with as much accessible ability and reality, and as much truth as I can convey, that’s not to say they’re disingenuine, they’re born from a genuine idea but they’re supported by my background as an actor. Baring myself isn’t something that comes as naturally for me, I really admire those people and I try and perhaps emulate a lot of their song writing in whatever limited way that I can. Genres are inspiring to me, lets talk about song writing, and then there’s producing which are two different things to me, because when I hear music I hear chords, I hear melody, I don’t listen to the snare sample, but I always hear the bare bones and then I think about production. So as far as producing is concerned I think it’s really important to know all genres and to listen to what makes each one interesting and respecting those genres, and then when you are producing something yourself, and then taking from each thing by knowing why and how they work within that genre, so again to use a song like ‘I Can’t Dance’ which is a nod to late 70s/early 80s, somewhere between disco and new wave, I’m employing the things that make those genres fun, to me at least, and trying to smoosh them together in a way that sounds cohesive. So…everything is inspiring to me, it’s hard. But each song has a different source of inspiration, but they don’t transfer between all songs.

You’ve also wrote for animated series and for Glee, is the process different for producing? “This is actually a very good question. I think this ties into what I was saying before about writing for narrative is something of a calling that I think I’ve realised more recently is kind of where I can plant my feet more easily than any other type of song writing. I was mentioning the people that can bare their souls, some people have a really good ability of putting themselves out there but also writing as a satirist of character that he creates. The person that is a master of this is Randy Newman, he’s one of the greatest American songwriters of the 20th century. He has an amazing ability to create these scenarios or create first person accounts of people that aren’t actually him, but he can contextualise with his literal voice, his song writing voice, and make those their own sort of satirical version of himself. There’s a lot of layers going on there, but I’ve always thought of him as really excellent. He’s like a playwright with music, he’s writing musicals, I mean he’s won Oscars for writing music for narrative! That’s something that I’d really like to do – from a technical standpoint it’s actually very liberating because when you’re writing music with your name on it, you’re the artist, then there’s this sort of weird expectation that you’re trying to service which is why I like this idea of putting the mask on and separating the songs from my own personal experience, because I need to separate myself from my own experience of the music you’re hearing, at least on the surface. My big break was A Very Potter Musical, that I feel to this day are my biggest hits because I don’t really have hits, but as far as the songs that people know that strangers know of songs that I’ve written, they were songs that were written for characters. It’s a bit like painting by numbers. If you just write a song from scratch about anything, it’s like the canvas I’m talking about again. You can do anything, or go anywhere, and that’s overwhelming. Having parameters, knowing where the gates are, is extremely helpful, knowing when the deadline is, knowing how long your party can go for. It means you can maximise the space you know you have. When you write for narrative you go ‘this is the character’, ‘this is how they speak’ – so you already have your lyrical information there – ‘this is how they talk’, ‘this is the singer, the singer has a great range that goes from this note to this note’, ‘in this scene we need the character to go from point A to point B, and we want it to be a song that sounds like X’, so you create all these amazing little ingredients, and I look at artists like a service industry, I really enjoy servicing what the person or the experience requires. When I have a menu of ‘we want this, this, this’, it’s like okay great I’ve got you! A three-and-a-half-minute song that sounds like this song, but has to be in this key and has to be a duet, I really thrive on that. And it’s probably one of my more favourite versions of song writing. And usually there’s a deadline, so I can get it done! Because I need to get it done for production. I really enjoy coming back to writing for narrative, because I did that for Royalties with CJ, and when I realised how much I enjoyed doing that and how productive I was when I was writing for a narrative, that’s when I got into the idea of ‘I need to stop trying to bare my own soul in music’. I think if I treat it like I’m writing for a character, not only can I get it done faster but I feel like I can make things stronger. So that’s when I decided that’s what I’m gonna do for this next EP. Writing for other shows and characters is what helped me realise my strengths as a songwriter.”

What is next for you? What are you most excited for? “As I mentioned I think productivity begets productivity, and that’s exactly what happened with this EP. Even if the pandemic hadn’t happened and I didn’t have the time, I think I would have been just as emboldened from working on Royalties with CJ and it got me very excited about working on music and how much joy that gives me. Any artist will say the same answer, but I think by the time stuff comes out artists are already over it because they’ve been living with it for a year and a half, and in my case over a decade with these songs, so I’m always ready to move on and go to the next thing. Everything is a stepping stone, so I’m very happy that this EP is out, I think it’s a great representation of a lot of stuff that’s been unaddressed for far too long. I just wanna get going, it gets me excited about keeping the ball rolling as a songwriter or as a producer, I just don’t want this to be like ‘This is the thing I did during the pandemic’, I want to keep it going and be more proactive about keeping time aside for it, because that’s the name of the game. When you’re acting or doing music, you have to balance it with time, and this pandemic has shown me how much I enjoy spending time on music, so I’m gonna carry that on. But of course, as soon as I say that, that’s when something unexpected and something too juicy that I can’t keep my hands off it happens on the acting side. One learns to be pretty flexible, because as soon as I say one thing something else will happen, and that’s been the narrative for the past decade of my life. I hope to just keep going. I’ve been this lucky for this long so I’m not gonna pretend like I’m going to keep being this lucky. If I get to act great, if I get to do music great. I can’t believe I’m in a position where its like ‘oh if the acting thing doesn’t work out, I’ll just do music!’ or the other way around, it’s a highly privileged list of options, and I’m fully aware of that. So as long as I can have one or the other to fall back on, I will always be excited about option. It’s not always up to me, so we’ll see. Everything that I’ve put out is just a way for me to renew my lease with my ability to show up for myself as well as people that I don’t knows ability to be interested in what I have to do next. But I won’t flatter myself, I’m not gonna say that lease is forever, so I’m just trying to put in the time and work to keep it at the very least somewhat interesting.”

Photography - Amanda Demme

#darren criss #wonderland magazine #masquerade ep #press #sept 2021

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sunsetcurveofficial · 3 years

Note

can I request ot3 or even all 4 sunset curve soulmates drabble 🥺

this... is so much longer than a drabble, i’m so sorry. it was only going to be a fraction of this but then... i kind of liked this universe and kept going lol

anyway, here we go, 2k of sunset curve ot3 soulmate goodness

also available on ao3

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It’s weird, this soulmates thing. Alex has always thought so. So people are born with random sentences scribbled onto their skin, and they’re supposed to be the first words your soulmate ever says to you. It sounds all beautiful and easy enough, and really, for most people it is. He supposes it’s nice to know you’re actually supposed to be with the person you may or may not fall in love with. Most soulmates do, he knows. But not all of them. Some remain platonic, because some people are not made for romance and that’s okay. He knows that platonic love isn’t any less important than romantic love. Generally speaking, he does think that the soulmarks make sense, too. For most people.

His, however, has never made any sense at all.

Because his soulmark says Hi, I’m Reggie. Reggie says you’re killing it on the drums, man.

It doesn’t make any sense. It never has.

So, he met Reggie when he was 13. And Reggie said the first part of his soulmark to him. Which makes sense. The second part, however, remains unsaid. And it doesn’t surprise him that it does. Because why the hell would Reggie tell him that Reggie says he’s killing it on the drums? It doesn't. Make. Any. Sense. And frankly, it makes Alex a little anxious to think about. Does he have two soulmates? He used to think that is something that only happens in fairy tales.

The weirdest part, however, is the fact that half of Reggie’s soulmark also remains unsaid. Reggie has the words Oh, hello, I’m Alex. Dude, you shred on the bass! tattooed onto the skin on his forearm. The first part is self-explanatory and makes perfect sense, but Alex didn’t even know Reggie plays bass when he first met him.

He and Reggie have spent hours and hours dwelling on what it all means, and why both of their unsaid halves are related to their instruments, but to no avail. They have no clue. Having two soulmates is rare, but your soulmate also having two soulmates is close to impossible. Neither of them have ever heard of that happening before. Except maybe in fairytales or TV shows.

On Alex’s 14th birthday, they agree that there isn’t any point in agonising over it, because they would inevitably find out, eventually. So Alex tries not to dwell on it anymore and focus on his new boyfriend instead. Because while he and Reggie have assumed they are soulmates of the platonic kind at first, they have since figured out that kissing is much nicer than it looks on TV, especially when they’re doing it with each other.

They’re 15 when it all starts making sense. Except it still doesn’t, and it’s completely insane. It’s a perfectly normal Wednesday and Alex is waiting for Reggie by his locker, idly going over his maths notes, when he hears Reggie’s familiar laughter reach his ears. He looks up with a smile, and he finds Reggie walking towards him, dragging another boy he’s never seen before along by the hand. There are a couple of thoughts raining down on him all at once, approximately in this order:

“Why is my boyfriend holding hands with another guy?”

“Who is this?”

“Don’t be jealous now, Alex. He’s your soulmate.”

“Fuck, that new guy is pretty. Almost as pretty as Reggie.”

“Stop staring, Alex.”

“Alex! Alex!!” Reggie says excitedly when they reach him. He’s beaming, his smile almost blinding, and Alex wants to cry a little bit because he loves him so much. “You gotta meet Luke! He’s just moved here, and I just met him in music class. Also-- no, never mind, later. Luke, this is Alex.” Reggie is jumping up and down a little, and he’s so bubbly, he almost seems nervous. Alex faintly wonders what that’s all about.

Alex stares, feeling a little overwhelmed by an onslaught of emotions he can’t really place. Luke nods at him.

“Reggie says you’re killing it on the drums, man,” Luke says casually, and Alex swears his heart stops. No way. His whole world is closing in on him, and he stares at Luke open-mouthed, unable to say a single word. He blinks, and forces himself to look away from Luke - his soulmate, his freaking second soulmate - and meet Reggie’s eyes instead. Reggie looks like a deer in the headlights, and at least that’s an emotion Alex can relate to. It’s eerily quiet for a long time, the chatter of the students around them drowned out by Alex’s own heart hammering against his ribcage.

“Umm… are you two okay?” Luke asks, and somehow the sound of his voice snaps Alex back to reality. Right. He has yet to say anything. Has yet to say the words written on Luke’s skin somewhere. Oh dear. What is he going to say? Why does he feel so pressured to say the right thing when it’s already been decided anyway? He feels himself panic a little. He should just answer Luke’s question, right? Easy. Isn’t it? Except he doesn’t even remember what Luke said. Fuck.

“What the fu--” he starts muttering, eyes widening as he stops himself, “I mean, no, I can’t say that-- no, that’s awful, oh my god, I messed this all up. Fuck!” His eyes widen even further when he realises just how badly he fucked up. He looks back at Luke and blushes.

“I am so sorry, man,” he says, and he means it. Luke stares at him for a long moment before bursting into loud laughter. He holds onto Reggie’s shoulder to keep himself upright, and something about the sight and the sound sends a flutter to Alex’s stomach. Reggie is laughing too, and he keeps eyeing him fondly. It helps to calm Alex some.

When Luke’s laughter ceases into a grin, he picks up the hem of his sleeveless band shirt and reveals a perfect tattoo of Alex’s rambling. It’s not all there is, though. Above it, there is a line saying, Thanks, I also happen to shred on the banjo.

Alex blinks. It fits perfectly with Reggie’s second half. And Reggie does shred on the banjo. No. That can’t be real, can it? They can’t all be soulmates, right? That doesn’t happen. He looks up to meet Reggie’s beautiful green eyes, and he’s beaming at him. Then he meets Luke’s, and the stranger - because that’s what he still is to him - grins from ear to ear.

“Well, boys. Nice to meet ya. Soulbros, or some shit.”

Alex makes a face. Reggie giggles and shoves at Luke’s shoulder.

“Soulbros?”

Alex faintly wonders if Luke is straight and makes up for the platonic part of their little triangle. Luke raises an eyebrow, grinning.

“No? Okay, well, that’s good. ‘Cause I think you’re both like, insanely cute.”

Alex blushes, he knows he does, and he’s comforted by the fact that Reggie blushes, too. Red blotches appear all over his cheeks, and it’s the most beautiful thing.

Luke seems to have no qualms about anything, and Alex thinks that makes sense. He and Reggie do still need a little more confidence between them, and a little more of a doer, since they both tend to be talkers if no one pulls them along.

“Uh, yeah, Reggie and I are already dating,” Alex says. Luke nods as if he likes to hear that. He’s definitely adjusting to this weird three-way situation much faster than Alex is.

“Sweet!” he says and beams at them. “Also, boys! We can start a band. How cool is that?”

Alex stares again, feeling like he’s missed something. He and Reggie have been talking about starting a band with their friend Bobby for so long, but they’ve never done it.

“I play the guitar,” Luke explains, “And I sing, and write music.”

Well, Alex thinks, that makes more sense than anything he’s ever heard before in his life. Just like their soulmarks suddenly make the most sense in the world.

+++

Reggie falls for Luke first. Alex sees it happening right in front of his eyes, and he wonders if he should be jealous, but he stomps out that spark before it can be set aflame. They’re all soulmates and it was bound to happen. It’s not like he doesn’t feel it too, the magnetic pull towards Luke. Luke is wonderful. He lives and breathes for his music, he’s driven and passionate, and kind. There is a depth to him, too, and Alex thinks he can’t wait to explore it. Alex would say he’s the most beautiful person he’s ever met, if it wasn’t for Reggie. They are so different in so many ways, but that’s one thing they have in common.

“I think I want to kiss Luke,” Reggie says one afternoon when they’re 16 and hanging out in Alex’s room, listening to music and waiting for Luke to pick them up and take them to Bobby’s place for their band practice. “Is that okay?”

Alex smiles at him and pulls at his arm to make him straddle his hips. He reaches up to brush a loose strand of hair off Reggie’s forehead.

“Of course it is,” he tells him. Reggie beams, but Alex can see another worry crease appear on his forehead.

“You don’t want to yet, do you?” he asks carefully. Alex shakes his head.

“I’m happy to kiss just you for now.”

Reggie smiles again and leans down to press his lips against Alex’s. Alex wraps his arms around Reggie’s neck to keep him from pulling away as he deepens their kiss. Alex loves kissing Reggie. He thinks it’s the best feeling in the world.

They’re still kissing when Luke bursts into the room. Reggie startles so badly, he nearly falls off the bed, and Alex knocks his head on the headboard.

“Aw guys, without me again? I’m really starting to get a little jealous here,” Luke pouts.

Reggie gives Alex a look, and Alex nods, encouraging him to go on. So Reggie jumps up from the bed and takes a few strides across the room to step into Luke’s space, push him until his back hits the door, and then kiss him right on the mouth. Alex expects jealousy, but he only finds himself feeling warm all over. He loves them both, he knows, even though he might not have any desire to kiss Luke just yet. It’s mostly just due to his nervousness anyway, but even that makes no sense, because it’s not like Luke would reject him.

He watches Luke kiss Reggie back eagerly, his hands roaming over the other boy’s back as he keeps him close and tilts his head for a better angle.

When they pull apart, Luke smiles happily, and Alex feels that flutter in his stomach again. He knows he won’t last much longer. Especially now that he’s seen Luke kiss Reggie. Maybe he kind of… wants a taste anyway. But not just yet, even though Luke is giving him a longing look over Reggie’s shoulder and it does all sorts of funny things to his chest.

They’re 17 when he finally gives in and kisses Luke in the middle of one of his impassioned rants about the song he’s working on. Luke gasps in surprise, but immediately lets go of his guitar to bring a hand up to the back of Alex’s head. He kisses him back the way he plays music. He gives it his everything. It’s the best feeling in the world, right on par with kissing Reggie.

When Alex pulls away, Reggie is grinning at them from his spot on the floor where he’s idly plucking at the strings of his bass. Luke is smiling happily and promptly wraps his arms around Alex’s waist to hug him, holding on tight.

“Dude, you had me so worried. I was half convinced you didn’t want me like that. That this part of the triangle is strictly platonic for you or something!” he says.

“I told you, babe,” Reggie comments. “He just needed time.”

Alex shrugs.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just-- I get so nervous sometimes and--”

Luke interrupts him by pulling him into another kiss.

“I know, you dork,” he says, then turns towards Reggie, “You’re both dorks.”

Reggie doesn’t even look up from his bass when he says, “Yeah, but you love us anyway.”

“That’s fair. I really do,” Luke says, shrugging, then clears his throat, “Well, soulmates. Let’s get to work. We got an important gig to rehearse for.”

- End. -

#julie and the phantoms #ralex #ruke #lalex #peterpatter #sunset curve #luke x reggie x alex #jatp fic #how to tag this lol #Anonymous

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labelleofbelfastcity · 3 years

Text

fig and gorgug’s excellent adventure

word count: 1.7k

read on ao3 here!

“Bill, my most esteemed colleague…”

Fig looks over at a quietly snoring Gorgug, his face softly lit by the shadows of Bill and Ted on her crystal. Even after a year of knowing each other, a few months of which were spent in a cramped cell together, she hadn’t known he snores. It had never been quiet enough, she had never been quiet enough, to notice that about him.

If Fig focuses, she can feel the rumble of the tour bus against her back, and, if she leans her head against the metal wall by her shoulder, the vibrations of tires over asphalt rattle around in her skull. They’ve only been on the road for a week, with just two concerts under their belts, and Fig is already kind of exhausted.

It’s a lot. The managers and the calls home and the makeup assignments for missed schoolwork. She probably wouldn’t even be doing the latter, but Gorgug spends his allotted midmorning time sitting at their extremely tiny table, with papers of Barbarian Theory and Engineering 1 scattered around him, and she’d feel like an asshole to just watch.

Fig hasn’t been sleeping well, either. The little bunk seems to press in around her, shoving her into an even smaller version of herself. Which feels stupid to complain about, because Gorgug is over a foot taller than her, since his growth spurt over the summer, and he’s sleeping just fine.

As if to prove her point, Gorgug shifts in his sleep, curling closer into Fig’s side. It’s just past one in the morning, and they have a gig tomorrow so Fig should really be sleeping too, but she’d felt like crying, for some reason, alone in her bunk. She’d crawled into Gorgug’s, instead, and pulled up Bill and Ted while he blinked blearily at her. It didn’t take him much longer to fall back asleep—now with his arm tucked around Fig’s shoulders—and Fig continues to hide from her emotions by watching Ted philosophize.

“Hey, Gorgug,” Fig hisses, burrowing her head into his chest in a way she knows will stick him with her horns. “Gorgug.”

“Hrmgh,” he grumbles, shifting more so that Fig can’t really poke him anymore. “Go to sleep.”

“No. Gorgug, hey. Come on, dude, I have an idea.” She doesn’t, really, more the idea of an idea, just like how Bill and Ted only operate on negative brian power and a pretty homoerotic bromance.

Homoerotic. She must’ve texted Kristen too much yesterday.

“Sleep is my idea,” Gorgug says, but it’s more of a sigh and a yawn wrapped up together and stretched like a yawning cat.

Fig’s brain unhelpfully supplies an image of sleepy Riz—ears cocked all funny and pupils absolutely giant. She shoves it back into the little chest lovingly marked “Bad Kids” that she’d constructed the second they drove away from Elmville because Fig is great at compartmentalizing and hiding her feelings. Totally.

“I’m bored, I want to do my idea.”

“You’re watching Bill and Ted.”

“No, I’m not. I’m talking to you.”

“Then stop talking to me and go to sleep.”

Fig huffs, about to say something just into the realm of mean, but then she feels Gorgug smile against the top of her head, and she relaxes a little.

“What’s your idea?” He asks, still sleepy, but also endearing in that goofy and sweet Gorgug way.

There’s a pause, while Fig tries to come up with her idea. The bus trundles along and Bill and Ted continue to kidnap historical figures. Finally, she says, much quieter than is warranted, like it’s some big secret she’s been holding close to her heart, “I’m gonna find a chronomancer so we can go back in time.”

“Like Augefort?” Gorgug yawns again.

“Absolutely not, Augefort doesn’t have Rufus energy.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Maybe not a chronomancer, then, but like, someone who’s fucked with time, ya know. It would be cool to hang out with someone who’s fucked with time.”

“Like Augefort?” Gorgug says, before amending, “No. Wait. Rufus.”

“Yeah, Rufus,” Fig agrees. “Except if Rufus were hot, I think it would be more fun if our Rufus was hot.”

“Rufus is already hot. He’s got… sunglasses.”

Fig giggles and Gorgug snorts too. “You need your eyes checked, dude.”

“We watched the,” he yawns, “the Matrix last month. That’s what you said about Neo.”

“Uh. Neo is Keanu Reeves so just, automatically hot. Which. Speaking of. Bill and Ted are right there, dude.”

Gorgug laughs, quietly, voice still gummy with sleep, as he pokes her gently in the side, “I thought you liked older men.”

Fig makes a face that is very scandalized and very affronted. “That doesn’t mean I like Rufus.”

Gorgug shrugs, as best he can while in cuddle-mode. “I don’t know…”

Fig huffs and whacks him on the arm. “Maybe we should go to sleep.”

“Works for me,” he says, and settles back down.

“Hey. Hey! Don’t go back to bed, Gorgug. I’m still talking.”

He grumbles and turns his head even further into hers, trying to shield his eyes from the crystal’s light. “Watch your movie.”

“This is our movie, Gorgug. It’s ours.”

“It’s too late for it to be ‘our’ anything.”

“You’re no fun, you know that? No fun.”

“I’m sorry,” Gorgug says, way too sincerely for her to continue down that line of teasing.

“Hey, no, it’s fine. You’re tired, I should let you rest.”

Gorgug’s hand moves where it’s on her shoulder, rubbing over her sleep shirt, and then pausing, “Hey, is this mine?”

“Um,” Fig says, because it is, in fact, his. He’d left one of his Owlbears t-shirts on a chair, right after they unpacked all their stuff onto the tour bus, and she’d thought about it for approximately three seconds before snatching it and chucking it at her pile of clothes.

That first night, neither her nor Gorgug had gotten any sleep, sitting on the floor of the bus between their bunks, anxiously going over lyric and style choices for the next night’s show. So the shirt had waited until after their first concert, when both of them had been too tired to do much more than change out of sweaty, smoke-filled clothes and fall into their respective beds. It had smelled comfortingly of the Thistlesprings’ homemade fabric softener, but Fig’s varying states of cleanliness have not helped the smell stick around.

Now, though, cuddled up against Gorgug’s chest, she doesn’t miss the shirt’s smell. It’s nothing compared to the real thing.

“It’s okay if you took it,” Gorgug says, cracking a small smile. “It looks better on you anyway.”

“Since when do you have an eye for fashion, Mr. Hoodies-In-Summer?”

He reaches around and pokes her on the cheek, “Hey, my hoodies are a catch for women ages thirteen to twenty-eight.”

“We did sell, like, a literal ton last night,” Fig says, snorting.

There’s a lull in the conversation. Bill and Ted shred some sick air guitar.

“...It’s a little weird,” Gorgug says, eventually, in that introspective tone of his that promises paternal questioning.

“What is?”

“That we’re sophomores in high school and have so many people, like, caring about us. Or, I mean, watching us. Like, I guess we’re famous, or something? That’s weird.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I guess I never thought about it like that.” Fig’s been too caught up in the whole being famous thing to think about what it means for her, a fifteen year old, to be famous. She isn’t a fan of thinking about it, actually, and decides to put it off even further. This is why Gorgug’s the thoughtful, considerate one.

“That’s probably why you’re better at songwriting than I am,” Gorgug muses. “You just do what feels right.”

Fig shifts a little, so she can look at him better, his features cast in the shifting colors of the crystal. “Dude, that’s like all drumming is. Like, just playing your emotions and not overthinking it. And you’re literally the world’s best drummer.”

“Oh,” Gorgug laughs, “I wouldn’t say that.”

“You are. What other teenager gets to go on a tour while they’re still in high school?”

“Um. The Jonas Brothers?”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but if you compare our music to the Jonas Brothers again I will stab you with my horns.”

“I really don't think they’re poky enough to do that—”

“Stab, Gorgug. With force. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll take your word for it.”

“Wo-ah,” Ted says, on the crystal.

“Wicked,” Bill chimes in.

“What if we talked like them at our next concert?” Fig asks, “Just come out with full Bill and Ted voices and keep them up the whole show.”

“That sounds… hard.”

“No, it would be fun! Like, um,” Fig switches into the voice, drawing out her vowels and smiling dumbly, “we’ll totally get babes like this, dude.”

“You can get princess babes,” Gorgug says. “I’ve got Zelda. That’s basically the same thing.”

“Oh my god, you’re too cute,” Fig burrows closer to him, back in her usual voice.

She can tell Gorgug’s blushing by the bashful tone of his silence. “Um, thanks. I should probably call her tomorrow.”

“Do you mind if I join too? I really like her, she’s nice. And sick as hell.”

“Yeah, that would be fun! We can show her our set, maybe.”

“Totally! If school wasn’t on right now we could’ve brought her along.”

“I don’t know, wouldn’t that, like, Beatles us?”

“Did you seriously just mention another boy band? Also, beyond that, did you use the Beatles as a verb?”

“Er.”

“Sometimes, I wonder how you ever made it into the punk-rock scene. And then I remember that I invited you.”

“Thanks for doing that,” Gorgug says, wrapping his other arm around Fig’s shoulders. “I never really said it before, but, thank you. This has, um, it’s meant a lot to me.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, dude.”

“It’s, like, kind of everything right now, Fig.”

“Oh.”

“So, I guess, um, thank you. For inviting me to join a band with you and taking me on tour.”

“I, uh… Of course. Thanks for being my drummer, Gorgug. I’ll always take you on my adventures.”

“And I’ll always go with you.”

Bill says, “Excellent,” on the crystal screen, smiling at Ted with big eyes.

Yeah, Fig thinks, as Gorgug sighs and smiles into the top of her head. Excellent.

#bellewrites #this one was short so i figured id post it like this #fantasy high #dimension 20 #fig faeth #gorgug thistlespring #i want more content about them so i decided to make it #fic #fanfic #hopefully the formatting works if it doesnt i sincerely apologize

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illfoandillfie · 4 years

Text

The Come Down

Pairing: 70s!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Summery: It's hard for Roger to unwind after the excitement of playing a gig. But you have a favourite way to help him.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), but also quite fluffy, rough sex, enough to leave marks but nothing overly kinky, some hair pulling, scratching, shower sex.

Words: 4226

A/N: This started life as a blurb about brushing Roger's hair - a thought I haven't been able to shake for at least a week - but gradually turned into a full on smut fest lmao. I guess Rog just has that effect on me...

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies

It’s Pavlovian, the way you react to Roger’s playing. If he wasn’t so charming you’d curse him for it. How all you have to hear is him counting everyone into the first song of the night and already you’re thinking about later, about what happens when you get home. Most weeks are the same though you’d never call it a routine. That sounds too boring, too predictable and Roger is anything but boring and predictable. But there is a pattern forming. And it all starts with that fucking count. The way he twirls his drumstick as he settles himself to play. He’s wired from the beginning, from even before they get on stage. Bouncing on the balls of his feet as they get ready, endlessly joking and playfully teasing. So much so that your side hurts from laughing just a little bit. And that energy, that excitement, only grows as they play. Feeding off the noise of the smoke-filled bar and the way people cheer and his mates playing beside him. You watch him every show, close to the front though a little to the side of the stage. He can’t see you anyway and being out of the main crush of people makes it easier to get to the bar again if you want another drink. Not that you ever do. You’re too entranced by it all. The way the four boys perform, make it look so effortless, though you’ve heard the spats and hours of practice that prove it’s not. The way the crowd follows them and spurs them on. Girls with eyes glued to the fingers roaming over frets and plucking at strings. Voices slurred with alcohol or rough from yelling or husky from smoking, all mixed as they call out names of favourite songs and cheer no matter what gets played next. Your attention wanders back to Roger more than anyone else though. Hands rapidly flying from one drum to another, his whole body caught up in the movement, twirling his sticks between notes because he can and he wants everyone to know it. His head tipped back, flung forward, hair and eyes wild. You don’t quite understand how his hair doesn’t get in his way, doesn’t annoy him with the way it flicks around every time he moves. But it mustn't because he refuses to cut it whenever you make the suggestion.

By the time their set is drawing to a close you’re feeling pretty fired up yourself, high from second hand smoke and the bass drum vibrating through your bones and the way Roger’s glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, his shirt open, the necklace you gave him glinting as it catches what little light there is. The final notes ring out, overwhelmingly loud, and you know that’s your cue. Ducking under arms and squeezing between people as you push back to the bar to order the usual after gig round of drinks. The barman knows you by now, so you don’t have to say anything before he’s pulling out glasses, a mixture of shots and pints and a couple of cocktails thrown in for colour, and by the time the selection is laid out before you the boys have materialised at your side. Roger is quick to wrap his arm around your waist as you all down a few shots and then grab the rest of your drinks and head to a table. The lack of space between you and he doesn’t stop a couple of bold women from approaching, flirting with him as they congratulate the band on another great show. He thanks them, polite but uninterested in whatever they’re trying to offer, and pushes on with you tucked tightly to his side.

For a while you just hang out but Roger’s still completely amped. Half his beer is gone the first time he brings the glass to his lips and he fidgets in his seat, restless energy personified. He’d play a whole second set if he was asked. No one asks. Instead he crosses his legs, un-crosses them, slouches low, sits up, arm on the back of your chair then dropped to grab your hand then rubbing your knee then tapping the top of the table. His laugh is frequently heard cutting through the noisy conversations around you as he leans across the table, sits back, slides lower in the chair and then pops up straighter once more. Never still for long. It’s a relief when Brian suggests packing everything into the van. You help them wind up cords, carry amps out the back door. When everything’s packed away there’s more drinking and joking around. Roger’s hands wander a little further, unashamedly squeezing your arse or sliding up your thigh until you remind him where you are. The room feels ten times warmer than it did before and you wouldn’t have stopped him except your sat across from his best mates and something about the way he’s touching you makes you think he doesn’t have the cognitive awareness to recognise that. He’s just got too much adrenaline, too much energy he doesn’t know what to do with, fogging up his brain. He obviously has ideas though, the same ideas you’ve been trying to ignore since he first sat down at his kit. He leans towards your ear, asks if you’re ready to leave. You nod, say goodnight to the others. Roger tells them to stay out of mischief, voice a little louder than it needs to be. “Look who’s talking,” “They’ll be no mischief on my watch, I’ll look after him.” “Y/N you’re an enabler,” “As long as he’s not getting arrested,” “Oi, fuck off,” “Quick Y/N, get him home before he slags off the wrong person,” There’s laughter and a round of see you laters, a few nicknames the boys wouldn’t want their mothers to hear, before you exit the bar, Roger’s arm around you once more.

His voice is still loud on the drive home and he taps out a beat on the steering wheel, antsy, eager to continue the night unobserved by everyone else. Your ears are still ringing so you can only imagine what’s going on in his head – a play by play of the best parts of the set probably. A song he likes comes on the radio so he turns it up loud, winds his window down, grinning at you, letting the whole neighbourhood hear the whine of the guitars. “We should cover this one,” he half shouts, accelerating a little, the rhythm of his tapping fingers changing to match the music, “Fuck! We should cover it! Bri’d go feral for the chance to play it,” You agree though you aren’t sure he hears you. You’re lucky he hasn’t started air drumming along. It happened once before, his foot suddenly hitting the break as he put it down in time with the song’s beat. You’d only been going slow then so all you’d had to deal with was a honk from the car behind you. Roger apologised, promised to be more careful, and you laughed it off. It’s a bit of a wonder he hasn’t ever repeated the mistake with how into the music he gets, how absentmindedly he drives, especially after a show and a few drinks. Muscle memory and second nature. Maybe he shouldn’t be driving but you live close enough that it doesn’t even cross your mind to call a cab. The song fades out and is replaced by yours. The song that was playing in the second hand store you’d met at. Roger takes his eyes off the road to find yours, smiles, clearly thinking about that day. You’d been trying on a dress you’d found, modelling it for a friend to get her opinion, when Roger had complemented your look, suggested adding a fur coat to it. He offered his own but said he’d need your number so he could get it back. You’d laughed at the line but decided you could afford to reward his boldness and written your number on the back of his hand. The coat had kept you warm for the rest of the day and many since. You’re about to say something about the memory, ask Roger if he really thought the pickup line would work (judging by the look on his face when you’d pulled a pen from your bag and grabbed his hand, he hadn’t) but he’s already singing along, hand squeezing your thigh again as his attention shifts back to the road. He glances at you a few more times, encourages you to sing along by holding his closed fist in front of your face like it’s a microphone. He keeps singing as he pulls up in front of your apartment, turns off the engine, steps out of the car. You meet him at the edge of the driveway where he grabs your hand and twirls you around in a circle, both of you giggling. And then he’s heading inside, up the stairs, pulling you along with him.

Your heart is beating faster now, fully aware of what’s coming, like one of Roger’s drum solos playing out against your chest. Roger doesn’t disappoint. He opens the door with enough force to make it bounce off the wall behind it, helping it shut with a kick from his foot. His hands are well and truly occupied, resuming their path over your body, grabbing and squeezing. There’s a flurry of movement from his hands, like he isn’t sure where to start or rather like he’s eager to start everywhere all at once, before he focuses in on your shirt and getting it off of you. It hits the ground carelessly as you walk backwards, further into the apartment, but Roger’s fingers are already working at the fly of your jeans. He gets the button undone, gets distracted trying to kiss you without overbalancing. His hands slide over your stomach, your sides, down to grab your arse and pull you into him. It’s only then he remembers the zip on your pants and moves one hand back to pull it down. You start removing his clothes but you’re too slow for his liking. He has energy to burn and he wants to burn it right away. No stopping to savour the moment, no slowly working up to the big finale. No, he wants to be in you already. And it’s impossible to pretend you haven’t been thinking about exactly that since right back at the start of the evening. You kick your jeans across the floor as Roger tears his own clothes off. There’s enough time for half a breath before he spins you around to face the wall, pushes your back to make you bend at the waist. He doesn’t bother to remove your underwear at all. Fiddling with the clasp of your bra would be too time consuming and why bother pushing panties down when you can pull them to the side instead. He laughs as he realises just how damp the crotch of your knickers is. “Good. Don’t need to worry about fingers.” You gasp, tense up as he plunges into you. His grip on your hip is tight enough that the tips of his fingers have turned white, keeping you in place as he roughly fucks you. A small scratch appears in the wallpaper as you try to find a sturdy grip. An impossible task. You have to make do as best you can, relying on Roger to hold you in place. “Love how wet you get from watching us play,” “Just you, Rog,” you whimper as he uses you. He laughs, somehow grasps you even tighter, “Good. My needy little groupie.” He nips at your neck and you turn your head, lips opening with a whimper as he pushes himself deeper into your heat. The kiss is messy, teeth colliding as he tries to release all that pent up energy he’s been carrying around since he exited the stage. You don’t cum that first time, you never do. It’s about Roger’s need for release, Roger’s excess energy, not yours. But you don’t mind. He’s gone above and beyond for you plenty of times before and he’ll do the same plenty more to come. The least you can do is be a pliant hole for him to get off in after each gig.

You stay bent over, palms pressed firmly against the wall, as Roger gives a few extra thrusts, prolonging his own pleasure, before he pulls out. You stay there as he leans against you almost hidden by a curtain of his own hair, panting heavily in your ear, until he can find it in him to stand up. You stay there, with his hand on your back to keep you in place until he sees his cum dribble from your cunt. He’s calmed a bit, the bounce in his step a little less pronounced, but he can be worn out further. He needs more, needs to fully come down from the high of playing, if he wants to get a wink of sleep. When you regain your full height and turn to face him, he kisses you. He almost catches you off guard with it, making you pull in a sharp breath as his lips meet yours and he presses you into the wall. You feel completely breathless when he pulls back, dizzy from the taste of him. You both laugh softly as you look at each other, still so close you’re breathing each other’s air. “You’re sweaty,” you say softly, , dragging one palm down his chest, pouting a little. The statement is fact but it’s also code for please keep fucking me. It’s the sexy kind of sweaty. “That’s what happens when you play drums and then come home and fuck a slut,” You try to hide the shiver his tone sends along your spine, how hungry for more one little degrading name can make you. Unsuccessfully judging by the way Roger winks at you. He knows you too well, knows which buttons to push to turn you into the needy slut he so enjoys using and you so enjoy being for him. Not that it takes much to get you there, especially after he’s dropped a quick load in you and left you eager for your own release. If you had the space you’d drop to your knees to clean his cock with your tongue, taste yourself on him. But he’s still got you up against the wall, boxed in by his arms, so instead you bite your lip and give him a look that you hope comes across as either sexy innocence or sultry seductress. He laughs again, leans into your ear, “You need it that bad, love?” You just nod as he catches your earlobe between his teeth and gently tugs. There’s no point pretending otherwise. “You’ve wanted it all night, haven’t you?” He pouts back at you, teasing, mocking you for being so easy, “Let’s give her what she wants then.” He’s hasn’t quite finished speaking when he grabs your hand and pulls you into the kitchen. Sometimes you make it to the bedroom, sometimes you don’t. Tonight there’s no chance, or at least not until you’ve taken him a few times. He clears off the small square table where you eat most of your meals with a sweep of his arm, sheets of uni notes and scrawled ideas for the band fluttering to the floor, beaten there by the loud thump of one of his biology textbooks. The moment the surface is free he’s lifting you onto it, pulling your underpants off as you focus on your bra. When it too has joined the mess on the floor you lie back, arms around Roger’s neck to keep him close, the cold pendant hanging from his necklace making you shiver as it gets caught between you. He kisses you again, bites your lip with a smile and then dips his head towards your chest instead. You twist the ends of his sweat damp hair around your fingers as he enters you again. It’s not quite the same as when he took you against the wall moments before but it’s still rough, fast, hard. The first time he fucked you like that you were surprised such an angelic, pretty, soft boy could be such a devil. Biting you, pulling on your hair, leaving you with marks from how tight he held you. But you left him with marks too, nails digging into his arms and back, tugging on his hair as much as he tugged on yours. He’d just laughed when he saw the scratches in the mirror. Laughed and told you he loved you for the first time. A lot of firsts that day. He says it again now, words gasped between rapid breaths and those little whines he makes. You’d say it back except you’re not sure how to form words anymore, aside from fuck and god and his name if he’s lucky. He doesn’t mind though, he always enjoys making you speechless. You moan as he mouths at your neck, pounding into you like a fucking jackhammer, and he raises his head just enough to gloat. “Feels good doesn’t it love?” You’d call him an arse if he’d just slow down and let you breathe, a cocky bastard, a big-headed prick. You must manage to stutter one of them out because Roger responds. “T-think you mean epic – fucking – shag,” there’s a few panted breaths and then an order to rub your clit and you don’t even consider disobeying, slipping a hand between your bodies to find it. Your so close already, wound up beyond belief, eyes screwed shut and body arching as you moan. It only takes a few more moments for your climax to hit, accompanied by a violent thumping from the other side of the wall that you barely hear and that Roger only laughs at.

When you can open your eyes again they meet Roger’s. He’s still leaning over you, both palms braced against the table top, but he lowers himself a little to kiss you, smiling against your lips. You mewl as he pulls out of you once more but he swallows the sound. Slowly he retreats, pushes his hair back from his face and then takes your hand to help you sit up. He stays standing between your legs, kisses you a few more times as you both relearn how to breathe properly. His nose bumps against your cheek as he finds your lips once more, like a cat displaying affection. It’s a much softer kiss. “How’re you feeling?” “Mmhmm, good,” your voice sounds raspy to you so you swallow as best you can before saying more, “need a shower.” He laughs again, a soft puff of air against your mouth as he rests his forehead against yours, “Always so practical.” “One of us has to be,” “So you keep saying. D’you think you can stand?” “Let’s find out. Get ready to catch me.” Roger helps you down, helps you stand on shaky legs, helps you walk to the bathroom. He insists on helping you into the shower too, saying he feels responsible for your lack of mobility since he’s the one who fucked you so well. You bat his shoulder but let him accompany you into the bathroom and under the steaming water. “Mr Johnson next door hates us by the way,” he said it with a grin, looking very happy with himself, “Think we might have been overheard,” another laugh, his hand sliding from your waist to press against your pussy. You lean against Roger as his fingers rub over you, collecting the evidence of the evening so far, sliding along your slit before pressing into you. “Think we can piss everyone off a little more though, don’t you,” You agree with a soft moan, the sound echoing around the small bathroom as Roger pulls his fingers free, lifts your leg, slides into you once again, pressing you against the cold tiles on the wall. Its much slower that time. Partly because of the location, partly because Roger isn’t as hyped as he was before you got home. He holds you tightly though as you whine into his neck, his fingers on your clit. The noise makes your head spin, the drops of water hitting the floor of the shower, his grunts and encouraging words mixed with your own sighs and moans, all of it bouncing around the room, layered over each other. Your orgasm builds relatively slowly, kept alive by the constant pressure around your clit more than the cock buried in you. And Roger doesn’t chase his release like before, doesn’t thrust into you forcefully. Rather, he just holds you as close as possible, bucking his hips a little but mostly just enjoying the way you clench around him as you get closer to the edge. He swears in response to the way you tighten, warns you he’s close. You reach up and drag your fingers through his hair, press your lips to the base of his throat. He doesn’t hold out much longer, running out of energy to maintain control like that, pressing you firmly against the wall as he fills you again. His fingers fall from your clit as he shudders through his release but it’s only a momentary lapse, the pressure back even as you whine at the loss. You both know you’re close, Roger leaning into your ear to tell you to let go, to cum for him. When it does hit, it’s not an earth-shattering orgasm. You don’t see stars, don’t scream, don’t collapse in an exhausted heap. You let out a soft whine against Roger’s skin as warmth spreads through you, calm and nice. He rubs his hand over your hip until you let go of his hair, let your foot drop back to the floor. The steady stream of water reminds you where you are as Roger kisses the top of your head. He asks how you feel now, stops hovering quite so close when you say you’re fine to stand on your own. But he doesn’t go further than the corner of the shower, watching as you wash your hair and lather yourself in soap, just in case. He gives you a hand out when you’re clean but stays under the shower himself while you get changed and take care of your post-sex routine. When you glance back at him he’s got his eyes closed, head tilted back, relaxing.

You’re sitting in bed, a book open in your lap, though you aren’t really reading it, when you hear the shower close off, the soft pad of wet feet, and Roger appears in the doorway. He digs around in his clothes for a minute, finds some clean underwear and slips them on quietly. He smiles at you, a soft sleepy sort of a smile, as he takes the towel to his head, trying to wring as much water from his hair as possible. When he can’t be bothered with it anymore he lets the towel drop to the floor, a problem for tomorrow much like the rest of the mess you made through the apartment. A trail of lust fuelled destruction you’ll need to pick up and put away. He grabs a hairbrush from the top of the chest of draws and sits beside you, trying to hide a yawn. “Tired?” “No,” Roger lies, settling himself and beginning to work the brush through his locks. “Well I am so if you were planning on starting another round you’ll have to do it on your own,” He shakes his head as he tugs the brush through a particularly knotted section, “I’ll keep – fuck – I’ll keep that in mind. You got any spare socks I can use?” You laugh but Roger winces as the brush gets caught once again. “Jesus, knew I should have used more conditioner,” “You want some help with that?” “Yes please,” You mark your page and place the book to the side before pushing yourself to your knees and shuffling closer to Roger. He turns around so his back is to you, handing the brush over his shoulder. Slowly and carefully you start to untangle the knots his hair has twisted into, pulling the brush through small sections over and over until it runs smooth. “You ever think ab-” “I’m not cutting it Y/N,” “Just a suggestion,” “If I cut it you’d have nothing to hold on to.” “Fair enough,” You keep chatting as you brush Roger’s hair, able to feel him relax against you, the tension leaving his shoulders and neck, able to hear the exhaustion in every word he says. By the time you’re done his eyelids are drooping, every ounce of the overabundance of energy gone. “C’mon babe, time for bed,” you say, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Roger just nods, shuffles around until he can crawl under the covers. You put the hairbrush on your bedside table and join him, laying on your side to face him. He takes one of your hands, lazily tugs it to his lips. “Love you,” “Love you too, Rog,” He lets his eyes close but doesn’t release you. Not until he’s well and truly asleep.

#my fics #my writing #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x reader #look i just love writing boys who are cocky little shits but also very somft

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sweetheartyuta · 4 years

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Bandslam! Taeyong

Happy to be back - bunny x (PSA this is reposted from squares react where I was Admin luna, the blog has since went inactive so I’m transferring my works to my new account :))

• So you’d been friends with taeyong since you were in diapers and you’d been inseparable ever since, you always had each other’s backs and were always very protective of one another. • You were both very musically talented, taeyong with his ability to write such meaningful lyrics and play the electric guitar expertly and you had a “great voice” as taeyong would say and definitely weren’t too shabby on the drums. • You’d spend the majority of your time together practicing in your parent’s soundproof garage, making covers and posting them online, which definitely got you some recognition at school and a growing support group online, although it was a small following it was greatly appreciated by you both. • With your growing support online you quickly befriended Johnny who was a magician on the electric keyboard and jaehyun who was a wiz on the bass guitar and soon enough, the pair quickly became the new additions to your band • anyone that looked over at the four of you would have thought that you had known each other forever. • When you joined together as a band, no other high school in your area could compete with you four, you were a force to be reckoned with, often asked to perform at school ceremonies and even prom. • That night when you rocked up in a dress with drumsticks in hand he saw you in a completely different light, like he was staring for so long Johnny had to punch him on the arm and was like ‘’dude are you okay you’re staring” • “wha- oh yeah I’m okay” realising he’d been staring for too long a pink hue made its way to his cheeks • He was at a loss, you looked simply radiant, he had always seen you as his best friend but the hammering in his ribcage was telling him a different story, after playing a few songs for your fellow classmates he made his way over to the food, trying to figure out what it was he felt when he looked at you. • A gentle tap on the shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts as he turned to meet your eyes gazing at him worriedly • “ dude are you okay you’ve been really quiet all night, this isn’t like you” • And because he’s not sure what was going on with him either he just smiled and reassured you, it wasn’t a fake smile though because he was always happiest when he was around you, he didn’t have to fake a smile. • He felt a tug on his arm and was then dragged to the dance floor “come on doofus let’s dance” he laughed at your comment and felt a warmth in his chest, after all these years you hadn’t changed at all, you never were one to follow the crowd, you were always your own person, dressing how you wanted, stood up for what you believed In and never changed who you were just for the sake of popularity. • And that is what he lov- liked!! That was what he liked about you • A slow song played next and you both groaned, you had talked about that cliché moment at dances when the couple get up to dance and a slow song starts to play but you laughed together as you started to sway to the beat. • Your hands held his shoulders lightly, as your head rested on his chest, almost like a hug, while his hands slowly made their way to your waist, causing an acceleration in his heartbeat though you were too busy to notice as you hummed along to the song. • He closed his eyes, never wanting to forget this moment, the moment he realised he liked you, more than a friend, he took in your sweet voice, quietly singing along to the song when all of a sudden you snorted as you looked across the hall to find Johnny and Jaehyun dancing the same way you two were to make fun of the both of you, he couldn’t help but laugh too at the sight in front of them. • Jaehyun was leaning his head on Johnny’s shoulder as they were almost the same height, twirling around the hall as they listened to you laughing. • They were so happy for taeyong, they knew before he did that he would have feelings for you, the way his ears seemed to perk up when you talked in a conversation, you balanced him out, he had a cold exterior, his prominent features scared many into thinking he was a very cold person but after befriending him the boys knew differently. • Whereas you were bubbly and had friendly features and they took a liking to you instantly, they first realised that taeyong liked you when they joined your group, the way he was overly protective as he was used to things just being you and him, it took him longer to accept the boys than you. • But now taeyong couldn’t imagine life without the three of you and couldn’t be more grateful for three friends he knew would be there for him for life and the trio felt the same way. • After prom taeyong would be so confused, noting things about you that he had never realised before, the way you lit up band practice when you walked into the garage, the way you threw your head back and you closed your eyes when you found something really funny and he couldn’t tell whether he actually had feelings for you or if it was just a crush. • So one day at lunch you’d be sitting at a table with Jaehyun and Taeyong and Johnny walks over with a poster in his hand and slam it on the table “guys you know we have to enter this right ?!” • You’d share a hesitant look with taeyong, although you didn’t deny the talent your band had, you had never participated in any competition therefore you wouldn’t know the kind of talent the other groups had • The competition meant business though, the winning group would receive a record deal and cash prize, the two things any aspiring musicians wished for • After some persuasion from Johnny you gave in, looking around the table you smiled, you wouldn’t want to take part in the competition with anyone else and it would be stupid to pass up an opportunity like this, jaehyun and Johnny high fived and cheered, sending all of the attention in the lunch room your way • The four of you knew that there was no chance you’d even qualify without a lot of practice. After countless nights spent in the garage you auditioned and qualified, making it to the final, although you had done well throughout the competition and received good feedback from the judges. You knew that winning the competition without doing something to make yourselves stand out wasn’t happening

• So you decided to come up with your own song, yes it was a risky move but with the lyrical geniuses that are jaehyun and taeyong and your knowledge of composing music mixed with Johnny’s editing skills you were pretty confident that you could create something great that would catch the eye of the judges and may give you the edge. • You all decided to stay at Taeyong’s house, giving you the opportunity to shoot ideas back and forth (while devouring a mountain of Doritos) and ask the guys for their opinion. Your eyelids slowly started to droop after five hours of nonstop composing and changing things around, you rested your head comfortably on Taeyong’s shoulder, slowly falling asleep. • It was a normal thing you would do but it felt different this time to Taeyong, his heart leapt at the sight of you laying on his shoulder, with your laptop balancing on your legs and shallow breaths leaving your mouth • He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to (he definitely didn’t) so he placed your laptop carefully onto the table and placed an arm around your waist, the guys had fallen asleep an hour before, tiring themselves out by eating so much pizza • He placed his lyric book on the ground and wrapped a blanket around you both and slowly fell asleep himself. • You were the first to wake up and you were surprised to say the least when you felt someone’s arm around you, you looked up at Taeyong to see him sleeping peacefully, a small blush forming on your face • Your feelings towards Taeyong had started to bloom recently, you just couldn’t imagine your life without him, always planning your futures together, he was your partner in crime and you were always curious if you would work out as a couple. • The next few band practices you had were all night-ers, trying to perfect the song, changing the tuning slightly as you did. Both Jaehyun and Johnny had begun to pick up on your feelings for Taeyong and began to put a plan into action, they’d leave you two alone at lunch time and say they had detention for doing something stupid and go sit in the library to give you two time to talk. They’d set the wrong time for band practice so they’d get there half an hour later than you did. • Basically doing anything to let you guys figure out your feelings for one another. • So anyways the day of the bandslam final comes and you were well prepared and you knew that even if you didn’t win you still tried your hardest and you still had your three best friends and nothing could change that. • Don’t get me wrong though, you were up against some pretty stiff competition, the level of talent was insane but you didn’t have much time to think about it since you were one of the first bands to play. • ¬¬the look of confusion which very quickly turned to excitement that came from the judges and the crowd was priceless as they realised you were playing your own song, though Taeyong looked more nervous than usual. • You let it slide because you thought it was just because of the competition but little did you know he was planning on asking you to be his girlfriend if you won • The performance was definitely one of the best you’ve had, you couldn’t help but feel emotional at knowing all of the hard work you put in had paid off and the reaction from the crowd was something that you never wanted to forget. • The competition was left down to three different groups, all of which had did very well with their performances, standing on the stage waiting for your results you felt like your heart was about to drop to your stomach. Taeyong took hold of your hand and interlocked it with his own, giving it a squeeze, you looked up to Taeyong who gave you a reassuring smile. • You were too busy in your own thoughts to realise your name had been called out as the winning group, everyone was screaming and you were pulled into a group hug by Johnny “wE DID IT GUYS, WE ACTUALLY DID IT” • Taeyong pulled away from you and grabbed a mic and got the attention of the crowd who were cheering you “so I promised myself I’d do something if we won this competition” he turned to face you taking your hand in his own “ will you go out with me?” • And god, you would be in tears now if you weren’t already crying, you’d nod your head and pull him in for a hug, shyly kissing his cheek. • To be honest the two noobs were probably freaking out more over the fact you said yes to being Taeyong’s girlfriend than winning the competition, they’d pick you both up and spin you round “IT’S ABOUT TIME WE THOUGHT IT WAS NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN” • Honestly this was a day that would go down in history for all four of you, though you’d be the biggest winner of all because you got a record deal and walked away with Taeyong not just as your best friend, as your boyfriend.

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melyaliz · 4 years

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Remember me pt 6

Master List

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x OC

Notes: No idea what to say sooooo.... Enjoy?

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

-0-0-0-0-0--Bakugou--0-0-0-0-0-

During the last of their three-day stint, Kirishima had joined Bakugou to finish up a few things in their office away from home. After spending the morning in briefings both heroes were grabbing some lunch before heading back to the hotel.

The 100-degree weather that had graced the October sky had finally broken and many of the employees of the large building were outside enjoying their lunch in the shade. Just glad to get out of the cramped offices to enjoy some pleasant weather.

One of them was the Starbucks girl.

“Dude, isn’t that band you like?” Kirishima asked elbowing his best friend in the side, making Bakugou grunt with annoyance.

He had noticed her when she had come out. Holding a bag and talking to that same guy she had done the presentation with. Today she was dressed in a cute leopard print skirt and a black band tee. The words Gojira sprawled across the front, below it was a black and white image of a large whale leaping up from an ocean.

“Yeah” was the simple response as he dug into his chicken burger.

“So do you need me to go over and say hi or are you going to actually go over there and talk to her?” Kirishima asked nonchalantly as he took a bite of his food. “Or are you just going to keep checking her out like you have been all week?”

Bakugou coughed slightly, eyes wide as a rush of anger came over him. First off, there was no possible way he could have been checking at her all week seeing most of the week he had been miles away dealing with earthquake relief. And second, he was NOT checking her out!

“I don’t need your help asking a girl out!” he snapped before grabbing his plate standing up. Sometimes Kirishima’s pushy personality was so annoying. Walking over to the table the young woman was sitting at he sat down

“Nice shirt”

“Do you like Gojira?” she lit up as he spoke to her as she put her phone away. That was a good sign.

“Yes.”

“Have you seen them in concert?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, “Me too, it was probably one of the best. It was Knotfest and some guy broke his nose in the mosh pit.” she paused stumbling over her words slightly before looking at him, obviously unsure what the Japanese word would be.

“Moshpit,” he said nodding

“Oh ok, it was a lot of fun.”

“You don’t look like the kind of girl to like Metal,” Bakugou said studying her. While he had only seen her around a few times she always seemed very put together. Dressed in bright colors normally very girly looking with her purple ombre and perfect makeup. She chuckled awkwardly, putting some hair behind her ear.

“I don’t listen to it on the regular but the best concerts I have been to are Metal ones. What bands do you like?”

“The classes are a good go-to, Metallica, Iron Maiden, even Slayer, but I like Meshugah and Lamb of God too,” he said sandwich forgotten. At the time he hadn’t noticed it but he found talking to her so easy. Her questions always open-ended, giving him a reason to tell her about himself. Something later on he learned to really appreciate. She had a way of really listening to people and asking just the right questions to get what information she wanted.

“Oh Lamb of God is insane. They aren’t really as heavy but I have a soft spot for Mastodon.”

“Their drummer is pretty good.”

“Do you play drums?” she asked, cocking her head to one side, catching his comment.

“No, I just like songs with good drummers.”

“I’m here for a good drum solo” she nodded, “I always wanted to play but I’m also super uncoordinated.”

“It’s not that hard,” Bakugou said picking up his sandwich again taking a bite as if he was making some sort of point.

“How are you enjoying San Diego?” she asked following his social que and taking a bite of her salad.

“Well, I spent most of it in a pit.”

“Oh true, well at least you have a few days off, anything planned?”

He shook his head trying not to think about the fact that she had noticed him around too. Well, they did have that conversation two days ago at Starbucks.

“Well I recommend trying a California Burrito or any Mexican because you are here. Beaches are pretty, OH! Actually you and your friend should go to Hodad's, it's kind of a San Diego staple. What do you like to do?” her words coming out in a rush of excitement.

He shrugged, “I mostly work and train at home.”

“There are some nice hikes by the beaches.”

“You like the beach?”

“Yeah why?” she blinked, confused by the sharp question. Trying to think why he would be asking her that.

“You keep bringing it up.”

She giggled shrugging, “The ocean cleanses you. It’s calming. And I’m sure you need to relax after saving the world.”

“I’m not saving the world just your border.”

“Well, it's some people’s worlds you are saving.”

“I guess” he shrugged unsure what to say. She was right of course. That was his job. To save people’s lives and in a way their worlds.

Another lull and she poked at her salad taking a few bites. It was then he realized he didn’t know her name. Assuming it wasn’t Grape. But he had no idea how to ask.

“Ground Zero,” she said slowly, “Do you prefer that, or your name?”

“You can call me Bakugou.”

“Thank you” she paused for a moment, “You can call me Olive.”

“I thought it was Grape,” Bakugou said, deciding now that he knew it wasn’t Grape, he could poke a bit of fun at her name and their last encounter. However Olive seemed unphased.

“Oh yeah!” she burst out laughing shaking her head, “It’s kind of a joke between me and the Starbucks barista. Every time I go in she comes up with a new food name for me.”

“That’s stupid, why not just use your name?”

“ Why else does anyone do anything? Because it makes us laugh.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Olive had fallen asleep hours ago but Bakugou couldn’t seem to drift off. With her body curled up next to his was just too much. After everything they had been through, knowing how much farther they had to go. All he wanted to do was pull her to him. Kiss her. Feel her around him. Remind her how much he loved her. How he could make her feel. Show her just how much he loved her.

It was like his body on was on fire having her that close.

He couldn’t take it.

Getting up he slowly disappeared from the bedroom going into the personal gym that was on the far right end of the hallway. If he couldn’t sleep at least he could work out. Starting with a low run on the treadmill he placed his headphones in letting the music pound through his ears. Angel of Death by Slayer blasted in his ears as he took to a fast run letting his feet rush forward. Pushing, fighting through whatever burning frustration that was trying to consume him.

Control, he just wanted something he could control.

He was lifting weights when he felt her presence. Turning he saw her standing in the doorway watching him rubbing her eyes. Arms wrapped around herself, her dark hair messy from sleep. It made his heart skip at the sight. Like some stupid highschool girl.

“Why are you up?” she asked blinking owlishly at him.

“Couldn’t sleep, just go back to bed.”

Guilt was written all over her face. She was biting her top lip studying him unsure what to do. He had seen that look before. The one where she was trying to decide to just leave it or force him to open up to her.

Letting out a long sigh he sat up wiping away the sweat from his face. “Just go back to bed, I’ll be right there.”

“I… ok” she said, slowly walking back to the bed.

After a quick shower, Bakugou went back to the bedroom to find Olive sitting up fighting sleep worry still etching on her features. “Oh stop it” he chastised, rubbing his still wet hair with a towel. Throwing it into the basket he crawled up into the bed next to her. She watched him as he settled in before finally speaking.

“How… how do we normally sleep?” she asked, determination in her voice. A force of nature. He knew that voice. She wasn’t a pushy person but she was a fighter. She was stubborn in her convictions and would do whatever she could to fix something. When they would fight he would scream and yell and she would just sit there arms crossed until he was done and then ask what needed to change. What needed to be fixed.

“You are basically on top of me” he admits knowing she will know if he is lying. Not that he ever would. He wasn’t a liar, and even if he was he could never lie to her.

She giggled at that nodding. “Eliott used to say I would chase him around the bed.” she was too tired to try and cover up his name. Dance around it.

“Yeah,” Bakugou nodded, laying down on his side. “I don’t mind.” it was more of an invitation. A prayer. He wanted to feel her in his arms again. Feel her legs tangled up in his. They used to end up in the strangest positions all twisted up so in the morning he wasn’t sure where she would begin and where he would end.

Scooting up Olive curled up into his chest. Her soft smell filled him. Sweet and clean like the color pink and summertime at the beach. Sugar covered fruit and cool water. Gently he ran his callus fingertips over her arm. Enjoying the feeling of her smooth skin and for a moment he forgot she didn’t know him anymore. That it was just another late-night cuddle session that he was being (not so) begrudgingly forced into.

Bakugou woke up to his alarm going off. Letting out a soft moan he stretched, feeling his wife’s body cuddle closer to him. Her arm draped over his chest. Looking down he couldn’t help but smile running his fingers through her hair letting the dark black and rainbow colors play as they fell onto her back.

She stirred at the sound of his alarm mumbling as she reached out feeling his body under her fingers. Letting out a content sigh she pulled herself closer only to then have her hand move slowly up his torso feeling his taut stomach and abs.

Letting out a squeak she jumped away, eyes adjusting as she fully woke up. Blinking at him as if looking at a stranger in her bed.

Which, -he painfully reminded himself- he was.

“Morning,” he grumbled slowly pulling himself out of bed. She watched him for a moment pulling herself together trying to piece together reality from whatever dream she had been waking from. She had never been a morning person. Lilly had jokingly called her Zombie Olive, warning Bakugou that she wouldn’t be fully coherent until at least 2 hours after she woke up.

“Morning Katsuki,” she said hesitantly, “did you sleep ok?”

“Yeah, you?”

“I made a few mistakes,” she smiled at him, jumping out of the bed almost tripping over the sheets that were tangled around her feet. He turned fighting back a smile.

She was still there. Slowly but surely cracking open.

After doing their morning routines the couple reconvened in the kitchen. Bakugou whipping up some eggs with furikake.

“So what are your plans for today?” Olive asked, taking a bite of her food watching him as he plated his own breakfast.

“Just work, I’ll be back late”

she nodded, “I’ll probably call Lilly and then read my books,” she flashed him a toothy grin, “I need to know what ideas I have written and what I need to get back into.”

“Good luck with that,” he said “I think it was a Western.”

“Oh really?”

“You don’t talk too much about your stories but you did tell me that.”

“Do you read them?” she asked her face slightly flushed at the thought. While she was fine with strangers reading her slutty stories she had always found it hard to have people she knew read them. It was just kind of weird. Like her stories were a different person, not really Olive. Which was why she used a pen name, Delilah Flint.”

“Not really,” he wanted to add that he had the real thing. The woman behind the stories was always up for an adventure to try new things. Why would he want to read about some dirty cowboy plowing his soulmate - or whatever - when he could just do it himself?

Not that there was a lot of that going on right now though.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The office was a bit busier than he remembered.

“Morning bro, how’s Olive?” Kirishima asked, holding up some files as Bakugou walked into their agency. Well, it was Bakugou’s agency but Kirishima shared it because they worked well together and figured why not.

“Not crying,” Bakugou said, “she seemed excited last night to read her stories since she couldn’t remember them, something about reading them for the first time.”

Kirishima chuckled, “Maybe we should have her meet Deku again, start that over again.”

Bakugou frowned at the memory. They had met at a UA reunion almost year after Bakugou and Olive had started dating. Olive had been drunk and Deku had found it hilarious to poke fun at Bakugou. Telling the first girl Bakugou had ever been interested in, about Bakugou's very angry childhood. Unfouranity for the previous number one hero he didn’t realize that Olive was a mama bear when it came to the people she loved. And even if they were in the wrong no one spoke poorly about them.

“Oh by the way.” Kirishima said, handing him some files, “We got statements from the police from the robbers. Apparently that third guy… he only spoke English.”

“What?”

“Yeah, the one who hired them only spoke English. I thought it was weird since…”

“Olive was the only one who lost her memory?”

“Her and the guards but theirs was only for a few moments.” Kirishima paused looking at the files that were slowly starting to smoke in his best friend’s hand. “Hey man… uhhh do you want me to take those?”

Bakugou felt a rage wash over him. Was this an attack on Olive? There was no way. How would someone even know she was at the mall? There had been a witness who had told the police she had helped a mother and two kids get out before running back to try to help someone else. But that was it. He had just assumed that she had run into the thieves and since they couldn’t lay their hands on her due to her quirk they used a memory wipe.

His phone dinged breaking through his thoughts. Turning he noticed that Kirishima was holding the files waving them, the edges singed slightly. Glancing down at his phone he noticed it was the very woman he was thinking about.

Olive: "Hey do you know what my computer password is?"

Bakugou: Doley11

Olive: You're the best thank you!!!

He frowned looking down at the phone then shot back another text realizing something. She didn’t know anything,

Bakugou: We have an alarm system in the apartment so don't leave I'll show you how to use it when I get back

"Ok"

Bakugou: And the stove can get tricky so call me if you need help.

Bakugou: Actually my assistant's name is Kygome.

Quickly he texted off his assistant's number

Bakugou: If you can't figure something outcall her if you can't reach me

Bakugou: But text me first

Olive looked down at her phone as the slur of texts came pouring in. From the few days, she had known Katsuki she could tell he was a man of words and less emotions (except for annoyance, he seemed to have that in spades) but… this was kind of cute. He was worried about her.

But also what had she done before to warrant this kind of worry? She was a bit of a dumbass, sure, but also-- he needed to relax.

Olive: Thank you, I'm in the computer now and lucky me I still label my password doc the same so I should be good as for everything else I'm tough I got this!

Settling in she pulled up the document titled “Dragon Dick FINAL” this looked promising. started to read.

Meanwhile, Bakugou was working with his team about maybe taking a few days off. The thought of leaving Olive alone not knowing anything starting to get to him. He needed to make sure she was safe first. He could work remotely for a few days. Besides if this guy really was after his wife he needed to make sure he kept her close.

He had already failed her once. He wasn’t going to do that again.

-GET TAGGED-

Master List

Story Tag: @0hmydeku @inumorph @it-jinxed-us @myraticm

#bakugou katsuki x oc #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x oc #bakugou katsuki long fic #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki fluff #my hero academy oc #My hero academia fanfic #bnah fanfic #my writing #remember me

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flymetothejoon · 5 years

Text

masked (m)

pairing: drummer!jungkook x reader genre: smut, angst, hidden identity warnings: alcohol use, sexual content, foul language, adult themes, mentions of death, dirty talk, public sex, fingering word count: ~8k description: Silver Tooth is a local rock band that is becoming so mainstream that seeing them live is almost impossible. It isn't until your friend scores a new position as a guitarist that you find yourself indulging in the craze. Although their songs are catchy, Silver Tooth's popularity is attributed to one main factor— their mysterious and dangerous masked drummer.

...................................................

Standing in a long line outside a sleazy bar was definitely not your idea of an ideal Friday night, but when your friend finally catches some type of break after landing a guitar position in the infamous band Silver Tooth, it became a priority to come out and support him.

You can't help a scoff of distaste from leaving your lips as a drink spills onto your sneakers. You mumble quietly to yourself and shake out your foot, only to step back down into a foaming puddle of dirt and alcohol. You can barely see the damage that was done from how dark and misty the air is. Your best friend, Fia, erupts in laughter at the altercation, but you sigh to yourself.

You weren't fond of the night life in your town, and as much as you hated to admit it, you wanted to enjoy it. You were tired of hearing all the rave reviews and stories from peers about how much fun seeing Silver Tooth play live was. You had to push aside the rumors and your fear to get here.

"I thought the whole point of him being in the band was that we wouldn't have to do this," you complain, gesturing to the chaotic line.

It has been nearly an hour of waiting in this beer infested swamp of an alleyway. You'd think that after many months of Silver Tooth's growing popularity that the employees at The Waypoint would figure out how to work by now. You grimace as the smell of weed and garbage engulf your senses.

Fia is quick in a defense. "I already told you that we can't go backstage because of him."

"Because of Slash?" you ask for clarification.

Slash is their drummer. He's well known because no one knows who he is; he conceals his identity using a skull mask and a stage name. You've only ever seen pictures of him— or his body, rather— in the articles online. He's the main reason why you are apprehensive about coming out tonight.

Fia nods, "we can't see who he is."

Even without knowing who he is, publicized medias have made it their mission to tell the general public; newspapers have plastered everything and anything about Silver Tooth in the entertainment section. The mystery behind the mask has enticed their audience. The newspapers portray Slash as being dangerous and horrific, and the rumors surrounding him serve as a testament to his danger. It brings an unwelcoming feeling to the pit of your stomach. Slash is mentioned in all rumors regarding disappearances, murders and shady business.

"...shouldn't we be worried for Hoseok?" you question her. Your friend is now assumed to be in the lion's den with this guy. He's been practicing nonstop with the band for the past few weeks.

"No," Fia rolls her eyes. "I'm sure those stories are just for publicity."

"They could be true," you mumble.

There's something eery and unsettling about the atmosphere surrounding the band. This is obvious just by the look of their venue choice; The Waypoint is the grimiest bar, yet it is the only place Silver Tooth ever conducts their shows. It's a pity, really. That's why it's almost impossible to get a ticket— the bar is compact and located in a bad part of town.

You can't tell if it's excitement or nervousness that you feel when the line starts to move into the bar. Your throat feels dry and the preconceived attitude towards tonight has started to eat at your insides. You follow behind Fia in conscious steps after you present your ticket to the bouncer. A bright green band is slapped around your wrist, indicating your admittance to the afterparty.

Immediately you're welcomed by dim lighting and a crowd that pans towards the small stage at the back of the bar. You don't realize you're clenching your first on the back of Fia's shirt until she turns around to look at you.

"Relax," she chuckles. "Just wait until you see Slash play."

"You've come here before?" you gape with wide eyes.

It's then that your body is jostled forward by the influx of people coming in behind you. Both you and Fia are pushed along with the rest of the crowd, and it's as if no one cares about getting a drink as they fight for a spot closest to the stage. Fia is one of those people, pulling you along with her to evade the other Silver Tooth fans. You stumble over your own feet a couple of times before catching your breath.

Fia looks at you, and you force a smile to assure her you're okay. You aren't. You are already standing in another puddle of alcohol and chips; the sensation of crumbling food is enough to make you want to go home. People continue to shove you forward even though there is no where to go. Your thighs are scraping against the edge of the stage.

"Murder me, Slash!" a girl screams during the momentary silence.

Everyone in the crowd erupts in cheers. You can't believe it, eyes wide again because the people around you reference his murdering accusations so lightly. It doesn't comfort you at all; they're fans. They don't want to believe it. But you do.

"He's everyone's favorite," Fia tells you, presumably reading your expression. Her voice gets muffled slightly from the chatter around you.

You lighten your own mood by saying, "maybe Hoseok will change that."

The two of you start laughing at the thought of your mutual friend. Hoseok has been passionate about guitar ever since he was young. Given the breakout success of Silver Tooth, you were proud of him for chasing after his dream; however, you still worried that the reputation following the band would affect him. You worried that the reasons there was an opening for him would result in the same demise. The only thing you could hope for tonight is that somehow your mind would be changed.

Your heart jumps when the sound of a fumbling microphone fills the air. The speakers are too big for the tiny space, and the sound echoing from the sound system causes you to flinch each time a tap is made at the microphone. The crowd is restless and rowdy; they cheer for almost everything.

"Who's ready for a show?" the man on the stage asks with great enthusiasm. His voice blares into your ears through the microphone. The feeling of bodies behind you has yet to stop, and only gets worse as the crowd erupts into more loud screams.

You're squinting at the MC until you realize that you know who he is— Siwon. He is the owner of this shit-hole that you're standing in. He's partially responsible for why you will probably have to buy new sneakers after tonight.

"It is my honor to present to you a band that feels like they could be my sons," he says. "Their loyalty to only playing at The Waypoint has continued through all of their success. I am so proud to manage these dickheads."

The crowd enjoys everything this man says. Fia glances at you with a knowing expression. She leans into your ear. "He was the first person to let them play in public. They haven't left since."

"Humble of them," you remark sarcastically.

This man is only here to appease the horrifying rumors about Silver Tooth and touch some heartstrings.

"Have an open mind," she nudges you. You glance at her touch and notice the flask she is offering.

"I didn't realize you were such a fangirl," you joke, but there's truth in that. You had no idea Fia found guilty pleasure in standing in a sweaty, head banging mosh-pit.

You exhale and shrug to yourself before backing down a large sip of the stinging liquid from the flask. It burns the back of your throat, but nothing could hurt less than your dignity at the moment. The alcohol is wet against your lips when the cold metal leaves your mouth, and Fia doesn't waste a moment to do the same.

You smile at each other as the low sound of guitar starts humming throughout the air.

Surprisingly, no one in the crowd cheers. All is silent besides the strumming guitar. The lights have turned an icy blue, and seemingly from the shadows of the stage walks out the lead guitarist. You don't know his name. You glance behind you at the crowd, but no one is moving. The blue hues of light have cascaded down on each stranger's face, but their facial expressions almost look hypnotized. For a moment you feel as though that could be canon, but suddenly the guitar starts to pick up slightly and everyone puts their hands in the air.

Looking back at the stage, it's as if it is a one man show. The guy's fingertips are moving so fast yet so slow on each string of the guitar. You are intrigued by his skill, and the melody is addicting as well. Your heart is racing along with the building tempo of the music. It's then that another guitar joins with a large, dominant strum of one of the chords. It's Hoseok.

"Oh my God!" Fia gasps, only glancing at you for a moment to not miss anything.

The two guitarists appear to be riffing against each other. There are still no cheers from the crowd; you feel like you're missing out on an inside fandom ritual. The music is filling every inch of the place, not sharing with any other sounds. You catch your jaw agape before snapping out of the intense haze. The calmness doesn't last for long.

The lights suddenly turn a crimson red simultaneously as a loud bang of the drums erupts. The spotlight is on him. The crowd goes wild with shouts and cheers.

Oxygen evades your pores and you hitch a breath from the back of your throat. You're scared to swallow or move; chills rack up from your spine but you force yourself to stare. Slash has made his appearance merely five feet from you, and you can't seem to grasp the touch of reality for a moment as your eyes first lay on him. You feel scared, in some deep rooted, bedtime nightmare sort of way. The presence of the dark and ghostly features of the skull mask have presented themselves as a trigger for your fears. It excites you.

Silver Tooth's main vocalist has finally appeared, and once his mouth opens to start the lyrics of the song, the crowd is jumping up and down with wild hands and yells. You can't stop staring at Slash; his arm muscles are already glistening in sweat as they work seamlessly to guide the two drumsticks. His masked head is nodding as he plays— it looks effortless.

"Come on!" Fia tugs on your arms to get you to jump along with her.

You can't help but do it. The music is better than you expected from an underground band like them; your body starts to jump to the beat, and your hands are in the air before you can stop yourself. Alcohol is partly to blame for your excitement, but the band is still impressive nonetheless.

You feel guilty for not watching Hoseok, but your eyes are trapped in a Slash fantasy world. Every inch of his exposed body has got you hooked. Knowing there is a boundary between you two has given you much needed relief.

It's the last song on the setlist and you're soaked in sweat before you know it. You can feel the strands of hair sticking to your neck, but the chaotic and crowded atmosphere that you hated in the beginning has now fueled you to keep going.

The crowd is chanting the words to the song, and one part in particular causes the whole bar to get involved. Slash then stands up from his drum set.

"What's going on?" you look at Fia worriedly.

"It's just a thing he does," she assures you nonchalantly.

You're terrified as the masked ghost makes his way to the edge of the stage. The guitar is still going on without him, but his covered eyes are now searching the crowd with his arm extended out. Your eyes can't help but travel downward to critique the rest of his body. You're mentally having a panic attack at the sight of his muscular physique— now especially including his thighs. Fitted in a white sleeveless tee and tight, leather looking pants, he has gotten you more worked up than you want to admit.

"Me!" shouts begin from the strangers beside you in the pit.

Me? What are they volunteering for?

You lose your breath again when he jumps down into the pit. Surprisingly, no one rushes at him. Everyone in the crowd moves aside for him to walk freely. Your eyebrows raise in shock at the fact that Slash is now walking just beside you. You back away into the people behind you in fear of him singling you out. There is a looming sense of fear plaguing everyone in the crowd. They feed off of it.

"Murder me!" the girl from earlier yells again.

It's a bizarre feeling to watch someone's expressions when they have no facial features. You're forced to examine his body language, and from the sound of the girl's words, he tenses only for a moment before figuring out where to go next. You're holding your breath as you watch him; various people are leaning over others just to touch his shoulder lightly, and others are trying to get him in the background of their selfie. You are standing in shock still— just staring. Each time Slash turns to a different section of the crowd, the people flinch back slightly.

Slash hands a girl across the room his drumstick. The moment he releases the object, she collapses into her friend's arms. Slash doesn't notice, however, because he has already climbed back on the stage to jump around with the rest of the band as the song comes to an end.

"He must go through a lot of drumsticks..." you trail to Fia with a dry throat.

"I wanna fuck myself with his drumstick," she replies vulgarly in a drunken slur. You giggle along with her insanity.

You feel breathless when the setlist ends and the lights go out on stage. Fia's hand is in the air to get Hoseok's attention, and he gives a happy nod at the two of you when he sees her.

Your eyes fall to Slash; his outline is just enough to see him through the darkness. You wait patiently, wanting to catch him taking off his mask, but of course, he doesn't. He is spinning the one drumstick in his hand as he walks off the stage along with Hoseok, the lead singer, and the lead guitarist.

And that's that: your first eye-witness account of Silver Tooth. You don't know whether it's the alcohol or the experience that has made you feel so happy.

"What did you think?" Fia asks you. You can barely understand her slurring mess of pronunciation.

The performance was enough to distract you from your ruined shoes, so you reply, "I liked it."

The crowd is already funneling out. The stage crew has begun to dismember the equipment to make room for the DJ, and when you check the time, it's close to one a.m. The two of you make your way near the bar. You're relieved to lean against a table and catch a breath. There is already a small group of people ordering drinks at the bar, all wearing afterparty wristbands like you and Fia. They must be friends of the band members.

Fia is stumbling over herself to sit on a stool. "I can't even remember what my last name is."

"What?"

"I drank... way... too much," she mumbles. "Anywho, what'd you think of Slash?"

Her insinuating tone of voice and small nudge towards you makes you roll your eyes. The pulsing alcohol in your body isn't enough to make you forget how terrified you were of watching him. It was a weird feeling.

"The mask is terrifying," you admit your thoughts in a slow response. Your words are turning to mush and you can barely get your thoughts in order.

"Apparently he doesn't take the mask off even in the bedroom," she giggles, "if you know what I mean."

"If he's pulling girls with a fucking mask on, then what am I doing wrong?" Hoseok interjects with a bright smile.

Fia's drunken emotions cause her to show a big reaction at the sight of Hoseok. She cheers as if he has just won something, clapping at him with a large smile.

"You were amazing!" she exclaims. "I didn't even notice that Yoongi was missing."

You shift uncomfortably in your seat at the mention of the disappearance. It bothers you that everyone, including your best friend, is acting like this dark cloud following Silver Tooth is something to just be brushed aside. It isn't the matter of just someone going missing— it was that it was someone in your town. You could be next.

"What's wrong?" Hoseok notices your drop in expression.

"Noth—"

Fia interrupts you, "she's worried Slash is going to murder you."

"What the fuck?" Hoseok chuckles.

Your influenced mind has gotten the best of you. "You know what? Yeah, I'm concerned. He scares me."

"It's just a mask—"

"Is it true that he has a bunch of scars and shit underneath it?" Fia interjects.

You huff, "probably from his victims trying to escape him."

It can't be a coincidence that the news reported a skull mask at the place where the old guitarist had been last seen. Unfortunately Slash has never been convicted; anyone can put on a skull mask. You wish you knew more about the mysterious guy. With the distance between him and what you know about him, it made you fearful. You wish it made Fia fearful too.

"Don’t listen to the media," Hoseok scoffs playfully.

"Bad things happen all over town because of him! People getting robbed, beaten, murdered."

"Not because of Slash!" he defends.

Your drunken hand flies up in an exasperating gesture, "how do you know for sure?"

"Careful," an unfamiliar voice interrupts the conversation. "He can probably hear you."

Your heart drops for a moment at the joking stranger. When you look over towards the voice, relief still doesn't rush in; walking towards you is the main vocalist and guitarist— everyone except Slash has made their appearance. It's incredible how attractive each member of this band is. They join you at the table.

"Who the hell cares what he's done anyway. Have you seen his body?" Fia raises her eyebrows.

You can't help but laugh stupidly at your friend's comments. Finding amusement in her total disregard for her well-being is easier than worrying. You're trying to enjoy the night, just as you told yourself before getting here. It's difficult.

"You're not going to introduce us?" the lead guitarist says to Hoseok.

"Oh," he laughs. "Right. Namjoon and Jimin, this is ___ and Fia."

"You should bring them around every week," the singer, Jimin, says slyly. With his dark hair pushed back, and his lean body being exposed through a half buttoned down tucked shirt into jeans, you can't help but blush from his remark. He leans his elbows down on the table in front of you.

Your cheeks heat and you glance away awkwardly to hide your expression.

"Amazing set, guys. Really. I'm a huge fan," Fia compliments them. "And those clothes. I love the tight fitted pants. Especially on Slash."

"You can thank Taehyung for that," Hoseok replies.

"Slash isn't the party type?" you ask. The curiosity has gotten the best of you.

The band members are silent for a moment too long after your question. It isn't until the guitarist, Namjoon, clears his throat with a semi-panicked yet calm response that the silence ends.

"He doesn't come to these things," he says.

Jimin adds with a smirk, "he's too busy finding his next target."

Is he joking? Wide eyes and a panicked feeling overcome you after Jimin's words.

"Who?" a stranger asks.

Everyone at the table looks up. Approaching is yet another pair of men, only this time you have never seen them before.

The one who interjected himself into the conversation is carrying a bunch of drinks over from the bar. Jimin's smile grows and he raises his hands in praise.

"Finally, Jin! I need a fucking drink," he cheers.

The man you only assume to be Jin places the drinks down to the table. His accomplice is quiet and doesn't say anything when he takes a seat across from you. The unnamed man's demeanor is dark and reserved, yet his glinted rounded eyes are somewhat innocent and kind. He has his bottom lip tugged under his teeth, clearly detached from the table of people. His dark hair frames over his face, and intense eyebrows are knitted tightly as he palms a shot glass. You look away quickly when his eyes catch yours. Your heart is racing.

"We were talking about Slash," Fia answers Jin's prior question. You can't help but feel as though the air has gotten tense. Your eyes flick to Jin.

"Ah," he nods. "Don't know him. I'm just the sound guy."

His dismissive response doesn't sit well with you. Jin can't possibly be trying to play it off as if he doesn't know Slash's identity. He was just backstage for the entirety of the night.

"Surely it gets a little hot under that mask," you say.

Jimin starts chuckling after throwing back a shot, "it might be ventilated."

"That piece of shit mask is, like, from the dollar store," Namjoon says and the entirety of the table erupts in a fit of laughter.

You cross your legs, taking a shot from the table and downing it quickly to calm your growing nerves. You don't know why the idea of Slash has made you scared, but you surely can blame the dim lighting and funky smell of the bar for heightening the feeling. Your alcohol influenced mind makes it feel as though you could be on the set of a horror movie. There's an anxious sensation at the end of your nerves.

"We should chill with the jokes," Fia wraps her arm around you and you flinch in surprise. Her drunk arm is like deadweight on your shoulders. "This one here is frightened of your drummer."

You grow timid at everyone's eyes on you. The image of Slash standing so close to you at the edge of the stage is replaying in your head; his built body and intimidating presence is making your skin crawl. You can't help but wonder if the fear has excited you more than frightened you. What has happened to fear protecting you from danger? Why are you more intrigued now that you've entered this infamous lion's den?

You blink from your thoughts, only to make eye contact with the man sitting across from you. His expression is composed and unaltered; it almost appears that a smirk is going to spread to his lips, but your breath staggers when a voice disrupts and you're forced to spare your attention.

"He's a quiet guy," Jimin assures you. "Wouldn't take him for the aggressive type."

"Not even in bed?" Fia leans forward in a soft, drunken purr, almost whispering at Jimin. "Is it true he fucks with his mask on?"

"Why? You into that?" Jimin matches her tone.

The two of them are leaning into each other and everyone is watching them as their lips meet hungrily. You roll your eyes at the two of them with a laugh. Leave it to Fia to find someone with the same twisted fantasy mind as her.

"I would take him for the aggressive type," Jin widens his eyes. The conversation has continued without your best friend and her new fling.

"You would?" Namjoon questions.

"Yeah," Jin nods. "He can break his drumsticks in just one hand."

"He must be practicing for when he does it to people's fingers," Namjoon chuckles before another shot is thrown back.

The one unannounced member of the small group has now decided to get up. He stands silently, almost going unnoticed until you catch a glimpse of his absence from the corner of your eye. He hasn't said a word all night, and now he is quietly maneuvering his way over to the bar. When you look down at all the empty glasses on the table, you decide that drinking water would be your best option. You stand.

"You want anything?" you ask Hoseok before departing.

Hoseok glances at the bar in thought. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly before he turns to look at you; a subtle look has marked his features but he just shrugs with a shake of his head.

"No," is all he says.

The music almost feels louder as you make your way over to the bar. With ease you are able to get yourself there, proving the "time heals" narrative true as the alcohol is finally starting not to absolutely overtake every decision you make. You lean your body against the counter, almost brushing against the unspoken stranger from earlier. He has taken a seat, sitting alone and in his own silence away from everyone else. You can feel his eyes on you as yours chase after the bartender.

"You're staring at me," you bravely say. You don't look at him as you sit down.

A scoff leaves his lips and you're forced to face him. A low chuckle hums from his chest. "Does that scare you?" He asks; he is clearly mocking your expressed fear from the conversation earlier.

Thinking back to the chilling articles and your friend's safety has aroused your paranoia again. You have to admit that alcohol has made you a bit over the top in your feelings. Small worries have now become legitimate fears.

"N-No," you stutter.

"I've never seen you here before," he says lowly.

Your eyes can't help but scan his face. He has a beautiful structured jaw, and every slight movement made with his eyebrows and mouth seem hard and striking, yet he still somehow manages to give a soft and charming aura. His almond eyes are dark and rounded, staring at you mercilessly. It's intimidating, and you swallow hard at how attentive he is towards you. He looks fake; an illusion of perfection.

"...you remember everyone?"

He exhales. "I'd remember you."

The comment strikes a part of you that had been dormant until now; his voice is so smooth and captivating much like his overall presence. Heat spreads to your fingertips and chills send down your spine. The sensation is enough to make you nervously bite on your lip. A breathy laugh escapes you to mask your easy reaction.

"It's my first time seeing Silver Tooth," you say shyly. "I-I'm friends with Hoseok... the new guitarist."

"Just friends?"

You clear your throat at the unwelcoming thoughts now evading your subconscious. The bartender finally decides to pay mind to you, and you're thankful for the distraction as you order a glass of water. You need it. You're starting to feel hot from this sensual, timid conversation that is brewing with this stranger.

He must sense your apprehensiveness, cutting the tension by introducing himself. "I'm Jungkook. I'm just the sound guy."

A smile spreads to your lips at his referral to Jin's introduction.

"___," you tell him. "Just the friend."

"Not a fan?" he questions.

"To be honest, I was actually scared to come tonight," you admit. "I've read so many things about Slash... and it really influenced my opinion."

Jungkook's expression is masked. He doesn't allow his facial features to give away what he's thinking. "But?"

"The music was great," you nod. The cold water feels like a breath of fresh air as it hits your tongue compared to the stuffiness of the atmosphere in the bar. You've probably inhaled enough grime and soot to kill you.

"And what about Slash?"

His question fades into the background of your attention as he leans slightly into you. His broad shoulders are enough to relish at as it is, but now he is showing physical interest when he leans his arm on the bar. Your thighs tighten in an involuntary attempt to convince yourself you're not into him.

You blink. "Hm?"

"Slash," he repeats. The drummer's stage name leaves his lips like a word that shouldn't be spoken. "Still scared of him?"

His question slices at your nerves. Jungkook's eyebrow is cocked at you, and you can tell he is finding slight amusement from teasing you about their masked drummer. Thoughts about the mysterious man have gotten you intrigued again. The same intimidated rush of feeling you experienced when he jumped down into the crowd has returned and your pulse is evidence of that.

"Yes," you breathe.

"But you liked it, hm?"

"I-I was very impressed," you reveal. "The way he plays... I couldn't stop staring. I respect that he works so hard against... adversity."

Jungkook himself looks impressed by your answer. He is frozen for a moment before his hand is on your thigh; his eyes are attentive to your reaction. You lick your lips and shy away from his gaze for a moment to stop yourself from audibly responding to his touch, clenching your thighs from the unwanted sensation that has sparked in-between them. Your skirt seems like a weak defense at the moment, but you aren't sure if you want to be defensive.

His words are breathy and you're falling deeper as he continues to speak. "You'd come back just to see him?"

His fingertips are cold against your heated skin. They move only slightly when you shift in the seat, and you can't stop your breath from hitching at how immensely turned on this guy is making you. You've never felt so swayed by a stranger before— you wanted him. He has something about him that is too hard to resist.

"Yes," you reluctantly agree. "Only when I'm not thinking about being tied up and abducted."

Your attempt at a light joke causes Jungkook's touch at your thigh to become a bit more rough. You shouldn't feel excitement, but you do. He is so tempting.

"That's a shame," he whispers. You find yourself leaning in more to hear him, "tying you up is something I'd very much want to do."

Your mouth falls agape at the words. Suddenly it feels as though his touch his everywhere, and every inch of your body has now ignited in a cold sweat and plethora of ecstasy. His hand at the bar has now clasped the one you had on the counter. His touch is so delicate, a slow burn of sensation that starts at your fingertips and ends with your dampening underwear. You're biting your lip to control yourself.

"You're fearful, but I know you'd want to," he whispers. You're frozen at the close proximity of his face. He smells of fresh cologne. It's almost like he has just showered.

"You do this every week to a new girl?"

A smile pulls at the corner of his lips after your question. Your eyes narrow to peer down at them; they look so plump and soft. You're tempted just to lean in, given he would probably want that, but you don't. You don't want to let go of this anxious feeling— the anticipation for what could happen.

"No," Jungkook replies. For some reason you believe him. "Only ones that follow me around and then accuse me of staring."

His words are filled with slight amusement, but the way he is staring at you gives you an intense feeling. He is very good at making you feel noticed; even the way his stare dances back and forth between your lips and eyes as you speak gives you butterflies in your stomach.

"I was curious," you tell him.

"You're curious about a lot of things," he notes. "Curious about me... curious about Silver Tooth... curious about... Slash. Yet, you still showed up."

"Your point?" you raise your eyebrows at the insinuator.

"You're not scared," he concludes. "Scared people don't involve themselves."

"You're right," you play along with him.

You have a feeling that this will all just end in some smooth pick-up line. Your smirk grows and you place your hand over his on your thigh. He seems surprised but controls his reaction. With a gentle sigh and a knowing look at him, you press your lips to his ear.

"Maybe I do want to get tied up," you tighten your hold around his hand as you speak, bringing it higher and against your inner thigh. He doesn't waste a moment to expand his palm and grip your skin in his hold roughly. The material of your skirt hitches upwards.

"Be careful what you wish for," he warns.

His tone of voice seems much too serious for your playful one, but the goosebumps on your skin aren't prejudice. He is affecting you with every sensation.

Your thighs close around his hand and he shifts in his stool to place his knee between them, prohibiting you from closing your legs. Your eyes awkwardly look back to the group of people you left, only to realize that no one is paying attention to you. You are alone with this new man, fooling around at the bar. You don't typically do this with people you just meet, but Jungkook is an exception. He is doing all the right things.

"I'll do it here, I don't give a fuck," he grumbles against your skin. His hand slides further up towards your heated core and you gasp when you feel his fingers against your underwear.

Your eyes go wide and you push at his chest lightly to stop him. His hand freezes in place and you fight the urge to squirm. If you move, you will only excite yourself more. You didn't think your teasing would lead to him wanting to do it right here.

"No?" he frowns.

"No," you breathe. "Not here. I'm not like that."

He chuckles. "Not like what?"

"Easy."

Jungkook shakes his head at you. His small breath fans your face as he replies, "I'm finding it hard to get you to play along with me, baby."

The endearing title falls from his lips and your throat dries. You shouldn't be falling into his spell so easily, but it's impossible to fight it. By the looks of the way his eyes can't leave you, it appears that both of you have entered a trance that is impenetrable.

"You want me to play along?"

"Ah," he realizes. "You want me to beg? I will. I've wanted to sink my fingers into your aching pussy since the moment you looked at me."

You're searching for air, but you can't find any. Your cheeks heat at his vulgar language and your body reacts before your mind can, hips moving forward against his hand. Jungkook releases a sharp breath of pleasure when he realizes what you're doing. Your chests are touching as he uses his body to shield others in the room from seeing what his hand is doing to you.

His strong grip pulls your stool closer to him. Your mouth falls open, and you bite on your finger to stop a moan after feeling him press against your throbbing clit. Jungkook's fingers slide into your underwear seamlessly, exposing your wetness to his every touch and command. You find yourself leaning into him.

"You like to be told what to do," he coos into your ear. "You're fucking soaked. Is it because I scare you?"

"N-No," you moan.

The loud music is swallowing your sounds. Your hips can't help but want to rock against him, but Jungkook's free hand is forceful and rough, not budging to hold you against the stool. The restriction only makes you want to moan louder.

"You shouldn't ever be scared of me. I can't resist touching you," he murmurs. "I want this pussy to be mine."

"It's yours," you breathe heavily.

Your mouth falls agape and you bite down on his shoulder to stop yourself from being too overwhelmed with sensation. His thumb is moving at a wavering pace against your clit, rubbing circles and hitting every spot that makes your toes curl. You jolt forward into him when you feel a finger inside you.

"Yes," you moan, "keep going."

"Beautiful," he purrs at you, "You're so tight for me. Only for me, right?"

You squeeze the material of his shirt in your grasp when another finger enters you. His thumb continues to tease and roll against your clit. The naughtiness of the surrounding sounds of the people at the bar has enthralled your mind. The thrill of not knowing if someone will see you strangely makes you even more aroused. Jungkook is humming in satisfaction at your responses to his touch.

"Yes," you nod with a breathless response. His dirty words are so hot falling from his deep voice. "Fuck, Jungkook... only for you."

"Mhm," he grunts pompously. "You're such a filthy girl, letting me do this to you here."

"I-I don't... ever do this," you cry out.

You can hear his fingers as they push in and out of your wet folds. You bite your lip and bring him closer to you to stop yourself from being too loud. The cold metal at the bar has become ten times colder due to how heated your skin is becoming. Your mind is in a lull; it feels like hours have passed and yet time is going so slow; torturously slow, from the skillful use of his fingers.

"For me you did," his lips are at your ear, only this time he places a kiss there. He is growling into your ear, "My curious baby. Mine."

"All yours," you practically cry as the pressure becomes too much. You have no problem adhering to his possession kink as your core aches and pulses for his touch. Your lips are swollen and throbbing from how harshly you are biting down.

A heated sensation erupts through every nerve in your body. Jungkook's hold on you tightens as you come undone against his hand, whining out into his shoulder. His lips are on your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin harshly. You suck in a breath and dig your fingers into him. You can feel your heart against your chest as you come down from the high; the room is spinning momentarily.

You are lifeless against Jungkook's muscular body. Your palm can't help but slide against him; his arms and torso are rock hard and solid, obvious signs of fitness beneath all the dark clothing. When you finally look at his face, he is cutely flushed as well. His fingers retract from inside you and you whimper. The wet skin at your neck feels chilled as the air hits it, and the stinging sensation tells you there will most likely be a love bite there tomorrow.

Your chest is heaving and you lean against the bar counter. No one surrounding the two of you noticed what happened, but it doesn't change the slight embarrassment you feel. Nevertheless, the thrill of what happened has stained you— you are exhilarated.

"___!" Fia's voice slices through the air unforgivingly as your name leaves her mouth.

Jungkook distances himself from you thankfully. You're quick to compose yourself and fix your skirt, swiveling around in the stool and downing the last of your water.

"Ah," she squeals. "You'll... you'll never believe what I just did..."

"I think I can," you laugh at the irony.

"I just fucked Jimin three times in the bathroom. Three times."

You're stunned and don't know what to say. There is no way you are going to tell Fia what you just did. Part of you doesn't want to share the intimate moment— not because you feel embarrassed, but because for some reason it was kind of... nice? In the nicest way getting fingered at a bar by a stranger could ever be. Now you felt as though you were just making up excuses for yourself; you're drunk. He was as well. You fear that your hangover tomorrow will prove that this was a mistake.

"Wow," you smile for her excitement anyway. "How was it?"

"Let me tell you," she gapes with a dainty smile, "that tiny man is packing."

The two of you erupt in giggles at her description. Fia is swooning so hard that you think she might faint. It isn't until she glances at your location that she shows a worrisome expression.

"Have you been sitting here alone this whole time?"

"No, I'm with—"

You cut yourself off when you attempt to gesture to the stool next to you. Jungkook isn't there, and you can't believe how distracted you could've been to possibly not see him move. It's almost like when he escaped from the table earlier, except somehow then you caught him just in time. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes scan across the room. He isn't here.

Where the hell did he go?

"Hey, you guys ready?" Hoseok's voice drags your attention away from looking around. When you finally stand from the stool, your knees are weak. You gasp at yourself and stand stationary for a moment to compose your balance.

Both you and Fia manage to walk towards him. His guitar case is at his feet and the low mutterings of the men behind him are filling the air as the DJ has cut out. You check the time— it's 2 a.m. The bar is closing soon. Drunk muttering and girl's giggles are heard from the distance. Your eyes can't help but continuously look around. What the fuck?

"No, like..." a drunken Namjoon slurs at the table. "He could’ve totally murdered that girl."

"Bullshit," Jimin says dismissively. "He was at practice all night."

"Only takes a minute to stab someone," Jin shrugs as if intervening is none of his business.

"Convince me," Jimin prompts Namjoon and Jin. All of them are drunk off their asses and barely making sense.

"I don't know," Namjoon mutters. His words are forming together and his hand is wavering with an almost empty glass of beer in his hand. "Have you heard from her? 'Cuz I sure as hell haven't."

"She was tired of seeing your annoying ass," Jimin jokes.

Fia and you look at each other with alarmed expressions. Suddenly you feel the urge to cry. Namjoon's drunken thoughts could very well be the truth, and just thinking that a murder could've just been on stage entertaining you in a crowd has got you feeling absolutely sick to your stomach. You fear for Hoseok's life; Slash sounds sketchy and untrustworthy. He isn't someone you want Hoseok hanging out with.

"Guys, chill," Hoseok mediates.

"Just speaking my mind," Namjoon puts his hands up defensively.

"Why do you guys stay in the band then?" You demand an answer. Tolerating a killer has never been high on your list of things to allow.

Jimin and Namjoon are too drunk to recognize your anger. Their smiles grow and they look at each other before chuckling loudly; Jimin's hand starts patting at Namjoon's chest and he shows off a cocky grin.

"We're gunna be famous, baby," he gloats.

You scoff.

"___, they're drunk," Fia places her hand on your arm. She is mumbling out her words weakly. Drunk environments aren't the best place to confront issues.

Hoseok awkwardly grabs his guitar case before you can cause an altercation. It could be possible that you are projecting your frustrations from Jungkook's disappearance onto the words of a bunch of drunk men. You have been insinuating Slash's criminal behavior all night, and their drunk conversation could very well be stemmed off of that.

"This is fucked up and scary," you tell Hoseok as the three of you are leaving the bar.

"They were just trying to entertain themselves," Fia assures you, but it isn't assuring. She doesn't know anything. She is too into the band to think anything could be wrong.

"You guys are giving me a fucking headache," Hoseok whines at the two of you.

"I'm worried for you," you frown.

"Don't be," Hoseok sighs. "This band is my break. Finally."

You have no choice but to nod.

The moment your ass sinks into the taxi, you can't help but groan in release. Your head feels heavy and the night feels as though it was longer than just a mere five hours. Alcohol has its way of creeping up on you— but could it have been the culprit for creating a fake man at a bar who pleasured you?

No way, you convince yourself. That was definitely real. What the hell is his problem? You can't believe that you just did that with a complete stranger. He ghosted you within an hour of interacting.

Your sulking stare out the window is interrupted by the buzzing of your phone. The bright light of your screen is hard to focus on, but when you finally do, your heart skips a beat.

unknown [2:23 AM] — still scared of me?

#masked #fanfic #bts fanfic #bts #jungkook #jungkookau #smut #bts smut #bts au #drummer jungkook #drummer #band #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jk smut #flymefic

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paige-and-opal-inc · 3 years

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(A)romantic Story

By: Opal Dreemurr

Warnings: Panic attack, hopelessness, self hate]

"She said yes!" Badger said running up to Dylan. "Of course she did, she's your girlfriend," Dylan responded and smirked. She didn't understand what was so exciting about Kyra saying she would go to the Valentine's dance with him. Kyra is Badger's cute, athletic, talented girlfriend with short pink hair and even shorter skirts. Then there is Badger, where to start, Badger has been Dylan's best friend since they were little. He is the sweetest most caring person she'd ever met. He also had bad anxiety but it was clear none of it was social anxiety. Dylan looked up at his blue-green eyes, then to his curly blond hair, and around at his freckles. He was happier than Dylan had seen him in a while. "Come on, we better get to band practice in time before my mom gets stuck making snacks and basically babysitting the band." Dylan joked around.

Dylan was not surprised to see everyone waiting outside her closed garage, with their instruments in hand. Julio was the only one who was playing his instrument. He had his acoustic guitar out and was strumming a random song. He was probably playing a song that he had written himself. Kyra was chatting Rosa's ears off. Rosa held her trumpet case tightly and quietly listened. Rosa is tall and African American, she really looked nothing like Kyra. "Badger! I have exciting news!!" Kyra ran over to Badger and immediately hugged him. "What is it?" he asked, releasing her from the hug. "We got us a gig to play at both the Jr. high and high school valentines' dances!" She exclaimed. Then she locked eyes with Dylan, the look on her face was as if she didn't even realize Dylan was there. Dylan proceeded to punch in the garage code. They spent the rest of the practice putting together an hour's worth of songs for the dance. Kyra isn't just the lead singer but she is in charge of what they play and where they play. She was basically their manager. "Ok, so love songs are a definite plan. Then we'll also have a lot of AJR, Panic! At The Disco, Set it Off and other songs by high-energy bands. We will each get our own solo so we each get a chance to go out and dance." Kyra exclaimed. She looked so excited, but Dylan was just happy she didn't have to sing at all. Dylan is the drummer for the band, she could handle a drum solo as long as it is short. That was their longest practice yet. Their next week and a half of practices were the most serious, and longest practices she'd ever had. Then the night they had been preparing for came. First up was the high school Valentine's dance. The high schoolers behaved differently than Dylan was used to, so many people had dates to the dance and she didn't know anyone there. Dylan wasn't a very social person. Interacting with new people sometimes led to panic attacks, it was a miracle she could even perform her solo. Of course, it had to be high energy and entertaining, so when she finished and people were cheering her name, she was about ready to puke. Then Badger came up behind her, she almost jumped out of her seat in fright, "Hey good job, we'll take it from here, you can go enjoy the dance for a song or two now." He shouted over the crowd, patting her on the shoulder. She tripped off the last step of the stage. Dances were really overwhelming for Dylan already. There were so many people. There were so many couples around her enjoying their night of romance and fun. Am I supposed to be having a romantic night? Dylan pushed herself up off the floor and left the gym to go to the water fountain. Water didn't help her dizziness. She bumped into too many people to count. Nobody noticed or was bothered, but she felt awful. She was finally relieved to get back on the stage. She heard Rosa softly play her trumpet and Dylan knew it was time to play Prom Dress by Mxmtoon. They played a song or two, but it felt like only a few seconds before it was time for Julio to play his solo. It was his own song, completely on the guitar but everyone knew he was ridiculously talented. Their cheering was almost louder than the solo. This also meant Dylan was back on the dance floor. It was a full-on repeat of what happened last time. Except she bumped into Rosa who actually noticed her. "Hey Dylan, are you ok? You don't look so well." Rosa said, putting her hands on Dylan's shoulders, trying to get her to focus. "Is the dance almost over?" Dylan choked on her words. She couldn't stop her hands from shaking, not only because she was cold but also was struggling to breathe. Dylan needed to get out of there, she felt like she had no business being on the dance floor with all those people but no one to dance with. "Yeah, I'm about to sing the slow song finale. You sit down, I'll send Julio to make sure you don't pass out. I don't wanna bother Badger and Kyra though, they still haven't had their slow dance." Rosa insisted while she guided Dylan to sit on the step of the stage. Next thing she knew Julio was by her side handing her bottled water. "Are you sick?" Julio asked, Dylan was surprised she could hear him. Rosa did sing softly. It was beautiful and soothing. Then she saw Badger and Kyra holding each other closely, slow dancing. "In a way," Dylan answered. She felt broken for not being able to feel that way for someone. "Do you need some medicine or at least some fresh air?" He urged, trying to get something out of her. She shook her head and let the dance come to an end before leaving. They left their instruments because they would be doing it all over again tomorrow.

I can't come tonight. I'm sick. Dylan texted to the group chat the next morning. She stayed in her bed that day trying to sleep, but mostly silently crying. She didn't have a fever or anything, she just couldn't do that all over again. Especially not with people in her own grade there. She would just stay home all day and none of that would have to happen, none of those feelings would have to come flooding back in. Knock, knock. Dylan assumed her mom was bringing her soup so she said "Come in." She did get soup but it wasn't from her mom. "You don't look too good, but I don't think you're sick," Badger said, handing her the soup. The cold feeling came back and her breaths immediately became shorter. "We need you tonight. We can't do this without you." "Yes, you can. I don't need to be there, I'm just the drummer." Dylan snapped. "Whatever this is about you have a whole band here who will support and help you, so please talk to us." "Please leave... I need my rest, but I'll see you tonight. That is if I'm feeling better." Dylan said, avoiding eye contact. She knew Badger was just trying to help and that he did care about her.

She ended up going to the dance that night. She thought she could do it. She really thought she could. For Badger. For the band. By the first slow song, she lost her mind. She lost her balance and began to bump into couples again. She never felt so broken and out of place. She was gasping for air, trying not to cry or throw up. She darted out the gym and even outside this time. She only had her bomber jacket on over her clothes so after five minutes in the snow she began to shiver. Fresh air wasn't what was making it better though, it was being out of that crowd. She usually skipped dances because of her social anxiety or was at least able to leave, but now she had to perform. Eventually, the rest of the band found her. All of them. Dylan turned toward Badger, "I'm sorry I thought I could do it! I let you guys down. I knew we had to perform!" she cried. "Hey it's ok," They all sat around her, " I knew something was up. We shouldn't have forced you to perform." Of course, Dylan wasn't able to hide anything from Badger. He knew her better than himself. "It's not performing, it's the dance, even just Valentine's day... I feel like I'm defective because I can't feel romantic love for others! What is wrong with me?!" Dylan shouted, letting it all out as if she were only talking to Badger. Then she remembered everyone else was there. "You're not defective. You're Dylan. You're smart, you're funny..." Kyra began. "You're sweet," Rosa added. "You're a real talented drummer." Julio continued. They all smiled and for a moment there was silence. They began to walk back to the gym, but at that moment Dylan realized she didn't need romantic love. She already loved her friends but in a different way. It was platonic love and that was just as good. She knew they felt the same way about her. When they got back Dylan found out someone was playing music on a Bluetooth speaker while they were outside. That's when an idea sparked in her head. "Would you guys like to dance with me?" she asked, putting her arms around them.

#aromantic #aro #original writing #oc's #opal writes #orginal story #oc #tw panic attack #tw crying #tw fake sickness #tw self hate #tw hopelessness

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emitheduck · 5 years

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Harvest Moon Ball (Ashton One Shot)

“Do you really expect me to show up wearing this?” Your friend asked, poking her head out of the dressing room. “I really don’t understand why you were so adamant on picking out a dress for me.”

“Because I thought you would have liked it!” You told her, crossing your arms over your chest as you tried to peek into the dressing room. “What’s wrong with it? I picked out a color that would be perfect on you and everything.”

She stepped out, smoothing the dress down, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t know, it’s just a little tight maybe?”

“Who are you kidding? Your boobs look amazing, and you have an ass that won’t quit. Michael is going to go crazy when he sees you at the dance.” You smiled, walking over and turning her to face the mirror. “Think about it, you should wear the nice pair of earrings he got you and they would match perfectly.”

She sighed, turning to face you. “How come you always know what to say?”

You shrugged, picking up the other dress you grabbed in case she didn’t like the current one. “I just know you really well, and we’ve been friends for years. Also I did some looking before hand to try and find an amazing dress.”

“Well then this is going to have to be the one I get. What about you, do you have a dress?” She asked, closing the door to get changed.

Biting your lip, you shook your head. “Nah, no one asked me. Times running out, and I think they only let people with dates in right? Isn’t that the stupid rule?”

The door to the changing room flew open, your friend looking at you with the look that made you know that she was plotting. “I’m going to go make some phone calls. I want you to pick out a dress, because I’m going to find you a date if it kills me.”

“Why do I feel like this will kill me?” You sighed, shutting the door once she had left the changing room.

“(Y/n) you made it!” Your friend yelled when you walked up to where she was standing, hooked onto her boyfriend's arm. You remember him only slightly, as you might have met him twice. Michael was his name, and being quiet was his game.

“I made it, but I can’t get in if I don’t have a date, we’ve been over this.” You sighed, smoothing down the skirt of your dress. “It’s so stupid, I just want to spend some time with my friend.”

Michael nodded. “You better feel lucky, none of my friends wanted to come. Not to hurt your feeling babe, but this dance seems kind of stupid if (Y/n) can’t even come without a date.”

You couldn’t help but nod and agree with him. “But when do you get to the lucky part?”

Before Michael could answer, an arm slung around Michael’s shoulder. “Sorry I’m late, couldn’t find my good jeans.”

“(Y/n), this is Ashton. Ashton, this is (Y/n).” Michael said, pulling his friends arm off of him. “I hope that he can behave for just tonight.”

You could feel color rising in your cheeks. Why the hell did he have to be hot? Weren’t blind dates supposted to be a failure? “Nice to meet you.” You smile, extending a hand.

He gently grabbed your hand, instead pulling you in for a hug. “Nice to meet you too.”

“(Y/n) we’re going inside, I’ll see you in there.” Your friend smiled, grabbing Michael by the hand and dragging him inside.

You gave her a small wave goodbye, watching as they disappeared inside the dance, along with the rest of the crowd that was going inside.

Ashton looked at you and gave you a toothy smile. “Shall we go inside m’lady?” He asked, extending an arm outward to you.

“Don’t mind if I do.” You laugh, resting your hands in the crook of his elbow. He was wearing a leather jacket, the slight fall temperature causing the leather to become chilly, causing you to shiver.

The two of you walked inside, and time seemed to stop as you realized that people were looking at the two of you. You felt like a deer right before it gets flattened by a car. “Why are they all staring?”

“Is it too early to say their staring because you’re beautiful?” Ashton asked you, smirking as he lead you both to the dance floor. The lights in the room were a dull orange hue, along with things like pumpkins and dried corn stalks on the walls.

Your cheeks heated up bright red as you gently resting your hands on his shoulders, his going to your waist. “I mean, I’m not gonna say no to any complements.”

“Good. I’m going to shower you with them.” He laughed as you started to sway to the music. “When Michael ever told me his girlfriend ordered him to find a date for his friend, I honestly expected the worst. I didn’t expect to see the prettiest girl in the whole damn world.”

This time it really set you over. This smoking hot guy you had met less than an hour ago, had already called you beautiful and the prettiest girl in the world. “You hardly know me. How do know if you’ve already said this to every other girl you’ve been on a blind date with this week?”

He shrugged, biting his bottom lip. “Never been on a blind date before.” The air around the two of you grew thick as you both just did an awkward dance in silence. “Hey, do you want to step outside for a second?”

“That sounds amazing.” You smiled, his hand finding its way in yours as the two of you walked outside; the fall air instantly a sense of relief from whatever the hell was happening inside.

“Here, it’s chilly outside.” Ashton smiled, taking his jacket off and slipping it onto your shoulders. “Don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You shot him a thankful smile as you two sat down on one of the benches outside. “So how do you know Michael?” You asked him, never so grateful to talk about your friends weird boyfriend.

Ashton threw his arm over your shoulder, pulling you slightly closer to him. “We’re in a band together. Known him for a while now. Have you ever gone to our shows before?”

“Nope. My friend kind of just keeps her life with Michael a complete secret. I barely remembered his name, I think I’ve only seen him twice.” You laughed, noticing how Ashton looked slightly sad when you said ‘nope’ with such force. “But I would love to go to a show sometime. Do you sing?”

He looked a little bashful, something that was a contrast to how bold he seemed all night. “I mean, a little. I play the drums.”

You nodded, a slight understanding once he said that. “I don’t want to kind of say I knew it, but I knew it.”

“How would you have known?” He laughed as he looked at you. He looked cocky, but in all the right ways.

“You can tell that you do something physical.” Lifting his hand up, you could see the callouses that formed on his palm. “Also, when you hugged me today it was like hugging a rock.”

He blushed, taking his free hand and scratching the back of his neck. “A good rock?”

You smiled, gently running your thumb along his palm. “A very, very good rock.”

The two of you sat in silence, this time not as bad as when you were inside. It felt comfortable, something like the two of you were just enjoying eachothers company by just sitting outside on a bench while the party was going on inside behind you. It was when Ashton cleared his throat that it pulled you back to reality.

“This is gonna sound super cheesy, but would maybe want to go out again sometime? You’re really pretty, and I would just really beat myself up if you left tonight and I didn’t ask you out again. I mean, if you don’t want to it’s cool, I get it but--”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. Clearly, he was going to ramble before you could get a word in, but hopefully this kiss would be enough to show him that you wanted to go out again too. His lips were soft, but also slightly chapped, most likely from the cold weather outside.

Without breaking the kiss, his hands gently found your hips, resting there as your hands went to his cheeks. Pulling away was just to catch your breath before going back in for something you both had wanted so bad since the first hello.

“There they are. We’ve been looking--oh my god they're just making out on the bench.” It was Michael's voice that pulled you apart. “Really getting to know eachother out here, huh.”

You blushed as you looked down at your hands before looking back at Ashton; lipstick staining his lips slightly. “Sorry..” You mumbled to Michael like he was your dad.

“Don’t be sorry!” Your friend yelled, clapping her hands together. “This is just so cute! My baby is growing up.”

“We came out here to see if you guys wanted to go get dinner. But I can clearly see you were just eating eachothers faces, so you must be full.” Michael laughed.

You stood up, hand reaching down and grabbing Ashtons. “Dinner sounds wonderful.” You smiled as the four of you started to walk over to where you had parked.

Ashton nodded, giving your lips a quick peck before looking at his friend. “And Mike, before you make fun of us, you might want to take care of the hickey on your neck, and the fact your fly is down.”

You got into Ashton’s car, watching the other guy blush brightly and practically ran to his own girlfriend following close behind. “That was so amazing.” You laughed.

Ashton smiled. “Now, how about I give you a hickey that’s worth bragging about?” He asked, smile turning into a smirk as you nodded.

This officially, was the best damn night ever.

#5sos #5sos fanfiction #ashton irwin #ashton imagine #ashton 5sos #luke hemmings #michael clifford #calum hood #5 seconds of summer #imagine #5sos imagines #5 seconds of summer imagines

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wwounu · 5 years

Photo

“Mingyu… Mingyu where are you…”

The phone in your hand, you try calling him again only to end the call because it wouldn’t be any use, checking the 25 minutes you had remaining. You needed to find Mingyu quickly.

So best believe when you ran into the campus garden, although it being a lengthy walk to get there, you were more than relieved to find Mingyu with his back facing you, kneeled on the rocky floor. It almost looked like a painting of bittersweetness.

“Mingyu,” you break, scared at his state.

“Go away.” Mingyu demands. “Go away and leave me alone.”

“I’m not going to do that, I’m not going to go away.”

“Stop saying that — I want — I you to go.”

You’re stepping closer, slowly but surely, ignoring all of Mingyu’s warnings.

“Mingyu…” You call out gently.

“No, stop it,” almost broken, he says, “I don’t need you — or anyone-“

But when your fingers touch his shoulder and he turns around, you can’t help but break at the tears streaming down the drummer’s face as he gasps for air, hands gripped onto the fabric of his pants.

You fall and manoeuvre your way to him so that he can hide his face in your shoulder before sobbing even more. It’ll leave a wet patch, but the feeling of Mingyu with you was worth it. It was the only way to keep you sane; nothing else.

You shush him through petting his hair, almost cradling him as he hiccups between cries.

“I’m scared. I’m so scared,”

Mingyu manages to mumble out like a mantra, the words sticking to your mind. What went wrong?

“It’s okay now, I’m here.” You assure him. You want to play it safe but it was important to know what was wrong. Mingyu, in your many years of watching his narcissistic ways, confident smile and stupid pride, watching his walls break down felt unsettling. “What’s going on Mingyu?”

“I’m scared.” He can only repeat the chosen words, making it harder to understand him. You decide to pry him open a little more, hoping he can escalate.

“Of me?”

You feel a shift on your shoulder — he’s responding — he partially nods, but shakes his head after a pause.

“The audience?”

A hesitated shake.

“… Performing?”

And Mingyu takes a while to respond. In fact, he doesn’t respond at all, meaning you had to say something to ease him. But before you do, his croaky, raw voice beats you to it.

“That day — when I messed up in front of my entire high school — I didn’t trip. Jun pushed me.” Mingyu holds onto you a bit tighter and you feel his hands shake violently, holding onto you like he was your last lifeline. “The whole school laughed — until the end of that year, the band wanted me dead for something I didn’t mean to do — Junhui had the nerve to laugh to my face when he didn’t know what he did. I remember — I remember going home that day — and my family was so disappointed in me,” laughs Mingyu in pity, “their son ran away after being an embarrassment, I ruined a day for the whole school and became the laughing stock, and I had to keep it in for hours until I got home and never left my room — all I wanted was for someone to tell me it’s okay, it’s not my fault. It’s not my fault Y/N, it’s not my fault, I didn’t mean to-” He repeats in a mantra, breaking down into another set of sobs.

He continues with slight ease despite the fumbling over words.

“And when I entered the office the next day to apologise for my actions, I… I suddenly couldn’t do it. Everything went tense and my throat went dry, it was either that I breathed too much or didn’t breathe at all. I couldn’t do something as simple as apologise. Then — fuck — and… And ever since then — I couldn’t go on a stage. Full or empty. It makes me so anxious seeing the stage lights and thinking back to that time, paranoid that someone might do that to me again and I hate it,”

A few more hot tears reach your shoulder before he adds on.

“So what did I do? I learned to live with that fucking demon in my head. I couldn’t mope about it so — so I fought back. I kept fighting back with anyone who dared to taunt me over that concert. Eventually — it worked. Everyone was convinced over this new Mingyu — fake Mingyu. As for Junhui — I hated him the most — I hated him for acting so fine when I carried his consequence,” Mingyu repeats that bitter laughs, “stupid right? Always acting like a drama queen because I don’t want to back down, because I don’t want to fall vulnerable over anyone and everyone — and now — and now I hate him even more.”

“Why?” You slip out under a whisper.

“Because-“ Mingyu lets go of you, head still bowed as his fingers move to grip his hair, starting to cry in frustration. He was tired. He was hurt. He was scared.

He was in love.

“Because I think I’m in love you!”

“Huh?” Caught off guard, a tug in your heart.

He picks up the pace in speaking, “And it isn’t easy to cope with at all — I’m an asshole and you forgive me every time, when you said you wanted to forget about the kiss my heart fucking hurt because I fell in too deep by then, when I see you I want to stay with you, when you speak I suddenly get happy and your smile makes my day — fuck, what am I saying?”

“Mingyu…”

“And — and I get so nervous around you because I’m scared to mess up but I know I can’t fix things because I’ve caused you so much pain from be being nothing but a arrogant jerk to you — when you’re with Jun, I can’t help but hate it — you’re so different with him and it’s like I’m helping the person I hate the most, fuck, I am helping the person I hate the most! And he’s so much more of a man than I am because he confessed to you first — can I do anything right?”

“Mingyu.”

Mingyu keeps on rambling, stuttering and chocking on his words. You could tell the drummer had a lot to say, but you had to get the male’s attention first because you didn’t have a lot of time left. Although the volume of your voice kept increasing, it didn’t stop Mingyu. Mingyu overlapped with incoherent words and curses.

“Mingyu!”

You force, having enough at this point. He whimpers, lifting up his head for the moonlight to shine on him, beautiful just as heart-wrenching at the same time.

“Listen…” Although your eyes wanted to look at the stones, you needed to keep your focus on Mingyu, “Jun never confessed to me…”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” painfully smiles Mingyu through the tears, “he was calling you all sort of things. Things that I can’t bring myself to say…”

He heard us? Is this what triggered it? You process, shocked at how miserable Mingyu must’ve felt.

“Mingyu. Jun doesn’t like me — he never would — he... He likes someone else.”

“Someone... Else?” Croaks Mingyu, tilting his head.

“Yeah. It’s complicated.”

This time, you gaze at Mingyu’s wet eyes, taking in the appearance. This was a first for you, but to him, this was one out of a million.

“Oh…” Mingyu blinks. “Oh,” he repeats, louder once in realisation.

“Yeah,” you nod, “but besides that… This is some serious stage fright and anxiousness in you Mingyu, why did you keep it in for so long?”

Mingyu shrugs. “I thought I would be ok. Ends up, it totally went a different direction. I don’t like people seeing me like this, why would I show this side of me when I can show another?”

“It’s unhealthy Mingyu… You can’t show it to everyone, but to no one? That won’t do. Someone needs to be there for you.”

“Then who?”

“I’ll be there for you.”

Mingyu’s features soften, just like a child about to cry over a scratch on the knee, eyes formulating tears.

“Y/N, I…”

“We’ll talk about this later,” you cut, hoping Mingyu would understand why, “we have a performance in seven minutes. Y’know, Jun was the one who told me you were gone, he seemed pretty panicked about it.” You nudge him, smiling slightly. Wiping the stray tear from Mingyu’s cheek, you say, “My, my… You look so ugly Kim Mingyu, what happened to the narcissist I used to know?”

Mingyu breaks out into a blissful giggle, the type that would make you want to keep Mingyu forever.

Theres a few moments of silence as you wipe Mingyu’s stained tears off his face, running a thumb across his cheek. “There you go. All handsome now.”

Mingyu feels his cheeks and ears heat up. His eyes speak something else, ones with adoration behind them. “Uh, yeah,” the drummer says with a stutter, “we should go.”

Before Mingyu stands, you take a hold of his sleeve and look at him straight in the eye so neither of you could break eye contact.

“Wait — Did you just say you… Like me?”

Although the younger semi-goes into panic mode, he interrupts himself with a rather rough, calmed huff and shuts his eyes, accepting the rejection that’s bound to come.

Shyly, he utters, “Yes?”

But instead, he’s met with a light giggle, followed by the pressure of soft lips on his cheek before your voice meets his ear.

“Sweet, I like you too.”

With new found confidence, you reach for Mingyu’s hand, running back to the concert hall where you and him might possibly get in trouble for cueing late. It was anything but a worry, as you and Mingyu find a grin taking shape on your faces, interlacing each other’s fingers when you laugh.

You didn’t look the neatest, neither didn’t Mingyu, but that was the audience’s question to speculate why you were like that, hoping that they would wonder what happened to them? or why are their clothes damaged? not knowing a story of love, miscommunication, and a fish inside a drum that led to this moment.

No one knew because it was yours and Mingyu’s story, a story that can be translated into words as well as musical notes and harmonies, full of layers and a clash of instruments.

Mingyu stares at the bright light, feeling tense by the grasp of his hand. You look at him, bringing him to his senses by the light squeeze. “Everything alright?”

Mingyu holds in a breath, jaw clenching, before he nods. He was going to do this. It’s a big step. “Everything’s-“

“Focus on me.”

He doesn’t realise how tense he is just until he crosses his eyes on you, all worries washed away and your presence shining through. You can see him physically relax in his eyes.

You send a smile, a soft one, “Better?” It’s quiet but to Mingyu it’s louder that he could ever hear.

“Very,” he slips a stammer, walking on that empty, polished stage with you.

Remedies don’t cure in one night, but wherever you would be, as long as it was with Mingyu, he’s pretty sure he would be fine.

OPPOSITES ATTRACT PART SIXTEEN — Drummer!Mingyu x Violinist!Reader

is it safe to say theyre official? and i hope you understand mingyus side now

one • two • three • four • five • six • seven • eight • eight ½ • nine • ten • ten ½ • eleven • eleven ½ • twelve • thirteen • thirteen ½ • fourteen • fifteen • sixteen • sixteen ½

masterlist

#mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen #mingyu imagines #mingyu texts #mingyu au #seventeen mingyu #seventeen texts #seventeen imagines #seventeen opposites attract au #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop texts #drummer!mingyu

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goddammitstacey · 5 years

Text

Hi so one of my patrons asked: “I would love it if you could write a sequel to/continuation of Finger Bangin'“ so HERE WE DIDDLY-DARN GO, MY PALS. It’s been a while so mind the mothballs!

The bar is hot, stuffy, crowded, and loud. Derek’s hating every goddamn moment of it, from the stink of alcohol to the patrons rubbing past him on the way to the bar.

There’s not a lot that would make him put up with this shit. Unfortunately, Stiles somehow slotted himself into top spot of that particular list without his noticing.

Stiles. Goddamn. Derek downs his drink and turns for another.

Tonight is Stiles’ first gig and the whole pack has turned out of the occasion. Erica’s dancing with Lydia somewhere both of them can be seen to the best effect. Jackson is trying to out drink Scott and failing. The only comradery Derek feels right now is with Allison, who looks about as comfortable as he does with so many exits blocked by drunk frivolity.

But this is Stiles. Stiles who buttered him up with two mind-blowing orgasms before asking him to attend his first show. As if Derek would have missed it. And not just because he still hasn’t gotten over his damn hand fixation.

This is a big deal for Stiles and Derek’s so fucked because that’s important to him now. Important enough he doesn’t even mind that he’ll have to shower twice to get the stink of strangers off him tonight. Mostly because he knows Stiles is likely to be in the shower with him.

10pm rolls around like a geriatric grandfather so Derek almost swears in thanks when the lights switch over to the stage. Stiles is the first out at least, greeted with a roar from the crowd mostly led by Lydia, Scott, Isaac, and Erica. He goes bright red at the attention even as he grins and waves. Derek knows enough about stage lighting that he can tell Stiles can’t see shit but it doesn’t seem to stop him from trying, eyes flicking around the bar until he seemingly gives up and drops down behind the drums.

The rest of the band takes their positions to similar fanfare, the lead singer stoking the flames of the crowd in a way that speaks to this not being her first gig at least. Heidi, Derek recalls her name. Stiles calls her the lesbian aunt he never had.

It’s interesting, actually, finally putting faces to names. Joel on base, Kelly and Jessie on guitar. Stiles talks so much about them Derek almost feels like he knows them himself.

Heidi expertly rides the crowd, smoothly transitioning the vibe into the first song. And Stiles . . .

Okay yeah, the bar is way too crowded. Because all of Stiles’ practice has paid off in the worst way. He’s owning the drums, shoulders rolling with the beat, fingers sure and steady around the sticks and . . . Derek’s never seen him play live.

Fuck.

Now is not the time to discover a competence kink, thanks very much. Only Derek’s apparently got no choice in the matter. Because Stiles is sure and practised and good. The whole band is actually.

Derek’s . . . not hating it.

The first song rolls smoothly into the second and the whole bar is like a live-wire. Derek’s not the only one enjoying the gig and he finds something in his chest swelling at the pride of it all. That’s his . . . his something. His Stiles up there.

They’re a rookie band so they’ve only secured a half set for the night. Derek doesn’t know whether to be glad or disappointed. Because on the one hand, Stiles is in his element, whole body rolling with the beat in a way that’s doing something animalistic to Derek’s gut. On the other . . . Derek really needs Stiles’ dick in his mouth. Yesterday.

The band finishes to roaring applause, the bar drowning out even Erica’s ear-rending wolf whistles. Derek downs his drink and makes an executive decision.

Stiles is the first one off the stage, launching himself bodily into Scott’s arms like he’s gonna fly away unless someone catches him. Erica’s next, using werewolf strength to lift Stiles and spin him around like they’re auditioning for Dirty Dancing.

It’s not just the pack congratulating him either. A group of excitable girls ask for a selfie which seems to baffle and delight Stiles in equal turns. And then there’s . . .

Derek narrows his eyes at the stranger. Dark hair, darker eyes, and a smirk that seems painted on as he greets Stiles and . . . yeah, no.

Derek makes his way through the crowd, appearing at Stiles’ side just as Stiles swerves out of reach of Smirk’s grab.

“Whoa, buddy,” Stiles is saying. “Bad touch.”

“Leave,” Derek says and it’s enough. Of course it is. Derek knows what he looks like even sans fangs.

Smirk beats it, holding up his hands in surrender as he melts back into the crowd.

“You have your murder eyebrows on,” Stiles says, reaching up to smooth one finger over Derek’s forehead. And fuck Derek’s life, he lets him.

“How long have you been here?” Stiles says, voice too casual to be anything but one thousand per cent invested in Derek’s answer.

“I watched the whole show, you idiot,” Derek says and Stiles lights up. “You were great.”

“I fucking know, right?” Stiles enthuses, fist pumping the air. “I am a drumming GOD.”

“You’re the god of something,” Derek says, dryly.

“Is it sex?” Stiles says. “Tell me it’s sex.”

“I hate you.”

“You want me.”

Derek sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ugh, I do.”

Stiles grins like Derek’s handed him the keys to Christmas. “Wanna rim me in the bathrooms?”

In the disgusting, overcrowded, dingy club bathrooms. Lord help him. Derek waves Stiles on ahead and Stiles cackles delightedly as he leads Derek through the throng.

- - -

The toilet wall shudders with the force of Stile’s back hitting it but Derek can’t give two fucks about subtlety, not after that performance.

“I was- Ah! I was really okay?” Stiles says, voice going thready as Derek bites his neck.

“You were amazing,” Derek says. “Take off your damn pants.”

Stiles grunts and fumbles with his belt with one hand, using the other to get a grip on Derek’s hair to pull him back into a messy kiss.

Stiles kisses like he does everything else: slightly uncoordinated but somehow bafflingly adept. Derek’s lost many an afternoon to lengthy makeout sessions, drowning himself in the breathy slide of it all until he can’t focus on anything but the red of Stiles’ mouth.

But this isn’t one of their lazy afternoons.

Derek pries his mouth away from Stiles long enough to drop to his knees, a move that makes Stiles groan like he’s stuck a pin in him.

“Fuck, okay,” Stiles says, finally besting his buckle.

Derek wastes no time flipping him around because hell, this wasn’t his first plan, but Stiles had a better one. Always does, if Derek’s being brutally honest. It’s something he’s never, ever going to admit out loud.

Stiles’ hands slap down on the graffitied wall loud enough to be heard even over the beat of the music outside. The second band has started and they’re good but not as good as Stiles had been. The mood Derek’s in, Led Zeppelin would probably fall short at this point. But it’s fine. Stiles’ set is done and Derek’s determined to wring some different sounds out of him right now.

“Derek, you’re killing me here, just-“

The first swipe of Derek’s tongue earns him a drawn-out groan. From there, it’s easy – so easy.

They’ve only done this a handful of times because of what it does to Stiles. Impatient at the best of times, it’s the quickest way to string him out. When they have time, Stiles often prefers to drag things out, spend time wrecking Derek seven different ways before he allows Derek anywhere near one of his hair triggers. And most of the time Derek lets him – hands him the reins, so to speak, but there are times—times like this—where he needs the thrill of turning Stiles inside out. Because for all Stiles’ body instinctively races to the finish line, when it reaches it the result is nothing short of beautiful.

Derek doesn’t bother reaching for Stiles’ cock. He won’t have to. Not when Stiles is still so keyed up from the gig, not when Derek knows exactly what to do with his tongue to push him- Just. There.

“Fu- Derek!”

Stiles spills untouched, spend adding its own flair to the graffiti on the toilet wall. Derek doesn’t bother standing, just catches Stiles as his legs give out – can’t even care that he’s probably kneeling in god-knows-what right now. Because Stiles is warm and pliant and smells like . . . well, like them.

“I’m-“ Stiles swallows, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m gonna get you back for that.”

Derek just grins, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ neck. “Counting on it.”

#sterek #teen wolf #my fic #IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS

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manjuhitorie · 5 years

Text

Hitori-Escape Tour 2019 concert reports 14-18

1-9

10-13

14 Hitorie’s Hitori-Escape Tour, 11/10/2019 at Takamatsu DIME Takamatsu prefecture

●The road was flocked with cosplayers on their way to the venue. Yuma recognized the Azur Lane cosplays, while SND recognized the Street Fighter and the Touhou. “Like Reimu and Youmu~” Yuma was face to face with a Miku across the street while waiting at a crosswalk, which amused him also..

SND “Hey! Was anyone in the crowd here who was out there cosplaying today, raise your hand! Come on be honest, tell sensei. Everybody close your eyes so you can’t judge each other, so only sensei can see c’mon.” Yuma “There’s people still opening their eyes lol.”

●Takamatsu really is full of events. There was a strange pungent smell eating away at Yu until he sought out the origin. It was a cheese event going on right nearby. “These sort of things bother you until you find! Once you find the origin then it stops smelling, it’s an enigma.” ●A cat was spotted caught up in the cosplayer crowd too, which SND found adorable.

Yuma “I’m a dog lover and… I don’t really get the feelings of cats!! If you annoy a dog then you’re their enemy for the rest of the day but, with cats they’ll only hate you on the spur of a moment, based on mood. Yet then you spend the rest of the day depressed...!”

SND brings the flow of the conversation over to yga’s (cat-like) feelings, where Yumao dubs him the “Expressionless emo”. Yuma “He’s stoic but, mid-show he will turn around and smile at me! Sometimes he’ll be saying something too but, because it’s indecipherable I’ll just do my best to convey ‘Uhh, that seems good!!’ to him.” SND “... He looks at me a lot too but he never smiles.” Yu “Well cause the crowd could see his face then, but when he's turned around the crowd can’t see him!”

●SND “Well then. Umm.. It's uh… today...” *Unable to piece anything together while yga stares at him stifled and raring to go* “Ummm..” ygarsh >>*BWOON*<< SND tweet "Takamatsu concert: complete, Takamatsu is the greatest place every time I come, I’m happy I got to perform in a city I love. Thank you, we’ll probs be back. Tomorrow we’ll be in Osaka y'hear"

15 Hitorie’s Hitori-Escape Tour, 11/11/2019 at Takamatsu DIME in Takamatsu prefecture

●During the handheld mic song SND went over to yg’s side and wrapped his arm around yg’s shoulders. Contrary to yesterday’s slip and slide yg did to dodge him—

●SND was late getting to the venue, due to countless self-destructive forces at bay. Yumao joked that he’s truly living the rockstar life. Truly a ‘rock musician’. At first he questioned “Sensei~ Were you busy drawing your manga~?” Because SND is an artistic person, and artist’s concept of time tends to be wonky. “Both of my parents are artists so I know this well,” he said..! SND “I drank for 12 hours straight... Until 10 AM... When the meet-up was at 12. I just had to group up with the crew to get all our gear together and hop in the car to drive down, so I told myself I would nap for 1 hour, then wake up, take a shower, get ready and go... But I ended up sleeping overtime. When I woke up even a miracle wouldn’t be able to get me there on time. So I called manager-san and told her the situation”.

Yumao “I didn’t care if manager-san gets angry at you~!” Though manager didn’t get angry at SND, she just made sure he had everything and could play okay. SND “Though I lied and said I had some stuff ready when I didn’t... Why is it that we tell useless lies when we’re scared of getting in trouble.”

FInally in the car driving there, SND reeked of alcohol.. Yumao tells the story of how yga, in the backseat, burst out saying “This smell... It isn’t beer.. It’s... Highball. This is Kakubin, Highball whisky.. The beer was Kinmugi.. So... Torikizoku (the name of a bar chain).” Actually hitting the mark on what SND drank yesterday. SND “WTF.”

ygarshy is now the self-proclaimed ‘Highball detective’. ●Back to the show....! SND “Everybody it’s 11/11, what does that mean!“ Crowd “It’s bass day!” SND “Well then ygarshy, do your thing!” yga *>>BWOON<<*

The date 1111 resembles the 4 bass strings, thus the excuse for celebration! ygarshy also did a seminar for a bass week if that may pique your interest..: Here. SND tweet "Osaka concert: complete, thank you kindly. I'll see y'all next week then."

16 Hitorie’s Hitori-Escape Tour, 11/14/2019 at LIQUIDROOM in Tokyo prefecture

I’ll make a separate special post including all of Nishimaki’s photos etc., but for now it’s all mostly on my twitter... https://twitter.com/boat_manju/status/1195265416249139200

17 Hitorie’s Hitori-Escape Tour, 11/17/2019 at SPADE BOX in Nagoya prefecture

To dodge redundancy I’ll omit some of the happenings, as they reflected on the tour again and many topics were recycled from Tokyo. MC time! ●Yumao picked on SND again for saying “I have to sing and haven’t played a show in a forever unlike you hustlers, I have it a million times worse than you guys, I’m on a different level~~.” back when he was nervous on the first day of the tour. Yu “But... didn’t you once sing in a SOPHIA cover band?”

SND “We only were up for like 30 minutes, and we did just a bunch of L'Arc 〜en 〜Ciel or LUNA SEA or Visual kei kinda stuff.” Yu “Visual kei.. did you wear makeup!?” SND *laughs it off* “I pretended to be Mitsuru Matsuoka for 2 shows and that was the end of it.…“ ●When they were at the vacation cottage watching historical drama on TV... Despite yg seemingly not-watching and playing bass, to their surprise after he told them “That was funny”. SND “yga never stops practicing huh” Yu “I could never watch TV and play drums." SND “Guitar might work huh.” Yu “Last show I had told everybody to feel free to ask me on Twitter about how to use the mobile battery we’re selling as merch, and someone did!” SND "I questioned how many interactions he got and.. It was a whopping one. One! *laughing*” Yu “They even told me ‘I can’t believe you replied!’” ●SND story time. He talked about how he first came to this city of Nagoya back when he was 17 or 18. He was born in Ishikawa prefecture and he passed the regional teem music tournament there, so he came for the south-east coast tournament. It was only his voice and acoustic guitar up on the loft, and he went home with no prizes but. After some thought he realized that was the beginning of his music career. What he felt up on that stage is still burned into his mind, and has kept him going all this. So being back in Nagoya, singing up on stage, feels like fate. “Our journey is ending for now but, we’ll be back. As long as we’re alive, we’ll be back.” And he sounds like Leader at the end.. Leader would say that..

●SND “It’s time ygarshy-kun! The Kirin Challenge Cup, it was Columbia VS Japan right, give us a comment on Japan’s smashing defeat of 0:2!” yg *>>>angry BWOOON<<<* SND tweet “Nagoya concert complete, thank you. We performed footloose and enthusiastic, I hope nobody got hurt. See ya next time.”

18 Hitorie’s Hitori-Escape Tour, 11/18/2019 at Umeda Club Quattro in Osaka prefecture

The finale! Ahh the 18th show. What a long journey, but somehow it felt short.

●Yu “This show was an add-on, so it sorta feels like a bonus stage y’know. Normally I put a lot of attention into keeping my performance, my feelings as flat and stable as possible but, today.. I just scattered emo around.” SND “I feel ya haha.” Yu “Concerts are tricky!”

●SND “When we’re traveling the country, we see people smiling, people crying, people who have a face like they have no idea what to do with themselves, there’s just… so many different people, and every one is so beautiful. Every time a show ended I would go name-searching on the internet because I wanted to know what everybody thought, and just. Seriously, thank you. Thank you for mustering up the courage to come see us. With 18 concerts on our backs, we managed to shape this into something real. We’ve come so far and— Yuma, pops in like he’s feeling embarrassed or nervous or something, “Uhmm-” SND “Oi….!?” *collapses to the floor* “C’mooon I was just in the middle of something!!!”

Yuma “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to butt in-“

SND “It’s fine hahaha You’re always like this, I’m used to it hahahaaa” SND *on the verge of tears*→ Yumao *does his Yumao thing*→ Everyone :') ● Yuma “After all this time we figured out the trick to ygarshy too, even though he’s always stoic, right! But when he’s doing something bad or bullying, he has a HUGE smile! Especially when he’s bullying Shinoda, he’ll grin from ear to ear.” SND “Piece of shit I won’t forget what you’ve done to me. This bastard smiles the most when he’s the assailant”. yga *Takes out his camera and begins to record SND*

Yu “See, he has fun in his own way!”

*Records Yumao twice, Yumao poses with both hands making the peace sign*

*Records the crowd* Yu “SND and I are always chatting it up about something right, but sometimes an hour or so later after we talk, yg will come over to me when I’m alone and tell me his opinion. ‘I think this I think that. Yumao you said it well earlier, you did well’… But... It’s, it’s okay to join in on the conversation too ygarshy..!” ●Onto merchandise chat!

Merch is currently available online now!!! The English site is here, but as most items are out of stock there, the original Japanese site is an option if you have access to proxy shipping, here! http://shopping.deli-a.jp/artist/hitorie.php Beware that the mobile battery cannot make it over the border due to restrictions, so even if you order it from the JP site, a problem will most likely emerge...

*Yumao poses to show off his hoodie, flops the hood up and down to show how the letters on the back appear.* *Points at ygarshy wearing the black shirt*

Yumao “The friction highlighters, if they get put in the drying machine or make contact with heat the ink will disappear! But if you put them in the refrigerator then it will come back! It’s a mystery~“ Yu “Then also the pouch... Ah where’d it go where’d it go..” Staff “Behind your drums!” Yu “I found it! I put my little drum supplies in here, it’s great, I never lose anything. The tote bag is convenient too! Throughout the tour I’ve been using it to carry my change of clothes and things.” SND “The bleach acid-washed denim was such a good idea, it looks adorable.” *Yu heads back to his drums* *yg picks up his bass* SND “Are we playin’?” Yu “Are we still talkin’? SND “We have the choice to just not do encore, right?” *yg on standby* *Yuma walks back to the microphone *yg puts his bass down* SND “Ahhhhh, that’s heavy to keep isn’t it, just keep it down.” Yu “Let’s goo!” SND “Alright ygarshy-kun.. Once this tour is over let’s drink some good beer!” yg “…?” *The lighting goes red* SND “?!” *Staring at each other doing nothing, yga puts his finger on his bass string* SND “Wait, what?!” yg *>>>BWOOON<<<*

ygarshy: “18 concerts. Thank you for mustering up the courage to come all the way out and see us. Being able to perform Hitorie’s music up on stage, was my pride and joy yet again today."

SND: “Thank you.”

Rie’s manager: “Thanks. I’m so proud of them.”

Yumao: Really by virtue of every one who came were we able to marathon this tour.

I was on the same page as you when this started: totally unsure of how to present myself for these concerts. But halfway through somewhere I started to have fun, the number of smiles increased, and now that it’s over I feel like I lost something, the burdens and something special both.

I’m bad with expressing myself in text so this is all I’ll say.

~~Fin.~~

#special thanks to Tamagotoji!!!#hitorie #also SND's blog posts here https://privatter.net/u/boat_manju #Tumblr let me post high quality pics

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