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jebewonmorelike · 1 year

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Mentor? I Hardly Know Her!

wc: 2.6k pronouns: none used; reader belongs to a mixed gender idol group warnings: a couple swears; fluffy fluff; the last sentence is very flirtatious but its just meant to be a joke and obviously so is the title summary: kum junhyeon is totally smitten with planetmaster/idol!reader in this semi-accurate fictional retelling of boys planet episodes 6 and 7 ~bp masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ i literally adore little kum junhyeon

Standing in the hallway in front of an intimidatingly large set of doors, you wring your hands nervously as you wait for further instructions.

This week, you had been asked to participate as something called a "Planet Master" on a new Mnet talent survival show called Boys Planet. Having been an idol for over five years now, you had been asked to make dozens of appearances at award shows, promotional events, concert tours, and fansigns with your group...

But this was your first time being asked to head a solo appearance. Being the leader of your group, as well as the main vocalist and the choreographer, you were used to playing a role similar to that of mentor. At the very least, you had experience providing your members with help, guidance, and oftentimes comfort throughout the past five years.

Waiting inside the set of giant doors was a room full of 51 ambitious boys that wished to shed the label "trainee" and finally debut as an idol.

You remember it like it was yesterday: your life as a hopeful and terribly sleep deprived trainee. It was admittedly unpleasant a good portion of the time, but it ultimately led you to be able to achieve your life's dream.

"We're ready for you in three..." A producer says now, forcing you out of your thought spiral. As he counts two, one, and cue on his fingers, the giant doors begin to open for you to walk through and onto the set.

Planting each lug-sole boot-adorned foot carefully on the ground as you walk forward, you make your best effort to appear as cool as possible as you make your entrance.

You figure eating shit in front of fifty boys on international television is not the best move for your career or your self esteem.

The lights brighten and then dim slightly on the stage to signify your entrance as you finally set your eyes on the group of trainees standing in lines on a set of risers. You watch as the first one spots you, eyes nearly popping out of his head as he points and stares at you in awe.

"Really... REALLY!?" The petite boy shouts, prompting the rest of them to look at you and begin reacting similarly. You stand there a bit awkwardly, mic in one hand and script card in the other. Unable to contain your laughter at the trainees' over-the-top reactions, you bring the script card up to cover your smile.

You clear your throat lightly into the microphone to get the rowdy boys' attention. After a few seconds, the noise finally dies down as the trainees look up at you expectantly with the widest of eyes.

"Hi Boys Planet trainees! I'm leader and main vocalist (Y/N) from Virtual Reality."

"WE KNOW!" One of the boys shouts.

You giggle and continue with your lines. "Today I'm here as a Planet Master to announce your Second Mission and to let you know I'll be helping to evaluate your progress this week. The Second Mission is: Dual Position Battle."

You finish your appearance with care and diligence and are asked to stick around to greet each trainee that wishes to meet you. Apparently, every single one of them wishes to meet you and their undying enthusiasm makes it easy for you to happily oblige.

You've seen a few familiar faces so far and wished many boys luck on their journeys, conveying sincerely that you look forward to working with them later this week.

"Congratulations on the win," you say to your old friend Kim Jiwoong. "I look forward to your debut. What is it they say? Third time's the charm?"

He rolls his eyes and laughs, pulling you in for a hug. "I'll make it come true."

As he pulls back, he points behind him to another member of his team this week.

"This is Kum Junhyeon," Jiwoong says, pushing the boy forward. You recognize him now, the silly, but very talented trainee that was always shouting in the first few episodes. A bit of concern seeps onto your face as this usually outgoing boy stares back at you in what appears to be immense fear.

"I'm so scared of you," Kum Junhyeon confirms quite earnestly, causing you to laugh.

"Oh? What's so scary about me, huh?" You tease.

He sighs. "It can be terrifying for a man to unexpectedly come face to face with perfection in his lifetime."

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel your breath hitch in your throat. Now you're the one staring with wide eyes.

"This kid," Kim Jiwoong scolds, patting his back. "But can you really blame him?"

"Sorry," Junhyeon apologizes, but there's a look in his eye-- a look that is much more like what you're used to seeing on Junhyeon-- that suggests he doesn't really regret his words.

You smile slowly. "Sure you are."

The brightest grin spreads across his face now, clutching his heart a bit in a humorously dramatic display. You laugh as Jiwoong starts to drag him away.

"Why'd you do that, huh? Now we'll never get him to shut up," the older boy whines as he shoots you a death glare. You just wave as you watch Jiwoong and another trainee push a babbling Junhyeon out the door.

You've seen eight teams already from the Vocal & Dance and the Vocal & Rap categories. You stuff a granola bar into your mouth as pH-1, Lee Seok-hoon and Choi Young-joon finish filling out notes for the last team.

In the back of your mind, you can't help but wonder why you haven't seen that kid from the other day yet. Isn't he a singer?

The Rap & Dance teams start to shuffle in through the door now as you stuff the wrapper of your granola bar into your bag. The last person to enter is Kum Junhyeon.

He doesn't look fearful today. He looks kind of sad.

"Ggang team, let's go," Young-joon announces, prompting five boys including Junhyeon to stand up.

They line up in front of your little panel, Seok-hoon asking to hear a run-through of their rap and vocals first. As the team performs, all except Junhyeon sing and rap with enthusiasm. His eyes stay locked on his paper as he seems to do only the bare minimum.

When they finish, the Star Masters in the room nod as they think. As they're checking their notes, you turn to Seok-hoon.

"May I say something?" You ask politely, to which Seok-hoon nods enthusiastically.

"Please do," he allows.

You nod, chewing on both cheeks as you look down at your paper. "Kum Junhyeon."

The silence in the room is deafening before Junhyeon finally responds, "Y-... Yes?"

You look up, meeting his eyes now with a completely unamused expression. It takes everything in you to hold it when Junhyeon suddenly returns to looking like Bambi.

"Was this supposed to impress me?"

Junhyeon's mouth falls open slightly and so does everyone else's in the room as they take in your rhetorical question.

"I've been waiting for your performance all day and that was all you've left me to sit with. Am I supposed to feel this insulted? Was that the intention?" You ask, not letting up.

"No, no! Of course not. I'm sorry, sunbaenim," he apologizes and you're sure he's never looked so sad in his life.

"The only form of apology I'll accept is a good performance," you say, now all of your effort going towards suppressing a smile.

He nods vigorously.

"Well, I don't have any other notes," Seok-hoon confirms, nodding at pH-1 in agreement. "Young-joon, are you ready for the dance?"

But Young-joon is staring at you. "Wow... I will pray for your members daily from now on."

You can hear the boys sitting on the left side of the room chuckle. "I think it's important to make sure the most talented people are performing to their potential," you say with a smile, the whole panel turning back to watch the Ggang team's full performance.

As you expected, Junhyeon performs flawlessly-- an energy radiating out of him that is utterly infectious.

"So..." Young-joon starts. "Will you forgive him?"

"Oh, um..."

Looking up, you see Junhyeon biting his lip so hard in anticipation that you're afraid he'll start bleeding.

"Yes," you answer simply with a smile.

Junhyeon suddenly falls to the floor in a full bow. "Thank you, sunbaenim!!"

Everyone bursts into laughter as he sits up, absolutely beaming at you.

You click your tongue, looking around disbelievingly as you can't help but smile back at him. "Just don't do it again, yeah?"

He nods furiously.

"Good job," you praise softly, sinking back into your seat as the Ggang team's evaluation concludes.

"Open wide," Kel-C says, popping a piece of caramel popcorn into your mouth lovingly.

On the screen of your dorm's giant television, this week's episode of Boys Planet is coming to an end. This means, your appearance is soon to be aired any second now.

"I can't believe you went without us," Eunwoo whines with a pout. "Do you not need us anymore?"

You laugh, ruffling up the hair of your maknae. "I'll need you for as long as you need me. And maybe then some."

"Yet you're out here getting caught in dating scandals left and right," Mari accuses, scrolling through her phone disinterestedly as she stirs the metaphorical pot.

"What? Left and right!? That's--," you stutter, caught off guard by her statement. "That's hardly true."

"OH MY GOD!" Eunwoo cries, taking both of your hands in his. "You met someone while you were filming!? Who!?"

"Ssh! Look, it's happening!" Kel-C shouts, directing everyone's attention back to the television as music signals the appearance of someone on the stage.

You cover your eyes as past-you comes onto the screen, the elements of the set becoming so hilariously dramatic for your silly little entrance. Mari bursts into laughter and you groan in response.

You watch through your fingers as the camera pans to capture the reactions of the boys. Most of them are appropriately excited to see you, jumping around and shouting with their friends.

But one reaction in particular has you suddenly ripping the remote from Eunwoo's hand, rewinding the show and crawling towards the television to make sure you're hearing and seeing properly.

"Seriously..." Kum Junhyeon stands uncharacteristically still with Taerae and Jongwoo on either side of him. "How am I ever supposed to perform in front of the love of my life?"

Taerae laughs, comfortingly patting Junhyeon's back. "It'll be okay."

The screen cuts to a confessional of Junhyeon. He's biting his lip, almost shy as he speaks to the camera. "(Y/N)-nim has been my crush since Virtual Reality debuted. There's nobody else like (Y/N)."

A producer off camera says, "You looked like you'd seen a ghost."

Junhyeon laughs lightly and then nods. "Unfortunately I couldn't react with proper excitement, because I was so nervous. I hope I can be forgiven for this."

The producer off screen speaks again. "Maybe aegyo will help?"

Junhyeon grins now, his voice becoming child-like and his hands producing two finger hearts. "I'm sorry, sunbaenim! Saranghae!"

You hit the pause button, hugging your knees to your chest tightly as you failingly try to suppress a squeal. What was wrong with him? How could he be so careless? And how could he be so damn cute?

As your members suddenly yank you back towards them, shrieking their simultaneous approvals and disapprovals, all you can hear is that absolutely crazy boy confessing his love for you on international television.

"ARE YOU INSANE!?" You yell, smacking Junhyeon's shoulder in the hallway behind the stage.

The mission two show has already begun and any minute now, you are supposed to make your way backstage to introduce the first team: Junhyeon's team.

"Yes," he answers seriously. "Please hit me again."

Your eyes widen, guffawing at the absolute nerve of the kid in front of you. "Junhyeon! Are you really going to be this reckless? Don't you want to debut? You know that people won't vote for you if you keep acting like this."

He nods. "You watched the episode this week."

Unsure of what to say, you just sigh.

"I meant it," he says simply, eyes staring back at you sincerely.

"It doesn't matter if you meant it. You're... Junhyeon, you're so talented. You really have a shot here. Please don't waste it on saying cute things to me."

He smiles. "You think the things I'm saying are cute?"

You can't help but laugh now. "I can't stop you, can I?"

"No," he confirms. "Unless you really want me to. I don't know if you've noticed, but... you haven't actually told me to stop yet."

An exasperated sigh escapes you as you seriously consider hitting him again. "No. I guess I haven't."

He grins. "Do you have your phone on you?"

"Yeah," you say, pulling it out of your pocket. "Why?"

Before you can even react, Junhyeon gently snatches your phone from your hands. He holds it in front of your face for a second to unlock it.

"Hey, what are you--?" As you begin to protest, he finishes typing something and hands it back to you. You look at the screen to see a new contact by the name of Hyeonni.

"You can delete it if you want. But I had to try, right?" He smiles so sweetly that all you can respond with as he walks toward the stage door is:

"Right."

With the Ggang team all lined up on stage, the boys make their individual introductions.

Reading your line from the teleprompter, you direct your attention towards Junhyeon to speak. "Trainee Kum Junhyeon, I heard that the atmosphere was not good when this team was formed. What happened?"

He nods, bringing the microphone closer to his face. "When we got Ggang, I was perplexed," he begins, using his whole body to speak in that classic Junhyeon way. "I thought of the opportunity as a crisis."

You expertly suppress the urge to facepalm.

As the Ggang performance begins, you watch from offstage as the team shows off their talents. Junhyeon's choreography and all of the members' raps are absolutely killing with the audience. But you're ripped out of your spell of admiration when you hear someone suddenly shout:

"SUNBAENIM!" Junhyeon yells, pulling up his shirt to reveal a t-shirt underneath with a set of washboard abs printed on it. A camera is on you immediately, trying its best to caption your reaction and you're absolutely sure it's TV-worthy.

"Do you think this is too reckless!?" Junhyeon sticks the hem of his over shirt in his mouth as he proceeds to "seductively" gyrate his hips.

Both of your hands are covering your gaping mouth, eyes wide as you're unable to look away from the absolute maniac of a man on stage. Junhyeon turns around, humorously sticking his butt out and wiggling it around.

You find yourself unable to contain your laughter now, shaking your head in disbelief at the boy's impossible antics. Yet, in an instant, Junhyeon returns to his professional self, completely annihilating a dance break and singing perfectly the funny new lyrics he wrote.

In the confessional from the episode you'd watched this week, Junhyeon had said there was no one else like you. You wonder now if he knows the same is true about him.

After the performance is finished, you run out the backstage doors into the hallway. You only have a minute or so to pull out your phone before you have to go back inside to introduce the next group of contestants. But its enough time to send your new contact a text:

You're a fucking enigma.

Smiling like an absolute idiot, you send a follow-up:

Dinner's on me if you show me what's really under the shirt.

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kallesque · 3 months

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the conflict of the mind — one.

cws // none for now.

╰┈➤ dottore x reader: the patronage system is hardly kind towards aspiring musicians despite all its benefits… and when you accept the Second Harbinger as your patron, you start to feel as if you may be in over your head. FIC MASTERLIST HERE.

slow burn, slow updates, multichaptered and incomplete. ao3 below. WORDCOUNT: 2.2k.

𖤐 Gloved fingers clamp down on your jaw and the words freeze in your throat, the blood in your veins turning to ice. He squeezes, a silent warning. “Do not forget who it is that you are speaking to, Composer.”

Evening finds you leaning over the piano, sheets of paper strewn on your lap and the music desk. Staves spill over the parchment, black lines beginning with clefs and scribbled over with notes. Your brows furrow, drawn tight together, frustrated as you play the same phrase again with your right hand. It sounds hollow, empty— chords are experimented with and discarded in irritation, your eyes shadowed from lack of sleep and lips dry.

Today, your work is far from satisfactory.

You suppress the urge to throw down the pen in your other hand; the ink would stain your clothing and splash across the keys. A poor reflection— not just of you, but of your patron as well. After all he’s provided for you, well, who are you to shun that benevolence? You set it down instead on the music desk, swallowing a sigh.

In many ways, you suppose you should consider yourself lucky. It’s not often that an aspiring musician would be taken in full-time by a patron, and even less so one as high-profile as yours. You’re acutely aware of the liberties you’re given that others could only dare to dream of, and you are grateful.

Still, the unease never truly lifts.

You’d known of him before he’d known of you— but who didn’t? The Harbinger ranked second to none but the Captain, Il Dottore had been the last person you’d expect to dabble in the patronage system. You know of his reputation, the violence that blackens his name, hands stained with blood and a mind as brilliant as it is terrifying. He follows your nation’s Archon, the Tsaritsa— but there are always whispers in the undercurrents. Of his own goals, a ravenous pursuit to unseat divinity at its core. The veins of a rumour about how he built a God.

You are right to fear.

He’d chanced across one of your solo rehearsals, alone in an empty concert hall. You’d been unaware of the wolf lurking in the corner, awash in a reverie, exhaustion forgotten in favour of the melody at your fingertips. You’d needed no sheet music nor cue to keep you steady, inspiration the driving force coaxing the music from your hands, from you, lost in your own creation.

Then the devil had stepped out from the shadows and offered you a prospect so tempting you couldn’t resist. Il Dottore had watched as you bid the other musicians in your troupe goodbye, expression unreadable behind the birdlike mask he wore. You’d wondered if he scorned the tears in your eyes as you squeezed their hands and stepped away, if the signs of your sentiment disdained him.

Then again, if it was emotion he was averse to, why would he employ you?

It was far too early to make assumptions then, you deduced, fingers tightening around the handle of your cello’s case as you approached him. He merely observed you, a quiet ‘hm’ slipping from his lips as he noticed this— musicians who couldn’t afford to specialise in a single instrument usually had to take up a few others in order to appeal to their audience’s differing tastes. To your relief, he’d said nothing, simply beckoning you to follow.

Eyes wide, adrenaline racing with both a thrill and a threat, he’d stolen you away before the day was over.

But he’s not a bad patron. The patronage system is a curse as much as it is a blessing, musicians forced to adhere to their employer’s decisions, artistic autonomy inhibited by the desires of their patrons. Neglected and subjugated to someone else’s whims.

The first week, you’d half-expected him to do the same. Exploitation was a large risk you were well-aware of, but you’d have done anything for a chance to further your own work beyond the musical troupe you’d been in prior. Even if it meant being put to work like a common servant at times.

Yet for the most part, Dottore leaves you to your own devices, and you are treated well. The salary he pays is ridiculous, truly, far beyond what you even need to keep yourself clothed and your instruments in tune. Even the grand piano in the music room he’s allotted to you is a beautiful thing, sleek wood glossed in ebony and a haunting, rich sound. You’d been almost scared to touch it, but what good was an instrument left unused?

He offered no musical direction, no instruction nor order, and you were allowed to play what you wanted, to study and write melodies of your own dictation.

But with that lack of command came expectation, weighing silently upon your shoulders.

Surely he expected something. It had to be a test, a means of proving yourself worthy of some unspoken standard. The longer he leaves you to your whims, the more the pressure builds. A bird expecting a cage does not spread its wings.

It’s been a month since your arrival.

A chord rings out, jarring.

You grit your teeth, fighting your rising agitation. Hours of playing have begun to take their toll on you, hands and wrists aching with the strain of over-practice, neck stiff as you roll your shoulders back. You don’t remember the last time you ate, hunger carving you hollow and numb instead of paining you. Perhaps it’s for the better. You lick your lips, smoothing moisture back into the cracks, fingers aching as you turn the page and start from the beginning. If you could just find what went wrong—

You’re broken out of your stupor when a figure at the door steps in, boots echoing on polished wood. Unmistakable.

Fingers fall still on ivory keys, your back straightening as anxiety spikes, sharp and hot. You raise your head, the final echoes of a sonata ringing into deafening soundlessness, and turn towards your patron.

Dottore is staring at you, and though his gaze is veiled by that cursed mask, you can feel it as he drags his gaze slowly from your face down to your hands— there’s nothing truly wrong with the action, but you shiver nonetheless, his presence plucking at your nerves like the strings of the cello propped up in the corner.

It reminds you that you have yet to showcase your ability in the other instrument for him— you have yet to play for him at all, save for the singular rehearsal he’d spectated that landed you here in the first place.

Your breath is shallow, your shoulders tense with fear— anticipation? For what?

Why am I here? you want to ask.

Why are you here?

Instead, you hold your tongue, unwilling to speak before being spoken to. You have no idea if turning your back on a Harbinger is a sign of poor etiquette, but you bow your head in acknowledgement and cast your eyes back to the piano again, trying desperately to ignore the suffocating presence, the eyes fixed on you.

When you play through the notes again, the melody is shaky, disjunct. You break down halfway through the first page and even the recovery lacks confidence. Even though you can’t see his face and he’s the only person representative of an audience in the room, humiliation burns at your cheeks, eyes stinging as you stubbornly hold back tears. You will not cry.

Before you can continue, his fingers are curling around your wrist and you’re yanked away, scrambling to adjust before you fall off the piano bench. “Enough.”

Dottore’s voice is raspy and irritated, making your heart stop. He seems to glower down at you for a few moments, dropping your wrist. Stepping back, he surveys the room— eyes scanning the pages before you and stacked to the side. He can tell that the music you’ve written is harmonically pleasing, notation neat and values perfect. He’s witnessed you play, but this is far from the person he’d beheld weeks ago.

You had been exuberant, alive beyond anything he could create. He observed you held no Vision, yet the way you played was nothing short of divine revelation itself. The way your eyes slid shut as your fingers danced across the keys— he knew how inspiration felt, yet it still transfixed him, curiosity rooted in the cavity of his chest, spreading.

It was not like his.

His was madness and the hunger for knowledge, mania driving his sleepless nights of research and experimentation. Violence was merely a stepping-stone to his end goals, even if he did delight in the carnage sometimes. Genius, even if it was twisted.

You held the same passion, he could tell. But it was different and he wanted to know more, to dig his fingers deep into the nuances of your mind and learn all he could. But this— the tears glittering in your eyes, the severity of your posture in the aftermath of your failure, clearly frightened— was not what he had employed you to observe.

His next sentence is frustrated, whatever he’d expected clearly left unfulfilled. “These aren’t the results I thought you would produce, Composer.”

Despite it all, you feel a flicker of vexation. What did he even expect? “Lord Harbinger, if I may be so bold,” you intone quietly, fingers curling into fists, “do you have any idea how your patronage of me is supposed to operate?”

He scowls, the twist of his lips the only thing visible. Absently, you notice a thin scar running diagonal across his cheek, starting from under the mask. “I am aware of how these partnerships typically go,” he responds, voice curt, “but I have no use for you in any other areas.

“Furthermore, I fail to understand the necessity of limiting you in your work as it would limit what you could create and express. I expected inspiration, passion. Am I wrong?”

You’re in disbelief, his flippant dismissal of your confusion igniting something that smothers your anxiety in favour of exasperation. “Yes,” you snap, animated for the first time since he’s stepped foot into the room, voice rising in anger, “do you truly presume that spending my days and nights working ceaselessly towards a standard you have yet to clearly define for me sparks any sort of innovation? What am I to do, Lord Harbinger, other than idle around in your hallways like a ghost?”

Gloved fingers clamp down on your jaw and the words freeze in your throat, the blood in your veins turning to ice. He squeezes, a silent warning. “Do not forget who it is that you are speaking to, Composer.”

You go completely still, fear surging up again and crashing into you like a wave. Your heart slams against your ribcage and you hope you’re still breathing, because Dottore’s face is mere inches from yours, the sharp point of his mask jabbing into your cheek harshly enough to break skin. You can feel the sting of it when blood wells up and trickles down your face, but he doesn’t pull away.

Too petrified, you don’t respond. You’re acutely aware of how he could crack your jaw if he squeezed a little tighter, how your friend had looked at you with worry and whispered to be careful, the Second Harbinger was not to be trifled with, disrespect was intolerable—

When he kills you, you silently pray that he won’t be too cruel with it.

Yet a second passes, then another, and nothing happens. Dottore stares at you for a long, final moment, before his fingers loosen and he steps away, tone gruff. “Although, I understand your perspective,” he admits begrudgingly, “so I will allow your lack of reverence to pass this once. Understand?”

“You forget I am not your subordinate,” you mutters before you can stop yourself, hand rising to wipe at the blood on your cheek. The temperature seems to drop a few degrees as you wince immediately after, bracing yourself for his rage.

But this time, Dottore smirks. “Yet you call me Lord Harbinger like any other.”

You grit your teeth silently, willing your expression to stay neutral, and narrow your eyes at him. He actually snickers at that, the sound sending a shockwave along your nerves.

“Have you eaten?” he asks suddenly, and the abrupt turn in the conversation gives you whiplash. You blink, a little confused, the last of your adrenaline ebbing away. “What?”

“Clearly not,” Dottore continues right on as if you hadn’t spoken, assessing you. “Not for almost two days, at least. Hydration has been minimal, too.”

Behind the mask, his eyes sweep over your hands and wrists, noticing the slight tremble in them; he exhales, aggravated. “If this is how you operate when left by yourself, I’ll have to make adjustments to your routine. Come with me.”

Dottore is moving before your mind fully catches up, crooking a finger at you. You bristle at his arrogance as you get up and follow after him hurriedly, forgetting to take your music scores with you. “Wait—”

“You’ll eat with me from now on,” he states dismissively, and your eyes widen. Clearly, this was not how you expected anything to go. “During your free time outside of your work, you will assist me in the laboratory.”

So, not put to work like a common servant, then.

Though given what you’ve heard about the Doctor’s experiments, this may be a worse outcome.

Dottore turns to you when he realises you’ve paused, voice dry. “Composer.”

You mumble an apology and quicken your pace, still half-dazed from the day’s events. Archons.

find me on ao3 here!

#dottore #il dottore #dottore x reader #genshin impact x reader #♡. kal's kitchen

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sweet-evie · 6 months

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Satoru, Suguru, Sukuna, and Choso in a Rock Band AU... I need my brain to shut up about this and I need to quell my thirst!

✨ masterlist ✨

I could have used J-Rock artists as prime reference, but... listening to my own playlist got me into this mess.

The band lineup in my head:

Sukuna on Drums

Choso on Bass Guitar

Suguru as Lead Guitarist & Main Backup Vocalist

Satoru as Rhythm Guitarist & Lead Vocalist

All of them can scream sing and growl, but...

Sukuna is the best at death growling + gutturals. Think Nergal from Behemoth.

Choso is a false chord scream king. Plus, for some reason, he sings like Corey Taylor in my head.

Suguru is 100% a pro at fry screaming. Also sings like Alex Varkatzas probably.

Satoru probably screams and growls like Andy Biersack or sings like M. Shadows or David Draiman... I can't decide. Although, can 100% picture him belting out The Vengeful One.

Anyways...

Satoru and Suguru are power duo lyricists... Like, they're so good at writing songs together. The themes in each album always defer, but they're really good at hammering in a message (subtle or overt) into every song.

Also also, picture Satoru and Suguru singing into a mic onstage, taking the entire crowd hostage with those never-declining face cards, fingers flawlessly gliding over the frets, pressing on the strings, playing their guitars in perfect harmony. 😩 LAWRD HELP ME, I WANT THEIR TONGUES IN MY MOUTH. 😭

Them playing these guitar solos on 3:21 - 3:55... Satoru doing rhythms at 3:21 and Suguru comes in at 3:36...

youtube

From debut, Satoru became extremely popular for never showing people his full face. The fans have never seen his eyes. Yes, he performs with a blindfold on, and during interviews, his eyes are always covered by his signature dark sunglasses.

His eye reveal was in a music video. It played a part skyrocketing the band's fame. And when the band performed live after that music video, Satoru is playing onstage without a blindfold or sunglasses on. Cue the infinite rizz.

Fans always rave that Satoru looks so innocent and cute when his eyes are on full-display (man belongs in a romcom movie) and he's not performing or screaming like a demon into the microphone.

Even after the eye reveal, Satoru still performs with a blindfold on most of the time, and he takes it off with extra flair and drama when the fans ask for it during a concert.

Satoru is very playful when interacting with fans -- a far cry from his onstage persona.

Also, fans are so tickled and pleased that for all his screaming and growling in songs and concerts, Suguru is actually very soft-spoken when he's just talking normally.

Suguru has a tongue piercing and the sexiest dragon tattoo sprawled across his back.

Need I mention the fans love the way Suguru says Satoru's name? Even in this AU, the fans ship SatoSugu. 😝

Suguru is also the one band member who gives insightful answers during interviews. Like, it's always deep with him, much to Choso and Satoru's amusement, and Sukuna's irritation.

Speaking of Sukuna...

Sukuna never wears a shirt during concerts. He has tattoos and he's showing them off like no one's business. Imagine him pounding at those drums, tattooed face, chest, and arms in full display, eyes blazing, tongue out and everything. [DON'T YOU WANT TO LICK HIM? 😜]

Sukuna's the drummer, but he has a microphone too, because he's the best at death growling and they have songs where they get into that.

No one plays drums like Sukuna can. It's a running gag in their fandom that Sukuna had four arms in another life because how in the fuck can he do what he do?

Sukuna is also famous for getting shit-faced before an onstage performance. For some reason, he plays perfectly fine even when he's inebriated or high. It's a flex! 😩

By contrast, Choso and Suguru eat super healthy.

Satoru is always on a sugar-high. Did we expect anything less?

Satoru and Suguru will write really dark songs and they will hand over the vocals to Sukuna, because it fits him so well. Kinda like this:

Satoru may be lead vocalist on paper, but all the boys in this band can sing, and they're all hot when they do it. 😝

The fans love it when Choso goes apeshit on the microphone. I imagine him singing this and it's a treat every fucking time!

Choso is baby. 😝 He's so cute and always looks out for everyone behind the scenes. The band has filmed backstage documentaries before, and the fans who've seen those love Choso so much because he takes care of all the members.

Choso plays bass and each time he has a solo in the song, it's a guaranteed eargasm. 😩🙏 Can he finger me the way he fingers that bass please?

Choso is so sweet to the fans... Always gives them attention even when he's not supposed to. (e.g., when he leaves his house and he finds them outside the gate). He just can't be mean!

Satoru and Suguru are fan service kings! Like during concerts, they don't shy away from getting super close to the crowd. They're also multi-tasking kings, because imagine playing an instrumental solo, singing, and doing crowd work at the same time.

The four of them are trolls! Satoru and Sukuna are the biggest trolls and menaces. Suguru goes along with whatever Satoru wants, and Choso tries and fails to be responsible.

They are well aware of the baseless rumors around their songs and performances (that they're spawns of hell, they worship the devil, etc.), and they play into it to annoy the haters some more and give them fodder. Hate comments are free publicity apparently.

Dating any one of them will either be fun and chill, or just outright chaos. No in-between.

I don't think Sukuna would date anyone though. He strikes me as a pump-and-dump type of man. Hooking up with him means a grand time in the sheets, but it's only good until he gets bored. After he gets bored, it's done. Bye!

Choso would treat you right, no questions. He makes time and does whatever you want to do. You want to workout with him? Okay! You want your own personal concert? Why, of course! You want time for private getaways? He's booking first class plane tickets to a vacation destination of your choice. You want to learn how to play bass guitar? "Come here, Darling. Let me show you."

With Satoru and Suguru, it's a toss up. Mostly because I think it will have to take someone super special (a person who isn't easily cowed and who loves either of them so much) to get either of them to fall in love. When they fall in love with their S/Os though, they're all in.

Dating Satoru or Suguru in this situation means having rock songs written about you. It's one of their love languages in this AU.

I also don't know what their band would be called. 😝

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #choso kamo #kamo choso #suguru geto #geto suguru #wbad shit posts #wbad blog

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thematchmakeramethyst · 7 months

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Trolls Band Together: The Junior Novelization Summarize and *Thoughts

This post may contain spoilers….

Warning, you are about to be spoiled.

This is your last chance, if you wish to turn back or take in the risk.

Here it is…Enjoy, Ame Gems.

*The book mentioned the day when Brozone separated happened before the Bergens captured the Pop Trolls. That’s hard to believe because it wouldn’t explain why John Dory was bossy to his brothers. His authoritarian nature is because of Brozone's parents' death at the hands of the Bergens. The death of their parents changed John Dory to try to act like an adult, and the pressure of looking after his brothers made him what he was. And his craving for perfection, maybe his thought of what parents wanted for their children. It also explains why the brothers would fight a lot; they try to hide their sorrow of losing their parents through rage. John Dory was the cause of their breaking up.

Brozone prepares for their concert while John Dory directs his brothers to follow his lead. Their Perfect Family Harmony was so powerful that it made them create mistakes, thus ending their concert in tragedy. JD, Spruce, and Clay begin to fight before they leave. Floyd decided to go for a solo career but said he’d come back. And, of course, it cuts to when Branch and Poppy get ready for Bridget and King Gristle’s wedding.

*Miss Maxine may be the justice of the peace despite her name being Aunt Smead.

John Dory arrived as soon as the wedding started. He’s happy to see Branch again before introducing himself as his brother.

*It was funny how Poppy referred to John Dory as the Old One. (considering him the eldest of Brozone)

John Dory mentioned he got a letter from Floyd, who was captured by Velvet and Veneer in Mount Rageous. He went there and found Floyd in a diamond prison. Seeing the Perfect Harmony will be able to break him free, JD searches to find the brothers. With Poppy and Branch coming along, JD summons Rhonda, his armadillo-like van. But before they left, Bridget and Gristle quickly married and started their honeymoon on a motorcycle. Meanwhile, at Mount Rageous, the evil Velvet and her follower brother, Veneer, are being interviewed on the Bop on Tp by Kid Ritz.

*Mention how they are overnight superstars. They must’ve kidnapped Floyd during the time they started their career. And how did they find him? Floyd may have visited Mount Rageous during his solo career to perform there. And that’s when they saw him. Velvet and Veneer are known as Rageons….Yeah, another way to say the Mommy LongLegs tribe ☹️

Their assistant, Crimp, is like the head of the straw boom but three times the size of the average Troll. She’s mistreated by Velvet the most, analyzing how self-centered she is for the spotlight and fame. She knows how to hide her true evil nature with her face. Veneer follows Velvet like a minion despite feeling guilty for what he’s doing to Floyd. He even looked sorry for him.

*FloydxVeneer?

It turns out that Velvet sent John Dory the letter to have all of Brozone. Crimp is highly unaware that the stealing talent Diamond perfume bottle is sucking the life out of Floyd. Back on Rhonda, Tiny Diamond somehow joined in the party.

*JD accepted Poppy as Branch’s girlfriend…Brotherly approved: the 1st one is checked

John Dory got a postcard from Spruce with no signature or return address. And as if on cue, the sunset was on the horizon. JD takes the wheel, so they fall into the sea, and they reach Vacay Island. While going through the Rock Climbing Jungle, they meet the locals, giant water balloon puppets creatures, and Beach Ball Birds.

*I call them the Vacays.

Anyway, the adult Spruce, now known as Bruce, is surfing the wave before going to his cantina(Bruce & Sons & One Daughter) without knowing they are following him. Upon seeing them, he ignores John Dory, happily tosses Branch, and gives him a wet willy.

*His grudge against his older brother is deep. And Branch, even if you are an adult, your brothers babying you is their job.

We soon meet Brandi, Bruce’s wife, and their 13 children. Hearing how Floyd was captured, Bruce suggests calling the authorities, until hearing about him being in a diamond prison, the perfect family harmony it is to save Floyd.

*It’s clear that Bruce and Branch are brothers since they were both pressured by Poppy and Bruce’s children to sing. FYI, the children got some pink eye.

With Brandi in charge of the restaurant and the children, Bruce takes off with his two brothers, Poppy and Tiny Diamond. Back at Mount Rageous, Velvet and Veneer will do a dress rehearsal. Of course, Velvet wants a spritz of Floyd's talent, which Floyd and Veneer stopped. Her brother even notices that Floyd is looking transparent.

*Veneer is too concerned about Floyd…Hmmm?

Veneer suggests practicing for the Rage Dome show, but Velvet is a lazy bum who wants the easy way. Back with the heroes, Bruce mentioned how his kids love to listen to Veneer.

*Yeah, it's better for him to be loved than Velvet.

The radio mentioned Velvet and Veneer performing at the Rage Dome for their Lifer Award tomorrow night. Without any time to spare, Rhonda goes into Hustle Mood while following the smell of Funderdrawers. They arrive at Putt-Putt Village, the old Bergen Hole in Fun. The Putt Putt Trolls have a vast hatred for Bergens. Soon, Clay came, saying he co-run the place with Viva.

*He cutely touches Branch’s face…Maybe to squeeze his cheeks.

Viva soon realizes that Poppy is her long-lost younger sister, and they begin to hang out together. However, Viva wants Poppy to stay forever because of her issues with Bergens. So she tries to trap them in Putt-Putt Village, but they escape. At Velvet and Veneer’s Rage Dome dressing room, they are preparing themselves for the show. Crimp created the Diamond outfits so they could steal Brozone's talent. Now, knowing what will happen to Floyd, Velvet locks Crimp in the closet. Floyd tries to fake death. Thinking his death was confirmed, they tried to flush Floyd down a toilet. Veneer says that his favorite thing about Floyd is how he made him famous

*As if they were flushing down a dead pet fish, cruel.

But Floyd takes this chance to try and escape. Once Veneer catches him, they have a heart-to-heart talk. Veneer takes his words but is still controlled by Velvet. Back with heroes, the four brothers and Poppy try to practice, but it doesn't go well. It ends up with John Dory, Bruce, and Clay fighting each other. John Dory mentions he can’t be responsible as the leader and eldest brother.

*Maybe he says he can’t take it as a parent leader. He’s still suffering from his parents' death.

Branch gets in between and mentions about Floyd’s life. But when John Dory said about everyone going back their separate ways, Branch snapped at how he wanted his family back together. With Tiny stopping Rhonda, Branch continues to rant about his troubles after his brothers are gone and how they treat him like a baby. He throws away his bunker map to reveal that he made his bunker for himself and his brothers while he went to save Floyd by himself. John Dory, Bruce, and Clay begin to look guilty as Poppy and Tiny follow Branch.

*I bet it's going to hit hard on the movie screen.

Meanwhile, Gristle and Bridget stumble upon Putt Putt Village, where they get captured. Mission impossible time once the three arrived at Mount Rageous as they went and found Floyd. But he warned about Velvet and Veener’s plan. Once they showed up, the heroes hid and found Rhonda in the twins' arms with JD, Bruce, and Clay trapped in the shoulder pads. With Rhonda in the closet, Floyd is placed in Velvet’s suit. With Crimp and Rhonda on the three heroes' side, they go after the villains to save Branch’s Brothers. Back with Gristle and Bridget, they’re pulled to their doom by the chomping clown. But Viva came in and stopped knowing about Bridget from Poppy. Back out on Mount Rageous, Velvet and Veneer are confronted by the group led by Branch. The car chase starts with Velvet and Veneer performing on their vehicle and goes to their yacht. But Viva, Gristle, and Bridget made it in time to help the heroes. By taking John Dory, Bruce, and Clay out, the evil twins go onto the tower of their yacht to do an encore, Velvet’s idea, but Veneer is worried about Floyd’s life. With Crimp cutting off the sound of the yacht, Branch, his three eldest brothers sing with Poppy and Viva. With the cameras on them, the Rageons loved Brozone over Velvet and Veneer as Bridget and Gristle get on the yacht. The magic of the Family Harmony made the Trolls, even Floyd’s prison, float out from Velvet’s costume. But while trying to get it back, it was intense. With Floyd singing along, the Family Harmony was so strong that it caused an explosion of magical musical energy to break the brothers’ prisons and make the evil pair fall into the rivers. With Floyd all transparent, his brothers gathered around him to see if they were too late. But he returned with his colors, well by 90%, with his hair slightly white.

*the Family Harmony was so powerful that his musical talents returned.

Velvet tries to sing but sounds horrible when the twins come out of the river. Veneer, having enough of her nonsense, confesses their crimes to their people. Putting her sister in handcuffs, standing up for himself for the first time.

*I knew he would redeem himself.

But Crimp puts him in handcuffs cause he is still corporated with Velvet’s plans. So, the twins were both arrested.

*I’m glad Veneer decided to pay for his crimes. I think once he’s out of prison, he’ll become an honest singer and maybe have a decent friendship with Floyd. ;-)

Then Broppy kiss on the lips, with everyone going to Vacay Island for Brozone to perform. Poppy and Viva join in their performance.

*Branch proposed to Poppy to join in the band….That’s a relief because I wasn’t ready for a Broppy marriage. I hope Clay x Viva will happen, even Floyd x Veneer, in the future. But I prefer Brozone being just the main five guys, with Poppy and Viva featuring. I’m sure Viva met Peppy, and he thought she was dead during the escape.

DREAMWORKS, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO RELEASE THE MOVIE ON NOV 17!?!?!?!? IT’S YOUR FAULT I HAVE TO DO THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was right about the cause of John Dory's bossy nature. Check it out, Ame Gems. https://dreamworks.fandom.com/wiki/Trolls_Band_Together

#trolls #trolls 3 #trollsbandtogether #trolls band together #trollstopia #trolls world tour #trolls dreamworks #brozone

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andy-wm · 8 months

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The 3D Teaser: the first four seconds.

Some people never read the prologue of a novel. And that's okay.

It's not vital. It often plays no part in the events that will unfold in the book, and you can skip it knowing you will still enjoy the story. But what it does ... is it gives context to the narrative you are about to read. It could (and usually does) change your prespective on the events in the book. It gives you insight.

And that's what the first four secods of this teaser is.

It's the prologue.

This is where it starts...

Jungkook, in white, ascends the stairs.

The fact that the MV opens with this scene means it's important. Not just for the structure of the story, but for impact. For our experience.

Why the stairs?

Firstly, we've seen the use of stairs in BTS narratives so many times... in the intro VCRs for concerts, for photoshoots, for choreo. It’s a recognised part of BTS's visual storytelling.

So this is very significant, taking that same visual cue and using it for one individual, in a way that clearly echoes of so many BTS photoshoots and videos. It ties JK to BTS through this familiar - almost ceremonial - ascension of the stairs - even down to the measured pace of his steps.

The aesthetic is also very familiar. Styling artists in a single colour right down to their shoes is a hallmark of K-Pop - and BTS,

The blue and white palette in the opening scene is very clearly reminiscent of Yet To Come. Even the style of outfit is the same - loose fitting off-white jacket and trousers... and that's no accident. This insert feels like a reminder that he remains part of the group, and that he (and his solo work) is intrinsically linked to BTS.

It ALSO says 'this where I left off... This is my best is yet to come'. It's a link from the past to the present.

This is his story.

Beyond the BTS link, stairs physically transport you... whether ascending or descending, moving towards a destination or moving away, stairs move you in three dimensions.

Clever, right?

Here's the most import part of this four second prologue:

BTS usually descends the stairs coming towards us physically and metaphorically. In this case JK is climbing OUT of the picture. He's moving away, BEYOND the BTS framework and into a different space.

Its not insignificant that we cannot see what's at the top of those stairs. Where do they lead? How far do they go up?

Unknown.

We don't know if he can see what new plane or platform he's going to be on either.

But he's walking confidently and at a measured pace. He's not running recklessly and he's also not tentative. He is (as expected) sure of himself and his direction.

And it may look like he's walking away from us but he can go steadily forward because he knows,

He’s got ARMY right behind him when he says so.

Are you crying yet?

I am.

But it's ok, because there's one more important thing to remember.

Those stairs? They're not going to disappear.

I am absolutely confident that he will be coming back the exact same way he left. Probably with that trademark Jungkook swagger (maybe with a giggle, maybe with a tear or two, maybe with the blisteringly hot reentry of a space shuttle. Who knows.)

What we DO know is that he will be coming back down those stairs before 2025.

All WE can do, is be behind him when he asks us to.

💜

Oh, one last thing... If he smashes that hydrant and the MV turns into a wet tshirt competition again, please send flowers to my husband because I will expire.

(and MY god I NEED those shoes!!!!!)

#jeon jungguk #jungkook #전정국 #jungkook 3d #jungkook ft. jack harlow #3d single #3d Jungkook

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putschki1969 · 5 months

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Hi Puts!

I just wanted to gush my thoughts to you about Keiko's recent performances! I was really surprised by the recent Magia live as Keiko hadn't been this dramatic since her Kalafina days. Then I saw some footage of the YK Shanghai concert on VK and... she's actually just like how she used to! With all the energy, the dramatic and cheesy hand movements - everything!

Ever since she started her solo career, it seemed to me like Keiko never wanted to perform like she used to. Even her FictionJunction performances were boring stage-presence wise. It seems like recently she's finally felt like getting back into how she used to perform and honestly it made me really emotional. Watching Keiko having so much fun when performing with FictionJunction in Shanghai, she was really stealing the stage at it just felt like I was watching Kalafina again! A small part deep inside of me thought she somewhat resented Kalafina, but these latest performances has made me remember that she really just loves Yuki Kajiura's music probably more than anyone and I love that about her.

This isn't really an ask, I just wanted to gush!!!

Hi there!

Another reply that's long overdue, I am so sorry!

Absolutely, Keiko's love for YK's music is certainly unparalleled. I'm sure she likes her solo stuff well enough but it's nothing compared to what she feels about YK's work. From what we know, Keiko very much appreciates contributing to something meaningful, having a purpose and knowing her place in the grand scale of things. Being part of the YK family achieves all of that. Her solo work on the other hand is not as structured or target-oriented so Keiko probably just views it as a bit of casual fun on the side.

As for Keiko's stage-presence in the past few years, I personally do not feel like Keiko's performances have ever been truly lacking in that particular department. Maybe some of her solo gigs are a bit stilted and awkward (which is to be expected I guess) but when it comes to FictionJunction performances, I still vividly remember being blown away by her enthusiasm at the YK Live in Taiwan back in 2019. And let's not even mention the most recent Budokan live XD That was on a whole new level of epicness.

I would say Keiko is the type of person who heavily feeds off of her fellow stage members. If she is alone on stage, there's no one to take cues from. However, if she performs with someone she feels comfortable with and who exudes passion, she will naturally let loose too. Another thing to consider is the fact that all the FJ performances we got to see in the past few years were official recordings for home video releases or online broadcasts. These tend to be a bit more toned down in general so Keiko will often fall back on a sort of "business-mode" for those.

Anyways, I am glad you are enjoying Keiko's performances. There's a lot to gush about indeed.

PS: I have really been enjoying your YouTube uploads as of late. The "LIVE Evolution" videos are so much fun to watch and truly fascinating. It must have taken forever to put all the footage together so thank you for that!

#kalafina #reply #keiko #keiko solo work

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charlierosewriting · 8 months

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This viewing of Stop Making Sense, in a cinema I went to alone, did two things: it ruined every other time I'll ever try to watch this film again in my life, and revealed itself to be what it has been this whole time. Anti-performance anxiety propaganda. It also cracked me wide open.

I've always seen Stop Making Sense in one of two modes - communally on a TV through it's built-in speakers, or on my phone alone with my big chunky noise-cancelling headphones. I pick whether I want to hear it with others but sacrifice the sound quality, or to hear it at its most beautiful but by myself. In a mostly empty cinema, Stop Making Sense becomes both at once. I can't be sure if it's the A24 remaster or just hearing it on a capital everything SOUND SYSTEM, but the entire experience feels warmer and human this way. Tina Weymouth's bass playing is clearer than ever before, the synths taking a bit more of a backseat to its rumble, and the percussion of both Chris Frantz's drums, David Byrne's boombox and (most transformatively) Steve Scale's set-up hit almost with the force of actual, unshielded, live drumming. After each song, the couple behind me cheered and whooped (half-ironically), and after the midway point I joined in (completely earnestly). It's still not perfectly analogous to a live concert, even then. The audience noise is near immersive in surround sound, but it still feels as distant as the band does all the way over up on that stage. When the songs end and the crowd noise begins, the cinema experience feels strange and hollow and disconnected. I love this way more than a perfect Disneyland imagineered recreation of a Talking Heads concert.

That last point is actually where the most magic is found in seeing Stop Making Sense in a cinema, and what really started to pierce into me; the craftsmanship is more visible. These are small chips in the paintwork you can't see until you get your nose right up to the masterpiece, and every one of them adds more texture and beauty to the whole.

It's easy to be swept away by the sheer magic of Stop Making Sense in any of my usual viewings, because it's already perfect. In Crosseyed and Painless, the camera pans between Alex and David as they trade absolutely cracked guitar solos, and it is a frontrunner for my favourite shot in any film. The whole thing feels effortless and fluid from beginning to end, a document of a band in their peak, beautiful moments of improvisation and genius popping up from both the performers and the cameramen, something divinely ordained.

But when Tina Weymouth is 20ft tall, you notice her lips don't quite match the audio track on Genius of Love, and remember that the film was shot over four nights, not one continuous concert. It isn't a gift from the goddess of music, it's a team of creatives sweating in a studio with probably not great A/C to make something that feels cohesive. When David dances with Ednah and Lynn on Burning Down The House, they perfectly match his strange movements and mimic the guitar playing, and when they're 20ft tall you remember that there must-have been a rehearsal. You remember that the physical CD of Stop Making Sense you own includes a booklet, in which every movement and stage direction is documented, and you wonder if that was written before or after the performance.

One I noticed long before I saw it in the cinema was during the objective pick for best Talking Heads song, This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody), when David enjoys watching the lamp he dances with wobble back into place for just long enough that he misses his cue to sing, and is back at the microphone just half a beat AFTER he starts singing on the audio track.

This is not nitpicking. This is revelatory, this is beautiful, this is the best the film has ever been. This is the autism of Stop Making Sense.

Like Stop Making Sense, I am profoundly autistic. I have been autistic all my life, and I will continue to be autistic. If you asked me if I'm proud to be autistic, I'd say yes, but at the same time I'm sadly not sure if that's true. I have masked so thoroughly and for so long that removing the veneer isn't freeing. Taking it off doesn't let my skin breathe, it exposes raw flesh so tender that it is stung by the air. Some people never have experience with air, tell you not to worry about it, but I think that David Byrne has.

He writes more songs about buildings and food, he dances either like a marionette or like a panic attack, he sings like he is bearing his soul or like he's having a panic attack, the polyrhythms the band finds are joyous grooves or they are panic attacks. Talking Heads is sensory overload about sensory overload, confusing music about being confused, failing radio transmissions about badly communicated emotions.

The difference is, Talking Heads will express that feeling, that disconnect, that hellish radio static in the back of my mind, and make it listenable and funky and fun. When I'm overwhelmed, I'll storm out and cry alone, when David Byrne is overwhelmed, he writes Born Under Punches. When I'm happy, I smile and, if around no-one but my girlfriend, maybe giggle and flap like I wish I could more often - before regaining control and putting the mask back on. When David Byrne is happy, he releases Don't Worry About The Government and the world listens to it.

I want to write songs about buildings and food! I want to write songs about Garak and Power! About the career of Ahmed Johnson! Let me! But I won't, and I don't. I don't think I can right now. But then there's Stop Making Sense.

Stop Making Sense takes every complicated, negative emotion in the discography of Talking Heads, and does something amazing with it; it makes it a party. In its original studio form, Life During Wartime is midtempo and reverby and distressing. The groove is there, but feels intentionally shot in the shin, only allowed to lope in a way that brings out the tension and danger of the lyricism. Then it Stop Making Sense it SKYROCKETS!!! The panic is still there, that essential tender skin of autism, but it is transformed into one of the most bracing and captivating performances of the whole film. Rather than monotonal, almost krautrocky guitar solos, it is given ecstatic synths and almost double the tempo. The studio version of David feels cramped in his situation, the film David runs in place! He wriggles! He sprints laps around the entire stage! The crowd claps and screams! I clap and scream!

This is Stop Making Sense in minutia. The tension and overload of autism is constant, it is pervasive, but what is present is the joy and not the pain. When I stim around my girlfriend I feel completely free momentarily, Talking Heads in Stop Making Sense feel completely free for eighty-eight minutes, and it's infectious.

Masking, at least for me, is performance anxiety. I have an ideal self in my head and, despite my constant trying to change this, she doesn't openly present as autistic yet. I want to perform my best, ideal self, and I need my autism to be part of that, but revealing myself that much to the world is terrifying.

But, once again, here's Stop Making Sense, and its perfect flaws.

The version of Tina we see sing Genius of Love isn't the version we're hearing, but she is beautiful, and I love her. David misses the cue to go back to the microphone, but I still hear his wolf howls and I smile. Chris beams like a headlight at all times, he's having the time of his life. Ednah and Lynn are always so ON that they feel more like Energizer Bunnies than people sometimes, and I wish I could be more like either of them. Jerry is consistently serious looking and kinda wooden, and he's doing so damn well up there. Alex seems to only know one dance move, it's to kick about as high as his chest and look to the right, and it's the coolest thing I've ever seen every time. Bernie looks so self serious at all times, which makes his basic ass solos on Making Flippy Floppy so much funnier and better. Steve Scales, on top of having the best name ever, keeps looking at the crowd like a kid whose parents have come to see him in the school play, and I love him. I love them all.

They are and were real people with interiority and darkness that I'll never know or comprehend, they all did bad things to good people at some point in their lives, and the version of themselves that was captured across these four nights and painted into this eighty-eight minute gasp of euphoria are my family and they are my friends.

David gets to the microphone too late and I hear the wolf howl and I smile, they all continue the song together and I clap, and then I squeal and then I shake and I flap my hands and the mask falls to the ground, and there are two people behind me who can definitely see me right now and they can definitely tell, they can so definitely tell, but this must be the place (naive melody) is the best song ever so I dont really care and the song ends and i find there are tears in my eyes and they dont fall, and before i can reach to pick up what i dropped the synth arpeggios of once in a lifetime start and i no longer have time so i sit theere and i watch and i listen and david dances and now hes wearing glasses and I'm just an animal looking for a home and, share the space for a minute or two! And I'll love you 'til my heart stops! Love you until I'm dead. Eyes that light up, eyes that look through you. Cover up my blind spots, hit me on the head! Awoo!

Postscript:

I tried writing this once on my phone, but the app crashed and deleted my progress and I almost had a panic attack lol. Glad I rewrote it, I want to put this somewhere, but it is somewhat more masked and less raw than the original version. Oh well, it's probably better written.

The one concert movie I've seen that REALLY goes into exposing how it's a construction over different nights is Beyoncé's Homecoming which is a masterpiece in its own right. The way it blatantly shifts outfits and colour schemes across shots is wonderful, people need to talk about that more. Probably shouldn't be me though lol.

#stop making sense #Talking Heads #Autism #Tina Weymouth my beloved

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minminyoonjii · 2 years

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Time Out [Bang Chan x Reader]

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🕯Summary:

You've been childhood best friends for years. Pet names, Skinship, and Bickering were the norm between you. On the last day of the concert, something unexpected happened.

"You're so fucking annoying," he murmured, kissing your palm. He pinned after you for years but you didn't notice the signs. "You were blind, yet you called me the blind one," he sulked, kissing your wrist.

"Skinship and pet names are our norm, how was I supposed to distinguish between the two," you said, poking his dimples.

🔗https://archiveofourown.org/works/40766715

🌹CW:

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 6.2K

Sounds of cheers pervaded the arena, bass boomed from the loudspeakers. The crowd went wild, lights flashing with light sticks in their hands. Adrenaline is pumped into your veins sending a shiver down your spine. You turned your head only to see your childhood best friend pressing his tongue against his inner cheek, grinning at you. You scoffed, a smile curling your lips. You nodded gently, acknowledging his gesture. Chan licked his lips, suppressing a smile. He bounced on his heels, looking at his members with fondness in his eyes. You snickered at his reaction, closing your eyes, and allowing the music to sway your body naturally.

Chan looked back in your direction, his breath hitching as his gaze focused on your figure. Jisung looked around, searching for his leader and snorted when he followed his gaze. Jisung held back a laugh, threatening to burst. "Channie hyung, it's your cue," he whispered, instantly snapping him out of his daydream. Chan shook his head, chuckling nervously as his fingers plucked at the strings of his guitar. The familiar weight under his fingertips as he played, You opened your eyes, scoffing when you saw Chan biting the corner of his guitar pick. You rolled your eyes half-heartedly, it wasn't the first time and it definitely wouldn't be the last. Bad habits are hard to die.

You pressed your tongue against your back molar as the current song slowly fades into a mellow one. The soft guitar strums resonated in the background, and a subtle smile unconsciously appeared, knowing where the next song would lead. You found yourself humming to the tunes, lyrics burned into your memory. Your body swayed as your vision fixed on a certain male in your life, licking your dry lips as he sang with desperation oozing through the verse. You asked him numerous times before, what inspired such a heartwrenching song, but each time he responded that it's just a narrative.

The chorus began to build, "Red, blue and purple on top. Above that, we are in love. The light is so bright even in the middle of the night. And I assume that you are the light. The aurora that you gave me. Always shines' purple, even when it passes by me," Chan sang, his eyes meeting yours. You gulped when he looked in your direction as if dedicating his verse to you. "I got this on my way, AuRoRa, It cross over my head, Go ahead," Jisung sang, an underlying growl covering every syllable. The crowd went feral and you could understand why. You exhaled shakily, and deep down you knew your cheeks were flushed,

The post-chorus of the second verse came to an end, you watched as Chan strummed his guitar, walking with confidence lacing each step. Chan walked to the centre stage for the bridge, biceps flexing with each stroke. Goosebumps covered your arms, each time you heard his solo. It never failed to send a shudder through your body. You inhaled sharply, shaking your hands to dispel the chills crawling on your skin. Chan bit his lower lip, closing his eyes as he immersed himself in the song. He lifted his guitar, strumming the last chord as Jisung clutched his stand mic to sing to the ending chorus. The crowd screamed their heart out to the last song of the night.

Chan exhaled with an adrenaline-filled smile, chest heaving with each breath. He ran his fingers through his damp hair, pushing it back. He looked in your direction once again, reminding you of a lost puppy as he bit the inside of his cheek. You laughed at his expression, nodding in amusement as you clapped slowly. Chan chuckled, bowing dramatically, making the crowd behind you scream at his gesture. You shook your head, sighing with a grin. The members joined hands, bowing respectfully as they say their thank yous, ending their show for the night. You waited for the crowd to disperse before making your way backstage.

Loud laughter rang out, and you chuckled under your breath, knocking on the door, You heard the room instantly go silent, and then a frantic stumbling ensues. Your eyes widened as a sudden dull thud sounded against the walls. Chan opened the door, leaning his elbow against the doorframe, smiling through gritted teeth. You looked at him "Is everything alright?" you asked, trying to look past his large figure blocking the door, Chan followed your gaze, tucking his lower lip between his teeth. You furrowed your eyebrows, "Chris," you said, warningly, looking up at him. Chan swallowed nervously "Yeah?" he asked, clearing his throat as his voice cracked.

You pressed your tongue against your inner cheek, not giving him the chance to avert his gaze "What are you hiding, Christopher?" you asked, taking notice that his ears taint red. Chan shook his head in exasperation "Nothing, nothing at all. Why would I hide anything?" he stuttered, making the mistake of shifting his position. You seized the opportunity to slip into the room but before you could, Chan wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back. Your breath got caught in your throat, only letting out a surprised squeak.

Chan hooked his chin on your shoulder, "You really should pay attention to the signs, sweetheart," he whispered, letting his biceps press against your sides. Blood rushed up your neck, "Uh-huh, sure. Can you let me go?" you asked, resisting his grip. Chan chuckled as his lips grazed your earlobe "I don't know, should I?" he whispered, tightening his hold, You nodded your head "Yes, you should," you stated, saying the obvious as you tried to break free. He chuckled lowly, smirking against your ear "Say please?" he whispered, sending shudders throughout your body.

You bit your tongue, "Don't cross the line, Christopher," you threatened, craning your neck to glare at him. He stared down at you, a smug grin etching his lips. Dimples, appeared as he grinned. Your breath hitched, unconsciously holding your breath as he kept his gaze on you. "Sweetheart, all you have to say is please," he teased, smirking against your cheek. "Fuck off," you snarled, writhing in his grip. He chuckled, chest rumbling against your back "Now, now darling. All you have to say is please and I'll let you go," he said, pressing his back against the wall behind him.

You clenched your jaw "Please," you murmured as blood rushes to your cheeks, turning them dusty pink. Chan grinned, leaning his face next to yours "I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear you," he teased, nibbling on your ear. You scoffed, rolling your eyes, taking a deep inhale "Please," you repeated louder this time, hoping he'd let you go and not ask you to beg again. Chan paused for a moment, causing a whine to escape your throat. He laughed, releasing his grip "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" he asked, gently patting your cheek.

You gritted your teeth, "I fucking hate you," you seeth, pouting as you glared. Chan smiled, poking your cheeks "I know you do," he says, taking your hand. You furrowed your eyebrows, "Where are we going?" you asked as he pulled you along. Chan looked back at you "We're going for a little ride," he said vaguely. You rolled your eyes "Wow, very specific of you," you mocked sarcastically. Chan ignored your sarcasm as confusion crossed your face "Aren't you supposed to head back with the kids?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.

Chan pursed his lips, holding back the urge to pinch your cheeks, he cleared his throat "Since it's the last concert, we have the evening off," he explained, taking out his car keys. He opened the passenger's door and signalled for you to sit down. You hesitated but sat down anyway. A soft yelp escaped your lips when Chan's well-toned arms suddenly came into your line of sight as he buckled you in. Chan gave you an amused look, "What was that?" he teased, grinning as he props his arm on the car roof.

You clench your fists, punching his torso. Chan chuckled and raised his hand in surrender "Alright, alright. Stop with the kitty-punches," he teased, at which your jaw dropped, staring at him in disbelief. Chan grinned, gently closing your mouth "Cute," he murmured, closing your door. You shook your head, crossing your arms as you relax against the seat. Chan started the engine, buckling himself in. He hummed, turning on the radio and setting it to low volume. The audio turned into white noise throughout the whole ride. You propped your head on your palm, staring out the window.

Lights flashed past you, the night seemed calm and soothing. Chan drove, resting his hand on his thigh. You swallowed as you caught a glimpse of him. You bit your tongue, pushing away every fleeting thought that crossed your mind. Chan saw your flustered cheeks and shook his head gently, a smile curling his lips. It wasn't long before Chan stopped near a cliff. You furrowed your eyebrows "Where are we, Chris?" you asked, looking around only to see nothing but dense trees.

"Is this a kidnapping plot," you joked, rubbing your hands together. Chan said nothing, studying your features for a moment before unlocking his door to join you. He unfastened your seatbelt and held out his hand for you to take. You looked up at him, hesitant. Chan sighed, leaning forward to wrap his arms around your waist as he lifted you up. You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck "A warning would be nice," you murmured as he set you down on the bonnet. Chan pulled out a few thick blankets, placing them over your legs.

Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water, utterly confused by his actions. Chan ran his fingers through his hair, taking a seat next to you. You raised an eyebrow, "Is something wrong, Channie?" you asked, resting your head against your knees. Chan sighed, closing his eyes "You're so stupid," he muttered, nibbling your palm. You scoffed, trying to tug your palm back but he held it firmly. "What's that supposed to mean?" you muttered, offended at his sudden attack. Chan glanced at you, sighing deeply "What do you think we are?" he asked, not giving you a chance to avert his gaze.

You gulped "Well, childhood best friends?" you said, but it sounded more like a question than an answer. Chan scoffed, smiling slightly "What type of friends pull the shit we do?" he asked, pressing his tongue against his cheek. You bit your tongue "Don't you treat me the same way you treat the kids?" you asked, averting his question. He shook his head firmly "No, I don't," he said, locking eyes with yours. You stared into his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt in his statement but found none "I don't understand," you muttered. "You call the kids pet names on the daily, so I assumed that it was normal. Was it not?" you asked, as thoughts ran through your head.

Chan sank his teeth into the flesh of your palm, leaving deep indents but not deep enough to break the skin. You yelped as he did "I can't believe I love you," he confessed, kissing the bite. Your eyes widened "What?" you whispered as your body froze. Chan lifted you up, clasping his arms around your waist. "You heard me, sweetheart," he said, nosing your neck. You shivered, straddling his lap "You can't just say that Christopher Bang Chan," you scolded, pinching his arm. He grunted, taking your hand, and intertwining your fingers "I just did," he said, kissing the top of your palm.

You furrowed your eyebrows "Since when?" you asked, eyeing his features. Chan smirked, "Would you believe me if I said since day one?" he asked, kissing your wrist. You scoffed "Were you blind?" you asked, disbelief evident on your face. Chan shrugged "Blinded by love, maybe," he said, resting his chin on your shoulder. "You didn't just say that, Chan," you snorted, running your fingers through his hair. Chan grinned "That's just the effect you have on me, sweetheart," he teased, pulling you closer, letting your chests touch.

"I want to wipe that stupid grin off your face," you grumbled, squinting at his lips. Chan grinned wider, leaning forward "Then why don't you?" he whispered, blowing into your ear. You shuddered, licking your lips "Can I kiss you?" you asked, staring at him. Chan nodded, smiling warmly "You didn't have to ask, sweetheart," he said, stroking your sides. "I didn't want to assume plus consent is hot," you murmured, stroking the back of his neck. Chan chuckled "Alright, baby. Take it slow, we have all night," he encouraged, tracing your curves.

You gulped, leaning forward to give him a soft kiss on the lips. You licked your lips "Peaches," you mumbled as he smirked "Your favourite," he said, rubbing your thighs, waiting patiently. You exhaled deeply, leaning forward, and kissing him a little longer than before. Feeling his soft lip on yours, you could feel yourself getting addicted. You pulled back gently, panting against his chest. Chan squeezed your supple thighs together, drawing a low moan from your lips. Your eyes widened as you covered your mouth.

Chan chuckled, tugging your wrist away from your mouth "Let me hear you, sweetheart," he whispered, kissing your cheek. You felt your face heat up from the affection. You looked down, staring at your hips, embarrassed. Chan gently lifted your head back up, holding your chin firmly "Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart," he whispered, stroking your cheek. You leaned into his palm, putting your hand above his "Can I ask you a favour?" you murmured as blood rushed to your ears. Chan chuckled, nodding his head "Don't be afraid and tell me, sweetheart," he reassured,

"Can you teach me how to french kiss?" you asked, looking at him with curious eyes. Chan groaned loudly, burying his face against your chest. You frowned "Did I say something wrong?" you whispered, anxiously. He shook his head "No, you didn't," he reassures, holding you tight. You pursed your lips "Then why are you groaning?" you asked, tilting your head slightly. Chan tilted his neck back, inhaling deeply as he closed his eyes "You're just so fucking cute, that's why," he grunted, pressing his forehead against yours. Your cheeks flushed "Oh," you whispered.

Chan pinched your cheeks, tugging them in his fingers. You whined in pain "It hurts," you cried, clutching his wrist. He kissed your cheeks "There, better?" he asked, nosing your cheek. You nodded as he turned you around, pulling you closer to his chest "Look up, sweetheart," he murmured, leaving gentle butterfly kisses down your neck to your shoulder. You snuggled against his chest as you looked up. A soft gasp escaped your lips "Wow," you whispered, staring at the light show. Gentle waves of light lit up the barren night sky. "Did you know this was happening tonight?" you asked, enjoying the first-class view.

Chan hummed, nodding against your shoulder "Yeah, I wanted it to be a surprise," he murmured, staring at your starstruck expression. "It's so beautiful," you said in amazement. Chan nodded, keeping his gaze on you "Very beautiful," he whispered, hooking his chin on your shoulder. You craned your neck "You haven't done it yet," you said vaguely. Chan raised an eyebrow "Done what, sweetheart?" he asked. "Teach me how to french kiss," you said, straddling his waist once more. Chan chuckled, bracing his hands on your hip "Can I take the lead?" he asked, drawing circles on your sides.

You nodded, staring at him expectantly. Chan smiled, licking his lips "I need verbal consent, darling," he said, nudging your nose. You wrinkled your nose, "Please," you whispered, looking up at him. Chan cooed "You're a quick learner," he teased, grinning proudly. You snarled at him, trying to bite his finger as he waved it in front of your face, mocking you. Chan chuckled, sighing loudly into his hands "You're really making me doubt my morals, baby," he groaned, holding both of your wrists into his grip. You furrowed your eyebrows, nudging his nose.

He wrinkled his nose, stroking your jaw "Close your eyes, kitten," he whispered, leaning in to gently nip your bottom lip. You tried to tug your lip back but Chan held you firmly. He kissed you carefully, giving you short, sweet kisses to help you ease into it. You caught yourself chasing after his lips every time he pulled away. He grinned against your lips, kissing you longer. Chan squeezed your thighs, eliciting a loud moan from you. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours, sliding it gently over each corner of your mouth, eliciting another moan from you.

Chan smirked against your lips, trying to elicit as many sounds from you as possible. You clutched his bicep, starting to feel dizzy from pleasure. You felt woozy but safe, trusting Chan that he wouldn't take advantage of you in this state. Chan deepened the kiss, making you whimper. You shivered as he gently pulled back and stroked your hip "Feeling alright?" he asked, running his fingers through your hair. You leaned your head against his chest, nodding as you panted for air. Chan kissed the top of your head "Did you like your first french kiss?" he asked, murmuring against your hair.

Your cheeks flushed, ears turning red "Yes," you whispered, muffled against his chest. Chan chuckled, tracing your legs lovingly "Comfortable?" he asked, wrapping the blankets over your torso. You nodded, eyes growing heavy as you wrapped your arms around his waist lazily. He smiled warmly, kissing your forehead "Take a nap, sweetheart," he whispered. You nodded against his chest, snuggling deeper. Chan ran his fingers through your hair "Rest well, sweetheart," he whispered, admiring your relaxed features. He hummed, coaxing you deeper into your nap.

You shifted, pressing your cheek against his pec. Chan covered his mouth with his free hand, muffling a groan threatening to slip. "If anyone hurts you, I'll kill everyone in the room and then myself," he murmured, completely whipped by you. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed, and your nose twitched before snuggling closer to him. So stupid in love, he grinned, smiling like a whipped fool in the night. You grew up together, sleepovers were a weekly thing but he'll never get over how adorable you looked when you slept.

Chan sighed deeply, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. He shook his head "You're so fucking annoying," he murmured, kissing your palm. He pinned after you for years but you didn't notice the signs. "You were blind, yet you called me the blind one," he sulked, kissing your wrist. You pulled back your hand from his hold, yawning as you rested your head against his shoulder "It's not my fault you had so much love to give," you mumbled against his skin. Chan ran his fingers down your back "You'll have to elaborate on that, sweetheart," he said, nibbling your thumb.

You whined, pulling your thumb away from his restless bites "Skinship and pet names are our norm, how was I supposed to distinguish between the two," you said, poking his dimples. Chan groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, ears tinting red. You grinned, stroking his hair "You know I'm right," you whispered, kissing the top of his hair. Chan whined, nibbling down your neck, knowing full well that you were right. You giggled, running your fingers through his hair. Chan leaned against your touch, sighing happily. "I now declare us as idiots in love," you joked, watching as his lips cracked into a smile "Definitely," he chuckled, agreeing,

You giggled "Should we head back?" you asked pressing the blankets against your cheek. Chan looked at the time "It's close to midnight. Should I drop you off at your house or," he grinned, pulling you closer "You could spend the night with me," he whispered, looking into your eyes. Your breath hitched as you inhaled sharply. Chan laughed "The choice is yours, sweetheart," he said, kissing your nose. You wrinkled your nose, involuntarily biting the pads of your thumb. Chan gently took your thumb away from your lips.

"We could just cuddle in the room watching cheesy romance movies, that is if you don't have any other ideas," he teased, watching your neck turn red. A shiver ran through your body, you wanted more, you knew you wanted more. Your lips twisted into a pout as you continued to think about your decision. Chan chuckled, kissing your pout gently "Sweetheart, was that question too big for your pretty little brain? Do you need daddy to help you?" he asked, voice dropping an octave. You unconsciously held your breath, staring at him with wide confused eyes. Chan stroked your cheek as you exhaled softly.

You whimpered, clenching your jaw as you gasped for air. Chan chuckled "Excited already?" he teased, kissing you. You moaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck "Excited?" you ask with wobbling eyes. Chan froze with his mouth agape "Sweetheart, do you know what's happening, right now?' he asked, running his fingers through your hair. You exhaled shakily "No?" you whispered. Chan cooed "Have you ever felt this way before?" he asked, cupping your cheek. You shook your head, lips quivering "No," you whimpered, staring upwards with glazed eyes.

Chan smiled warmly "Oh, baby. You're alright. We can stop here if you want," he suggested. You shook your head, pouting "I want you," you murmured, staring at him. Chan chuckled "Do you even know what you're asking for?" he asked, grinning at you. You whined, pressing your wrists on his thighs "I do," you muttered. "I need to hear you say it, sweetheart," he whispered, kissing your ear. You trembled, clenching and unclenching your fist. Chan smirked, pressing his tongue against his inner cheek "Come on darling, tell daddy what you want." he said, pulling you closer.

You clenched your jaw, sighing deeply "I want you to fuck me," you mumbled. Chan held your jaw firmly "Can you repeat that sweetheart? I didn't quite hear you," he whispered, raising an eyebrow. You huffed your cheeks, "I want you to fuck me," you repeated more confidently. Chan smiled warmly, wrapping the blankets around you before lifting you up. You cried out, clutching his biceps. Chan chuckled, gently setting you down in the passenger's seat. You snuggled into the blankets, watching him buckling you in. Chan started the engine, resting his hand on your thigh.

Your heartbeat pounded against your chest as you leaned your head against the cool window. The ride was silent but pleasant, as you allowed Chan's fingers to take up all your attention. You took Chan's hand in yours, tracing the outlines of his fingers. "Pretty," you murmured, comparing the size of his hand to yours. Chan chuckled softly, jolting you out of your trance, your heart pounded once more as his arm instinctively held your body back "You're alright, baby. It's just me," he said, turning his gaze back to the road.

You exhaled deeply, melting into the seat of the car. Chan smiled, placing his hand on your thigh again. You distracted yourself, staring out of the window, noticing the previously bright streets turned silent as the stores began to shut. Chan drove to the hotel parking lot, parking his car on the rooftop. Your cheeks burned at the dirty thought that crossed your mind in the face of an empty parking lot. Chan noticed the look on your face, grinning "What's going through that pretty head of yours?" he whispered, jolting you out of your trance again. Chan chuckled, unfastening your seatbelt before unbuckling his own. He turned off the engine and walked to your door.

You shuddered a sigh, looking up at him nervously. Chan smiled warmly, taking your hands into his "We can always turn back, kitten. I just want to make you feel as comfortable as possible," he said, kneeling on one knee as he kissed the top of your palm. You ran your tongue across your lips, nodding your head. Chan grinned, pulling you up to your feet "If you ever feel like tapping out anytime throughout the night, you can tell me," he said, kissing the top of your head. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his "Okay, daddy," you said, eyes turning into crescents.

Chan blinked at you, mouth agape "Sweetheart, you're going to kill me one day," he said dramatically, holding his chest. You smiled cheerily "You called yourself that, Mister steal your girl," you stated, poking his dimples. "Baby, why did you have to bring that up," he whined, sulking at your tease. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his waist "You brought this on yourself when you decided to confess," you said, nuzzling your face between his pecs. He shook his head "Can I return you?" he teased, nudging your nose. You glared at him, wrinkling your nose "You wouldn't dare," you said. Chan smirked "You wouldn't know," he retorted back.

You looked at him stunned "I hate you," you said, squinting your eyes. Chan chuckled, chest rumbling against your cheeks "I love you too," he said, kissing your forehead. You released his waist, leaning against his arm "Let's go daddy," you said, pointing to the lift. "Before I call you father," you added, before sprinting to the lift, leaving Chan behind in disbelief. Chan scoffed, "This fucking brat," he muttered under his breath, smirking widely. You giggled, resting your back against the wall "Hurry up, grandpa," you teased, sticking your tongue at him.

Chan rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around your waist "You need to be taught some lessons if you think this behaviour is acceptable," he growled, nipping your earlobe. You whined, trying to take a nip of his arm as a rebuttal. He chuckled at your struggle, tightening his grip "Fiesty little thing, aren't you," he said, lifting you off your feet. You wrapped your arms around his neck, squirming your hips in his hold. Chan sighed deeply "Kitten if you don't fucking stop, I will not hesitate to throw you over my shoulder and spank you," he growled, gripping your waist.

You whimpered, burying your face against his neck "I'm sorry," you said, mumbling against his skin. Chan kissed your lips "It's alright, sweetheart. Everything is new to you isn't it?" he asked, unlocking his room door. You nodded against his neck, sniffling softly. Chan cooed, removing your shoes "Baby, my pretty little one. Why are you crying?" he asked, gently setting you down on the bed, kneeling in front of you. You pouted, staring down at him, still sniffling. Chan rubbed your knee, kissing your hand "Daddy's sorry gorgeous. Did my words scare you?" he asked.

You nodded as your sniffles subsided. Chan stood up kissing your forehead, "Let me teach you a colour system," he said, running his fingers through your hair. You tilted your head "Colour system?" you stared up at him with puffy red eyes and a swollen lip. He gulped, pressing his tongue against his cheek as he inhaled to catch his bearings. "Yes, a colour system. Red is stop, Yellow is pause and Green is go. Just like the traffic lights," he said, running his fingers through your hair. Your lips parted an "Ah." as your nodded. "Okay, daddy," you said, melting into his palm as he stroked your cheek.

Chan clenched his jaw, inhaling sharply "What do you want to do first, baby?" he asked, cupping your cheeks. You licked your lips, staring at the bulge forming in his jeans "Can I give you a blow job?" you asked, pawing his jeans. Chan's breath hitched "Aw baby wants to feel a cock in her mouth?" he asked, unbuckling his belt. You nodded excitedly, "Please daddy, need you," you begged, pouting. Chan cursed under his breath, kicking his jeans aside "Go ahead baby," he said, leaning in to kiss your lips. You hummed into the kiss, smiling excitedly. Chan nipped your bottom lip, smirking as you whined.

You glared at him, jutting your lip. Chan chuckled, raising his hand "I couldn't help myself, kitten," he said, watching you tug his boxers down. Your eyes widen at his sheer length, you gulped as your mouth watered. He smirked smugly at your reaction, holding his length up, and cooing at your curious eyes. You looked up at him, gently tracing the outline of his cock, a pretty pink cockhead contrasting his pale skin. You felt Chan shudder under your touches, sending pride into your veins. Chan gulped, "This is all your doing, baby," he groaned, staring at you with half-lidded eyes. You whined, sticking your tongue to taste the precum dripping down his slit.

Chan shuddered, growling under his breath "Fuck," he cursed. You whined louder, wrapping your lips around his tip, and swirling your tongue. Chan grunted, wrapping his hand firmly in your hair "Fucking hell, kitten. That's it," he moaned, licking his bottom lip. You looked up staring into his lust-covered eyes, sinking deeper. Curses spilt from Chan's lips "So fucking good, kitten," he grunted, shallowly thrusting his hips into your mouth. You moaned around his cock, tears dripping down your cheeks. Chan tilted his head back, chest rising "My messy girl," he growled, clenching his jaw.

You whimpered around his cock, drool dripping down the corners of your lips. Chan chuckled lowly, smirking "You liked that, didn't you? My sweet girl, daddy's messy little kitten," he groaned, gripping your hair tighter. You bopped your head, hollowing your cheeks to his thrusts. Chan cursed, eyes rolling back "Fuck, kitten. You're going to kill me with that mouth of yours," he growled, fucking his cock. "You take me so well," he praised as you felt his cockhead hit the back of your throat. You whimpered, only for it to come out gurgled as you choked around his cock. Chan felt the air punch out of his chest as he groaned, holding your head still.

You moaned around his cock as he came down your throat "My god sweetheart," he moaned, riding his high, thrusting shallowly. Chan hissed as he pulled out of your warm mouth. He pressed his thumb into your mouth, holding your bottom jaw "Spit or swallow?" he asked, panting heavily. You whimpered, swallowing his cum as he kept his grip on your jaw. He moaned, leaning in to kiss you deeply. He ran his tongue on the roof of your mouth, smirking into the kiss while you shivered against his hold. Chan pulled away gently, licking his lips. You moaned, resting your hands on his thighs.

Chan chuckles, pushing you down "Lie down baby, on all fours," he said, pushing his hair back. You nodded obediently, laying on your stomach as your arched your back. Chan smirked, sneaking his hands up your thighs, spreading them further. You whimpered, burying your face into the pillow. Chan chuckled, kissing up your thigh "Look how easily you bruise," he growled, marking your thighs with shades of purple and red. You mewled, crying out as tears brimmed your eyes "Daddy," you cried, swaying your hips. Chan bit your plump ass, kissing the bite "Yes, sweetheart" he asked, smirking against your skin.

You whined loudly, legs quivering in need "Da-daddy, I need you," you begged as your pussy clenched around nothing. Chan cooed, stripping you bare, "You're dripping princess," he said, running his finger down your slit. You whimpered, arching your back lower into the bed "Please," you pleaded, head filled with arousal and lust. Chan gripped your ass apart, licking down your dripping pussy, groaning against your pulsing clit. "You taste so fucking good, baby," he grunted, thrusting his tongue into your tight walls as you ground your clit against his chin.

Chan gripped your thighs as he buried his face within your pulsing core. You moaned shamelessly, your legs quivering from the pleasure. You cried out, gripping the sheets "Daddy, I'm so close," you whimpered, legs begging to wrap around Chan's head but he held them firmly. Chan smirked against your folds, biting your clit, sending you off the edge. Your body trembled, orgasm flooding your senses. You sniffled, thighs quivering as your ground your pussy on his face, riding out your high. "That's it, sweet girl," he praised, licking your orgasm off his lips.

You laid on your stomach, "Daddy," you whined, rolling your hips. Chan chuckled, kissing your cheek "Daddy's here, baby girl," he said, tracing his fingers down your spine, sending a shiver through your body. "Fuck me, daddy," you said, your lips twisting into a pout. Chan chuckled, kissing your pout "Condom or no condom?" he asked, pulling away from the kiss. You sulked "No condom, please daddy fuck me raw," you whined, staring at him with glassy eyes. Chan nodded, kissing your forehead "Relax for me, sweetheart," he said, pumping his length as he pressed his hand into the sheets beside your head.

Chan grabbed a bottle of lube, squirting the fluids onto his palm. You whimpered as it dripped down your back "Daddy, it's cold," you shivered. Chan laughed, rubbing the lube between his fingers, spreading your folds "Don't tense up, baby girl," he said, thrusting his finger into your tight ribbed walls. You cried, rolling your hips as he curled his fingers. Chan added another, scissoring your throbbing walls. You panted against the sheets, hands clenching the pillow beneath you. He cooed, stretching your sopping hole, fingers pressing around your g-spot. You screamed, body trembling as he continued to massage your inner walls.

Chan groaned watching your pussy grip around his fingers, sucking them in needily. "So fucking tight, kitten. Can you feel daddy's fingers in your tight little hole?" he growled, eliciting a loud moan from you, "Need your cock, daddy," you babbled, clenching around his fingers. Chan chuckled, carefully pulling his fingers out of your core "Patience, sweetheart." he said, kissing your back. You gulped, feeling his back shadow yours. Your clit throbbed, drawing a whimper from your lips.

Chan grinned, biceps flexing as he teased his cock on your slicked folds. You moaned, gripping the sheets, his cock stretching your walls "So big, daddy," you wailed, body quivering. Chan grunted, kissing down your neck "You're doing so good, baby," he groaned, pushing deeper into you, thrusting his hips. Whines filled the room, the smell of sex staining the room. You whimpered, feeling your stomach bulge from the size of his cock penetrating your hole.

Chan wrapped his arms around your hips, pounding into you deep and thoroughly. "Mo-more, daddy," you begged, legs trembling against his hips. Chan growled, pinning your wrist above your head, fucking into you earnestly. You screamed out, stuttering out incoherent babbles. "Daddy, daddy, daddy," you drooled, eyes rolling back. Chan groaned, thrusting his cock harshly, marking the crook of your neck. You choked up a sob, body shaking against his. Chan grunted, bottoming against your plump ass with each thrust "So sweet for me kitten. Daddy's going to fill you up to the brim and you're going to take it," he growled, pressing the bulge forming under your skin.

You sputtered, clawing the bed as tears spilt "Pl-please daddy, fuck me full," you keened, crying into the pillows. Chan groaned against your neck, thrusting sloppily "You'd like that sweetheart? So fucking pretty, carrying our baby," he growled, hips stuttering as he came. Cum coated your pulsing walls white. He groaned against your hair, hand reaching to rub your swollen clit. You cried out, wailing loudly "Gonna cum, daddy. Fuck," you cursed, cumming as your walls clenched around his cock. Chan hissed, groaning from the oversensitivity "My sweet girl," he mumbled, gently pulling out of your gaping, sopping pussy. Cum dripped down your folds, staining the sheets.

Chan groaned at the sight, gently turning you on your back. He leaned over your figure, kissing your forehead "Come on, sweetheart. We need to get cleaned," he said, nuzzling your neck. You whined, stroking his hair "Sore," you pouted. Chan chuckled, pulling you onto his lap "I know, pretty baby, but you, my love need to get washed," he said, carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. Chan sat you down on the toilet "Take a piss, sweetheart," he said, turning on the water for the tub. You wrinkled your nose at his crude words but relieved yourself nonetheless. Chan grinned, kissing your nose as he laid you down in the tub, sitting right behind you.

You leaned against his chest, lathering the soap he handed you as he lathers the rest on himself and your back. You closed your eyes, curling up against his chest. Chan chuckled, nudging your nose as your glared at him. "My love," he said, staring at you. You hummed in acknowledgement, intertwining your fingers. Chan shook his head "Nothing, just wanted to see how you would react to me calling you that," he muttered, nosing your cheek. You wrinkled your nose, "So sweet," you said, clicking your tongue. Chan squealed "Only for you," he said, nuzzling your neck.

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cant-get-enough-btr-forever · 2 months

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Hello, I put way too much thought into this.

Here's how I picture (translation: how I want) the Big Time Rush movie to go:

First of all, the band is no longer together. They're all still living in California, but far apart from each other.

Kendall and Jo are married and expecting their first child. Kendall is a struggling solo artist. He has also invested in a hockey team.

James and Lucy didn't work out. This may or may not be acknowledged. James has some sort of glamorous Los Angeles job (e.g. model, actor, solo artist). He is his old womanizing self.

Logan is either a doctor, or on his way to becoming one. He is in yet another "off-again" phase with Camille (who is now a C-list actress). As the film progresses, they slowly get back together.

Carlos and Alexa are married with four kids (hopefully, their actual kids will make appearances). Their kids have inherited some of their traits (i.e. wearing helmets, being good with spy gadgets, loving corndogs).

Gustavo has given Rocque Records to Katie, who is very successful. She's managed a few great bands, and she's also into stocks. Gustavo, on the other hand, is feeling washed-up. He's bored with the retired life.

Scenario #1: Wanting to get back some of that old glory, Gustavo calls up Kelly and the boys.

Scenario #2: Kendall calls up Gustavo and the rest of the boys. Maybe he's had a chat with Jo and Mama Knight, and they've helped him realize that he's just not as happy as he used to be. So, he decides to work something out with his old bandmates.

Either way, they get back together and end up revisiting the Palmwoods (cue the emotional yet chaotic reliving of memories). Eventually, they realize just how much they miss it all.

The band is back together, baby.

With the help of Katie, they manage to sell out their first concert after a decade. Gustavo agrees to share joint management with Katie (and Kelly is back in her assistant position).

Everyone lives happily ever after. The end.

#big time rush #kendall schmidt #logan henderson #james maslow #carlos penavega #big time rush movie #random stuff

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key-to-the-shadow · 1 year

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Just An Act

Just An Act ~ Eddie Vedder X Fem!Reader

♫ trope: colleagues, tension tension tension, angst

♫ warnings: strong language, alcohol, drugs, angst, use of y/n, predetermined last name (poncier pronounced like pawn-see-a)

♫ words:

♫ a/n: loosely based on the movie 'singles'

Masterlist

----

I wore my loose light-washed jean shorts over thin black stockings that had holes ripped all around them from the last gig we played. We were playing a small set today because there were about ten of the most popular Seattle Grunge bands playing tonight. Each band got four songs.

I pulled my hair up in a messy bun letting small strands of my hair out to frame my face. Having your hair in your face during a gig wasn't fun so I always needed it out of my way.

We were the first band up and I watched as the crowd began to grow.

"Hey, Y/N," Eddie walked up to me. I acknowledged him with a tilt of my head. "You good with this set?" He asked handing me a crumpled sheet of printer paper with messy black ink scrawled onto it.

I looked over the song choices.

We would open with Garden, personally my favorite, then Given to Fly, Why Go, and then finally close with Go.

It was a pretty solid set. "Yeah, this is good."

I've known Eddie for a very long time. We were neighbors as kids and he and my older brother Cliff were best friends. When Cliff and I moved out and into an apartment, Eddie moved into the apartment right next to us.

Eddie used to be the drummer of my brother's band, Citizen Dick, but the band eventually decided to part ways because my brother wanted to work on solo stuff for the moment. We were all still close and still lived next door.

When the band split up, Eddie asked if I wanted to be the second singer for his new band, Pearl Jam. I agreed. I was good at harmonizing and writing lyrics and he was good at creating melodies.

"Well we're up," he says after a few more minutes of warming up. I nodded in agreement as the crowd was practically deadly at this point. People occupied every open space. "Good luck," He says, pressing a hand to the small of my back. A chill crept up my spine at the contact.

I was wearing a short-cropped black wife beater that I has cut myself. His hand was touching my bare back. Skin on skin.

"Thanks, you too," I shot him a smile before we walked on stage. Matt, Stone, and Jeff were already on stage which caused the crowd to already be pumped up.

When they saw Eddie and me, screams erupted from everyone. I didn't like to admit it but when every music magazine says that the two of you are the definition of sex appeal it was hard to ignore that some of the fans in the crowd looked at you and Eddie with lust in their eyes.

There had been many times that rumors had been spread that Eddie and I had been dating or at least hooking up. Pictures had been taken, completely out of context in every way, where Eddie was hugging me around the waist. Granted his hands were a little low and my hands were curled into his hair but it was always in a platonic way. It was right after a concert where I'd completely screwed up multiple songs and I had a panic attack right after the show.

Maybe it didn't help that while we were performing we wrapped arms around each other but I think that's pretty understandable. Again, we have known each other for like twenty years.

The stage smelled like old weed and alcohol but it was something that I'd become accustomed to.

After Eddie introduced us, we kicked off the first song. Garden. I loved the mystery this song brings about. I let Eddie sing the first verse along and I joined in when the chorus hit, letting our voices crescendo which made the crowd scream and pump their hands in the air.

His voice went as deep as it could and I went as high as I comfortably could which made the contrast of our voices reverberate off the walls melodically.

The second and third songs did just as well and then we got to the last song.

We gave the cue to the band that was coming up after us to begin to set up as we started our song.

I would never admit to Eddie how his voice in "Go" makes me feel.

This was another song that I didn't sing until the chorus but it gave me time to appreciate his voice.

While he started singing, I walked to the edge. of the stage, letting eager hands claw at me. I didn't let them touch my legs but I crouched down and let them touch my hand.

A girl who looked as though she was crying with happiness passed me a white tee shirt with our logo printed on it. I took a sharpie out of my back pocket, biting the top of it off before scrawling my name on the cotton, leaving a small heart next to my name.

She screamed in hysterics when I passed it back to her.

"Suppose I abuse you, just passing it on," Eddie sang as he watched me interact with the crowd. I knew that as I crouched, my shorts rode up, showing even more of my legs than they already were. "Go," Eddie screamed with the band. "Fuck." This was just one part of the song that made me cave in on myself. His voice quivered when he sang that one-syllable word. It shouldn't make me think about what it would be like if the rumors were true If Eddie and I were in fact more than just partners.

I stood up, neglecting to adjust my shorts again. I pretended not to notice Eddie's eyes scan me.

I put a slight swing into my hip as I raised the mic. "Please," I sang, dragging out the syllable in a deprived way. "Don't go on me." Careful not to go too far for fear that my brother might be in the crowd somewhere, ready to jump Eddie, I stared up at the curly-haired boy. He took a hand and moved some of his long hair out his face, never missing a beat in the music.

After the guitar solo, Eddie sang a few more words until my next favorite part. I guess he caught on to the desperation that I'd put into my voice, no matter how fake it was.

"Please, please please," He sounded like he was practically begging at this point as he stepped closer to me. There was a thin line that we had always drawn in the sand and we both knew not to cross it. Eddie was getting dangerously close to that line.

It was just an act.

The rest of the song should have just been Eddie singing "Don't go on me" for the next couple of measures with me singing "Please" in the empty spaces.

That was until he decided to change up the lyrics.

"Don't go on me," He sang with a rasp in his voice. He took another step closer. Just an act.

"Please," I followed his lead but my heart fell when he placed a callosed hand in the space between my neck and shoulder. His fingers played with the small strands of hair that had fallen out of my bun.

"Don't you want me?" I opened my mouth, ready to sing my line again but I faltered. His blue eyes were boring into mine. Seriousness was written on his face.

He crossed the line.

It was no longer just an act.

He's changed the lyrics, insinuating that there is something unspoken between us. And the crowd believed it now. If the news articles didn't convince them, then something like this at a live show would.

Anger bubbled in my throat. I counted the seconds until the song was over for when I could grab Eddie and drag him off that stage.

When the guitars finally faded, the crowd erupted in cheers. I gave Eddie the moment to thank the crowd for coming and told them to make some noise for Alice in Chains.

I grabbed his wrist and yanked him as hard as I could. He stumbled as he followed me.

"Y/N what are you doing?" He asked but I didn't respond.

We walked until we heard the guitar and drums of Alice in Chains pick up with their song It Aint Like That.

I pulled him into a corner where there was no one around. The only sound was the distant beat of the music.

"What the hell was that?" I spat, pushing him back with the palms of my hands. His reaction made me angrier.

He let out a soft laugh. "You're making that face."

I scoffed before pulling in a sharp breath. "What face?" I seethed.

"That one you make when you're caught liking something you shouldn't."

"I don't make a face."

"You're doing it right now," He says, drawing a circle around my face with his finger. "The one where your mouth is slightly open and before you say anything you have to scoff or roll your eyes or something."

My face heats up as I shut my mouth, realizing that it was open at that moment.

"Well you're wrong," I counter. "I didn't like it. Would you have done it if Cliff were here?"

At the mention of my brother his face shifts. "Probably not but he's not-"

"No, he's not here. But you know who is? Our fans. News reporters. Photographers. They all post things that Cliff will see!"

"And what if he does?"

"Are you fucking serious? We both know Cliff would fucking kill us."

He shrugs, making a dramatic roll with his head. "And who cares?"

"You don't care what my brother thinks?" I cross my arms, leaning into my hip.

"No," He responds blankly. "I care what you think. What did you think, Y/N?" He steps forward.

I let out a snippy laugh. "I think you're a massive dick."

A smile curves the corner of his lips. His hand comes towards my face and his thumb pushes the bottom of my chin until my mouth closes again. I thank the dim lighting and black walls that conceal how bright my face is.

His hand doesn't leave my face. His fingers just move behind my neck like they did on stage. The very notion that pissed me off beyond belief.

"Cliff doesn't have to know."

The closer he gets to me, the more his fingers burn at my neck. He towers over me, his brown hair falling into his face as he scans my eyes for any hint of emotion.

I don't know what I feel.

Don't you want me?

The question he indirectly asked repeated in my head as he stared at me. I hadn't even realized that my back was now up against a wall and that his free hand was resting lazily on my waist.

"If Cliff finds out..." My voice trailed off as his grip on me tightened.

"Hmm?" He questioned softly.

I met his eyes and a confident surge forced me to flicker my glance to his lips. He took it as permission to close the seemingly neverending space between us. His rough lips found mine and I was sure I would've collapsed if he wasn't holding me up. I breathed heavily against him as his lips trailed to my neck.

"Fuck," I closed my eyes as he left a bruise on my neck. The vibration of the noises he made against my skin made me want to cry.

"Y/N? Ed?" A familiar voice of our drummer, Matt, was heard around the corner. I pushed Eddie off of me but it was too late. Matt saw. "Holy shit," He laughed. "I fucking knew it."

"You don't tell Cliff, understood?" I said with the strongest voice I could muster. He threw his arms up in defense.

"Got it, boss." He turned on his heels and he left the way he came.

I rubbed my eyes with my palms in embarrassment.

"Here," Eddie shrugged off his flannel and passed it to me. "Might want to cover that up," He nodded towards the bruise on my neck.

"Fucking hilarious, Vedder." I snatched it and flung it around my shoulders.

"I'll drive you home, come on." I followed the boy out the back doors of the bar to the apartment building.

#eddie vedder one shot #eddie vedder x reader #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfic #band trope #music trope #x reader #fanfic

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earlgreytea68 · 11 months

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"Every Breath You Take" is stalkery in general but also such an inspired love song choice to improvise into immediately after talking about Pete, the more stalkery parts still read a bit obsessive/codependent but this is the guys who keep calling each other cryptophasic twin soulmates of ultimate destiny do not separate each other's full time problem, somehow "everything you do i'll be watching you, you belong to me" ranks thereabouts. And in the more charitable way of reading the "I'll be watching you"s, them coming after talking about how pete always wants to highlight him for tours and this time he got him performing solo (and his continued affront at pete shimmying offstage to leave him alone) comes as being aware of pete watching him perform and evolve. idk it being not entirely unproblematic makes it fit better as "love songs patrick would come up with when thinking about this guy that's displayed so much of that 5% of love he allows himself to show by being annoying <3 or clinging for dear life mid-concert"

Yes in all likelyhood this was mostly-to-completely unintentional from Patrick's part but it's fun to think about.

We do not talk about the peephole in patrick's door. Shh. Totally not immediately relevant to this analysis of EBUT and p2.

Ohhhhh, this is so good because you are SO RIGHT. I've been wondering why, when Patrick sings it, I'm not like, "Wow, this song is so inappropriate," lol, and I was just like, Well, that's Patrick magic for you! but no, OF COURSE Patrick sings it like a total love song because his experience of love is this. lol

Like, I don't even think the original is meant to be a love song tbh, the person in the song is breaking their vows, etc., but Patrick just sings it in a way that feels so unmistakably a love song because yes, for half of his life now he's been watched so closely, and that's how he experiences love. What do we say, about the way Pete looks at Patrick? And what do we say about the way Patrick looks at Pete? This is a love song, in their own way.

It makes me think a little bit about Swan Song, in that the lead singer of Swan is always thinking about how his OTP counts his breaths during the performances to make sure he makes all his cues. Surely, Patrick feels Pete paying attention to him just as keenly on stage. And vice versa. And I always think about how, the first time I saw them live, before Saturday, I watched Pete nudge his mic stand down a little bit for Patrick's lesser height when he was going to have to use it in a second, and that little moment killed me. I'm sure he does it automatically at this point, but still, such awareness and such care. The way they always seem to know exactly where the other one is on the stage. Etc.

But yes, also, there was once a peephole.

#peterick #fall out boy #fob #bandom #tourdust

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birbsauce · 3 months

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I am currently in a concert and all I can think about is corroded coffin

Like that steddie ideas running through my head rn

Eddie and Co making it big, the party dragging Steve to one of their concerts closer to home. Them being right in the front. Gareth and Eddie making direct eye contact with Will and Steve

Cue on stage flirting and mid song innuendos

THEM MEETING UP BACK STAGE WHEN ITS OVER

GARETH AND EDDIE COVERED IN SWEAT STILL ON THE PERFORMANCE HIGH WHILE WILL AND STEVE ARE JUST FREAKING OUT BECAUSE

Img I'm fucking in love with him

AND HES FUCING FAMOUS

I'm having way too much fun with this

You're telling me Eddie "devil worshipper" Munson wouldn't do this just to piss off his hometown

OMG EACH MEMBER GETTING TO DO A SOLO

GARETH DOING A D R U M SOLO AND WILL APMOST FUCKING FAINTING

God I wish that was me

EDDIE MAKING SURE TO WINK AT STEVE AS HE FUCKING FINGERS HIS GUITAR AND STEVE ALMOST FAINTING

God I fucking wish that was me

#corroded coffin #eddie munson #steddie #will x gareth

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pawnshopbleus · 2 years

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Without You

Guitarist!Eddie Munson x Singer!Fem!Reader

summary - Being the lead singer in a band might be fun for some but to you, it just opens old wounds.

warnings - basically Eddie is Billy Dunne and you're Daisy Jones, Yes this is basically based off of Daisy Jones & the Six, you're a Daisy Jones and Stevie Nicks hybrid, crying (dw you're a pretty cryer), cheating, angst, comfort, this isn’t edited so sorry for the mistakes.

word count - 2.4k

You were dancing around the stage while the drummer of the band did his solo. The screaming and cheering fans were loving it. They danced and clapped along with you but soon you resumed your place in front of the mic. You sang and dance your heart away until the song ended. People cheered and clapped as you got ready for the last and final song for the night.

“Well, wasn’t that fun,” you said as you looked into the cheering crowd of twenty thousand people. “For the last song were going to take it a bit slow. We’d also like to thank you all for coming out tonight. We just don’t know what we’d do Without You,” the band started playing once they got their cue. The soft playing of the numerous instruments were heard along with the screams of numerous fans.

Without You had been the first song you wrote with Eddie. You two always clashed and never really fit together. So when the bands manager, Steve, decided that it would be a great idea for the two of you to write a song together, you originally were opposed to the idea. After having a talk with Steve you realized that you were being crazy and unreasonable. You joined the band to become a singer/song-writer and giving up on the first opportunity you had to write a song was stupid. After deciding to put your differences aside, you and Eddie began to write a song.

You two began to spend more time together. Whether it be writing in the little apartment you owned or staying at the studio until 3am just to add the finishing touches. As the time when on the hatred you had for each other slowly vanished. You began to notice that everything you hated in him was because of something else. You didn’t want to admit it but you started to develop feelings for Eddie. You knew he was taken, there was always a pretty blonde in the studio to remind you of it. So, when you told him that you loved him, you knew it was a mistake.

It was one am, the pair of you were sitting on your couch with your song notebook open. Without You was finished. The song was about how no matter how much you love someone, you know that you can never have them. Without You revealed so much about your current situation. You were in love with Eddie Munson but he was with someone else. The way he would always talk about her made your heart clench. It didn’t help that half of the songs you sang were about her. “I should go. It’s getting late and we have to show this to Steve at 10,” he stifled a yawn as he got up and began to look for his keys.

“Ya, you’re right,” you closed your notebook and took the two empty beer bottles that were on your coffee table and put them in the recycle bin.

You were on your way back to the living room to tidy up a bit before bed but Eddie stopped you. He didn’t physically stop you but the words he said made you halt.

“I had a really nice time working with you. You’re an incredibly talented person and you deserve someone who reminds you of that,” Eddie turned to exit. Eddie was probably referring to the fact that you had a deadbeat boyfriend who lives off of your money. He didn’t show up for shit. Long rehearsals, concerts, even date nights ended up in you calling him and him apologizing with the same sorry ass excuse.

“Eddie stop please,” you turned around to see his hand leave the door knob.

He turned to look at you,“Stop what?”

“Doing this,” your hand gestured to him, “You say all these things to me. You say that I am so talented and that I deserve someone who can show me that but what if the person that I want to show me is already taken?” you stepped closer to him. Your eyes were glossy and you looked like you wanted to cry

“What do you mean?” he asked. You looked down at your feet.

“He sees the real me. Not some star studded rock princess who broke into the industry because of her parents. He sees my flaws and imperfections and doesn’t comment on them. He sees past the cool girl facade. He seen me go from the shy new girl to the person who rocks out on stage the most. He sees me for who I am and I’m grateful for him. I’m grateful for you Eddie Munson. I love you. I want you,” you pointer finger dug into his chest. You backed away and looked into his eyes. They looked like they were trying to process what you just confessed.

“You know we can’t,” he whispered. Did this mean he wanted you too?

You closed your eyes and let the silent tears fall. Then, you felt something touch your cheek. Eddies tattooed hands wiped the silent tears that were streaming down your cheek. His hands were so warm and soft despite the hours of shredding on the guitar. You put your hand on top of his and looked up at him. Your mascara was smeared and your nose was stuffy but at that moment, Eddie thought that your were the most beautiful human being in the world. The thoughts of his girlfriend and your boyfriend immediately went through the window.

He took your head in his hands and leaned down to kiss you. The kiss was sweet at first. You got lost in what you were doing that you forgot about the world outside your door. Your arms went around his shoulders and his hands snaked around your waist. The kiss was passionate, the tension between the two of you was released. Then you remembered, Eddie had a girlfriend and you had a boyfriend.

You pulled back, “Eddie,” your were panting while you tried to adjust to the air around you.

“I think I should go,” without saying anything else he gathered his things and left.

It was in your best interest that he left. If anything else more would have happened that night you surely would have been more hurt than you already were. You kept replaying the kiss in your head. The way his hands roamed all over your body made you go insane. You broke down at the though of not being able to have him to yourself. That night you fell asleep on the floor of the hallway in which you kissed the famous guitarist Eddie Munson.

That was six months ago and the two of you haven’t spoken to each other since. The only time the two of you would talk was in the form of shared glances. Speaking of, as Without You started to play you and Eddie shared a glance. It was quick but it held meaning. Without You required the vocals of a man and a woman so as Eddie stepped closer to the mic your heart began to beat faster.

“Look at you look at her,” was only the first line to the song and it was powerful enough to make you break down right on that stage. As you looked at him play the guitar your heart clenched. A thousand what if played in your head. You never though that you would experience this kind of love in your life. Love that feels so right but so wrong at the same time.

He looked back at you and began to sing his part. There was this air of confidence around him that no one could quite match. No one except you. The two of you had chemistry. Your fans could see it, the band could see it, hell even his girlfriend could see it. It was no wonder why so many people though that the two of you were together.

As the song ended and the crowd cheered you began to finally let your guard down. You bowed and exited off stage. There were reporters backstage so you answered a few questions. Most of them were questions about the relationship you and Eddie had. You wanted to take the mic and shove it down the reporters throat for making you remember that you didn’t have a relationship with him. Instead you simply said, “Eddie Munson and I are not together. He lives a happy life with his amazing girlfriend.”

Meanwhile, Eddie was getting broken up with by his so called amazing girlfriend.

“You don’t look at me the way you look at her. It’s obvious you’re in love with her and if I stand in between you two I might as well go,” she said as she walked out of the door that had a red exit sign above it.

“Chris, wait!” Eddie tried to stop her but she didn’t come back. Chrissy was right and he felt bad about it. Ever since the two of you kissed he couldn’t get you out of his mind. You lips were so soft, your body felt amazing under his hands, and your voice was unique and beautiful. When he was with Chrissy he often imagined it was you instead. He almost made the mistake of saying your name during sex but he was biting his lip so hard that it came out as a muffled bunch of words.

He sat on the couch backstage and drank the water that Jeff brought him.

“You okay?” Jeff asked. Jeff was a great friend and a good man. Eddie often confided in him when things go wrong.

Eddie shook his head. “Do you want to talk about it?” Jeff offered.

“Not really,” Eddie said and Jeff nodded. Jeff took that as his cue to leave.

Eddie was left alone for about a minute until you walked in. The black dress and cowboy boots you wore glittered in the soft lighting of the backstage area. Your bell sleeves followed your every movement. They hypnotized him and his eyes followed the movements of your sleeves. You could tell that he was looking at you. The air was awkward and uncomfortable. You were just going to grab a water and leave.

“Stay,” Eddie said as you were on you way to the door. You turned to look at him and you tilted your head. You had a confused look on your face. That was the first time Eddie said something directly to you in months. You gulped and then took a seat on the opposite couch.

“What do you need?” your hands were on your lap and your fingers played with each other. You were nervous. The last time the two of you were alone together you had kissed and it didn’t turn out pretty, for you at least.

“Chrissy and I broke up,” he brought his water bottle to his lips. “Oh,” was all you were able to say. What were you supposed to say? Eddie I’m so happy that your girlfriends out of the way. Now let’s go have hot sex in the dressing room! Did you want that? Yes. Were you going to say it out loud? No.

“I just wanted to say that I think since she’s gone maybe we could-” you interrupted him.

“No Eddie, I told you that I love you. I still do but i’m not going to be a rebound for you. Your girlfriend just broke up with you and you're already looking bang someone else. Did she not mean anything to you?” you looked at him with wide eyes.

“We broke up because of you!” What the hell did I do? you thought. “She said I didn’t look at her they way that I look at you,”

“Do I really mean all that much to you?” you asked.

“Do you know why I didn’t like you?” you shook your head.

“The day we met you walked into the studio you immediately started commanding things whether it be a water to wanting to write the whole god damn album. You matched my energy and i’ve never met anyone who could do that and it irritated the hell out of me. As time went on I saw how talented you were and soon that hatred I held for you sort of vanished. You became the person who could get a genuine laugh out of me. You were easy to talk to not to mention sweet eye candy,” you rolled your eyes and Eddie continued, “The point is that you also saw the real me. Not even Chrissy could tell whether I was Eddie or Eddie Munson lead guitarist of the hottest rock band in the 80s,” you got up and sat next to him. You took his left hand and held it with your right.

“Eddie, do you really want to do this?” he nodded.

“I’m positive you’re the only one for me,” he would stay by your side through thick and think. There wouldn’t be a day where he wasn’t at your beck and call.

“I still have a boyfriend Eddie,” you remembered. It would be easy to get rid of him, you didn’t really like him all that much anyway.

“I’ll wait for you,” he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it.

“I’m pretty sure he won’t miss me. He’ll probably miss my money though,” the both of you laughed. As the laughter did down you began to come back to reality. Eddie fucking Munson said that he would wait for you. That was literally the most romantic thing someone has said to you and you literally dated Prince for god sake.

“The bus is waiting for you guys,” Gareth, the drummer, came in and interrupted the moment you were having.

Eddie got up and pulled you with him. The two of you were still hand in hand when you went outside. The walk to the bus was filled with confused looks from the band members as they look between you and Eddie.

When you guys got outside the paparazzi immediately began to shove their cameras into your faces. Let’s just say that the image of you and Eddie holding hands was on the cover of every magazine.

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