#IF THE STAGE AND AUDIENCE WISH FOR IT THEN I AM ALREADY ON STAGE. FELL TO ME FUCKING KNEEEEES IN MY ROOM WATCHING MY PIRATED REVSTAR MOVIE.

[orbiyoo]

nanamaya:-)

FELL TO MY KNEES ON CRETE

#The way they can be so awful exploding toxic killing eachother while also being like i made you potatoes for dinner (i love you) is sooo #Stop sacrificing your mental health for stage plays. This is not the joker stop method acting. Get well soon. GET WELL SOON #IF YOU'RE NOT GIVING YOUR ALL BECAUSE YOU WANT TO REMAIN EVERYONES BANANA DAIBA NANA I WILL NOT FORGIVE YOU. #ONCE AGAIN I AM ALONE. BELOVED EUROPA MY LOVE FOR YOU WILL REMAIN EVEN AFTER MY BODY IS NO MORE. #IT'S NO USE MAYA-CHAN NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES WE DO THIS YOU'LL NEVER WIN. YOU'RE TALKING AS IF YOU'VE DONE THIS OVER AND OVER AGAIN. #I KNOW YOUR STRENGTH YOUR BRILLIANCE YOUR EVERYTHING. THE INE WHO LOVES THE STAGE MORE THAN ANYONE IS ME #IF THE STAGE AND AUDIENCE WISH FOR IT THEN I AM ALREADY ON STAGE. FELL TO ME FUCKING KNEEEEES IN MY ROOM WATCHING MY PIRATED REVSTAR MOVIE. #ask game #sorry ayah you did not ask for this. but you certainly are getting it #I JUST CANT WITH GIRLS WHO WONT FORGIVE EACHOTHER AND WANT TO STAB AND ATTACK

[myersesque]

here's some questions spam!

what do you think is the best joke in tgwdlm? which nightmare time episode is the strongest? would you vibe with any of the lords in black? opinion on webby? favorite character introduced in black friday? some people have said that the youtube version of nerdy prudes must die gets fanservice-y with its hatchetverse references - what're your thoughts? which hatchetverse couple is the most transgender in your eyes?

here ends the question spam

YEAAAA QUESTION SPAM I LOVE QUESTION SPAM!!! my laptop is currently updating and therefore i feel no shame doing this instead of my dissertation LET'S GOOO

best joke in tgwdlm? - augh, a hard one. idk if it's the BEST but i always lose it at the hivemind breaking out of unison and having to stop and find their notes/re-harmonise after not your seed (i've been there... SO many times)

strongest nightmare time episode - ok this is the part where i admit i am VERY behind on nightmare time and have only seen a few in random orders - my favourite of the ones i've seen is abstinence camp, though. i think it's a rlly strong, relatively self-contained story, and ofc i'm always down for a friday the 13th parody lmao. boy jerry and girl jeri are my little freaks and i love them (and ofc peter and steph my beloveds)

vibing with the lords in black? - i love all of them an unreasonable amount and would LOVE to hang out, honestly. i never stop singing so pokey would probably be fun company, and wiggly won my heart immediately since i LOVE possessed/evil toys (if the url wasn't a dead giveaway for that) and green is one of my fav colours. but honestly any of them!!! they're deliciously evil and i would love to chill (and then regret it when i inevitably face their torment BUT THAT'S A PROBLEM FOR FUTURE ME!)

opinion on webby - i haven't seen a ton of her but i think she's really cool, both conceptually and in the execution i have seen! i love how the visions she gives hannah are contextualised and start making sense slowly as you work through the show (which it took me AGES to figure out, admittedly, because i'm either eerily good or absolutely terrible at recalling dialogue, and fsr her prophecies always fell through my brain like a sieve)

favourite character introduced in black friday - i'm disqualifying wiggly bc we've established i love him already - honestly, it's a tie between linda monroe (one word: MOTHER) and ethan green (aka the sweetest motherfucker in hatchetfield, holy shit). i find both of their characters super compelling and also i'm very bisexual about both of them so !!!

were the npmd hatchetverse references fanservicey? - i mean... yeah? i don't super mind though, fanservice isn't inherently a bad thing. i do wish there was some way to watch a pro shot of the show as it was on stage instead (i Lost My Mind when i found out the gerald part was originally my favourite little freak boy jerry), but i've heard through the grapevine that there's apparently a way to get your hands on a digital ticket recording as a bonus feature or smthn similar, which is good enough for me. so whilst i do think they came on a little strong in some sections (particularly hatchet town), overall i didn't mind - the smaller call-backs don't really harm the show at all if you don't get them (e.g. richie's joke abt peter looking like the homeless guy downtown is still a funny jab without the knowledge of who exactly that homeless guy is and how he's related to peter) and for fans who have been waiting for years, it's an extra little reward. i've seen some people be incentivised to watch the previous shows so they'd understand the audience's reaction to certain lines, too, so there's that. tl;dr it is a LITTLE much sometimes but i don't personally mind it and thought they were all fun

most transgender hatchetfield couple - oh you are SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE, i LOVE transgenderifying characters. i think lautski (peter/steph) feel very explicitly-queer gen z t4t, if that makes any sense, but i wouldn't be me if i didn't at least mention my quietly-queer first loves paulkins (paul/emma). they're like the chill trans elders (as in the community title, not in reference to their age lmao they're like 30) to lautski's spitfire trans youth. if that makes literally ANY sense

my laptop has great timing and has now finished updating (!!!) so i must return to the trenches of university coursework but this was VERY fun thank u

#ask #horror tag #fav #npmd spoilers #cship

[aeoki]

Seven Bridges - Love and Peace?: Chapter 2

Location: Yumenosaki Student Council Room Characters: Ritsu, Mao & Hitsugi

TL Note:

Tanzaku are colourful strips of paper people use to write their wishes on. They’re then hung on a bamboo tree in celebration for Tanabata.

Mao: To be blunt, there was an issue found in the “Tanabata” proposal you submitted yesterday, Anzu.

And it’s a pretty fatal one at that. 

Hitsugi: Ricchan-san! Ricchan-san! What’ve you been doing for a while now!?

Ritsu: I’m making tea for Maa-kun and Anzu. Because I want them to see how considerate I am.

Hitsugi: I’ll help, I’ll help! I’m ranked the lowest here! Whaa~!

Ritsu: Hey, you’re actually going to get the way so can you not…?

Mao: *Ignores the two* …As you know, “Tanabata” is one of the highest-ranking events at Yumenosaki – in other words, it’s an “S1”.

“SS” was ranked the highest in the past but ever since it fell under ES’ control, “S1” is only rising higher and higher.

It’s something huge that Yumenosaki cannot remove by any means.

But thankfully, we have an outstanding “producer” with us.

I’m talking about you, Anzu.

From the start, “Tanabata” was a high-quality event that you created last year with the help of everyone.

It was a huge success last year and the public held the event in high regard as well.

Frankly, it was so flawless we could easily reuse the same proposal this year too.

The idol industry has changed ever since ES was established, but the audience itself or their numbers hasn't changed in Yumenosaki, for better or worse.

Our amazing upperclassmen have already graduated – even hearing the phrase “hasn’t changed” can be a compliment. It’s a good thing that we’re able to maintain the status quo.

I realised that, felt relieved and let my guard down.

That’s how I ended up approving the “Tanabata” proposal you submitted without carefully checking it, Anzu. I figured if it was you, we shouldn’t have any problems.

I believe in your skills and you have last year’s achievements to prove it. I simply overestimated the fact that things would also be fine this year.

That’s why it’s my responsibility. Sorry.

It looks like everyone’s been pretty busy after ES was established and it’s probably a bit weird for me to say this, but Yumenosaki Academy has started becoming more active after our revolution.

Everyone is motivated and is submitting more proposals than ever.

The number of students grew and the number of units has also increased with them – proposals for “S3” have also been flooding in.

I probably don’t need to explain this to you, but “S3” was what we called “B1” in the past. It was a dreamfest created and run independently by the students.

Up until the final stage of last year, it wasn’t officially recognised by the Student Council and needed to be supervised, though.

Now that it’s officially recognised as a dreamfest called “S3”, they can receive a budget from the Student Council.

We’ve been getting a lot of proposals from eager students who’ve started realising that they won’t need to pay out of their own pockets and can stand boldly on stage without anyone scolding them.

That act in itself should be, well, very welcome. No, that should be what we were aiming for this entire time.

We were aiming for an active Yumenosaki – one where everyone is eager and full of motivation.

Yumenosaki was a place where people were living like they were dead and we wanted to change that. We “Trickstar” rose up and started a revolution.

So I guess we reap what we sow. We don't have the right to criticise the way things currently are.

But dealing with this mountain of proposals is basically physically impossible. That’s why I thought I should cut corners where I could.

I didn’t mean to be lazy though. I figured your proposal shouldn’t have any issues in the first place and gave the stamp of approval right away.

I thought I had to keep my hands moving and move on to the next proposal otherwise I’d never get through them all.

But I started sorting out the budget and went to read over the “Tanabata” proposal that was already taking place. Then I realised something huge.

Anzu. Answer me honestly. Did you really come up with the “Tanabata” proposal this time?

If you really did, then I’m a little disappointed. No, disappointed isn’t the right word – I’m confused, I guess.

The “Tanabata” proposal last year was definitely in your style and it was the best.

Thinking back, that was your first proper producer work, huh.

The previous student council president, Tenshouin-senpai, made you do unreasonable things and you were able to meet his expectations because you really did your best.

It was a splendid proposal where anyone could stand on stage if they wanted to, where no idols were left behind.

You even came up with the feature where the audience could get their wish granted if they wrote it on the tanzaku paper[∗]. That was fitting for Tanabata and the fans loved it. It was perfect.

It was an event you put a lot of thought and work into, right?

But I had the impression that you weren’t motivated at all after reading your “Tanabata” proposal this year. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

#seven bridges

[suuho]

I love what you said about vocalists. I think it one of the reasons I truly fell in love with EXO. The vocals of this group is insane compared to others. I do wonder of this is the reason why so many 4th Gen stans seem to have complete hatred regarding older kpop groups. When it comes down to it, the vocalist quality has dropped off and there doesn't seem to be anyone focusing on it. Like one of the things that made me admire EXO was when I watched Chanyeol's monthly video and him and Baekhyun went to vocal lessons showing that they are still focused on the music and honing their craft. This coupled with the fact that they are all active in the shaping their music shows they they will be around in one way or another and they have influenced so many after them.

I was reading a discussion about Girl's Generation comeback that was just full of people shouting out 4th Gen girl groups (and Blackpink) fans talking about how Girls Generation aren't dominating and therefore lesser than when they first debuted. And all I could think about was that they've been around 15 years, still sound awesome, and doing this music thing on their terms now and doing it for their fans. I doubt you could say that for some of these groups around now (I have already seen a couple of articles taking about some decent ones that have disbanded and some of them been around less than 5 years) and you should want the longevity for your favorite group and their music and sound should be the top thing to consider.

it is simply a FACT that many of the 4th gen (and even late 3rd gen) artists are not on par with the likes of exo and shinee, and i don't care how snobbish it sounds. it is the truth, and a huge reason why 4th gen kpop is not exciting to me. txt and enhypen and stray kids and blackpink and who and what, their vocal standard is subpar to that of groups having debuted before them. very rarely are there any groups that have the same musicality and knowledge of their vocals. i think ateez is very adept, i am very glad that they perform live and they really dazzled me when i saw them in concert, especially because they performed all live. that is one group out of many though, and sometimes i wish the good vocalists wouldn't be wasted on noise music. taeil, doyoung, haechan and jongho are all vocalists that could have more exposure in vocal heavy groups among the likes of exo. where is the r&b? where is the pop perfection? where are the ballads? where is the complexity in the music produced? melodically? why must we get another dynabutter etc. for easy public consumption? why has no other group even attempted the depth of exo's tempo, for example? think about it.

like i said, this is partly down to the audience of this day and age being unable to simply sit still and focus for a mere five minutes. we aren't putting singers on stage anymore because we are lacking demand for it. people constantly joke about boring ballad sections, about snooze fest songs, about how groups lack the talent to pull of more and more demanding choreography. back in the day, kpop groups had huge chunks of their setlists dedicated to simply standing on a stage and singing - shinee being the biggest example of that, going as far as giving their main vocals a duet to just sing and go ham on. these days, all they want are dancers. pretty faces. look at aespa; we know they can sing but 98% of their stages have been full lip sync (unheard of for older sm groups, lmao. shinee is known for their live vocals, as is exo, as is tvxq, etc.), and they are terrible performers. but at least their concepts are cool and their choreographies are tiktok worthy. right? oh, god in heaven. what has it all come to?

as always, anyone is free to disagree with me. my focus in music has always been on vocals and maybe that's why i am sad to have seen the art get so lost within the industry. even performance or hip hop heavy groups used to have outrageous singers (think bigbang). now, 4th gen stans are dragging each other with clips of their faves singing badly live. oh, my.

#ask #anon

[xrachel-in-londonx]

Awareness of Experience - Week 1

Day 1 - 6/5 - Sightseeing on the Thames 

Today was a sightseeing day, as I did not attend the Tower of London tour with the photography group. I did see the outside of the tower, where they have replaced the moat with a wildflower garden. I believe this experience was intriguing due to us only being able to see the tower from an outside point of view. This formidable fortress was created to house traitors to the crown, and we could only peer in from outside. The replacement of the moat with a garden is also interesting. They’ve turned this historical site where atrocities were committed and turned it into a “pretty” tourist attraction. I think this reflects capitalist culture a lot. Instead of the government having institutions in place to preserve these historical locations, many of them turn to sourcing funds from the public by putting on displays of entertainment. 

Day 2 - 6/6 - The Play That Goes Wrong 

 This was a play that we viewed in the west end of London. I believe this was just a fun play and piece of entertainment. There was no political or moral deeper meaning. It was a story of people putting on a play, that inevitably fell to shambles. It's a story about failure and the lightheartedness of it all. 

Day 3 - 6/7 - British Museum and national gallery 

I have many thoughts on the collection of the British Museum, and none of them are too positive. I acknowledge it is an extreme privilege to have a hub of hundreds of cultures so close together. To view them was incredibly eye-opening and I am eternally grateful for this opportunity. However, the story the British Museum tells is not a happy one. Most of the artifacts in this museum do not belong in London, as they are not British artifacts. When I went into this museum and looked upon the sarcophagus of Cleopatra, the Rosetta stone, and the Japanese antiques, all I could think was that I shouldn’t be able to see any of them, they shouldn't be here. I already felt pretty strongly about the British Museum, but seeing these things only solidified my beliefs. 

Day 4 - 6/8 - Comedy of Errors 

This was a Shakespeare play performed at the globe theater. It was about two sets of twins being stuck in a seemingly never-ending circus of confusion and mix-ups. It was a very funny play that ended up having a very touching conclusion. This experience was heightened by us being in the audience right at the stage, so close we were leaning on it throughout the performance. It really felt like we were back in time watching an original Shakespearean play (albeit with a much more diverse cast). 

Day 6 - 6/10 - Stonehenge 

Notes - On this day we took a day trip to Stonehenge and the Salisbury cathedral. The cathedral was the much more interesting of the two in my opinion. I enjoyed learning about the local history. There was a section in the cathedral that showed images of it being used as a safe house for people during WWII. It's very eye-opening to see those sorts of images. We all have our own preconceptions and notions of what WWII would've looked like in America, but it's difficult to really imagine living in an area so close to the fighting, living in areas where they were at risk of being bombed constantly. 

Day 7 - 6/11 - Hanging out at the park 

Notes - today, my roommate and I were exhausted. We took our time and picked up some coffee, and then sat in Russell square garden for most of the day. It was very interesting to see how many of these squares surrounded us in London. Most cities in America are endless city blocks of urbanism. It was very interesting to see the way nature was incorporated into the city landscape in London. The culture surrounding the environment in London was very refreshing, and I wish America had the same attitude. 

[bigwhispersbluebird]

BTS reaction when they are jealous  (Hyung Line)

Author’s Note: I often read a lot of reaction based fics and realize that perhaps my take on it is a little different. So here it goes. Do tell me if you like it or agree or just anything. Also, I am new to this so excuse me for any mistakes. Thanksss

Warnings: None

Seokjin or Jin

He watched from far as a man in his 20s approached you from behind as you finished the call you had excused yourself to attend. Judging from your reaction, he concluded that you knew the guy. Even though he couldn’t hear a word, your comfortable laugh, the way you slightly hit his shoulder while talking and mimicked his body language, Jin felt a weird irk inside him.

Don’t misunderstand, Kim Seokjin was very confident about himself but there was a part of him that often wondered if he was enough. He might be handsome but there were more handsome people around. He was not the smartest or the most athletic and he came with a load of baggage. So much that he couldn’t cross the room to where you were standing and openly declare that you were his gorgeous and brilliant girlfriend.

His thoughts were intruded by the chime of his phone. 

“You okay?”, your text read and he looked up to spot you a few tables away. The young stranger gone now and your eyes only on him. 

“No. I am Jin”, he replied in his usual manner, trying to hide the truth, cracking the worst joke ever in the process and wincing at himself as soon as he sent it.

He watched as you laughed unabashedly as soon as you saw the screen, your eyes glistening and he realized that this laugh was just for him. 

“You must be really in love with me if you laughed at that”, he sent and watched as you read and suddenly the same look overtook your face that he had seen on himself so many times when he was with you. 

He only took his eyes off you when his phone chimed again.

“Of course. Who else would ever compare?”

Yoongi or Suga

This was getting annoying for him. Yoongi would call himself a pretty calm person especially after the ten years of life as an artist had made him immune to almost everything happening around him. But this was getting on his nerves. 

You had walked into HYBE tonight and after just being at Genius Lab for a few minutes, you had asked about Do-Yan and went to seek him as soon as Yoongi told you that he must be in PDogg’s studio. Had it been a one time occurrence, Yoongi wouldn’t even have cared enough to think much into it but after this becoming a routine, he was over it. 

Do-Yan was a talented young producer who was contracted for TXT’s new album. You were heavily involved in the A&R activities of BigHit Music and were actually the person who had discovered Do-Yan. In your perspective, he could be a great asset and while he was just here on a temporary basis, you wished to persuade him to sign him as a BigHit producer permanently. PDogg had agreed with you and now you both were on the task of convincing him to stay. 

Unaware of this all, Yoongi decided to do something about the situation. As he typed the messages to the management team, he knew that this was very petty of him but he was beyond the point of caring right now. 

The next time you asked him about Do-Yan, Yoongi did not look up from his computer as he said, “He has been moved”. 

“What?”, you were shocked to say the least. “Moved? What do you mean moved?”

“He will be working with Bang PD directly now so he will be in the other building.”

“So, he signed the contract?”

Now Yoongi was getting agitated, “Why do you care so much?”, he had turned his seat around and was now only focusing on you. His tone was still calm but inside he was screaming.

Oblivious to the storm inside him you said, “Why wouldn’t I? He must have else he would not have said yes to that since...”, Yoongi was not even listening anymore. 

“He did. I talked to the management myself and got him to say yes”, Yoongi said. His voice low and his back now turned to you. “You can move there as well if you want to see him and care about him so much”.

“You...but you didn’t know”, suddenly all the pieces fell into place in your mind and you scolded yourself mentally for not noticing it yourself. 

“Yoongi”, you called out to him softly as you moved closer to his chair. “Jagiya”, you called again as you kneeled beside his chair, taking his hand lightly in yours. 

“I just wanted him to join the company so I was spending most of my time on that. I am sorry that I did not clear it to you. I’ll make up for all the lost time now that you’ve got it done”. 

Yoongi couldn’t even remember what he was angry about as you placed yourself on his lap, pulling him close to leave a gentle kiss on his lips. 

After a while your phone rang and you announced that you had to go for a meeting. As you inched closer to the door, you remembered something and without even turning around you said:

“I can’t believe you got him moved”

You closed the door behind you but not before hearing his low chuckle.

Hoseok or J-Hope or Hobi 

“I think Yeonjun and I should perform on something more sexy?”, you said with your eyes fixated on his face waiting for a reaction.

His eyebrows furrowed and then as if thinking about it, he immediately turned to you, nodding, “Yes, I think it will work great with both of your stage personalities”.

You were surprised. This was not the answer that you were expecting. You had hoped that he would get jealous like all those TikTok boyfriends. 

But you were not going to be dejected so easily. 

“Why don’t you help with the choreography?”, you suggested, a plan already forming in your head. 

“Y/N, I would have been offended had you not asked me”, he said as he showed off his gorgeous smile.

After a few days when you three started working on the performance, you tried to make Hobi jealous. You would suggest even more suggestive moves but he would just think about them and excitedly agree to them or politely decline saying how it does not fit with the steps. 

He would watch as you danced, concentrated and focused, but unwavering. 

After weeks of this charade, you grew tired and when Yeonjun excused himself to leave for a music show you exasperatedly sighed in front of Hobi who was monitoring the recently shot dance practice video of yours. 

“I don’t think you even care about me”.

“Huh?!”, Hobi was bewildered. “What?!”

“Yeah, you don’t care if I go throw myself in someone else’s arms”, your voice was loud in the empty dance studio. You lowered it again, “you don’t care”.

“Y/N”, Hobi was now closer to you, looking straight into your eyes. “I care. I care a lot. I care that this performance is amazing because this is a great opportunity for you. I care that your steps show exactly how good of a dancer you are. I care and that is why I would never let anybody else do it instead of me”. 

You were surprised. This was not what you were looking for but it was a pleasant difference. 

“And I would care if it was not a performance. I would, I do care if anyone even looks at you in the wrong way but I would never take it out on you. I want you to be able to perform without worrying what I would take it as. I want you to be loved by everyone in the audience”. 

His arms slowly snaked around your waist and under your sweatshirt, “just not the way that I do”.

Namjoon or RM

Namjoon had watched you the entire night, his eyes refusing to leave your figure as you rushed around the venue making sure everything was perfect. 

It was the last concert of the tour and you as the tour manager were adamant on making it memorable and smooth. Double-checking everything, you finally allowed yourself a moment of peace as you saw your boyfriend rehearse his performance for Trivia:  Love. 

Namjoon locked eyes with you, smiling and rapping his lines as if talking to you. Suddenly, you felt the weight of something on your shoulders and you looked away from the stage realizing that it was your assistant, Alan, who had just covered you with his jacket. You smiled gratefully as he extended a hand holding your coffee. 

“You should rest for a while before we meet back for sound check”, he suggested and you looked at your watch to see that he was right. Tonight was going to be hectic and a power nap was definitely needed.

You had not even realized that the stage was now empty and the leader was standing right by your side. His eyes were not on you, but on the man now sitting beside you, glancing at his jacket on your shoulders. 

Shrugging the jacket off, you asked, “Are you done? Any issues?”. 

Not answering your question, Namjoon kept staring at Alan and you felt bad for the poor guy. You asked again and this time Namjoon’s lips turned into a smile, “None, jagiya”. Jagiya?! 

Now you were the one staring daggers at him but he did not waver. Instead, with the same smile plastered on his lips, he took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders, pulling the zipper closer together as he made his way to where Alan was sitting. Alan immediately got up, excusing himself and vacating the seat that now your boyfriend occupied, his hand reaching across your shoulder to pull you into him. 

You resisted. 

“ ‘Jagiya’. Really?! Really, Namjoon?”

He just smiled at that, genuinely this time. “Come on, you know I lose all calm when it comes to you”.

“Calm and senses, both”, you murmured as he laughed and pulled you closer and you let him, closing your eyes and resting before work would call you again.

#bts #bts reactions #jin #seokjin #yoongi #suga #namjoon #rm #hoseok #hobi #jhope #bangtan #fluff #jealous #reader #kim namjoon #min yoongi #kim seokjin #jung hoseok

[liberty-barnes]

Just Breathe

Tom Holland x Female!Osterfield!Bisexual!Reader

Summary: Childbirth waits for no one, not even the Oscars.

Warnings: fluuuuuff, pregnant reader, mentions of childbirth, good press articles, BISEXUAL READER WOOOHOOO

Word Count: 1.5k words

Estimated Reading Time: 6 minutes

A/N: heeeeey look @peterspideyy​ @parkersbliss​ that crazy idea i ranted to you about like six months ago finally got done! i can’t believe i did it... this feels too good to be true, is the world gonna end or something?

Masterlist 

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Me neither."

"Please, just stay here."

You looked up to your brother and husband, frowning as you smoothed your hand over the soft black fabric of your gown.

"I am not missing the Oscars, Tom. I've still got two weeks until I'm due, it'll be fine."

You sat down on the bed and looked dejectedly at your shoes, then proceeded to throw puppy dog eyes your brother's way until Harrison had no choice but to kneel and help you put on your comfortable trainers. There's no way you're putting on your heels at 37 weeks of pregnancy.

"But what if Baby decides to come sooner? You could go into labour at any moment!"

You rolled your eyes and only raised your arms so they could help you out of bed.

"You guys are being over-dramatic. Nothing's gonna happen. We're just going to the Oscars, we'll have a good time, and hopefully, I'll leave with a little statue under my arm."

With that, you waddled out of your hotel room, ready to get into the limo.

---

"(Y/n)! It's so good to see you! You look radiant as always!"

You smiled at Kaitlyn, an interviewer you knew and trusted and rubbed your belly comfortingly. 

"Thank you, I feel like a whale, but Baby'll be here soon so it's worth it."

She smiled and asked you a bunch of questions about your movie and how you were feeling about being nominated for Best Actress.

"But anyway, how far along are you now?"

"I'm a little over 37 weeks, they should be coming soon. Tom and Haz were actually really apprehensive about me coming here since I'm so close to my due date."

She smiled and looked over at the two men, obviously on edge.

"Well, I wish you all the best and I sincerely hope you win."

You hugged her goodbye and posed for a few more pictures before being led inside by your husband.

---

"And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for..."

Everyone watched with bated breath as Brie Larson, last year's winner, got ready to announce who would take home the trophy.

"This year's winner, and taking home the Oscar for best actress in a leading role..."

Tom took your hand and you squeezed it tight, ready to applaud one of the other amazing actresses on their win.

"(Y/n) Holland, for her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin!"

You felt like your heart was gonna beat out of your chest, run to that stage, kiss Brie, then promptly burst to flames out of sheer, unadulterated enthusiasm. Tom was hugging you and whispering how much you deserved it while your brother gently guided you to the podium. None of them would ever allow you to go up there on your own. Always one in front of you in case you trip forward and one behind you to catch you if you fall back.

Overprotective much?

As soon as you reached Brie, you hugged her tight (or as tight as you could with a human baby house separating you), taking the award while the two boys hugged her too.

"Holy Louis Tomlinson in a crop top."

The audience laughed, most of them already familiar with your strange One Direction inspired expressions.

"Wow, I didn't actually think I was gonna win this, everyone had such amazing performances. I-It's an honour, really. Two Sides of the Same Coin was a project very near and dear to my heart, so I'd like to thank the amazing Drew Barrymore, who wrote and directed the movie."

The room erupted in cheers and the woman smiled at you from her place on the front row.

"Bisexual representation is something we don't get very often, and when we do, it's always misjudged. So thank you for showing the world what bisexuality really is, and for giving me a chance to live out my dreams of kissing lots of people. This idiot tied me down too soon."

You pointed behind you at Tom, hearing his appalled squeak along with Harrison's guffaw of a laugh. 

In other news, the baby was starting to inconvenience you slightly. Baby had been going crazy since last night (not that you'd tell the boys) and the Braxton-Hicks were killing you, but it only got worse now.

"I'd also like to thank my amazing costars, Zendaya, Bella Thorne, and Owen Patrick Joyner, it was awesome to make out with you all..."

The crowd laughed while you felt something trickle down your legs.

Oh.

OH.

You'll never live this down, that's for sure.

"Uh, before I finish can one of you idiots call the car and get them to come to the exit please and thank you? Now as I was saying-"

"Wait, why?"

You turned to your brother and smiled innocently.

"Oh, my water just broke."

The crowd cheered.

Tom screamed.

Harrison fell to the floor, unconscious.

You sighed.

"New plan, can anyone try to wake my brother while my hus-" 

You looked at Tom, frantically doing small back and forths between you and his best friend, unsure of what to do. 

"-While someone else calls the car because both of them are apparently useless."

"We need to get you to the hospital!"

His terrified scream could be heard all through the room, even with no mic.

"What? No! I need to finish my acceptance speech, then go back to the hotel to shower and maybe take a little nap and then go to the hospital. My water just broke, Thomas, we have time, calm your tits."

You turned back fully to the mic, facing the hysteric faces of the crowd, very entertained by the exchange.

"Now as I was saying, I want to thank the amazing team that worked on this movie, you're all amazing and it was such a good experience. I'd also like to thank my family for always being there for me and supporting me and Haz in our acting careers. Thank you to my brother, even if he's unconscious right now, he'll just watch it on Youtube later, for literally forcing me to go to the audition. And lastly, I'd like to thank my wonderful husband, who hopefully hasn't passed out yet, for always supporting me and being my biggest rock through everything. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff."

---

An Oscar in hand and another... down her legs?

(Y/n) Holland sure gave the Oscars something to be entertained by on this last Saturday. The wife of fellow actor Tom Holland looked radiant in her custom-made Valentino dress, looking ready for a night of fun.

(Y/n) was nominated for this year's Best Actress in a Leading Role award, alongside Meryl Streep, Margot Robbie, Cate Blanchett, and Tessa Thompson, but the Oscar went to her from her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin. But it was during her acceptance speech that things got... slippery.

At 37 weeks of pregnancy, the Holland baby was ready to come at any minute, but apparently, theatrics run in the family. The actress was in the middle of her speech when she felt her water break, pausing in her talking to request a car be called.

You'd think her husband, Tom, and brother Harrison Osterfield, overprotective as they are, would be fully prepared! Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for our entertainment, they were not. Harrison went unconscious after hearing the news, dropping to the floor and earning himself a minor concussion, much to his sister's amusement

[image1-harrison-ice-pack.png]

@ynholland: "Don't worry, when you go into labour, I'll be with you every step of the way." Said Harrison Osterfield, then proceeded to pass out, get a minor concussion, and miss the whole delivery.😂 Good job, little bro👍

And just when you thought she couldn't get any better, she finishes her acceptance speech with: "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff." We have no choice but to stan this iconic queen!

But for the news you've all been waiting for, Oscar Robert Holland (yes, the middle name is a homage to Robert Downey Jr. himself, we're not crying, you are!) was born just twelve hours later. Tom let know through a beautiful Instagram picture that he is in fact "perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already".

[image2-tom-and-oscar.png]

@tomholland2013: I present to you, my best creation to this date: Oscar Robert Holland. Thank you all for your prayers and kind messages, our boy is perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already❤️

But of course, Uncle Haz wouldn't stay behind.

[image3-haz-and-oscar.png]

@hazosterfield: Since I know you've all been worried sick and desperate to know how the baby is... I'm doing just fine, it's just a minor concussion :) Oh and my godson's great too.

And just to prove that the Osterfields are indeed the royal family of comedy, we leave with this wonderful picture posted to the happy mum's very own Instagram.

[image4-yn-and-oscars.png]

@ynholland: Guess I was so good they gave two Oscars instead of one ;)

-Written by Kaitlyn Storm

so anyway, Two Sides of the Same Coin is a movie idea i got a while ago and should maybe try to write one of these days but oh well or something. anyway, i’m not gonna rant about it here cause it’d be too long but i hope you enjoyed this and don’t forget to like/comment/reblog if you feel like it!

-Love, Miah

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────» 

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you) 

PERMA TAG 

@adriannajackson123​ @theamazingtomholland​ @inlovewithmobtom​ @andycanbeemotional​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @jeezkiddo​ @a-singleboat​ @wunder-13 @highlydisfunctional1​ @ellyseveronica​ @inthecornerchair​ @harishaanne​ @anjalika03​ @lozzypoz321​ @mendes-marvel​ @sovereignparker​ @bubbles-the-powerpuffgurl 

 MARVEL ACTORS 

@sarcasticallywitty15​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @onelovesr​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @parkerpetertingle​ @juliebean247​ @frustratingpaperclip​ @tacobacoyeet​ 

HOLLAND & CO. 

@sarcasticallywitty15​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @onelovesr​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @zeusmyster​ @parkerpetertingle​ @juliebean247​ @joyleenl​ @quaksonhehe​ @clara-licht​ @frustratingpaperclip​  @tutuabby28​ @tacobacoyeet​ 

LGBTQ+ 

@quaksonhehe​ 

#libby writes #libbys stuff #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #osterfield!reader #harrison osterfield #actress!reader #bisexual!reader #oscars #academy awards #mcu #avengers #spider-man #spiderman x reader #MCU Spiderman #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #fluff #pregnant!reader #husband!tom

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Extra 8

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Extra: Tan Zaozao

Tan Zaozao had filmed many movies, had played countless characters. She'd been the bewitching dancer, the heroic swordswoman, the loving mother, the young woman who just could not extricate herself from the throes of love.

Every character was different, just as every person led a different life.

When Tan Zaozao first got into the entertainment circle, she had had an accident: while she was shooting a scene on horseback, she had been careless, and fallen off the horse. Her injuries had been terrible, and she'd almost lost her life. A close friend of hers came to visit her in the hospital and completely chewed her out, asking if she wanted to die, why didn't she use a stunt double for such a dangerous occasion.

Tan Zaozao had answered with a smile: "My life's not worth that much."

Tan Zaozao had been young back then, and completely without fear of death. She’d thought she would always be that way, until one day, she went on a talk show. When Tan Zaozao walked out of her dressing room, she discovered that the corridor that ought to have led to the soundstage had turned into twelve metal doors. Every single door looked exactly the same, emanating an icy chill.

Seeing such a thing, the smile on Tan Zaozao's face went stiff. Her first reaction was to wonder if this was a prank organized by production, and so she forced down the unsettled feeling in her chest. She kept it up until…she pulled open one of the doors.

When the door opened, she appeared in an unfamiliar location. All around her was a desolate graveyard, and before her loomed a dark and enormous castle.

Tan Zaozao followed the path slowly forward. In the clearing in front of the ancient castle, she spotted several people standing together, discussing something in whispers. All their faces were strange to her, and when they saw her, they just tossed over momentary gazes before looking away again.

"Excuse me, where are we?" Tan Zaozao asked.

Nobody answered her question.

"Is this for a show?" An onslaught of bad feeling was crashing over Tan Zaozao's chest, and she asked this question with great caution. Only, somebody in the crowd took on a mocking expression.

"For a show? You've seen such a realistic show before?"

Tan Zaozao went silent.

Though she held onto a thread of hope, wishing this were a hyperrealistic prank show, that hope was ruthlessly dashed when she saw the first person die. That person's death was miserable—they were covered from wounds from head to toe, and all of their blood had been sucked out. They could not have been more dead.

Tan Zaozao stared at that corpse, frozen where she stood. That was the first time she became truly conscious of the fact that this wasn't a prank, nor was it some sort of realistic game. Here, death was a very real possibility.

Tan Zaozao's first door wasn't too difficult, relatively speaking. She was pretty lucky, and came out alive. When she returned to the real world, she almost immediately had an emotional breakdown, terrifying the assistant beside her.

"Zaozao, are you alright?" the assistant asked in worry.

"Where were you?!" Tan Zaozao said angrily. "Why didn't you help me?"

The assistant looked back at her blankly.

"What do you mean…where? Haven't you been sitting here the whole time?"

Tan Zaozao startled, saying, "I've been sitting here the whole time?"

"Yeah," the assistant answered. "You've been just sitting here, spacing out…"

Tan Zaozao went silent, and faintly came to understand something. But before she could figure it all out, the assistant was rushing her onto the stage. The interview was starting.

Onstage, Tan Zaozao was inattentive, answering the host's questions on and off and absently. The host saw that something was off, and just as he was rearing to ask, there came a terrified yell from offstage. Before the host even had time to react, there was the sound of shattering glass above his head. He looked up, and saw a black shadow plummeting toward him.

Tan Zaozao had been sitting right next to the host. She got a close-up view of that giant hanging light plunging heavily from above and smashing to the ground before her very eyes.

The host, who had just been laughing and chatting with her, became a dismembered corpse in the matter of a moment. Tan Zaozao stood there blankly, looking as if in a trance.

For Tan Zaozao to have survived this accident was practically a miracle. Lord knows she'd been sitting right next to the talk show host. The heavy lighting equipment had practically grazed her as it fell, but didn't leave a single scratch on her.

This incident that gave Tan Zaozao severe shock, and she was forced to take a break for a while.

And during this break, she finally figured out what that door was.

It was torment, and also rebirth.

Without the doors, she would already be dead. But with the doors, she still might not survive.

Through a friend, Tan Zaozao met Ruan Nanzhu, and also learned there was a whole group of people selected by the doors.

"Do you want to simply cross the doors or train in the doors?" Ruan Nanzhu asked Tan Zaozao.

Tan Zaozao, "is there a difference…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "the difference is, the first one, you don't have to think about anything, you only have to follow me. The other, you have to rely on yourself."

Tan Zaozao's answer was decisive: "I choose the first one."

"But Obsidian doesn't take doors after the fifth," Ruan Nanzhu said. "If you choose the first option, maybe you'll have an easier time surviving in the beginning, but there's no guarantee for later."

Tan Zaozao's smile was forced.

"But I really am scared."

Ruan Nanzhu went quiet. It was his agreement to Tan Zaozao's request.

Tan Zaozao really was just a normal girl. She was scared of the dark and scared of ghosts. Out of the people in Obsidian, the one she was most like was Cheng Qianli. But this likeness also meant that neither of them were suited to the doors.

Tan Zaozao made her decision. She knew her own ending, and had her doubts in the middle. But in the end, she never changed her mind.

After the fifth door, Obsidian didn't take on gigs anymore. And Tan Zaozao's journey had come to an end.

"Zaozao, how about I take you in." Lin Qiushi was a good guy. There was worry for Tan Zaozao in his eyes, but Tan Zaozao turned him down with a smile.

Deep inside her heart, she'd once worked up a bit of jealousy toward Lin Qiushi—she'd been jealous of Ruan Nanzhu's preferential treatment toward him. But after the jealousy faded, Tan Zaozao discovered that she actually understood Ruan Nanzhu very well. Lin Qiushi was so utterly lovely—he was clever, and brave, and kind, just like a glittering gemstone. Anybody would be attracted to those qualities of his. Not only Ruan Nanzhu, herself included.

If she were Ruan Nanzhu, she would probably make the same decision.

Tan Zaozao thought, melancholic: who wouldn't want a strong and brave companion?

In the end she chose another organization. That org promised her that they would bring her out of her sixth door, but they failed.

This was also within Tan Zaozao's expectations. The only thing that wasn't part of the plan was dying on her most beloved stage.

It was honestly a kindness she'd asked for. She'd wanted to die quietly, but found that she couldn't do it. In the terrifying world of the doors, a pair of hands dragged her into an endless black. And when she came out from the door, the extravagant stage was before her eyes. Beneath the stage were blinding lights, and in her ears were the shutter clicks of cameras. The audience was seeing everything, and all of it was being recorded.

When she knew death was descending, Tan Zaozao couldn't help a scream of misery—she regretted it now. She didn't want to die yet. There was still so much she wanted to do.

This wasn't fair…

But it was all too late.

Her final path had already been determined by her decision way back at the beginning.

Above her head came once more that familiar sound of shattering glass. Tan Zaozao looked up and saw the bright lights, as well as the countless shards of glass plummeting toward her. That chandelier was like a crown, crashing heavily atop her body. It broke her to pieces.

Before the darkness fell, Tan Zaozao heard panicked shouts from the people offstage. She even saw some frantic faces. As Tan Zaozao lied on the floor, a faint smile came to her lips. She felt the darkness encroach on her vision, and the eternal silence tasted, to her surprise, a bit sweet.

She sank into a long sleep from which she would never be disturbed.

[Extra: Bai Ming and Zhang Yiqing]

#kaleidoscope of death #xi zixu #cnovel #chinese translation #死亡萬花筒 #this is it folks!!!! #thanks so much for sticking around #next plans are going back and translating KoD chapters I haven't done yet #also editing #I've casually started on I Heard You Want to Hit Me #which i highly recommend!!!! it's another xzx novel #much shorter #weirdly similar vibes to kod #considering the subject matter is completely different

[thatgirlstrawberry]

Someone Else part 2

In which Spencer finally confesses... at Y/N's wedding

Spencer ReidxFem!reader

Warnings: angst, sadness, all the feels 🥺

Spencer never thought he'd be in a church waiting for Y/N at the altar... on the groomsmen side.

Two and a half years later, Zeke had asked Spencer to be one of his groomsmen when he and Y/N first announced that they were engaged. He wore a smile on his face but on the inside, he was so close to breaking.

Rossi held an engagement party at his mansion. Spencer watched her as she spoke to Morgan with Zeke by her side. His arm was wrapped around her waist. Y/N happily played with her dimond ring.

God, did Spencer wish that he was in Zeke's position. He wished that he was the one kissing her and holding her. He wished that he was the one who got down on one knee.

But there he was, standing with his hands folded in front of him as he stared at the doors in the back, waiting for them to open. He eyes Penelope, JJ, and Emily on the other side as they smiled excitedly and whispered to each other.

Then the music started.

The doors opened.

Spencer's throat became desert dry as he spotted her in that white dress. God, she looked beautiful. She always did to him.

Her smile was brighter than the damn sun as she made eye contact with Zeke. Spencer noticed the tears that burned in his eyes as she got closer to him.

For a second, just a second, Y/N looked at him. He gave her a smile but her eyes were already back on Zeke.

The ceremony was over just as it had started but for Spencer, it felt like an eternity of listening to them say their vows. He held a blank stare at the ground and anyone who wasn't paying attention to Y/N in her beautiful dress, could see that he was devastatingly jealous. But he knew all eyes were in Y/N.

When the ceremony was over, he didn't dare look up to see them kiss. He clapped though. He looked to the audience to find Rossi looking right back at him. He nodded with a slight smile. "It's gonna be okay." The man mouthed.

Spencer nodded and a fake smile reached across his lips as he finally got the courage to look over at the newly weds.

The happiest smile that Spencer's ever seen on Y/N was stretched across her lips as she pulled away from Zeke's lips and pressed her forehead against his.

The officiant smiled. "May I present to you, Mr. And Mrs. Stone!"

Y/N and Zeke joined hands as they walked down the isle. Zeke's brother was in front of Spencer and he walked with JJ. Spencer was next and he let Emily loop her arm around him. "Hey, you okay, Spence?" She asked as they smiled at the people watching them walk down the isle.

"Yeah. I'm great." That was a lie if Emily had ever heard one but she decided not to press him that moment.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nobody had ever seen Spencer Reid drunk.

But there he was, taking in more alcohol at one time than he ever had in his entire life. Emily and Penelope were eyeing him with concern as he downed two glasses of whiskey in a row.

The two women made their way over to him. Penelope placed her hands on his shoulders while Emily stood beside them.

"Boy wonder, what are you doing?" She asked.

Spencer sighed heavily. "I'm getting drunk. What does it look like I'm doing?" He grunted. His tie was messed up and his hair was disheveled. He looked like the drunk uncle who showed up at weddings.

"Spence, you need to slow down. There are kids here." Emily told him, placing a hand on his chest.

The doctor scoffed and pushed her away gently. "I don't care, Emily! I n-never- I just want- Y/N! I want Y/N."

Both women widened their eyes. "Reid, she just got married. What are you talking about-"

Penelope was cut off by a voice coming over speakers. "Pkay, ladies and gentlemen! We are now gonna open up the mic for speeches to welcome the newly weds! If anyone has anything they'd like to say say to the couple, please come on up."

Spencer looked back at Emily and Penelope. "Don't do it, Spencer." Emily said quietly.

Before anyone could say anything else, Spencer rushed towards the stage. "Spence!" Garcia yelled out.

Then he was there. Standing beside the head table where he was supposed to be sat with a microphone in his hands. Y/N and Zeke had smiles on their faces.

"Um... hi. I'm Spencer Reid." He cleared his throat quietly. "Um... I've known- I've known Y/N/N for a long time now." His voice was slightly slurred but Y/N couldn't hear it. She was just happy that her bestfriend was up there. "The first time I met Y/N, she and I had- ha. We had a Rubix cube contest." He laughed, pushing his palm into his eye. "I won but she- she congratulated me. And... that's when I developed a crush on her." Y/N's smile contorted into a confused one. She glanced at Zeke who wasn't smiling anymore. "She's so beautiful." Y/N noticed that he was drunk now. He looked over at her with a smile. "And those- those years I've know her... I fell in love." Y/N felt Zeke tense up beside her. "I've been in love with her- I am in love with her. I'm and idiot because I never had the courage to ask her out. Or or tell her how I feel. And now she's married this... Zeke guy. You're an amazing guy, man. You really are but ha! I'm in love with your wife." Before Zeke could get up from his seat, Y/N stopped him.

She stood up instead and marched towards Spencer with an angry face. She grabbed the microphone from his hands and gave it back to the MC who was standing there awkwardly.

She grabbed Spencer's wrist tightly and dragged him off of the stage. She passed Penelope and Emily who tried to call out to her gut she just shook her head and kept walking Spencer towards the doors that they had all entered from.

She opened them and dragged him out. When she finally let go of his wrist he stumbled a bit and them looked at her. "Oh, Y/N... Y/N/N... I'm sorry-"

"How could you!?" Her yelling silenced him. She had tears in her eyes. "That was the most embarrassing thing I've ever dealt with, Spencer! And at my wedding! My wedding for God's sake!"

Spencer was pretty sure that everyone in the dining hall could hear her, she was so angry. Hot, angry tears flowed down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I-i I don't know what got into me."

"You had no right! You had no right to say any of that in there! You do understand that don't you!?" She yelled.

Spencer nodded. "I'm so sorry-"

"When we first met... God, when we first met... I couldn't get you out of my head, Spencer. I- I- ugh!" She didn't know what else to do. So, her brain took over and she laid a hard slap to his cheek. She gasped as soon as she did it and stepped back, placing her hands over her mouth. "I'm sorry. Oh, God I'm sorry."

"You like me, Y/N?" He asked, disregarding her apologies and the slap.

"No! No, Spencer I don't! I said that I liked you! I found someone else." She told him. She stepped forward. "He's an amazing person, he loves me-"

"Alright, Y/N-"

"I love him! he-"

"Okay-"

"He tells me how he feels! He doesn't hide his feelings Spencer!"

"I know!" Spencer yelled. "I know that I messed up! I screwed everything up because you walked into my life! You're everything I wanted, Y/N!"

Y/N shook her head slowly. "You don't get to say that to me." She whispered, a tear falling from her eye.

Spencer's eyes softened as he looked at her. She crossed her arms and stared at the ground. "I was gonna tell ypu and the team after the wedding but, Zeke and I are moving. He got a job in L.A and we're going."

"Y/N-"

She sniffled. "Go home, Spencer."

"But Y/N-"

"Leave, Spencer." She wiped a tear from her cheek. "Please." She pleaded, not wanting to cry anymore.

He didn't say anything. He just nodded and turned towards the exit. Before he could though, he stopped and turned back around to face her.

Her arms were crossed and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth as tears traveled down her red cheeks.

"Congratulations, Y/N."

Then he left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don't know who I feel worse for 😭

I'm crying cuz I don't know if I feel worse for Spence or Y/N. Who do you feel worse for???

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #im crying #this is sad #criminal minds

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 30: Likeness

Draco Malfoy had spent his entire life being shaped and molded into the image and likeness of Lucius Malfoy.

It had always been assumed that he would go into politics, that he would settle down with a nice pureblood girl and have a child. His life had always been laid out before him like it had already happened.

But the summer Draco turned 18 he left. He left his family, left his friends, left the wizarding world all together. Draco cut his hair short on the sides and let the top grow out and then he dyed it pink.

He got a muggle tattoo; bright, beautiful flowers to cover up the dark mark: new life conquering death.

And he got a job dancing at a strip club. He was good at it, he had the body for it, for the corsets and the tiny panties, for the heels that made his legs look miles long. The muggle glitter made his pale, muscular body shimmer under the lights. He had the face for it, his eyes mysterious and otherworldly enough that the make-up only enhanced it.

He was a very popular act and Draco enjoyed the whole affair. He enjoyed people watching him, desiring him. It wasn't a forever career but it served him well.

It continued to serve him well for four whole years, before one night when the lights came up and he strut out onto the stage, rolling his hips and letting his hands caress his body, and just as he was reaching for the pole his eyes snagged on a pair of eyes he would have recognized anywhere.

It felt like eternity passed in the beat of the song he missed as he found Harry Potter staring back at him from the audience. A jolt of something electric skittered down his spine and Draco forced himself to look away and start dancing.

(Read more below the cut)

He hooked his leg around the pole and began his routine, falling into the familiar motions, spinning, and rolling, and flipping, using every ounce of strength and control he possessed.

And he very intentionally did not allow his eyes to stray to Potter.

Even without looking, though, he knew that he had the other man's undivided attention. It had been so long since he'd felt the heat of Potter's gaze on him that he'd almost forgotten what it was like to be the center of his attention.

At the very end, as he was collecting the notes that had been thrown at him, he allowed himself one more look.

Potter had grown up. He'd grown taller and his body had filled out, it was almost hard to believe that he was the same boy who'd come to Hogwarts looking malnourished, weak, and filthy to fight the most dangerous wizard to ever live. His hair had grown out, too, it was pulled back into a messy bun, and he'd grown in a beard that he kept trimmed neatly.

He had the sudden urge to feel the scrape of his beard on all of the sensitive places on his body, to sink his fingers into Potter's curls as his mouth tasted Draco's skin.

He made eye contact, and his arousal spiked at the look of sheer want in the other man's eyes. In that moment, Draco felt like the most powerful man in the entire world.

The man sitting next to Potter, a muggle that Draco didn't recognize, punched him in the shoulder and the moment dissipated like smoke.

With a quick shake of the head, he finished collecting his money and disappeared back stage without looking at him again.

That night he wondered what would come of Potter seeing him, wondered if he'd find reporters from the Prophet at the show the next night, worried that his world was crashing down around him.

But he couldn't seem to stop wondering if he might see Potter again.

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

Potter returned the next night, and the next, and the next, and so on for the following month.

Every time Draco stepped onto the stage, Potter was there in the crowd watching. And he found himself watching Potter more and more, until one night he spent nearly his entire scene watching the other man, he might as well have used Potter as a spot to keep himself from getting dizzy.

It was that night that he decided enough was enough. He had to find out why Potter was here and what he wanted. After his performance he changed quickly, pulling on a pair of skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He slipped into a pair of trainers and headed out of his dressing room and toward the door that led into the club.

Potter was no where to be seen when he came in so he went outside and saw him walking down the sidewalk. "Potter!" he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

The other man froze before turning slowly to look at him.

Draco jogged to catch up to him but found that he wasn't quite sure what to say once he was standing in front of him.

"Uh," the other man said inelegantly, rubbing the back of his neck, "Hey."

"Hey?" Draco spluttered incredulously. "You show up to every single one of my performances for the past month and that is all you have to say? Hey?"

"You're very talented," Potter offered.

"Yes," he replied.

Potter snorted, "Humble as ever, I see."

"Why should I be humble? I am talented," he said, tilting his chin up defiantly. "I've worked hard to get where I am."

"Sorry," Potter said, trying to backpedal, "I didn't-" he shook his head. "I'm not sure what to say to you. I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended," Draco replied. He crossed his arms, wishing he'd brought a jacket, "Just," he huffed, "tell me why."

"Why what?"

"Why you keep coming to watch me dance!"

Potter looked at him for a long moment, "Are you cold?" he asked.

"Yes," he replied, because it was true. Potter started to shrug off his jacket, "You don't have to do th-" but his protest fell on deaf ears as he looped it over Draco's shoulders.

"I've asked myself that very same question a thousand times," Harry replied. "In part, I think it's because so many people just stayed the same. It's why I left the wizarding world for the most part, everyone wanted me to be who I'd always been and I didn't want that anymore. I wanted to be allowed to grow and change. And you've obviously done that, too."

"So, what you felt like we were kindred spirits or something?" he asked.

"Sort of," Potter replied, lazily lifting one shoulder, "But you're just nothing like what I imagined you turn out to be and it made me wonder what else I was wrong about when it came to you."

"And you thought the best way to figure it out was by watching me pole dance?"

Potter laughed and rubbed the back of his neck again, "I don't know. I couldn't figure out what to do," he confessed. "I didn't know how to talk to you."

"Still," Draco said, "there has to be more to it than that."

"You're also bloody gorgeous," Potter added, "when you dance. And I really like watching you."

"Oh?"

He nodded, "I'd wondered a little bit before I saw you again if part of my obsession with you at Hogwarts was actually attraction that I just hadn't understood at the time."

"And?" he asked.

"Well, obviously seeing you again confirmed it." Potter looked down and scuffed his toe on the sidewalk.

In a moment of bravery that he'd never quite be able to understand later, Draco stepped forward, caught Potter's chin and pressed their lips together.

Potter took a surprised gasp, sucking a bit of Draco's air into his mouth before he started to kiss him back. His hands moved to cup Draco's face as he kissed him softly, gently like Draco was something precious, something treasured.

He'd been kissed a lot but he'd never been kissed like this. He'd never been kissed with such single-minded devotion, never been kissed like he was someone instead of something. Potter licked into his mouth, stroking his tongue over Draco's as one of his hands slid down to Draco's waist, drawing him a bit closer.

After a long moment, Potter pulled back first, "We should get off the sidewalk," he said.

"Logical," Draco replied.

"Could I take you to dinner?"

The corner of Draco's mouth tipped up, "I don't usually have dinner with my one night stands."

"Well, maybe I could not be a one night stand?" Potter said. "Not that I'm even remotely opposed to the idea of sex with you, I just can't imagine that one night could ever be enough."

"I might be able to be persuaded."

"Oh?" Potter asked, smiling wide enough that his dimples appeared. "How might I be able to persuade you?"

He smirked, "I'm not entirely sure yet but you're resourceful, you'll figure it out."

"Where would you like to go for dinner?" Potter asked.

"You flat," he replied. "I'm still in my stage make-up and it makes for some funny looks."

"Your make up is gorgeous," Potter protested, "But I'd be very glad for you to come back to my flat."

"Lead on, then," Draco replied, feeling a spark of anticipation.

This was just the first of many nights that Draco came to Harry's flat after the show. He came to his flat so often, in fact, that it eventually became their flat. And Harry had been right all along, one night (or one lifetime, for that matter) could never be enough.

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

You can read Day 107: Charge as a sequel to this ficlet. :)

Day 29: Punch | Day 31: Veritaserum

#thanks for the prompt anon! #I hope you enjoy! #harry potter #100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlets #my writiing #day 30

[dhwty-writes]

hi! I have a prompt, if you like: what if Geralt hangs up mistletoe to get Jaskier to kiss him? :)

ELLIE, what a galaxy brained concept! It’s so silly and the gay panic is rampant in this one, my friends. The Kaer Morons being a bumbling pack of idiots and Geralt ridiculously pining after Jaskier? Coming right up!

Summary: Geralt is in love with Jaskier. In order to finally get him to admit his feelings, he devises a ten step plan with Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir. 

Warnings: NONE, this is tooth-rotting fluff

Read on AO3

There was a conspiracy of the highest order brewing in the Continent involving no less than four witchers, their horses, a goat, and an unsuspecting bard. It is known under many names, including, but not limited to, Operation Home Sweet Home, Gods Save us from your Fucking Pining, and Get Vesemir's Blessing (and Mission Let's Get Geralt Laid, but that was from Lambert and therefore stupid).

They had laid out the Conspiracy in a set of carefully calculated steps last winter with the help of Vesemir's Wise Words and truly copious amounts of alcohol. Once he saw the whole list sober, Geralt had nearly chucked it into the fireplace out of mortification. Good thing Eskel and Lambert had been nearby to wrestle the slip of paper out of his hands.

Only after the creation of at least half a dozen copies was he trusted with it again. He frowned down at the sheet. It was simple, really. A simple ten-step-plan. He could do that.

Step One: Stop fucking staring out of windows and sighing longingly. (Shut up, Lambert.) Get back on the Path and find Jaskier.

Now, at least that was easy enough. Not for the first time since their acquaintance they had agreed upon a meeting place to come find each other as soon as the snows would allow it. Most of the years Geralt would arrive a little late; because even if they chose a spot closer to Kaer Morhen than Oxenfurt, the Killer was usually impassable for a long time.

A few years they had been lucky and could set out relatively early in spring. Geralt hadn't felt lucky at all, sitting in a lonely tavern corner day in, day out, waiting for a familiar bright-coloured bard to fill his life with light again. He had felt terrified, most of all.

So, this year when he set out to the Path, an already crumpled list clutched tightly in his hand, he was even more on edge than normally. He didn't think he could take Step One failing already, and the mortifying possibility of Jaskier lying dead in a ditch. He might just climb up that mountain again and never come back down.

Luckily, Geralt — and Vesemir — were saved from that miserable fate. When Geralt threw open the tavern door in some backwater Kaedwen town, Jaskier was there already. He was peacocking around in his usual manner, enticing his sparse audience with his captivating presence. When his eyes fell on Geralt, though, his three half-drunk spectators were soon forgotten.

The bard gasped and slung his lute onto his back, vaulting off the stage to come rushing over to him. "You're here!" Geralt stood ready, his arms spread wide to catch Jaskier when he flung himself at him in an overenthusiastic hug. "I missed you." Jaskier slung his legs around Geralt's hips and buried his face against his shoulder, clinging to him as if for dear life. 

Geralt held him tight, deeply inhaling the familiar scent, a mix of honey, grapes, and cinnamon. He was used to this by now. He didn't mind. Truth be told, he craved it.

"Hmm," he answered, acutely aware of the stares they were attracting. Geralt decided he didn't care. "I... missed you, too."

"You did?" Jaskier pulled back and beamed at him. Just a week ago he had thought he would kill to see that smile again as soon as possible.

"Hmm," he agreed. Now he knew he knew he would die for it.

Jaskier wriggled in his grasp as a sign he wanted to be put down again. "You certainly know how to sweep a man off his feet, darling," he announced with a cheerful wink. "I don't think you've ever told me you so much as enjoyed my company before, let alone miss it."

"Hmm." Hadn't he? He could've sworn he had.

"None of that, now, let me just grab my bag and we can be on our merry way." Without another word, Jaskier rushed up the stairs in the back of the tavern.

Geralt stood uncomfortably in the door, waiting for him to return and doing his best not to attract too much attention. 'Hurry up, Jaskier,' he thought impatiently.

"Oi!" the bartender shouted. "Yer the witcher? The one of the songs?"

"I am."

The man nodded and threw something at him, humming a very distinct tune. It was a ducat. Geralt pocketed it with a sigh. He hadn't missed that.

He didn't have to wait long before Jaskier came barrelling back down the stairs, a much too large bag Roach would have to carry again in tow. "Well," the bard straightened his crumpled doublet, which, for some reason, now gaped open and showed off the pristine shirt underneath. Geralt tried not to stare, "where are we off to?"

"Toussaint," he answered, holding the tavern door open for him.

"Toussaint!" Jaskier exclaimed excitedly. "I love Toussaint."

"Hmm," Geralt said. 'I know,' Geralt thought, 'that's why we're going.'

With their reunion out of the way, it was time to proceed with the plan:

Step Two: Travel with Jaskier. Be nice to him (no fillingless pies!)! Compliment him! Laugh at his jokes!

That part was significantly more difficult than the first. Not that he lacked compliments for Jaskier, quite on the contrary. They, however, posed not one, but two difficulties.

The first was one of his own making: voicing his thoughts with actual words. In the privacy of his mind he had a myriad of compliments. 'You're beautiful,' passed through his head when he saw Jaskier bathed in the golden light of sunset. 'You smell nice,' after a day at the coast, salt encrusting Jaskier's hair. 'You make me smile', 'You make the loneliness go away', 'You're the best bard I could wish for.' None of them were quite eager to leave his mouth.

When they finally did, it was awkward. They didn't sound at all how he imagined them. "What are you looking at?" Jaskier asked.

"Something on your face," he answered. 'Yeah,' he thought dumbly, 'sunlight.'

Or: "Geralt, are you sniffing me?"

"You smell." He still cursed himself months later for omitting the simple word 'nice'.

After a while he got better at it. He could manage an "I like your voice" without stumbling over it, or a "Your outfit looks nice and smooth." It wasn't an "I love listening to you sing and say my name; you make it sound like something that is worthy of affection" or an "I love that you wear silk as soft as your skin and could spend days caressing it without growing tired of it" yet, but he was getting there.

What came then, once he was able to say a simple nice sentence to his bard, was somehow even worse. Jaskier was clumsy, that was nothing new, but this season it was on a whole different level. Whenever Geralt so much asked him about the song he was working on, the bard stumbled over his own feet; with every smile or laugh he nearly dropped his precious lute.

But nothing beat that time they happened upon a particularly clear and blue lake and Geralt had leaned over to tell Jaskier: "I like it. It reminds me of your eyes. Just as pretty." The poet had nearly plummeted right into it, which would have been very unfortunate indeed, since he hadn't convinced the nymph living in it to migrate yet.

In the end, Jaskier's utter lack of equilibrium sense led to Geralt offering him to ride on Roach. That was much better. Sometimes they rode double, too. He liked those days especially, when he had an excuse to hold his bard close. The days when Jaskier would sigh and lean back into his touch he liked most of them all.

Slowly, they settled into a familiar rhythm. It was awkward at first, but soon they became used to the change of their relationship. And it wasn't as if everything changed. They still bickered and insulted each other, and laughed and told stories. It was just right; Geralt almost didn't notice how summer came to an end.

But it did, and when the first leaves started coasting to the ground it was time for the next step.

Step Three: Ask him where he will spend the next winter.

It was probably the most mortifying thing he had to say to Jaskier yet. They were sat at a campfire one early autumn evening, Geralt trying to look busy cleaning his sword and Jaskier preoccupied with his lute. Once he finally worked up the courage to ask, he stumbled over his words like a school boy; he even blushed, for fuck's sake! It was embarrassing.

Luckily, Jaskier didn't seem to notice, too busy tuning his lute. "Why, in Oxenfurt, of course. Why do you ask, Geralt?" he answered nonchalantly as if Geralt wasn't just leading the most daunting conversation of his entire life.

'Fucking great,' he thought. Now it was time for Step Three.5: Ask Jaskier to come home with you, you fucking idiot.

"Hm," he said.

Jaskier laughed. "Talkative as always I see." He smiled at him brightly and turned back to his lute. "Alright then. Keep your secrets."

"Hmm." This wasn't getting any easier. "Jaskier."

"Yes, dear?"

His heart fluttered with the pet name, so much that Geralt nearly bit his tongue off in the process of trying to voice his question: "Would you like to stay with me?"

The lute gave a dissonant twang that made both of them wince. "Excuse me, what?" Jaskier stammered, his voice much higher than normally.

"Hmm. I just thought..." He frowned. 'Shit.' He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. This had been doomed from the beginning. "Forget it, it's stupid."

"No, no, not at all!" Jaskier scrambled to his feet and hurried over to Geralt's side. "Where would we be staying? I suppose you could come to Oxenfurt with me, but it could get a bit crammed and-"

"Kaer Morhen," Geralt stated simply.

"Kaer Mo- oh!" His eyes lit up. "Why, yes, Geralt, I would love to stay with you."

And that was the end of that. They didn't talk about it anymore the whole evening as Geralt did his damnedest to forget the conversation had ever happened. But when he laid awake in the night, Jaskier huddled close to him — it was getting rather cold, after all — he couldn't stop his mind from whirling, excitement mixing with immobilising terror. Jaskier would come to Kaer Morhen with him. They would stay together the whole winter. And Jaskier would meet his family.

With a sigh he turned over, cautiously throwing an arm over Jaskier's waist and holding him like the precious thing he was. The smile that spread on Geralt's face when his bard snuggled even closer, outshone the morning sun creeping over the horizon.

The following days and weeks, Jaskier was buzzing with the same excited energy that Geralt held within. It cost him every ounce of self-control not to turn Roach around and head for Kaer Morhen right away. But it was still early in the autumn, at least a moon's turn before it was time to go home, so they busied themselves with taking contracts and performing for sub-par audiences.

It was alright. He needed the money, after all, if he wanted to cross off Step Four: Bring Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen in its entirety, including the note: Buy him some nice and warm clothes on the way - Vesemir

It was good advice, Geralt knew, as most of Vesemir's advice was. Jaskier might have travelled with a witcher for the better part of his life, but he was still only human. And winters were very cold in the northern Kaedwen mountains.

So, on Geralt's annual stop in Ard Carraigh, he took Jaskier to get him equipped with soft woollen sweaters and stockings, as well as a pair of sturdy boots, ignoring the bard's protests of how 'ugly' they were.

"You'll thank me when you've still got all your toes after this winter," he grumbled as he strapped Jaskier's bag to Roach's saddle.

After that, nothing much exciting followed. There were still a few villages and hamlets along the way to Kaer Morhen but the least of them had so much as a tavern. The ones with a real audience of Jaskier were fewer still.

Geralt couldn't say he didn't enjoy it. Quite the opposite, he loved listening to Jaskier in the privacy of their camp or — if they were lucky — the barn where they could stay the night. He loved knowing that Jaskier sang only for him. And most of all he loved the vibrant smiles he got along the way, and the tiny ones, too, etched on his face even when he curled up against the witcher at night.

During the days, Jaskier finally had to stop riding on Roach; the path was simply getting too dangerous. The way up to Kaer Morhen had never been easy, not even when there had been two dozen witchers and twice as many students living there, but since the attack they hadn't tended to it anymore. The Witcher's Trail was no easy one for humans — and it wasn't meant to be.

Jaskier, to his credit, didn't comment much on it, most of the time too exhausted or admiring to run his mouth about the difficulty of getting to Geralt's home. He was almost a bit worried, anxious even, if Jaskier's reaction to seeing the ancient ruin would just be the same kind of silent admiration.

Evidently, there had been no need. They rounded the last corner and, finally, Kaer Morhen was looming up above them. As soon as his eyes fell on it, Jaskier gasped and ran ahead. He had, apparently, forgotten about his aching limbs he had complained about just that morning. "Is that it?" he asked excitedly. "Geralt, is this it?"

"No, it's another crumbling fortress in the Kaedwen mountains," he deadpanned.

"You're mean," Jaskier accused him and turned back around to the keep. "For months I've dreamt of this moment and what do you do? You mock me, truly a horrible habit, that- oh, gods, Geralt, it's so beautiful!"

"Hmm," he answered, watching Jaskier intently. The childish glee on his face, the snowflakes dancing around him and melting in his hair. "I guess so."

"Can we go inside?"

Another barbed comment was already on the tip of his tongue, but Geralt guessed that he shouldn't ruin the moment. Not if Jaskier was so happy. "We can. Come on."

They were still a good distance away when the gates creaked open and three bulking figures stepped outside. "You're early," he accused Eskel and Lambert once they caught up to them. They weren't supposed to be there. They were messing up Step Five: Meet the family. (Lambert Eskel Lambert Vesemir first.)

"And you're impolite," Vesemir grumbled. "I taught you better, Geralt."

"Hmm," he answered and the silence that followed might've been awkward if not for Jaskier.

Thanks to him there was no silence at all, to be precise. "You must be Vesemir; Geralt told me so much about you. Dare I say, Master Witcher, I am honoured and humbled by the invitation, and am looking forward to my stay. The name's Jaskier and I am at your service," he concluded and bowed with a flourish.

The three witchers gaped at him in surprise and Geralt couldn't help but grin. No overly detailed stories by him could've possibly prepared them for... well, Jaskier. "What," Lambert muttered quietly, "the fuck?"

"Now, that's just rude," Jaskier said as he straightened himself, "don't you think? Geralt, your brother is being rude to me."

It was all he could do not to laugh freely. Instead he shrugged and said: "Told you he's the rude one."

"Oh, you're Lambert!" The bard grinned widely and stretched out his hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

Lambert huffed in surprise and shook the offered hand. "Tell you what, bard, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended."

"Offended," Geralt mumbled just as Eskel said: "Flattered."

Jaskier smiled widely and wickedly. "Both."

Lambert opened his mouth, presumably to return a rude comment, but Jaskier's attention was diverted by Eskel, who gave him a thorough once-over and then nodded. "Welcome to Kaer Morhen, bard."

"Thank you, uh, Eskel?" he hazarded a guess.

A smile tugged on the unscarred corner of his mouth. "That's right."

"Dinner's in an hour," Vesemir cut in. "Maybe you could show our guest to his room, Geralt?"

Right. With the meeting out of the way it was time for Step Six: Show him to his room (Make sure it has some nice fur rugs - Vesemir) (Shag him on the rug - Lambert) (Offer to stay with him if he's cold - Eskel). Both of those additions seemed equally daunting to him.

But before he could even think of an excuse as to why he couldn't do that right now, Roach's reins were ripped from his hands and they were being pushed towards the keep.

"Well, they're certainly eager to get rid of you, considering they haven't seen you for a year," Jaskier quipped once they were inside the keep proper.

"That's not- hmm." 'Fuck.' He had almost betrayed himself. "They'll be different after dinner," he promised. "Besides, you know they can hear you."

"So?" He huffed a laugh. "I know they're just like you; all bark and no bite."

He was about to deny that claim but Lambert's offended howl that reached him from the courtyard quickly changed his mind. That definitely was worth the jab at his own ego. "Come on," he urged, smiling, "no need to continue playing the jester for them any further."

"Why, is there any issue with providing entertainment for a living?" Jaskier teased.

"Only if it's at the expense of me."

He sighed dramatically. "That I know, my dear. That I know."

"Jaskier?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to give you a tour of the keep."

"You are? Oh, I wouldn't have noticed." Geralt shot him a dirty look. Jaskier snickered maliciously, the bastard. "Oh, yeah, yep. Shutting up. Go ahead, Sir Witcher, show me your magnificent home."

From anyone else it might've been mockery. It might've been mockery from Jaskier, too, if not for the sound of absolute awe in his voice as he took in their surroundings.

Geralt could hardly blame him. It might've been a long time since he had arrived at Kaer Morhen, but he still remembered how dumbstruck he had been at the sheer immensity of the place that should become since home.

It had lost its mysticism since then, but seeing Jaskier's childlike wonder as he led him through the kitchens and great hall made him remember. He showed him the library, too, as well as the stairs down to the hot springs that he must never, ever confuse with those that led to the laboratories.

He closed with the rooms the various witchers claimed as their own: "That's Lambert's room down the hall, don't go there, he's a prick; Vesemir is a few floors below us, claims he's too old for our squabbles; that's mine, and that one's Eskel's, ask him if you need something and I'm not there, not Lambert, he's an arsehole-"

"Geralt," Jaskier said soothingly and put a hand on his arm, "you're rambling."

"Am I?" he asked confused. "Don't think so."

"There's no need to be nervous, dear. I won't abandon you; you're stuck with me for the winter."

"I'm not nervous," Geralt insisted, his fingers twitching nervously.

"Right," Jaskier took his hand away, evidently not very convinced. "I'm sorry for interrupting you, then."

"Don't be," he mumbled, not quite able to tear his gaze from Jaskier's gentle smile.

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"Do I-" He started fidgeting with his lute strap. "Do I have a room, too? I mean, not that I mind sharing with you, that's not the issue at all- gods, I sound stupid-"

His eyes still trained on Jaskier, he reached behind him and opened the door. "There."

"That's my room?" he asked without turning around to look inside.

"That's yours," Geralt confirmed. He had prepared it last winter already. Just in case.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, the poet whirled around and rushed into the sparsely furnished room. He looked very much... out of place. The realisation hit him like a slap in the face; but apparently the visual of Jaskier and his bright purple doublet in the grey empty walls of Kaer Morhen was what it took for him to realise how little they were reconcilable.

For the first time in his life he felt self-conscious for his home. "'S not much," Geralt mumbled.

"It's wonderful." Jaskier beamed, carefully inspecting the bed and the rug, peering out the window and into the chest. "Might get a bit cold, though."

He grumbled something he knew to be unintelligible to humans into his beard.

"What was that, love?"

"You could always stay with me," he spoke up. "Y'know. We've shared before."

"That we have! You might find that before long you will be forced to let me take you up on your generous offer."

"Hmm," Geralt answered and left him to it, in order to complete Step Six.5: No, let him arrive first, you idiot! There would be no 'being forced' of any kind, but he wasn't quite ready to admit that to Jaskier, yet.

Despite their apparent incompatibility Jaskier settled into the routine of Kaer Morhen disturbingly quickly. Though 'settle into' wasn't quite the right choice of words. More like 'tear it down and build it anew, but with lyrics, laughter, and luminosity'.

The evening of their arrival was truly mortifying, the worst mix of embarrassing stories of Geralt's childhood and very inappropriate questions directed at Jaskier. Geralt had spent the whole dinner frozen in shock and awe at the masterful display of the bard's craftsmanship.

After an hour of vicious cross-examination, the three witchers had finally backed off. And as Vesemir had retreated to his rooms, Lambert had brought up the alcohol. It hall had spiralled out of Geralt's control after that.

Within the hour Lambert and Jaskier were japing and jabbing at each other as if they were lifelong friends and not acquaintances since a few hours. It took his bard three days to have Vesemir completely wrapped around his finger, intently listening to his droning lectures about basically everything. And not even a fortnight into their stay, he found Jaskier and Eskel in the library, talking with hushed voices. He quickly retreated but not before he heard Jaskier telling his brother how beautiful he was, scars or no scars, and Eskel sniveled quietly.

A month since their arrival saw them trapped into the castle by the heavy snowfalls. Unfortunately, that didn't stop Vesemir from drilling them mercilessly.

They were an hour into their morning routine when they all perked at the sound of soft footsteps passing through the hall. "Jaskier," Geralt said softly.

The bard was bundled up in several quilts, his face barely visible beneath the mess of his hair and the blankets. Still his face lit up with the brightest smile when he saw them. "Mornin', lads," he croaked, "lookin' good, keep it up." He gave them a tired thumbs-up and shuffled off to the kitchen, where Vesemir would provide him with a hot breakfast with a side of 'most-boring-information-on-this-earth'. It was their own morning routine of sorts, and the three of them knew it wouldn't be long before they were discussing the 'merits of the iambic pentameter in 10th century love poetry' or some shit.

"Fuck," Lambert cursed once they knew Jaskier to be out of earshot, "I really can't blame you, Geralt. Too much time with him and I start gawking like a love-sick idiot, too."

"Hmm," Geralt agreed. Jaskier definitely had that effect.

"Jealous, wolf?" Eskel inquired with a knowing smile.

"No," he answered earnestly. If anything, he loved Jaskier more for it. His family wasn't easy to deal with, he knew. But his bard didn't care. He had so much affection to give, even for witchers. 'Especially for witchers.' He closed his eyes with a happy smile.

"Y'know, there's still a couple of steps left on our list," Eskel informed him casually.

Geralt's eyes snapped open as his heart sped up. 'Fuck.' The plan. "Hmm."

"Just fucking get it over with," Lambert yearned. "Your pining isn't any less obnoxious just because he's here."

"If anything, it's gotten worse," Eskel agreed.

"So?" he snapped. He had put it off, that was true. Had waited for the snow, he told himself, but now the snow was here and-

"So, we'll distract him this afternoon," Eskel interrupted his spiralling thoughts.

"And you pull your head outta your arse and fucking follow through," Lambert added.

"Fine," he ground out. "We do that." Not before he kicked both their arses during their training, though, for being such utter dicks.

Before long, however, the inevitable happened. Morning passed over to noon, and, true to their words, Lambert and Eskel whisked Jaskier away after lunch. They left Geralt behind in the hall with a branch in his hands and nothing left to do but complete Step Seven: Hang up a mistletoe.

"Fuck," he muttered. Nearly one year had passed since they had come up with their conspiracy. One year to gather his courage, one year to come up with a plan, one year to at least think about where to fucking put it. "Fuck," he said again, for good measure.

He looked around. Looked to the rafters. Looked at the mistletoe. "Fuck it," he declared and tucked it away to scale up to the rafters.

He was already up there, dangling from one of the beams when he remembered that he had nothing to secure it with besides the silky ribbon that would never fit around it. He scowled darkly. He sure as hell wouldn't climb down and up again. Without further ado he pulled his dagger from his belt and drove it deep into the wood, pinning the mistletoe by the ribbon.

He climbed down again, making sure that it was visible from the ground. 'Perfect,' he decreed. With the mistletoe in place, it was now time for Step Eight: Have Lambert and Eskel inform Jaskier of the mistletoe and a strategically placed Geralt. 

He spun around to go and alert his brothers, when he heard a cheerful voice behind him: "Geralt! There you are, you mean witcher, I was wondering where you were hiding. You know, it is not nice to leave your, uh- bedmate all alone and freezing in the morning, and- oh." There was a thoughtful pause. "Now would you look at that."

Geralt heaved a long sigh. He dreaded turning around, for he had a very distinct feeling he knew already what he would see. And fuck, he was not ready for that step. For some stupid reason, he still did turned around.

Jaskier stood in the middle of the hall, squinting up at the ceiling. "Are my eyes deceiving me — and they might be, mind you, my eyes are not as good as a witcher's — or is that a mistletoe I spy up there."

He cursed internally. He knew he should've hung it lower. "Hmm," he answered, his heart beating in his throat. Why was his heart beating in his throat? It wasn't supposed to do that. His voice was surprisingly calm when he said: "Seems like it."

"Oh no!" he moaned woefully. "Quick, Geralt, come here and lift the curse!"

"Curse?" he inquired bemusedly as his feet moved without his volition. "What curse, Jaskier?"

The bard gasped. "Don't you know? When someone passes beneath a mistletoe, they are frozen to the spot until the curse is broken."

"Hmm," he stepped under the mistletoe, too. He should've known Jaskier would make up a story around this. It was just a tradition, for fuck's sake, no curse. Although a curse was certainly more romantic, even he had to admit that. "Must be a rare curse if a witcher's never heard of it."

"The rarest," Jaskier insisted and pointed at his cheek. "It may only be broken with a true love's kiss."

In light of what happened next, let it be known that, in Geralt's defence, he was panicking. Quite thoroughly so. Since the Trials his legs hadn't shaken like that anymore.

He had been promised a pep talk by his brothers before having to confront the situation at hand. And yet they were nowhere to be found and Jaskier was here, evidently expecting him to kiss him.

'Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck.' He was not ready; he was not ready; he was not-

"Geralt?" Jaskier ripped him from his thoughts. "Are you waiting till my nose grows icicles, or what?"

Still, he leaned forward, placing one hand on Jaskier's hip and the other on his shoulder, and pecked him on the cheek.

The cheek. That had not been the plan. That had not been the plan at all. And then, of all things, he heard himself ask: "Can you move again?"

Jaskier blinked, looking just as dumbstruck as Geralt felt. "I- I think so?" he stammered and moved to pull away, blushing furiously.

'Fuck, no,' he remembered thinking. And while he wasn't quite in control of his limbs again, what he did next was probably the single most clever thing he had done in his entire life. Gingerly almost, he tightened his grip on Jaskier. His head tilted to the side, an invitation, an escape.

His bard didn't move. Instead, he said: "Doesn't seem like it."

"Hmm," Geralt answered and leaned in closer. "Difficult curse, seems like. Let me try again."

Before he could even think of changing his mind, Jaskier had his arms looped around Geralt's neck and crushed their lips together. He did his best to reciprocate the kiss, which wasn't easy with fear still gripping his heart tightly, but then Jaskier crowded closer, moulding his body against Geralt's and that was all it took for the tension to seep from his bones and go limb.

It was a weird sensation; being wrapped in Jaskier's arms was so familiar, but he was also kissing Jaskier, which was new- 'Great gods, I am kissing Jaskier, I am kissing Jaskier, I am-'

He pulled back with a triumphant grin, evidently startling his bard. "What?" he asked, very confused.

"I am kissing you," he announced, his grin widening even more.

Jaskier frowned. "That you are, but-"

"I am kissing you," he said again and pecked him on the lips. "And I can keep doing it."

"Oh!" The frown eased away, giving way to the softest of smiles. "That you can, my dear."

So, Geralt did. Again. And again. And again, and again, and again. He didn't know how many times he had kissed Jaskier, how many times Jaskier had kissed him, before he pulled back and blurted: "I love you."

Jaskier stared at him in silent awe, before blushing and cupping his cheeks gently. "That you do, my love," he whispered. "And I love you, too." Softly, he pressed their lips together again.

"You do?" Geralt asked disbelievingly.

Jaskier smirked. "I do. For years and years, I have. I thought you knew."

"Fuck," he muttered. Did that mean... 'I didn't have to do any of this.' He could've just- "I'm an idiot."

"Only sometimes," he allowed, giggling sillily. Geralt was compelled to join in. "Besides, you’re my idiot, and I love you for it." He shifted a little, so he could lean his head comfortably onto Geralt's shoulder despite them being nearly the same height. 

"So," Jaskier drawled, curling a strand of Geralt's hair around his finger, "are we just going to keep standing here, or...?"

He scoffed. Of course, they wouldn't. He had a plan, after all. "Fuck." The plan.

Jaskier raised his head. "Is that a curse or an answer?"

"Yes," he answered warily.

It earned him the most beautiful snorting laugh he had ever heard. "What are you cursing at, love?"

"We skipped Step Eight," he admitted, "got right to Step Nine."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Step Nine: Kiss Jaskier." The poet just gawked at him. "I had a list," he explained.

"You had?" Jaskier's eyes lit up and he made grabby hands. "Show me, show me!"

Reluctantly, Geralt handed it over, studying Jaskier's face carefully as he read through it.

"I knew it," Jaskier concluded finally.

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on!" He threw up his hands. "You were acting weird all year round, Geralt! Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but still, weird. It took me about ten minutes to figure out there was some ploy at play." He laughed quietly and waved the paper around. "Though I never would've guessed what was amiss."

"You don't like it."

"On the contrary! It's a wonderful plan," the poet said and pecked him on the lips. "I've got to admit, though, Lambert was right: you should've just fucked me on that rug once we got here."

"Hmmm." Geralt nuzzled against Jaskier's neck, holding him closer when he tried to squirm away from the tickling sensation. "That still an option?"

"Very much so. I believe it has to be one more step before completing your list." He pulled him close and whispered against his lips: "Take me to bed, my love"

And how could Geralt refuse such a request? Especially if it coincided so luckily with Step Ten.

#my writing #the witcher #geraskier #elliestormfound #look i've got an ask #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #eskel #Lambert #vesemir #kaer morhen #kaer morons

[hotdamnhunnam]

His Time

A/N: Here’s some jealous Jax smut based on a steamy request that I got! I had thought this would be 99% smut, but there’s also angst/fluff, as I wanted to set the stage more and explore their love. (Fellow Jax sluts, fear not – the sex is still filthy and hot!)

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, reader as a risque performer, recent breakup, jealous Jax, intense makeup sex when he comes back for her Request: Based on a scene from the movie Burlesque – Y/N is performing “Guy What Takes His Time” when Jax arrives with his friends; she doesn’t know he’s in the audience. Smut, jealous and a little fluff? – @rochyu (Note: I know that the movie is set in LA, but I wanted this fic to be set someplace farther from Charming, so I chose Chicago)

Word Count: ~2.9k

The lights are too bright. Always are, every night. You had come here to hide, from the girl you once were, with delusions of decency. Dignity. Pride. 

It all happened so recently. Weeks ago you were still in the same town where you’d lived all your life—that town equal parts charming and shitty—with dreams of becoming the king’s wedded wife, his beloved old lady. Until you escaped to this faraway city. 

You will always remember that night. One last screaming fuck, after your first screaming match of a fight. How you’d managed to keep love afloat, for so long on the rocks, without killing each other, you don’t even know. But the issues that you had both smothered in silence eventually had to explode. You will always remember just how hard you tried, to heal wounds that would never recover, to stay by his side. With no luck. You had hit the road, that very night, and the girl you once were—the fiercely faithful lover, future wife and mother... had faded and died.

Standing here now, about to perform without shame for the same nameless crowd, you tell yourself that you love Chicago. There is only one thing that you honestly love, though: the king of Charming, the impossible dream of blonde hair and black leather. Jackson Fucking Teller. And now that you’ve left him, you’ve lost him forever. Already it feels like forever ago.

You prepare for the spotlight, all ready to put on a show. The same show. Ever since you left home, this is what your whole life has become. At random, you lock eyes with the goodlooking guy who plays drums; once the show is done, maybe you’ll take him backstage for a fuck. Just to take your mind off of Jax’s unforgettable cock. You shudder to think of how many skanks Jax must’ve banged since you left him alone in his kingdom—a hundred? A thousand and one...?

The answer is none, though you don’t know it yet. In the time since you left, Jackson has barely slept. He has been on a hunt, for the only queen he’ll ever want; you had left him no clue as to where you had gone...

But he’s hunted you down. Like a damn bloodhound, tracked you from miles away, and he’s here in the crowd, as you take to the stage and the song starts to play. Determined not to lose what he’s finally found.

The song tonight is “Guy What Takes His Time.” His time is now.

***************

Fucking lights. They’re too bright.

He hates every damned inch of this place from the second he sets foot inside. Sources close to SAMCRO had advised this is where Jackson Teller’s old lady had run off to hide. And apparently sources were right.

How the hell did it come to this? Never in Jax’s life has he been so fucking pissed. He stands frozen in place between Opie and Chibs, the two Sons that he wanted to be by his side, as he crossed the whole country in search of the love that had vanished. The love of his life. Now that he has arrived, seeing you up on stage underneath these damn lights, he can’t handle the sight. The blood in his veins all at once turns to fire and ice.

Every gaze in this place is on you, as you come into view, barely wearing a thing as you start to sing under the spotlight. As if you have nothing to hide. As if every last inch of your skin was fashioned for the pleasure of strangers, to satisfy their prying eyes.

The sergeant-at-arms can’t believe what he sees, muttering quietly, looking over Jax’s shoulder where he’s standing close behind. No one thought this was what they would find. “Jesus Christ...”

“Do you mind? Look away,” the king snaps, quickly realizing that the men by his side deserve better. But the alpha male pride that he harbors inside feels about to collapse; in the moment, that’s all he could manage to say. “Listen, I—I can’t thank you enough that you both rode with me all this way, but it’s just... Jesus, everyone here’s looking up at her...”

Opie knows all too well just what Jax must be feeling tonight. Firsthand, he understands, just what it’s like to love a woman who is always on display for others. Lays a calm and steady palm on Jax’s shoulder, as the king shudders and smolders. “Sure thing, brother. We’ll wait up for you right outside.”

They step out, leaving Jax all alone in the crowd, where the lights are too bright and the music too loud. The whole room—no one more so than him—hanging on every word of the song, every line that feels so fucking wrong coming out of your mouth. The king’s entire world is crashing down on him tonight. Nothing has ever felt so wrong to him in his entire life of crime.

Oblivious to where he is, though on some level you can feel him, watching you from somewhere in the room... you tell yourself that can’t be right. It’s not the first truth you’ve denied. All through the night, lyrics fall from your brightly glossed lips like false promises, all meaning lost in the rhythm and rhyme.

I’d be satisfied... electrified... to know a guy what takes his time...

***************

Once you’d wrapped up the performance, you had whispered to the dashing boy who plays the drums to meet you in your dressing room. Sitting here alone, you wonder what is taking him so long. The two of you were flirting up a storm throughout the song—surely there’s no way that he doesn’t plan to come...?

One thing’s for certain: you for one intend to come, before the night is done. After the curtains fell, you’d had to take a moment just to catch your breath and calm yourself. Recover from the random wave of heat you felt. For some unfathomable reason, you had sensed some sort of energy from somewhere in the room, thrumming intensely in a way that made you desperate for an orgasm.

You don’t know where it came from, have no clue how to explain... so you try to convince yourself, in vain, that it was pure sexual tension with the guy who played the drums. Any second now, he’s bound to come and dick you the fuck down.

When at last someone enters your dressing room, you leap excitedly out of your seat like a damn clown in heat.

Heartbeat racing as you turn around, full of more than just lust as it pounds... Jesus Christ—you’ve been found. Those were not the blue eyes you expected to meet.

Your breath escapes you in a gasp. “Jax...!” your big fat mouth blurts out the question that you shouldn’t have to ask. “How did you find—”

He cuts you off. And fuck—that voice of his you’d missed so much, laden with sex and cigarette smoke, hits you now all kinds of ravenous and rough, and it’s just honestly divine. Already has you soaked. “You know I always find what’s mine.”

It isn’t fair, the way the dim light glimmers off his golden hair. The way that Jax Teller just standing there completely blows your mind. You curse the hell he never fails to put you through. “I don’t belong to...”

Cuts you off again. Because he can. “Does he fuck you like I do?”

Did he honestly just ask you that? Of course he did. The stupid piece of shit. Even if you had been with anybody else, no man on earth could ever fuck you half as well, and you both know it’s fucking true. “What? Who?”

Jax takes a deep drag of his cigarette. Shaking his head, like he’s disgusted. As if he has any right to be. “That many? Now you can’t even keep count? I guess you like slutting around, this brand new fucking freedom that you’ve found?”

He can’t be serious? He can’t really be here at all, ruining you like this? You cross the room toward the farthest wall, hoping that he won’t see the tears that fall, the way you fear your self-respect and self-resolve are crashing down.

“How many. Tell me,” he demands. “What—you thought running off to some other city, you could just flirt your way into some other man’s pants, right up on stage flaunting your slutty ass in front of everybody, and I wouldn’t see?”

Well, shit—apparently he’s serious. But so are you. If he came here to play dirty, then that’s a game for two. And you’ll defend your dignity if it’s the last damn thing you do. “That’s not your business.”

Jax has now crossed the room toward you after putting out his cigarette; he grabs a firm hold of your wrist, his grip somehow soft yet insistent. “Like hell it isn’t.”

“Jackson, I am not your goddamn possession,” you tell him, wrenching yourself free from his fist, almost wishing that you’d fucked somebody if only to teach him a lesson. Almost. Tonight you had come awfully close. “Get your hands off me. You can’t—can’t just come here and claim me as if I’m a piece of lost property.”

The sound of that is more than he can stand; he slams you up against the wall, hard. Has you seeing fucking stars. Frames your face in his hands, as his gaze pierces straight to your heart. “You think that’s what you are to me? Honestly?”

“I don’t know what I am!” you scream back at him, matching his roar, your own voice raw and hoarse. “Who I am... I just... Jax, I don’t know—I don’t know a damn thing anymore.”

“Let me remind you, then. So you don’t ever forget again.” His mouth is fire as it suddenly descends, claiming your lips with more dominance and desire than you’ve ever felt before. There was no point ever pretending this was war. The fire that burns between the both of you is love and nothing more—so bright it strikes you blind, so dirty that it’s pure. “You’re fucking mine. And I am yours.”

Not long ago today, you had felt sure that ever since you ran away, Jax must have fucked a hundred thousand other whores.

Now this... from just one kiss, you know the opposite is true. You’ve never felt more sure that Jackson Fucking Teller only ever wanted you.

He tells you nonetheless, because words matter. Even though the way he shows it is a million times better. “Y/N. I can’t stand ever losing you again. When you were gone, nothing made sense,” he murmurs as you melt into his hands, the only thing holding your heart together as it shatters. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I want to spend my whole life trying to. You’re more than just my girl. You are my whole entire fucking world.”

His words are giving you a goddamn heart attack. “Jax...”

“Christ, I’m so sorry. Anything I ever did, to push you far from me... all the shit I said—that fucking fight...” he shudders at the thought of it, hands cradling your face so close and tight. “But baby, please—can you be mine, just for tonight? I know I have no right to take you back. No fucking right. But damn I tried...”

You cannot handle just how much he hates himself. You feel his pain just as you always do, slaying you through and through; it hurts like fucking hell. It kills. The most that you can do is love him till he feels that he deserves it, just to hope someday he will. 

“Jax, stop,” you beg him as he stifles back a sob. “Don’t even... God, do you have any fucking clue how much I love you? I have never wanted anybody else. I ran away because the pain became too much to take—but babe, my heart is always yours to break. I was just... stupid and scared, and thought that I didn’t belong there. But if you’ll take me—if you want me, love me, honestly... then I promise you, baby: I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s breathing ragged, shaky sighs and gasps. His forehead pressed to yours, beaded with sweat, cheeks red and wet with all the tears you both have shed. “You mean that?”

Ugh, as if he has to ask. But then of course he does. He’s always doubted that he’s worthy of your love... but thankfully, Jax Teller never doubted whether he is worthy of your lust. You rake your fingers through the smooth strands of his hair, meeting his deep blue stare, then drop one hand to wrap your arm around his back. “Yes. I do. I love you, and I want you—only ever you. Don’t ever doubt it’s true. Now just shut up and fuck me, Jax.”

He doesn’t need anything more than that. Now that you’ve said the word, the animal inside of him attacks. The way this sweet angelic savage sex god of a man can go from soft to rough, in just a fraction of a second, is just... damn. One of the million things you’ll always love about him.

Jax lifts you off the wall and slams you down over the table as your moans resound throughout the room. “This how you want it? Hard and fast?”

“Fuck, yes...!” you gasp.

“Mmm, thought you like a man who takes his time...?” he teases, ripping at your slutty little outfit till it’s torn to shreds. Until he has you naked, dripping wet and aching for him, just the way he pleases. The savage darkness in his eyes should be a crime.

You wish you could sass back at him for being a smug son of a bitch, making you eat your own burlesque lyrics. But then he reaches down to grab one of your tits and fucking squeezes, and your brain is blown to bits. “Oh, shit—Jesus...”

“That ain’t my name, you little slut,” he scolds you as he strips out of his kutte.

“Jax...” you watch as he flings off his flannel, reaches for his belt, taking his time with the damn buckle. From the bulge in his crotch, you can tell that he’s already hard as a rock. “Fuck...”

“Bet you’ve been spending every day without me dreaming of this big hard fucking cock.”

You nod, too turned on to respond. Of fucking course.

“Then say it, whore.”

You force yourself to form the words. “I’ve never wanted any cock but yours. You own me, sir.”

“That’s better,” he mutters, reaching down to flip you over. With your tits pressed against the surface underneath, he spanks your ass so hard you bite your tongue and grind your teeth. Then he dips two of his fingers into your core, feeling your soaking wet heat. “Now, baby, I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll always remember. This tight little pussy exists for my pleasure.”

In actions and words, you completely surrender to Jax Fucking Teller. “Yes, sir!”

“Mmm, is that what you want?” he taunts, rubbing the head of his cock against your swollen, slick pussy lips with a fierce, feral grunt. “Dirty slut. Want me to fucking destroy your cunt?”

You have now lost the power to respond. But he won’t fuck you till you do. Even when it’s so obviously true.

Jax pulls your hair back, deals your ass another smack. “Who do you belong to? Better answer if you want this dick, you filthy little bitch.”

“I belong to you, sir!”

“That’s a good whore. Now what do you want me to do to this dripping wet pussy of yours?”

“Oh God, I want you to destroy it, sir! I want your cock inside me, please, I’ve never wanted anything more...”

“That’s right. I fucking own you, and I’m gonna show you how,” he growls, and seems to mean it as sincerely as a goddamn wedding vow. “You want a ‘guy what takes his time’ and all that shit... well, slut, it’s my fucking time now.”

Hell yes it fucking is. Jax fucks you like nobody’s business, rough and fast and hardcore, and you hope that he made sure to lock the door when he walked in because you’re screaming like a whore. It’s not like it’s a problem, if your boss and all your coworkers can hear what’s happening in your dressing room; after tonight, you most definitely won’t be needing this job anymore. You’ll be on the back of Jax Teller’s bike, holding him tight, as the two of you ride toward the rest of your life. Toward your future. Together.

You don’t know it yet, but Jax wants to make damn sure, this time, that you’ll stay by his side forever. Once he’s finally done fucking you dead, straight up ripping your pussy apart, like you wanted, he glances over toward the kutte that he’d thrown on the floor. Eyes the pocket that rests on his chest, right above his heart... and softly smiles at the thought, the hope, of claiming his most precious treasure. The diamond shines so bright that he could swear he sees the light, right through the leather.

***************

Hope you enjoyed this!! Would love to hear if you did 🤗❤️

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[dontloseyourpants]

Stripped on Stage

A commission I received from @gaystripstories! You can also find him on Twitter here. And you can support him by buying his stories on Amazon here.

I'll out the actual story below the cut. It's about a cocky young Broadway bound hunk who has an embarrassing incident on stage during his big debut. Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!

Before the Show: 

Hey, just wanted to stop by and wish everyone a great show! 

A sea of blank faces stared up at him, but he kept plodding on to get the reaction that he  desired. Walking further into the crowded dressing room, he finally stopped right behind me. 

I miss the camaraderie of being packed down here with everyone… it’s so lonely having  that dressing room upstairs all to myself. I usually just spend time before shows lying on my  couch until first call. 

Looking up, I saw his face forcing itself into what he thought was a genuine smile. For  someone who was apparently a much better actor than our poor little show deserved, he really  had such a hard time hiding his true emotions. 

Roger Stilton had quickly made a name for himself on Broadway. A Julliard grad just  like his rich father, he headed straight to Broadway and began booking any role he wanted. With  leading man good looks, his slicked back dark hair, and a jawline that could cut steel, Roger  actually could have earned his roles without daddy’s donations. 

As I continued looking up at him, I realized two things. First, his blush was much too  heavy for a theater as small as this one. 

Roger, sit down- let me help you out a bit. Quickly standing up in my boxers and  undershirt, I let him plop into my chair before wiping a makeup wipe across that beautiful face.  Here’s a tip when you’re not sure how strong to make your blush- you have to see what it should  be naturally and then add two swipes. 

Quickly taking hold of the bottom of his t-shirt, I ripped it over his head to expose that  chest to the whole room. His perky pecs and six pack abs were to die over, but for some reason,  even with all of that narcissism, he didn’t like showing off his body. 

See- that’s the color you want. 

I saw his eyes connect with his reflection to see the blush covering his cheeks, and I  added a bit of my powder onto his face to match. Grabbing his shirt, he just awkwardly held it in  front of him before walking back out of the room with his parting words flung over his shoulder. 

Well, let me let you get back to getting ready… I just love having a great ensemble behind  me on stage. 

I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. At least not for another week. He’d joined our show  after workshops, and even if I wouldn’t admit it, he was the reason we’d gotten our residency at  our off-Broadway theater. He was already booked for his next role in a few weeks in one of the  larger theaters, but if I had anything to do with it, I wanted to put his name in the news for  another reason. It was time to confirm the second thing that I realized once Roger walked in  here. 

Listen up. Every head turned back towards me this time, but unlike Roger, I could tell  that they wanted to hear what I had to say. I had a couple of decades on all of the younger actors 

around me, and they looked up to me since I’d give them actual advice. We’re a go for tonight.  Raise a hand if you’re in. 

Smiling to myself as I saw every hand quickly raise into the air, I knew that this would be  one show that Roger or the critics in the audience would never forget. I don’t know if Roger  knew that we’d picked up on it, but there was a lot of info that he gave away. He was using us as  a launch pad for some serious acting cred, and we were using him just as much. And for weeks  of workshops and performances, we existed together, but the last month had been different. He’d  starters treating us as disposable ensemble members even if the small cast all had named roles.  So, tonight, on the most important night of his run, we decided to get back at him. Looking up at  the timer on the ceiling above us, I realized that it was almost time for our first phase of the plan. 

Act 1: 

Look at him- if he wasn’t such a huge ass, he could really be the next big thing. Sorry- all I heard you say was huge ass, and I got distracted. 

Playfully slapping Sam on the arm, I kept watching Roger act as we waited for our cue.  Our show was a new take on the classic murder mystery, and each night, Roger dramatically died  on stage. The twist, the reason that we’d made it out of workshops, was that a new killer was  chosen each show. The audience could return night after night and still get a new experience  since we improved a lot and only kept core scenes consistent.  

This was one scene that was always the same, so Roger felt confident enough to ham it up as he looked at the two women in Row 2: The New Yorker and New York Times. They of  course had names, but Roger only knew them as the critics that he needed to impress. And he  truly was acting his ass off… and that was quite a challenge. Those dark gray slacks were barely  

stretched over that ample peach of a bottom, and I was reminded again that I was happy with the  game plan. And as he placed his glass of water back on the table, it was time for round 1.  

Natasha and Joslyn entered from stage left as Sam and I appeared from stage right, and in  a flurry of motion, we began bombarding him with questions.  

Sir, would you like the dinner menu? 

Please. 

Sir, would you like a wine list? 

That’d be delightful. 

Sir, would you like your water glass to be topped off? 

Certainly. 

Bending down, I poured the contents of my pitcher into his glass and across his chest. Oh monsieur, I am so sorry- let’s get you out of those wet clothes immediately. 

Patting him down with the hand towel, Sam walked behind him and began unbuttoning  Roger’s shirt. In utter shock, Roger just sat there staring at the pitcher that I’d laid down in front  of him- the one that looked completely normal. In every other show, a special prop had been  used that only held half a cup of water, but tonight, it looked like I’d grabbed the wrong pitcher  from the props table accidentally.  

There we go- we’ll have this dried and steamed before you even get the dessert menu…  not that it looks like you eat dessert often.  

He tried to cover his exposed chest as we left stage, but the tiny menu couldn’t cover  much. If he pulled it down, he exposed his perky pecs with his dark brown nipples shining under  the harsh lights, and if he pulled it up, you could see the happy trail disappearing into his pants.  As we all stood offstage in one giggling group, we watched the switch flip over in his head. He 

had just made the choice- he could either be embarrassed about being half naked on stage, or he  could continue acting so that the critics would write about how he powered through adverse  conditions. And he chose the second option… at least for now.

Act 2: 

After improving some line about remembering that he had a spare suit in his car, he  quickly walked off stage with his muscular back facing the audience. Once he disappeared into  the curtain, he began quietly yelling for the prop master, but he was nowhere to be found. Also  gone was the random rack of clothes that had been hiding in the wings for decades, so as he  rushed around, Roger only had time to grab someone’s suit coat and walk back on stage. 

Darling! Is it my birthday already? I thought I wouldn’t get my present until tomorrow. 

With her quick change successfully completed unlike her costar, Natasha was in a skin  tight dress and now playing Roger’s girlfriend. Walking circles around him, she began to  massage his tense body, and it seemed to be having an undesired effect on his lower half.  

Can I unwrap my present early?  

I’m so sorry love, but the weirdest thing happened at dinner earlier. I had time to grab a  spot of food before coming here, and then…  

As he began to sit down, the small blazer completely ripped down the middle, and the  ruined fabric fell in two pieces down each arm. Natasha was really hamming it up now as she  jumped up from the prop bed to kneel in front of her blushing boyfriend.  

I was joking before, but what else is about to come off? Did you somehow trade outfits  with a stripper? 

That time in the gym must have really filled out my shoulders.  

Then flex for me, Romeo. Let me see that body that’s all mine.  

Doing as told, Roger stood up and began to flex his muscles as he faced the audience. His  tanned chest seemed to glow under the lights, and I heard the audience getting into it more now.  If there were any repeat customers here, then they knew what normally happened here. Natasha  would have her birthday party, and in the commotion, Roger would meet his demise. But that  always happened fully clothed. 

Roger’s biceps were glistening in sweat, and his trimmed chest hair was as well. He was  breathtakingly gorgeous, and if only he wasn’t so cocky, we would have all adored him. As I saw  that blush spread further across those beautiful cheekbones, I wondered if there was something  more human under there. Just maybe… 

Oh, I just can’t resist anymore- come ravish me!  

With strength that I didn’t know she had, Natasha pulled Roger towards her as they fell  into the throes of passion on top of that bed. The audience was losing it as Natasha’s legs  comically kicked into the air before wrapping around Roger’s ample ass. She was kissing him all  over as Roger tried to break free for his cue. 

Oh honey, that special suit jacket wasn’t the only birthday surprise that I had planned. In  fact…

And this is where everything went so, so right. Roger lunged into a standing position  without even feeling Natasha’s fingers hook into the two small holes that had come undone on  each side of his tearaway pants. I don’t know how he hadn’t noticed earlier that we’d swapped them out before the show, but they’d stayed together right until they were needed.  

In comical slow motion, the back half of his pants fell to the floor as the front stayed  gripped in her hands.  

You got me exactly what I wanted! 

As Natasha jumped to meet him, we all started streaming on stage, holding balloons and  shooting party streamers into the air. The only one that was still was Roger who was somehow so  very, very visible in the middle of all of this chaos. With his pants gone, he was now standing  there in only his shoes, his nylon socks held up with leather garters on those strong calves, and  an impossibly tiny pair of baby blue bikini briefs that were trying their hardest to stretch over his  large frame.  

We all took a cue from the audience and focused on Roger as he stood petrified on stage.  His hands hung limply at his side, too embarrassed to even move them to cover up his impressive  bulge and thick pubes that were showing over the stretched waistband. You could have heard a  pin drop in the eerie quiet before one camera flash went off from the audience followed by  several more. I saw our one underpaid usher try to stop the cameras, but it was too late.  

Finally urged into action as he saw how many photos of him would soon end up online,  Roger finally spun around to try to find his pants, his jacket- just anything to cover himself up  with. Seeing the bed sheet that had been flung into the floor, he reached to grab it, but I was too  quick and stepped onto it to keep him from getting it.  

Standing back up, he had rage in his eyes as he looked at me, and he had no idea that  even more photos were taken now of him. From the back, his tiny briefs had been wedged  between those glorious cheeks, and he was exposing almost every inch of skin that he could.  

It was you- you’re the one that did it! 

He was about five minutes early with that line, but Roger’s embarrassment had finally  taken over his need to impress the critics. That was usually what he said when he discovered who  the killer was right before falling to the ground, but now, he was saying it to me even though  Joslyn was the one who’d dropped the ‘poison’ into his pasta in the previous scene.  

What are you talking about? It’s me- your best friend! 

A best friend wouldn’t do this on the most important night of their life! 

Reaching forward, he grabbed onto my shirt and yanked it apart. Buttons went flying as  my own chest was exposed to the crowd. My mouth was trying to hard not to break into a smirk  behind my trimmed salt and pepper beard as I backed away from Roger. Following me back  under the lights, he just kept going. 

You’ve always been jealous of me- my career, my body, everything! Do you know how  hard I’ve fought for this? Do you?  

He truly believed the words that he was saying even though he’d never had to go to an  open casting call in a crowded building downtown. He’d never had to squeeze into a borrowed  pair of LaDucas and dance for hours just to be told that they’d gone in a different direction. Oh  no, Roger had never felt rejection like that which is what would make what happened next even  sweeter.  

He lunged at me, and we fell in a heap on the floor. The audience, even the return  viewers, probably had no idea that anything had gone wrong. Everything we’d done had been in  character, and only one thing would be able to prove to them that this show had gone off the  rails.  

Roger’s body was gyrating around on top of me, but he never landed a punch. He wasn’t  angry enough for that, but he was too flustered to even know what to do. He couldn’t handle this  humiliation, and he was just lashing out. And then, it all stopped. As we tussled, we both heard  the pop and froze. It could have been anything, but we both knew exactly what it was. 

The Final Bow: 

And the award goes to Roger Stilton! 

The cameras all swung towards him as he tried to duck down into his seat. This is not  how he wanted awards season to go. He had just lost the Best Actor award for his starring role in  Thoroughly Modern Millie, and he was about to go to the bar until he heard his name called  again. Looking up at the big screen, he saw the category that he didn’t even know that he was  nominated for- Best Quick Change.  

With the DramaDesk award in hand, the late-night talk show host who had no business  being here walked on stage. I was sitting on the side in the cheap seats, but I could still see  everything. The last time that I’d seen Roger was when I’d been lying shirtless beneath him. I  watched as he sat motionless in his chair, and he only got up once the screen started playing a  video from that night.  

He was kneeling on top of me, and as we wrestled, the tiny strap on the right side of his bikini briefs popped right off. With his ass aimed right towards the camera, his pendulous cock  fell into view between his legs, and he tried to cover himself unsuccessfully with his hands. As  he moved, the rest of his underwear fell apart and landed on my chest leaving him completely  

naked.  

Standing up, he kept spinning around, turning one way and then the other to hide his  embarrassment. His hands were clasped over his manhood which left that ass completely  exposed. His tight waist made his bubble butt even more impressive, and the untanned skin acted  as a beacon for everyone’s eyes and cameras. I’d watched this scene dozens of times from the  comfort of my own apartment, but as Roger walked on stage to confront the host, I realized that  he probably had tried to forget this ever happened.  

When Audra Macdonald won earlier, she serenaded us with a few bars. Roger, what do  you plan on showing off to this crowd? 

The crowd was going wild, but unlike that fateful night, the crowd was over five times  bigger and full of people that Roger wanted to impress. He tried to put on a fake laugh and grab  the award, but even from this far away, I could see how strong that blush was as the host kept  going.  

No seriously, I think we need you to show it off! What does everyone here think?  

I let my cheer join the crowd as we egged him on, but he still wasn’t budging. And then,  the host looked right at me, and I pinched myself to see if this was all a dream.  

Do we need your old costar to come help out? He knows his way around this stage since  he’s performed here a few times. Come on up! 

The spotlight hit me, and now it was my time to feel a little shy. I’d been a background  dancer here in a few awards show opening numbers, but I’d never been up there individually.  Would my big break come decades later than it should have? 

Stepping on stage, I saw Roger’s heart drop, and my nerves suddenly vanished. He let the  host turn him around, and I realized that he was petrified again.  

Make me change my mind, Roger. Why shouldn’t I expose you again for how you treated  us on that show? 

Tommy, please, don’t do it.  

I could have been nice and joked around with him as we walked offstage to pretend like  this was a planned bit. But, he messed up.  

Roger, you didn’t even learn the names of your costars. My name is David- Tommy  worked the sound board.  

And before he could react, I grabbed onto those tuxedo pants and yanked them to the  ground. The button ripped off easily, and they gave me no resistance before sliding down to his  ankles. He’d learned his lesson from earlier and was wearing a pair of black trunks, but I still had  a little bit of humiliation left to give him. I could and should have stopped there, but I didn’t.  Grabbing onto his waistband, I pulled his undies to the floor and stepped back to let him have the  spotlight all to himself like he desperately wanted.  

His half-naked body was projected onto the big screen again but in real time now. His  ample, untanned ass still jutted out from his athletic body, and as he tried to bend down and grab  his pants, it jiggled with every movement.  

Looking down into the audience, I somehow made eye contact with Jan, the critic that  Roger always referred to as The New Yorker sitting not too far from where I’d been seated. As  she began typing onto her phone, I realized that Roger would get that big headline after all.

#story

[blu-joons]

When You Support Them During The House Party Comeback ~ Super Junior Reaction

Leeteuk:

Your expression softened the moment you walked into the dressing room and saw Jeongsu sat with his head in his hands. “Everything going alright?” You asked him, noticing the chaos of the other members who sat around, frowning as he looked across at you.

“I’m just doing a lot of thinking,” he admitted, encouraging you to take a seat beside him.

You nodded understandingly, studying his face closely, “anything that you happen to be thinking about particularly?”

“Just how lucky I am,” he whispered, not wanting any of the others to here. “I never imagined when we released Twins that I’d still be sitting in dressing rooms fifteen years later preparing to perform on music shows still.”

Whilst Jeongsu had always been one to reflect as the leader, you were well aware that their recent anniversary had triggered a new wave of feelings in him. “It’s nice to see you perform without the rookie pressure these days.”

“I’m definitely starting to feel my age,” he chuckled in response to you, “one run through of House Party and I’m ready for a nap.”

“Just at least try and look young in front of the cameras,” you teased.

His hand reached out to push against your arm, “as long as everyone else still thinks I’m young, you can be the one to deal with my old bones at the end of the show.”

“You know that I’ll take the best care of you!”

Heechul:

As you walked in on Heechul running through his rap once again, a proud smile graced your face, noticing his eyes fall on you once he’d finished. “Sounds good,” you complimented, walking into his open arms as he reached out for you to approach him.

“I wish that I could do more,” he admitted, kissing softly against the top of your head.

Your brows furrowed instantly, “you do as much as you can, and I know the fans and the boys all appreciate it too.”

“At times I wonder how different things could be if I was able to perform on the stage though,” he sighed, “it still never quite feels the same only being able to spend a few moments on stage, it wasn’t supposed to be the way.”

You reached across and placed your hand into his tightly, “just being on the stage is huge for you, whilst you can’t change the years you’ve spent on the side-line, you’re here for this comeback, which I’m sure means the world.”

“It does feel nice to be around the group for a comeback again,” he confessed, taking a quick look around the room.

“And I know they’re all happy to see you too,” you noted.

His head nodded proudly, “I don’t want to get myself upset, I know that I should just be thankful for the chance to even be on the stage right now.”

“There’s nothing wrong with getting upset, it’s understandable.”

Yesung:

As Jungwoon placed his camera in front of you yet again, your hand reached out and pushed it away to face the members beside you. “I’m not a part of this,” you reminded him, pointing out to the carnage that was surrounding you both instead.

“You’re here supporting me, it’s a big deal,” he replied, turning his camera back around again.

Your eyes rolled at how persistent he was, “at least take some pictures of the group so that you can remember this time.”

“We’ve been together for weeks, I’ve got plenty with those losers,” he laughed, “but it’s my first time having you at one of our music shows, so I want the chance to take a photograph of you to remember this time.”

Despite your protests, you soon ended up smiling for Jungwoon to take a photo of you, only to be quickly interrupted by Hyukjae by your side. “I don’t remember asking for a group photo to be taken of us all.”

“I just want a picture of Y/N,” Jungwoon complained, pushing Hyukjae to one side, “my whole album is full of your ugly face.”

“I’ll have you know my face is very photogenic,” Hyukjae argued.

Jungwoon’s head shook, taking your hand and dragging you to somewhere where he could get you alone. “I’m determined to get a picture of you today.”

“Good luck with all of these guys around us.”

Shindong:

Your hand came over your mouth as you spotted Donghee miming against the mirror. It didn’t disguise the small squeal that came from you. “Sorry,” you whispered as his head snapped around to see where the noise had come from, grinning when he saw you.

“I’m just trying to create the perfect ending fairy,” he announced to you.

Your eyes rolled at his smile, “just smile and you’ll be perfect. What exactly are you trying to come up with for it anyway?”

“I thought I’d try and mime,” he spoke, repeating his actions once again so you could see what he was working on. “It’s something I’ve not seen anyone do before, even SHINee didn’t come up with something like that.”

You couldn’t help but be impressed not only by his creative mind, but also his high skills when it came to dance. “I think the fans will love it, and I know that you’re enjoying yourself whilst you’re creating it too.”

“I’ve definitely missed performing live,” he smiled, “I’ve just got the camera block to make sure that this looks as good as I want it too.”

“From what I’ve seen, it’ll be brilliant on the show,” you hummed.

His arm moved to wrap tightly around your shoulders, “if nothing else, knowing that I’ve put a smile on your face by doing it has already made it a good decision to make.”

“Everyone will smile watching you, I just know it.”

Eunhyuk:

His eyes fell on you as soon as you found him hidden away in the corridor of M Countdown, pausing his phone as you approached him. “You know the routine Hyukjae, there’s no need to worry,” you quickly tried to comfort him before he started again.

“I just want to make sure everything is perfect,” he frowned, letting go of a sigh.

You walked over and took a hold of his hands before he could continue, “you’ve danced for years, as soon as you step on the stage, you’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he frowned, leaning forwards to rest his forehead against yours, “I’ve been going through it so much with everyone else that suddenly it just feels like I’m the one who has no idea how the routine goes anymore.”

Your hand moved up to cup the side of his face, “why don’t you go over it once, with me? If you’re perfect, then you stop practicing, and if you make a mistake, you still stop practicing because you know you’ll be fine.”

“How’s that fair?” He laughed, “either way you end up getting your way, but what happens if I truly make a mistake Y/N?”

“I know that you won’t, that’s why,” you assured him.

His smile grew as you squeezed his hands, “I don’t know how you manage to make me feel better so often when I’m so full of self-doubt. How do you do it Y/N?”

“Because I know exactly what you’re like Hyukjae.”

Siwon:

Sweaty arms wrapped around you as soon as Siwon made his way off the stage, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. “You’re gross,” you remarked, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but his strong arms kept you against his chest despite your protests.

“You should be telling me you’re proud of me,” he quickly retaliated against you.

Your eyes rolled, “you know that I’m proud of you, but not when you’re stuck to me, at least go and get a shower first.”

“You don’t normally complain like this,” he teased, unwrapping himself from around you as a member of staff began to remove his mic pack. “What did you think of the stage. anyway, did you enjoy being a part of our House Party.”

Without a thought, your head nodded excitedly. “You were centre a lot, but you absolutely killed it. Sometimes I watch you and I still feel like I’m watching you back in 2010, the last decade all feels like a blur.”

“My body is certainly starting to feel it,” he grinned, grabbing onto your shoulder, “can you believe we always used to perform at that intensity?”

“I reckon you still could if you tried hard enough,” you wisely responded.

Siwon’s eyebrows raised in surprise at your sudden remark, “this is my workplace, I can’t believe you’d even dare try and suggest such things right now.”

“I have no idea what you could be talking about.”

Donghae:

You sat back as Donghae moved around the dressing room, making sure to record as much as he could for his vlog. “Have you got any footage of yourself?” You asked as he passed you by again to record the mountain of food that was on the table.

“The fans don’t want to see me,” Donghae argued, keeping his camera out of your reach.

Your head shook, trying to grab onto it, “let me record you for a minute, you’ve at least got to show off that ponytail you’re rocking.”

“The fans have already seen my hair,” he tried to argue, but it was too late, you finally had a hold of his camera and quickly started following him around. “Are you really going to be alright with your voice being in the vlog.”

Your head nodded as you moved with him around the dressing room, “I’m sure the fans will thank me for filling them up on Donghae content, don’t you worry. Now, tell the fans a bit about what you’re doing right now.”

“I’m finding the right bandana to go with my outfit,” he informed the camera, holding up the selection that he’d picked out.

“What about the one that I bought for you?” You quickly suggested.

Donghae reached in and pulled out the black and white bandana you bought when he first started growing his hair out. “I was leaning towards this one anyway.”

“I know you were, because I bought it for you.”

Ryeowook:

His silence instantly concerned you as you walked back into the dressing room once everyone was changed and prepared for the comeback stage. “Feeling good?” You asked Ryeowook, desperate to get even a couple of words out of him to reassure yourself.

“It’s been a little while, even if there’s no audience,” he admitted in response.

Your head nodded, “I’m sure it feels strange without Elf there to support you guys, but they’ll all be watching, around the world.”

“I still feel like a rookie,” he sighed, brushing his hand gently through his fringe, “I look around and see all these younger singers, and that still feels like me, but it’s not. How have our fans stuck around with us for so many years?”

Your smile softened, taking a tight hold of his hand, “your fans have stuck around because you guys are amazing. Even if you’re far from rookies, you still have that rookie mind that makes people always fall in love with you.”

“I feel a lot better after talking to you,” he whispered, straightening out his suit jacket, “will you be there watching?”

“Of course, just have a little confidence in yourself,” you smiled.

His head nodded, unable to hide the growing smile that developed on his face, “I know what you’re trying to do, but I’m confident of putting on a good show.

“That’s what I love to hear from you.”

Kyuhyun:

The flash of a light coming across your face yet again caused you to groan, your eyes flickered up and pushed Kyuhyun to one side. “You’ll drain the battery of that before you get on the stage,” you sighed, knowing how bad of an idea it was to trust him with a prop.

“They’ve got hundreds of lights for Burn the Floor,” he smugly teased back at you.

Your eyes rolled, trying to reach out to take the light, “I’ll be blind before I get to see you guys perform the song too.”

“So dramatic,” Kyuhyun scoffed, placing the light down on the table. “If you play your cards right, I could try and steal one of these to take back to the dorm and give you your own private performance of the song.”

Your hand pushed against his shoulder, sending him stumbling back, “why would I want to watch it at the dorm when I could watch all of you here, live? And the proper dancers are here then, I don’t have to watch you.

“How dare you,” he chuckled, stepping back towards you, “do you not remember I was a lead dancer in Bonamana all those years ago?”

“Many years ago,” you laughed, “I think a lot has changed since then.”

Kyuhyun’s head shook, picking the light back up, “you just wait, the performance I give you simply won’t compare to what you’ll see on the stage in a while.”

“It won’t compare, but not in a good way Kyu.”

---

Masterlist

#super junior #super junior imagine #super junior reaction #super junior reactions #super junior scenario #super junior scenarios #donghae imagine #heechul imagine #kyuhyun imagine #eunhyuk imagine #leeteuk imagine #siwon imagine #yesung imagine #ryeowook imagine #shindong imagine #donghae #heechul #kyuhyun #eunhyuk #leeteuk #siwon #yesung #ryeowook #shindong #super junior one shot #super junior drabble #super junior fluff #kpop #kpop imagine

[fuckthisshitimin]

The Show’s On

Part 2 here

Read on ao3

They’re pretty.

That’s all she has the time to think, really, because everything is so fast. She’s feeling hot, and her hands on the guitar are a little messier than she’d like. It’s not the first time she has a gig here, but it’s the first time she’s alone on the stage. It was hard to convince the manager that she could do it. That she had that fire in her.

It’s easier with a band. But you also get paid less. And you have to work with other people. Constantly.

Maybe they’re too young, though.

Tonight she’s on that stage with something to prove, and if by morning her voice is dead and her legs shake so much she can’t walk, it’ll be okay. She’s giving it her all, and when she looks at the room, they’re still here, so close to the stage, if they extended their arm, they could touch her legs.

That wouldn’t be so bad. Fuck, are they legal?

And she looks closer at them. At their high-waisted black pants and earrings, at the line of their collarbones disappearing into a silky shirt, at their soft-looking net, and she realizes how they stand out. She realizes why it’s so easy to notice them. They’re not dancing. Just, standing there. Looking at her with focused eyes. Unblinking, unmoving, undisturbed even when their eyes cross. She almost stutters, almost loses her rhythm. They have that unreadable expression, stern and yet alive, and they can’t have missed that she missed a note. And they smirk.

Like they have the right to do that.

Like they have the right to stand still at the very edge of the scene and judge her performance, to disturb it with a stupid cute face and a way too proper silky shirt, like they have the right to smirk at her mistakes, safe in the crowd, and fuck that judgmental coward, she thinks, with their green staring eyes and their unmoving feet, fuck them, fuck all the people that observe her, waiting for her to make a mistake, to fall.

Fuck them because she already made mistakes, and she already fell to the ground and below. Fuck them, fuck the safety they hide in.

She’ll give them what they want. She’ll crash like they expect he too, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t do it with all her desecrated grace.

She smiles back, fierce and unyielding. Three songs before the end of her set. She plays harder. She can’t feel her fingers anymore, and she’s pretty sure her make up is ruined from the sweat. Fuck them all.

“I’m the Owl Lady, and my EP’s for sale at the bar, cowards!”

.

“Can I get you a drink? Maybe?”

Eda downs her second glass of water in one go, gesturing for the barmaid to give her another one.

That’s the kid from earlier. Well, now that she gets a closer look, she guesses they might be approximately her age, though they didn’t drop out of school like she did. She laughs, thanking the barmaid with a nod when her new glass of water arrives. She complimented her on her set, and the adrenaline doesn’t look like it would go away any time soon. Sitting still is a pain, but her whole body aches. She’s exhausted, really, on the verge of collapsing. Yet, she doesn’t want anything more than she wants to get back on that stage.

But she’ll have to do with drinking and dancing, and she’ll have to do without the invisible wall between her and the audience, between her and that staring bitch that dares smile again.

“Are you even old enough to drink? How did they let you in?”

“Actually, it’s my birthday. Just turned twenty-one.”

Just a one-year gap, then? Which means they aren’t technically too young for her. But they still have those unnerving staring eyes. They look like they’re trying to see what’s behind. Her secrets and her fears. She doesn’t like the curiosity, she doesn’t like the smile, either.

“What, am I supposed to wish you a happy birthday? Go fuck yourself. Cat, get me a beer.”

“On it.”

“I’m sorry, what the hell?”

Normally, just telling people off would do the trick. Eda is convincing enough, as the I-literally-bite kind of girl. But they just look positively astonished. Their mouth is open, their eyes, wide, they don’t even look mad. Their hands are hanging at their side, lifeless, and oh, here it comes. Now they look properly upset, brows furrowed and mouth closed tightly. She snickers.

“Look, kiddo, if you didn’t like my set, that’s your fucking problem, I’m not looking for any stupid constructive criticism, I don’t care about your thoughts, and since I played tonight, I get free drinks. So, yeah, go fucking fuck yourself.”

They open their mouth, momentarily at a loss of words as she smiles, and Catra snickers, too, when she opens a bottle of beer for her and puts it on the counter. The kid laughs bitterly, a weird smile on their face. And Eda thinks it’s a pity, really, that they are a jerk, for they have the cutest smile she’s seen in a while. It looks like they can kiss, like they’re starting to learn how to bite. Their eyes aren’t so dark yet.

“You really love to say fuck, don’t you?”

She shrugs, taking a sip from her beer.

“Every fucking chance I get.”

They cock their head, and she can’t help but grin wider. It’s more amusing when people answer. She would have expected them to just run away. But they stand firmly, eyes narrowing, and she swears she can see their fingers tense.

“I’ll answer in your language then. You are a real-life heartless bitch trope, and I actually came over to tell you your set was amazing, but if you’re so hung-up on playing the victim of this situation, I can play along and point out every time your voice faltered, every weakness in the way you write and play, and then tell you to go fuck yourself like you so nicely did when I just tried to have a polite conversation.”

She smiles so hard, she almost laughs. And she hears Catra, from her spot behind the bar, laugh herself, muttering something about liking this one.

“You piss me off,” she truthfully states, “you spent twenty minutes staring at me like you were plotting my demise and you have the audacity to say you liked my set? I don’t know if you lie out of pride or because you don’t want to get on my bad side, but trust me, that’s not your strong suit.”

“What, you’ve never been awestruck before? Out of everyone I heard tonight, you were the one that struck me as someone who would go places, I thought it would depend on whether your guts play for or against you. Repelling people won’t help you in this industry, but at least you’re as mean and quick to judge as the people that run it.”

She lifts her brows high on her forehead, and she has no clue how she is supposed to take this. It’s as much a compliment as it is an insult, and finally, she can’t hold back her laughter anymore, banging her fist on the counter. Gosh, she hasn’t had that much fun talking to someone in a while.

“Cat! Give them something to drink, they’re funny.”

She has to wipe a few tears, but she sees them deflate in a second. Their shoulders slump down, and their face pales, relaxes completely, blushes, and she laughs again. She gestures to them, trying to say something and failing as the laughter keeps her from forming words. They seat down on one of the stools, and it looks like all the energy they had was just drained from them.

“I don’t get it.”

She settles her breathing, letting out a few whimpers before clearing her throat, finally resting her chin on her head to look at them more steadily.

“Yeah, you don’t need to. Wait, sorry. You don’t fucking need to. I honestly don’t get it either. I rely on my guts, you see,” she grabs her boobs to demonstrate, laughing some more as she stands up, towering over them with the widest grin she can manage. “and my guts want to talk with you some more. What about you?”

They look up to her, and now that she’s so close, she can definitely make up the blush on their cheeks and ears, the drunken shining in their eyes, the uncertainty behind their smile. Fuck, they’re pretty. The kind of pretty that doesn’t last, stained with the innocence of people who have lived nicely sheltered their whole lives. Until now.

“I think my guts want to kiss you.”

They jump on their seat, like they are surprised, taken aback by their own words, and she bends forward, placing a slow kiss on their cheek. “I might be okay with that,” she hums in their ear. When she breaks away, she’s happy to see she left a red lipstick mark, and her head doddles from side to side as the exhaustion is finally catching up to her. They’re blurry, now, as they stumble up, dusting off their pants and looking around frantically.

“I-I shouldn’t have said that. I think I drank more than intended. I, uh, I’ll go home.”

She nods, containing her laugh. They are cute, too, as they shuffle through their purse to find their credit card. She knows better than forcing someone to stay and make them drink. They don’t look like they’re used to that. She’ll let them run away. It’s a bit of a waste, she thinks as she watches them disappearing in the crowd. She sighs, sitting back on her stool and downing her beer. She won’t be long either. She might dance just a bit before heading home, too. A strong hand grabs her shoulder, and she’s ready to fight the touch and snap before she sees a pair of green eyes so, so close, and, oh, she didn’t see that kiss coming, it’s hurried, it’s burning, it suddenly feels like the end of the world, and she’s left breathless when they break away, foam on their glasses, a drooly smile on their lips. She has a hard time gulping, remembering how to talk. They find their voice first, and now, she realizes she can hear their smile, so clear and warm.

“I’m a bit too drunk for my own taste, but can I see you again?”

She bites her lips, looking down at theirs. She could kiss them again. And again. And again. She doesn’t want to leave it at that. She wants to show them, she’s a better kisser than that, she can keep them up all night if they want to, she’s better when she’s in control. Fuck, she won’t let them surprise her again. No matter how good it makes her feel.

“I play at the Sugar Sugar Monday.”

They nod, and cock their head again.

“It’s going to be the longest weekend of my life.”

They walk away again, and she stares at the empty space they left for a long moment before burying her head in her arms, half chuckling. She doesn’t even know their name. Fuck. Kiss and run? That’s usually her thing. She tilts her head up when she hears Catra distinctive, mocking laugh.

“That has to be the quickest enemies to lovers I ever witnessed.”

She grumbles, getting a bit straighter in her seat. She looks at the door again. Who knows, maybe they’d come back again. She has no idea what she’d do if they appeared right now. She bites her lips, finishing her drink and starting to roll her cigarette for the way home.

“Well, you know I hate slow burns.” She never stays into someone long enough for that, too. Either she gets bored, or they deem her too much trouble for what she’s worth. Two weeks, tops. “Whatever I want, I want fast. If it has to burn, it better burn like a gas station.”

#raeda #toh raeda #raine whispers #edalyn clawthorne #i have a few ideas for what could happen after that? #but nothing sure? #the owl house #toh #toh fanfic #the owl house fanfic #raeda fanfic #enemies to lovers in five minutes #i'm with her

[fallinfl0wers]

May request prompt

"Even if we're far apart, I'll keep singing for you with all my love." Unbalance Shadow - ZOOL

For Haruka from i7 please?

7. “Even if we’re far apart, I’ll keep singing for you with all my love.” Unbalance Shadow - ZOOL from the lyric prompt list! thank you for your request!! i love haruka so so so much, he's my favorite character in i7! >< also! i'm trying a slightly new format that i'll be aplying to my future posts! i'll also start editing the old ones just beause,, yeah i think it looks cute. the colored letters aren't part of the format, but i felt like they fit here so lol on a slightly sadder note, the first draft of this got deleted on accident and i had been sulking about it for a while but lol here we are warnings: gn reader, light hurt/comfort, fluff, long-distance relationships, set sometime in the future of i7's story, though this is pretty much fluff without plot,,, word count: 1623 words

"Up next are Natsume-san and Isumi-san, three minutes!" the voice of a staff member makes him look up from the screen of his phone, where he had been aimlessly scrolling down on his SNS while the hairstylists did his hair.

"Yeah, understood." He answers, putting his phone down on the table as a makeup artist retouches his makeup.

The young idol then walked alongside his unitmate to enter the dark stage, adjusting his in-ear monitor as he sat down on the chair preppared for him beforehand, surrounded by the expectant, excited whispers of the audience who waved their lightsticks in support for their favorite idols. Scanning the audience with his eyes, he clutched his microphone.

The spotlights landed on the two idols as the music started to play and they could hear the cheering of their fans before they quieted down, in order to hear their singing.

"I wandered, lost in my loneliness like a desert without roads."

Haruka Isumi didn't need anyone at his side to be the best, everyone will just drop him the moment the next shiny, newest toy appears in front of them. At least, that's what his experience had taught him.

"There, a single, tiny flower became the melody of love."

Then everything happened. ZOOL happened. But more importantly, you happened.

He, who didn't care for almost anything anymore, became infatuated with you. He fell in love with you, who always looked at him and appreciated him, you, who always supported him and never laughed at him.

"My tears suddenly fell, shaking the green leaves."

You, who helped him through each and every one of his worst moments and were there to laugh with him during his best moments, you, who were both his best friend and his dear, dear lover.

"Wow, 'the weaker you become...'"

You, who always supported him on his dreams and were the first one to congratulate him on everything he achieved.

You, who he was now supporting as you walked to your own dreams.

You, who were walking towards your dreams, far, far away from him.

"(So, don't look back)."

"'...the kinder...'"

You, who he hoped woke up earlier than usual today just to see him singing live even if it was through a computer.

"(Sharing, big love)."

"'...you'll become.' Your gentle warmth taught me that."

You, who taught him everything he knew about romantic love, who showed him that there was more to people than hatred and betrayal. So warm and gentle, you always made him feel like he belonged somewhere.

But you're not next to him, not anymore. Not physically, at least.

But, that's alright. It hurts, it hurts so much and it makes him anxious constantly even if he'd never admit it out loud. But that's alright.

"Like the falling rain, we are not alone."

That's alright, even if it hurts and it brings scary, unwanted thoughts into his mind, it's alright. It's alright, because he knows you're doing what you love just like he is.

And it's alright, because he's not the weak, arrogant crybaby he was when you met. He's stronger now, he has grown up, he's mature. He can handle this. He can keep this going. He can support you without crying every night for your absence.

"Beneath this wide sky, even if you're on the other side of the world, I'm thinking--"

"--of you again today."

It's alright, because he knows you've grown up as well, he knows neither of you is a stupid, oh so stupid and inexperienced highschooler like when you first met. He knows, you both can be stronger than this distance.

"(Unbalance, Unbalance)."

"Look, the crescent moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

He knows this, and still...

He can't help but get worried, sometimes.

"(Unbalance, Unbalance)."

"I want to envelop everything..."

He can't help but worry that you'll get tired of this. Tired of him always being busy, of your schedules never matching, of how he still has to keep you as a secret to protect you from the tabloids and his crazed fans. Worry that you might find someone who has less trouble giving affection, someone who can love you better than him.

Though all his worries wash away, everytime you send him a picture of his newest merchandise that just arrived to your apartment and a cute stamp through RabbitChat at ungodly hours for him, followed by the usual voice note saying 'i love you'.

He knows you have your own fears about it all, as well. But he's told you, over and over again, without ever feeling annoyed, that he only has eyes for you, no matter how many pretty actresses and idols try to snatch him away, the only person he loves in that way is you and only you.

There has never been anyone else but you inside his heart.

You're the only one Haruka wants to spend his whole life with, the only one who can fully understand him and love him.

"...Just as the gentle wind loves the sea..."

And no matter how longer you may have to be apart, how many people you both will meet and how many worries there will be in between before you can next meet again, he wants to and will make sure to remind you daily that he loves you and will love you until he takes his last breath.

"Even if we're far apart, I'll keep singing for you with all my love."

He lifts his gaze to look at the camera with a content sparkle hidden in his eyes, once his next line comes around.

"I wish you--"

("I got a scholarship to finish my college studies overseas, Haruka!" You told him a couple years ago.)

"--happiness."

("I'll be here waiting for you to comeback when you're ready." He called your name that night at the airport, hugging you close before you took off.)

"This seed of happiness that I touched exists to protect the person I love."

("It must be hard for you, isn't it? You don't need to call me every day if you're too tired to do it. I can wait for as long as you need.")

"Our words dissolve in the twilight."

("Nonsense! I... am, tired, but! You must be tired too, right? Get some rest, I'll hang up if you promise you're going to rest too!")

"That seed of happiness that you touched reaches out to someone I don't know."

("I saw that selfie you posted with those two from ainana, I'm so happy to see you really have friends!" "Why did you even doubt that?!" "I worry about you, since I can't see you everyday and all that...")

"Because the circle of love that connects us lights up tomorrow."

("I miss you." "I know, I miss you too." "Let's try to meet during my summer break?" "I already told you, didn't I? I can wait for as long as you need, dummy.")

"Look, it has started to rain."

("Isn't it almost midnight there? Go to sleep." "But I wanna talk more with you..." "You're so hopeless... Go on, sleep, I'm not going anywhere until you sleep." "Hehehe, can I get a lullaby from you before I sleep?" "There's no helping it, right? You really get needy when it's late at night." "But you love anyway, so it works out...~")

"I want to envelop everything, Shadow."

("...Yeah, I love you.")

"Today's live was amazing, Haruka!" Your voice tells him through the phone while he layed down on his bed, late at night in his timezone. "Everyone was so cool, but you were the coolest! The whole time you were on screen I was all like 'Yes this is my boyfriend just look at him go he's so amazing!!!'"

He chuckled at your words, a loving gaze softening his gaze while he listened to your voice.

"I know, right? Praise me more, praise me more~ But only after you tell me, did you sleep early yesterday to wake up early today?"

"I totally did! I wouldn't miss one of your shows if I can help it!"

Though most of the times you couldn't.

He still felt his heartbeat race up at your support.

"You're so cute, did you know that?"

"Eh-? Why tell me that all of a sudden?!"

"Because..." He yawned. "I want to." You went silent for a second, before speaking again.

"You're tired, aren't you? You should go to sleep..."

"No... wanna talk to you more..."

He can already hear your tender smile just from your words alone.

"Go ahead, Haruka. You did well today, you deserve some rest."

"Do I get a lullaby from you to sleep?"

You chuckled.

"Yeah, of course. You are so needy when it's late at night..."

"Like you're one to talk."

"I know, I know."

He smiles, hearing you giggle through the phone.

"I wish I could hold you until you fell asleep right now... But since I can, you'll have to do with me singing my new favorite song for you~"

"'s okay, I like your voice. I'd listen to your voice the whole day if you wanted me to."

"Then... I'll start..." You cleared your throat, and he couldn't help but smile to himself again when he heard the lyrics of his duet song with Minami.

You're not a singer like he is, and you of course haven't trained your voice for as long as he has, he knows that and he still loves the sound of your singing voice.

He drifts off to sleep with your voice as his lullaby, and he knows you both hold true to the lyrics for as long as you need to.

"Even if we're far apart, I'll keep singing for you with all my love...~"

#idolish7 #idolish seven #idolish7 headcanons #idolish7 x reader #haruka isumi #idolish7 zool #idolish7 imagines #haruka isumi x reader #isumi haruka x reader #isumi haruka #melodywritings #melwritesainana