#tried to do either the first lyric or the one i thought of as most iconic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dallaji · 6 months

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Hope we make it to the Cloud.

♡ bada lee x idol!reader / NSFW❗

SUMMARY: Amidst an identity crisis, you try to adequately prepare for your solo comeback. The lyrics have already been perfected, the song recorded and the visuals pinpointed. However, your creative team is not fully convinced by the choreography you came up with. They decide to send over one Bada Lee to help you finetune your jumbled ideas and bring harmony to your vision. You just have one specific request: the routine must include a trampoline.

WORD COUNT: 10k

CW: eventual smut, bada is 100% a giver and not a receiver in this jsyk (but i promise it makes sense in context), hinted voyeurism.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was meant to be pure smut but it became much longer than i intended ... oops for that . . . lets just roll with it!!1 also the choreo described is heavily inspired by tinashes bouncin.

- you don't care about those 7k words worth of boring build up? skip to this line: <After ten minutes of complete silence, Bada was the one to speak in a hushed voice: “What happened?”>

————— ୨୧ —————

The first thing you notice is how surprisingly gentle her voice is.

“I’m Bada, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Bada Lee stood tall in front of you, clad in an oversized jersey, cargo pants and a cap hugging her forehead in such a way her eyes were entirely obscured from your view. She promptly bowed after she spoke. Unsure where to look, you dropped your gaze and followed suit; vaguely aware of her seniority and bowing deeper.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” You tried to keep your own voice as neutral as possible, but agitation bubbled in your chest as you felt your manager’s prodding, eager eyes behind you. “Thanks for being here.”

Your team was much more excited about this collaboration than you were.

None of the aggravation you felt was Bada’s fault. It had been three weeks of your creative team dismissing every choreo draft you came up with: Three weeks of sleepless nights at the dance studio, tiring out yourself and your background dancers. Three weeks of browsing through videos sent in by other choreographers across the country, attempting to mix bits and pieces together but none of it ever feeling right. Three weeks filled with reminders of a deadline looming over your head. Three weeks of your team letting you know they had little confidence in this comeback. Your last attempt at showing them what you had come up with had ended up in a shouting match. Your manager, who you otherwise got along with just fine, bluntly stated that, perhaps, this concept simply wasn’t something you could pull off.

It had left you feeling betrayed. Your creative team had agreed it was time for you to approach a more mature concept, something that you felt was years overdue. But it seemed their definition of mature and yours were wildly different. You had worked hard on perfecting a set of songs to choose from, but you immediately butted heads with the rest of the team. You wanted to do the bouncy and playful R&B track. Your team wanted the EDM track. Eventually they relented, but now seemed hellbent on making it as difficult as possible for your vision to come to fruition. Putting together the visual board for the concept photos and the eventual music video was a similarly arduous process. You had to meet in the middle and sacrifice a lot of your initial ideas, but that procedure was almost pleasant compared to what you were dealing with in regards to the choreography.

Every idea you put forward was promptly shut down. Too complicated. Too boring. No TikTok challenge potential. Too sexy.

And maybe it was true. Your formations weren’t as clean as the ones thought up by a professional choreographer, but you weren’t really given a chance at all. It wasn’t like you were a bad dancer either. Far from it. You picked up choreos incredibly fast and had always played an active part in brainstorming past routines alongside your background dancers. You had more experience than most of your peers, yet you were treated as if you were still the same teenaged trainee from years ago.

“Is that really how you all feel?” You had whispered after your manager dropped that bombshell, searching for an answer in the facial expressions of your creative team. Most of them were not even willing to meet your eyes. “We just need to be realistic.” Your manager stated matter-of-factly. “That other song is still an opt—” “I am not changing the song.” You cut him off. Momentarily, your manager looked like a fish on dry land, gasping for air. “Sorry.” You added quickly, albeit a bit flustered. “Look,” He sighed, “We can do mature without shocking the nation. Let's keep it mild for now and maybe after two or three more singles, you can go all out.” “I haven’t been 18 in years, you know.” You retorted bitterly. Something inside you understood where he was coming from, but you had been obedient since your debut- how much longer should you wait? You didn’t want to sacrifice any more of your creativity, so many years into your career. You had even seen one of your own concepts go to a labelmate instead, your own team dubbing you too “youthful” to pull it off. “Okay, how about this,” He began with a frown, “Let us pick one of the choreographers’ drafts for you. You can finetune it with their guidance.”

Their pick had been Bada. You hadn’t even realized she sent in a draft: at one point you were so overwhelmed you just stopped checking your emails. You also hadn’t bothered to watch it before this meeting. You were genuinely too deep in your feelings about that whole ordeal for that. However, now that she was standing in the studio, tall height towering over you, you couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious.

You had seen Bada around.

After all, she had worked with many of your labelmates before. You had also watched a fair amount of her videos. She was one of the best in the business, and whenever you had downtime to practice freely you scrolled through her routines on Youtube to help stay in shape. As you were facing her, even with half her face hidden, you understood why everyone was so stricken with her. When she had walked into the room she oozed with authority, though not in an obnoxious way.

“Great!” Your manager clapped his hands, effectively breaking your train of thought. “Thank you so much for supporting us, Bada. Shall we jump right in?”

“Sure,” She nodded eagerly, hands wringing together as her body turned towards you. “I kind of wanted to see what you had in mind for this choreo.”

That surprised you, and you were certain your facial expression wasn’t hiding it. Your manager held his breath. “Oh! Well—” You chewed on your lip as you vaguely motioned the corner of the room, trying to find the words. “I wanted to use… I wanted to use a trampoline.”

Bada immediately turned her head to follow your gestures, her eyes landing on the mini trampoline set up in the studio. “A trampoline?” In the background, your manager heaved a sigh.

You purposely ignored him and nodded, slowly: “I can show you, if you want.” You had hoped that sounded more self-assured to her than it did to you.

Bada scratched her chin, still looking off to the trampoline, and then nodded along with you. “I’d love to see it.”

You felt the tension in your chest ebb away. There was no malice to her tone; she seemed genuinely curious.

Then, Bada turned her head towards your manager, her ponytail falling off her shoulder. “I hope I'm not imposing but, I would like this to be a collaborative effort between the two of us. I think it would take the pressure off if you…?” She trailed off with a kind smile, one impossible to say no to.

As if he got doused with cold water, your manager stood up with an urgency. “Privacy! I can give you two some privacy, no problem!” He fussed around, gathering his things. “Just let me know when we can sit in on the finished product.”

The both of you bowed to him as you bid your farewells, watching him leave the studio with a wave. Once the door shut behind him, you could feel yourself exhale in relief. You knew that if your manager was going to sit in on every practice, he would go out of his way to shut down all of your ideas. Without him around, you had more opportunity to champion your vision- at least, you hoped so.

You craned your neck, looking up at the ceiling, before letting your eyes fall shut with a sigh, almost forgetting there was another person in the room.

“They’ve been on your case, huh?”

Bada's soft but clear voice broke you out of your spell, and you turned your head to search for a glimpse of eye contact. Tough luck, as her hat was still in place casting a shadow down her face. There was, however, a knowing smirk playing across her features.

“You have no idea.” You muttered honestly. Bada laughed.

“I don’t want to make you dance a routine you don’t fully stand behind. I did mean it when I said I want this to be a collaborative effort.” Bada spoke carefully, but sincerely, her fingers once again intertwining. “I always wanted to work with you, so it’s an honor.” She added.

If you got a penny for every time you were caught off guard today, you could set some humble savings aside for an early retirement.

It is true that you’ve been sought after, but it wasn’t something you had ever internalized. Hearing it come from someone who herself was heavily sought after, made your face heat up.

“T- thank you. It’s an honor to work with you too.”

She bowed her head humbly, glancing over to the corner of the studio again where the trampoline sat, waiting. “Do you feel comfortable showing me what you have been working on?”

You nodded and rushed to the corner to set up your speaker, and then dragged the trampoline to the center of the room. You were oddly aware of your own presence, and almost felt the urge to make yourself smaller as you moved around. In the meantime, Bada was getting comfortable: she had dropped her things on a nearby table and left out a bottle of water. To her it must be a regular working day, but to you this felt scarier than getting up on stage.

Once you stood behind the trampoline, facing the wide stretched mirror filling up one side of the room, you stole a glance at the choreographer who was now crouched on the floor. She had pulled out a small camera and was setting it up on the edge of the table, making sure the lens was focused on your position. Long fingers fiddled with the buttons, and her tongue was prodding the hollow of her cheek. The angle allowed you to finally catch a glimpse of her eyes.

As if on cue, she glanced up at you. Your eyes met in the reflection of the mirror and your heart raced.

She gave you a soft smile and moved to sit cross-legged on the floor, the camera now fully set up. “I usually record everything, so we can watch it back and give feedback.”

Right, of course.

“Yeah, that’s usually how we operate as well.” You spoke timidly, and it was true. Yet something about having her attention on you felt more intimate. Usually there was at least one other person from your creative team looking on as well.

Trying to come across casual, you tied your hair up in a high ponytail. “What do you think of the song?” You asked curiously.

It was now Bada’s turn to be caught off guard. Her smile faltered and she broke the eye contact you had been sharing, clasping her hands together as she spoke. “I like it.” She began. “A lot, actually. It’s why I wanted to play a part in it. There isn’t anyone doing a song like this nowadays.”

Even though her body language was confusing, you couldn’t find any dishonesty in her voice. What she said made you feel relieved, some of your insecurity fading to the background. It’s why I wanted to play a part in it.

You sent a smile her way even though you weren’t sure she was even looking at you.

Proving you wrong, she smiled back.

“Alright, so,” You gestured to the trampoline at your feet. “The idea is, the other dancers and I all do the same routine. I'll be front and center. Four or six other dancers dance behind me, with their own trampoline.” You gave the trampoline a light shove with your foot, making sure it would stay in place, and then grabbed your phone. “Then you have an idea.”

You looked over your shoulder at Bada and gave her an inquisitive thumbs up. “Ready?” You asked.

Bada pressed a button on the camera and mimicked your thumbs up with a smile. “Ready when you are.”

You faced the mirror again and shook your shoulders a bit, forcing your body to loosen up. After twisting your neck a few times, you hit play on your phone, quickly placing it under the trampoline as the familiar synths of the song started blaring from the speakers. You tried to feel the confidence you were usually able to conjure up on stage, closing your eyes and swaying your hips, ponytail moving from side to side.

As soon as you heard your own voice through the speakers, instrumentals going deeper, you got into position. Your eyes opened up to focus on your own reflection in the mirror as if it was a fan in the crowd watching. Mouthing along to the lyrics, a playful smile on your lips, you hit every move as you had envisioned. Once the chorus came up, you dropped to your knees on the trampoline, grappling the edge as you performed the routine. Pushing back against the springs gave you the velocity to keep your moves fluid, your body twisting and turning, flipping over and hitting the next move. You made sure to move your hips deftly, aware that you had enough curves to allow you to pull it off, and kept your facial expressions in line. It had to look effortless.

You felt your ponytail swing along with your movements as if it were an extension of you, and sat up on the trampoline. The chorus came to an end and you used your arm strength to twist yourself around fast enough, gracefully falling back on your chest whilst keeping your toes en pointe in your sneakers. The tips of your fingers were touching the floor as your legs crossed, moving to rest your elbow on the edge of the trampoline and resting your chin atop your palm. You lip synced to the final words of the chorus, gaze alluring as you finished the move, and the music stopped.

You slowly sat up straight on the trampoline, crossing your legs, and slid your hand underneath to hit pause on your phone. You looked towards Bada expectantly, but the question got stuck in your throat. She was staring at you, mouth slightly agape, with an unreadable expression. For a split second you were reminded of your trainee days, when you had just finished a routine and were met by your choreographers’ stern faces; they wouldn’t spare you a single compliment, and instead listed off every mistake you had made.

But then, Bada blinked once and then twice, as if in a daze, and let out a soft “woah”. She started applauding you, shaking her head in bafflement. You felt your shoulders drop in relief.

“That was incredible!” The choreographer took off her cap, fixing her bangs before putting it back on. “You came up with this?”

You nodded slowly, the tips of your ears glowing hot. “I used to be a gymnast.”

“I can tell—” Bada spoke bluntly, but then snapped her mouth shut as if she said something wrong. “I mean, that was really good. Every part of your body was in command. Your team didn’t like it?”

“They think it’s too much, compared to my usual routines.” You had the urge to go off on a tangent, but ultimately you didn’t know Bada well enough. Unfortunately, you were naturally quite expressive and the disapproving frown on your face was on clear display.

“Too much? I kind of wanted more, actually.” She laughed softly, looking down to where her legs were crossed. You felt your heart skip a beat and bowed your head in lieu of a thanks.

Subsequently, the bright green light of the camera caught your attention. It was still recording.

“Hey, I think the camera is still on.” You spoke before you realized, and hoped it didn’t sound accusatory.

“Huh? Oh!” Her expression was almost akin to a child being caught with a hand in a cookie jar, the way she swiped at the camera to turn it off. “Sorry. Good call.” She mumbled shyly, tucking it behind her.

You weren’t sure what to say next, still flustered at her lofty praises, but luckily Bada broke the momentary silence.

“I had an idea…” She began, her hand rubbing at her chin pensively. “I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to watch my draft yet?”

You shook your head abashedly. “No, sorry, I honestly didn’t get to it.”

“It’s fine.” Bada waved her hands dismissively. “Maybe instead of doing the trampoline routine in every chorus, we could only do it in the middle? Exactly as it is. I wouldn’t change anything. And then for the other two choruses, we could keep some key moves but keep it on the floor.”

You mulled it over for a second, glancing up at the ceiling contemplatively. Using the trampoline the whole way through was not an option, according to your team. They had felt you were toeing the line with ‘raunchy’ much too closely. Perhaps you could find middle ground this way, while still keeping the part of the routine you felt most proud of.

“Okay.” You agreed, nodding slowly. “We would need something special for the final chorus, then.”

“I had another idea for that, if you’re fine with it. Would you like to watch my draft with me?”

————— ୨୧ —————

Her draft was good. Really good, actually.

Bada and you were sitting on the floor next to each other, the taller girl holding her phone out in front of you as the draft played on the screen. You were sitting quite closely together, but not close enough to be touching, a conscious decision on your part. You were a bit too aware of her presence, something about her was heightening your senses in a variety of ways. It wasn’t even as if she was stern or unkind, she just had an aura that intimidated you. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

A blonde girl you didn’t recognize was dancing your parts. Six other dancers, one of them being Bada, were in formation behind her performing the choreography perfectly in sync as your song played in the background. While you should really be paying attention to the girl in the center, your eyes couldn’t leave Bada’s figure. In the video she was dressed in loose-fitting cargo pants, just like today, and a crop top. Once again she wore a cap covering half her face, and even a face mask, but her hair hung loose over her shoulders.

You were always impressed by the small movements she was able to squeeze in, emphasizing certain parts in ways the other dancers weren’t able to. However, it was the final chorus that had your hands turn clammy.

The final chorus was a duet formation. Bada, with a quiet confidence in her step, and the blonde girl moved towards each other in the center of the room. They were effectively dancing for each other, the blonde girl whipping her head back as Bada stared her down, swaying their hips together rhythmically. Their steps were coordinated in such a way they almost mirrored, Bada rolling her body one way and the blonde girl moving the other; but it still felt cohesive. It was an intimate choreo. There were a few split moments of hips grinding against crotches, but it never lasted long enough to be straight up inappropriate. Still, you couldn’t help but realize you would have to practice this routine with Bada as well, and you felt yourself getting hot under the collar.

The choreo ended with the blonde girl giving Bada a playful shove, and the taller girl backed away slowly, a saunter in her step, before moving off the screen along with the other background dancers. The video ended and Bada dropped her phone in her lap, not looking at you.

“That was good.” You were relieved your voice came out evenly, and Bada started nodding in her trademark way, hands clasped together. “The formations were really clean and— I loved the final chorus.” You blurted.

She smirked, head raising and meeting your eyes for the second time today. You were starting to feel eager, greedily watching.

“I’m glad to hear. We definitely need to finetune the first chorus, line it up with your routine and all that. I really don’t want to lose your input.”

“That sounds great, thank you.” You felt a surge of gratitude in your chest, and shot her a wide smile. “I’m looking forward to working on this together.”

Bada dropped her gaze again, worrying her lower lip. You felt miffed at the brusque interruption of your shared eye contact but didn't show it.

“I suggest we start with practices tomorrow, we will edit the first chorus as we go,” She whipped out her phone, looking at her calendar. “We should practice the duet together until you’ve got a handle on it, and then I can bring over some of my guys to prep for the actual performances. I know someone for my part. He’s worked with some of your labelmates before, I’m confident he’s right for the job.”

You couldn’t tell if you were anxious at the prospect of practicing such a choreo with Bada, or if you were disappointed that the eventual product wouldn’t be performed with her. It made sense, though. If your label was already worried your concept was too mature for the country, having two women perform such a choreography wouldn’t be received well at all.

“Great. Same time tomorrow, just the two of us again?”

“Same time tomorrow,” The third time she was willing to meet your eyes, and once again with a small smile playing across her features. “Just the two of us.”

————— ୨୧ —————

Working with Bada the past few days has been surprisingly easy.

On the first day, she brought some iced coffee for the both of you and presented it with an exaggeratedly deep bow, holding out the plastic takeout bag in front of her as if she was a lackey presenting you a treasure. You giggled, muttering an incredulous “thank you” as you took the bag from her hands. Through sips of coffee, the both of you fast forwarded through the recordings trying to piece the choreography together. You were able to bounce ideas off of her in a way you never felt comfortable enough doing with other choreographers. Bada was attentive, patient and, above all, eager.

On the second day, you wanted to repay your debt and entered the studio with a box of doughnuts. She let out a surprisingly girlish squeak when you laid the box on the table, and barreled over to grab one. That day she was wearing a beanie instead of a cap, something you inadvertently preferred as you could now lock eyes and take in her features. Sometimes you had the impression she was hellbent on looking anywhere except into your eyes, but you didn’t want to mull it over for too long; some people just had a different way of interacting. Everything else about her still left you with a warm feeling.

Sometimes you both took turns performing for each other. She would pull her beanie further down her head as she took the center of the studio, and each time something inside you would brace itself. You could only watch in awe: her movements were sharp and magnetic, her entire body language changing in the blink of an eye. While your attention should be on her footwork, you were instead hypnotized by the sway of her hips, greedily drinking her in. You chalked it up to her being such a captivating dancer.

However, little could explain how much you relished in her undivided attention. When it was your turn to copy the moves, you made sure to give it your all and put on a show. Without a hat obscuring her eyes, you could tell where her eyes were looking and it wasn’t always on your reflection in the mirror. You swore you could feel her gaze burning in your lower back, but you didn’t mind. It encouraged you to hit your moves a bit harder than you usually would.

“You’re a fast learner,” Bada said at the end of the day, drinking from her water bottle as you watched her throat bob. “Keep it up and you won’t need me anymore.”

You didn’t like the sound of that.

————— ୨୧ —————

By the fifth day, the both of you had started working through the details of the duet.

The familiar song sounded through the speakers, the room filled with the sound of your singing voice and the squeaking of your sneakers on the floor.

You were painfully aware of the way Bada closely danced behind you but you kept your eyes down, forcing yourself to keep track of your footwork. You bent over slightly at the start of the next line, your hips popping out and letting your hair whip to the side as you hummed along to the lyrics. In tandem, Bada moved her hips the opposite direction but gyrated closer to you, her hand coming up to tug her cap lower. You spared the mirror a glance for a split second, realizing Bada was much closer to you than you had realized, but you pushed the thought away.

You looked good together.

“Pause real quick.” She spoke suddenly, stepping away from you and bending over to stop the song. You immediately halted your movements at the command, trying to control the heaving of your chest and willing away the warmth of your cheeks.

She stood up again, meeting your eyes in the mirror before steadying herself behind you, body close to yours.

“You’re doing great, but,” A tentative hand slid to your hip, fingers curling over in a loose grip as she subtly urged it to move to one side. Both your eyes remained locked through the mirror. “I think we should move together in this part. Like this.” She repeated the motion, her grasp on your hip tightening ever so slightly before pulling you flush against her pelvis. Her hips rocked along with yours, and you could only follow.

She hummed close to your ear, and you felt her breathe along the side of your face. “Just like that.” Her voice was quiet, gentle even, though her stare was everything but that. It was intense.

In an attempt to sound casual you replied with an “okay”, but it came out softer than you had hoped for.

Her eyes dropped from the mirror, opting to look down at you directly, but you couldn’t find the confidence to return the favor. “You should do that thing again," she continued quietly, "Where you throw your hair back, but look at me when you do it.”

You repeated your steps, but this time both her hands came down to hold your hips in place. You turned your head as requested, your hair falling over your shoulder as your eyes finally met. Her gaze was intense but undecipherable; she hadn’t been looking at the mirror at all this time.

Bada was so close, unblinking and heady. The thought entered your mind before you fully realized: if you craned your neck you could kiss her. In a careful motion, you felt her hands slide up and down slowly, smoothing along the curve of your hips.

“Perfect.” She said, and it sounded so intimate you felt lightheaded. Usually she voiced her approval with an animated smile and a thumbs up, but she spoke to you as if she was scared you would set off running. “You got it. You want to try that again with music?”

You nodded slowly and her hands dropped from your hips, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. As she bent down to turn the song back on, you brought the back of your hand up to your cheek; checking if it was as warm as you felt. Then you ran your fingers through your ponytail, tightening the hair tie with a sharp tug in an attempt to snap yourself out of whatever daze you had fallen into.

It meant nothing. She had merely workshopped a move and there was no need to feel so nervous.

The final chorus of the song began thumping again and the both of you got into your starting positions. Bada’s presence was palpable behind you, but you tried to force your head back into performance-mode. You kept your moves sharp, lip synced as if the voice came directly from your own throat and smiled playfully at all the right lines.

As the instrumentals of the final chorus got louder, you twirled a finger around your ponytail, playing with the imaginary crowd in front of you. Bada pressed up against your back. Your hips moving in tandem just as the choreo required and you could no longer repress the urge to grind back against her. You saw Bada smirk in the mirror, her eyes obscured by her cap, but you could tell she was enjoying your blunt display of confidence. That made you laugh for real, putting an extra ‘oomph’ into the roll of your hips, dropping even lower, and feeling Bada take what you gave her with a great amount of enthusiasm. You heard the choreographer let out a "woo!" and you giggled.

At the very end of the choreo, you were meant to face Bada and push her away; making room for a final solo moment. So you turned around, meeting that familiar mischievous grin and your hand came up to curl into her collar. Bada sucked in her lower lip, greedily towering over you and looking down expectantly.

But something about the giddy atmosphere had you feeling bold, so you tugged her even closer instead. Her mouth fell open, but she followed you down nonetheless, eyes becoming half-lidded. You were mere inches removed from each other, and her breath fanned across your face. For a split second her gaze lingered on your lips, and you held your breath, heart fluttering in an unfamiliar feeling. A fleeting thought told you to bridge the gap, pull her impossibly closer by the grip you had on her collar, but your body acted before your brain could.

You reached for her cap and tugged it off her head, putting it on yourself in one swift movement and then shoved her away as you were supposed to do; effectively breaking the spell. You turned on your heel to look back at your reflection in the mirror, consciously blocking Bada from your periphery and closed out the song. The music stopped.

Now that the studio was quiet you could hear the both of you catching your breaths, and rather than facing Bada while your face was still heating up, you flopped onto the floor, limbs spread out. You moved Bada’s cap atop your face, blocking out the bright lights of the practice room, feeling exceptionally winded.

You felt Bada sit down next to you and she promptly pulled her hat off your face.

“Ow,” You uttered lamely, arms coming up to cover your face instead. Surely the shame you felt was on wide display and you had to save the little bit of the reputation you had left. You could already hear her voice, albeit uncharacteristically, echo in your head: “What was that?” “Why didn’t you just stick to what I told you?” “That was highly unprofessional.” Your stomach churned.

But instead she said: “That was incredible.”

“Huh.” You exclaimed unintelligently. You tentatively moved your arms from your face and were met with Bada staring you down, her hat back in place. It would probably be too weird if you went back into hiding, so you dropped your arms uselessly.

“That was incredible,” she repeated, a fond smile on her lips. “You are incredible. I’m telling you, we’ve got a hit on our hands.” She extended her arms excitedly, as if she had to convey the sheer magnitude of potential you both had crafted.

“You really think so?” You sounded breathless, the warmth in your chest blossoming.

“I know so. Seriously? If your team doesn’t like this, they’re idiots.” Her bluntness kicked a laugh out of you, and you playfully whacked her knee. “No, I mean it!”

“It wasn’t too much?” Slowly you sat up, tugging at the front of your shirt clinging uncomfortably to your body from the sweat.

Bada tilted her head, blinking at you sympathetically as she weighed your words carefully.

“I’ve already told you,” her voice was quiet, as if she was worried someone else might overhear, “I can’t get enough of you. The same goes for the public, by the way.”

That made you want to kick your feet like a teenager, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fought the impulse to fall into her arms. Instead, you dropped your head with a timid smile hoping that did enough to show your gratitude.

Bada placed a hand on your shoulder with a touch so soft she might as well be reassembling a broken vase, urging you to look at her. “Let's take a break, order some bubble tea and then watch the recordings. Sound good?”

You leaned into the touch with exhilaration. “Yeah. My treat, though.”

————— ୨୧ —————

The tenth day coincided with a photoshoot in the morning. You had gotten up at 4am to get to the location early enough so that there was enough room for your stylists to get to work.

The first thing you noticed was the visual board you had worked on tirelessly a few weeks prior.

It had changed.

Some of the images jumbled around or left out entirely, replaced by ones you did not recognize or even liked to begin with. Even the color scheme had changed. Before you could ask your manager about it, however, your hair stylist beckoned you to follow her into the booth. Still groggy, with just a protein shake in your belly to keep you at bay, you followed without objection.

But then, after you emerged fully made up with your hair in intricate braids and ribbons, you saw the backdrop you were going to work with and the outfits you would be wearing: they looked nothing like what you had agreed on.

Once sown into the baby pink corset, you looked at your reflection in the mirror with a glassy expression, too exhausted to even express the anger that was simmering in your chest.

“What happened to the costume I commissioned?” You asked your manager in a flat voice, fully realizing you wouldn’t like whatever the answer would be.

“Oh,” But he didn’t sound surprised at all, “We didn’t really like how it turned out, so we decided to go with something else. Pink looks good on you, you know.” He added hurriedly.

You blinked, clenching and unclenching your jaw. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene in front of all the staff. Firstly, it wasn’t their fault; secondly, word got around quickly and the last thing you needed was a trending blind item about diva behavior. With great difficulty you swallowed the venom down your throat and walked over to the camera crew without sparing your manager a single glance. Bowing to everyone separately, you turned on the autopilot. You just needed to get through the day. You posed for the flashing of the cameras, turning your brain off.

“That’s a wrap! Great work, all.” The photographer’s voice snapped you out of your daze, and you slowly stumbled away from the backdrop, blinking back tears.

“Great job everyone, thank you for your hard work.” You hoped your voice sounded even and hurried away to get changed.

Once alone in your dressing room, you bent over the sink with your hands in your hair. You didn’t understand. They had seen the choreography Bada and you had worked on, and approved. They had been enthusiastic even, and it felt like your team and you had finally buried the hatchet. Now you understood why they were so pliant in their acceptance of the final choreo; they had found something else to exert their control over. You didn’t want to cry, so you grit your teeth and untied your hair, fingers smoothing out where the braids had been.

Bada.

In the bustle of the early morning you had almost forgotten you were meant to start your first practice with the entire dance crew today, with Bada as the lead choreographer ensuring everything played out exactly according to your collaborative vision. It had been almost two days since you had last seen her, yesterday being a day off for the both of you, and for some reason it felt like a lifetime.

You wanted to see her, but you weren’t sure if you could dance today.

You arrived at the studio about an hour later, right on time, with most of your makeup cleared from your face and dressed in joggers and a crop top. This time you were sporting a cap as well, hoping the dancers wouldn’t notice the fatigue etched on your face on your first day with them.

Everyone was already there. Some dancers stretching, others practicing and a few watching the recordings while in deep discussion with Bada. Her flannel shirt was bunched up at her elbows as she made grand gestures with her hands, explaining something to the dancers in front of her. As the sound of the door opening and closing filled the room, the tall girl perked up mid-sentence, shooting you a wide smile.

“Hey! I got you some coffee.” She spoke brightly, walking over to you in big strides as her loose braid fell off her shoulder. You had just finished bowing to everyone when you turned to Bada, feeling your chest swell at the sight of her. “How was the shoot?”

She must’ve noticed something. Perhaps it was the sag of your shoulder, the way you bit your lower lip or the exhaustion in your eyes; but her smile faltered slightly when she got a closer look.

“It went alright.” You spoke neutrally, unable to meet her eyes but adding a nod to come across as reassuring as possible. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Bada stood a bit helplessly but seemed to understand that prying any further would be futile. “Of course, it was my turn, after all.” She smiled carefully. “You wanna get started?”

“Let’s do that.” You agreed, hoping that dancing would get your mind off of things.

Bada gathered everyone together and gave a small speech, making a conscious effort to do all the talking so you could comfortably hide the swelling insecurity you felt deep in your chest. You nodded at the right times, smiled at the dancers (some of them peeking at you in awe) and tried to come across relaxed.

Once Bada finished talking, she called for everyone to get in position as she strode to the far end of the room, where she had the most optimal view. You moved to the front, right next to your trampoline, facing the mirror and vaguely took note of a tall guy with a buzzcut who now stood in the spot Bada did when you had been practicing with her. Something about her not being part of the dance anymore, even though you perfectly knew this was going to be the plan all along, made you feel even less secure.

You shook your limbs loose, trying to empty your head for the sake of the dancers who were all blind to your inner turmoil and instead incredibly excited to be here. You did not want to waste their time. Once again, you forced yourself into auto pilot.

The song started playing, bubbling synths building up to your first lines, and you danced. You danced as you had practiced with Bada, but weren’t able to envision the crowd in front of you. Instead you relied on muscle memory, which worked out well enough. Even when the tall guy was behind you for the duet, hips grazing yours, you didn’t feel very aware of your surroundings at all. Sometimes you all had to stop midway when Bada noticed that someone was offbeat or out of position, but you slid back into the moves easily. The team was strong, too. You danced the choreo once, twice, thrice and a fourth time. When you grabbed the guy’s collar, you pushed him back immediately, unlike what you had practiced with Bada, and finished your move.

Bada clapped her hands together with a cheer.

“That was solid, everyone!” She strode over, giving everyone a thumbs up. “Some things we have to smooth over, but we are way ahead on schedule. Let’s take five. I— Are you okay?”

You barely realized your own actions until you felt the warm tears run down your cheeks. You had sat down on the trampoline in such an unceremonious way, body shaking from exertion as you tried to hold back hiccups. Panic began crawling up your body and into your throat. Suddenly aware of the dancers seeing you in such a state, you took your cap off and held it in front of your face.

“Actually, since we are ahead on schedule, let’s make this a short day.” Bada’s authoritative voice declared to the entire room. The dancers nodded along nervously, glancing at your hunched figure with palpable worry. “Great work everyone, make sure to get home safe. Same time tomorrow.”

You croaked out a soft “Thank you, everyone” through your fingers, but your voice was barely audible. You couldn’t face them.

Footsteps rushed around the room, the dancers gathering their backpacks off the floor. You barely registered the hushed voices slowly echoing further and further away from you, until the door shut with finality; a lock sounding in place and silence reigning over the space.

Bada’s hands came to rest on your shoulders as you felt the trampoline sink with her added weight. Then she pulled you into her arms with a tenderness you had never experienced from anyone before. Your arms tightened around her frame in instinct, dropping your cap onto the floor, and your heart constricting painfully as you hid your face in her chest.

She didn’t speak as you hiccupped soundlessly, letting the exhaustion pour out of you with quivering shoulders. Bada’s hands traced comforting lines along your back, her cheek pressed against the top of your head as she waited for the trembling of your body to subdue. In turn, you tried to focus on the steady rise and fall of her chest, her breathing lulling you.

After ten minutes of complete silence, Bada was the one to speak in a hushed voice: “What happened?”

You glanced up at her, tears still running down your cheeks as you choked back a particularly pathetic sob. “I’m sorry…”

Bada let out an affronted gasp, bringing her hands up to cradle your face instead and letting her thumbs wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Please don’t apologize. Tell me what happened.”

“My team,” You began with a slurred speech, “They still don’t believe in me. They don’t think I can pull this off.”

Your voice sounded heartbroken: “They make sure to remind me every chance they get. My manager is certain I am going to embarrass the nation, because there is only one thing I can do and it’s not this. I can’t be sexy. I don’t have good ideas. And maybe they’re right! I don’t have the charisma to pull this off. My fans are going to hate it, because it’s not the person they wanted to support—” There was nothing you could do except keep going, like a faucet running, and Bada let you, “—I can’t even wear what I want. My visual board was cybercore inspired. I had a red PVC two piece outfit custom-made, but they put me in a pink dress and ballet shoes.” You added, horrified; not at the clothes, but at the clear disconnect between your team and you.

Bada, who was nodding along to your words with a serious expression up until that point, chuckled at your words, thumbs still catching tears. “Well I always thought you looked like a pretty princess, but that’s indeed a bit on the nose.”

The follow-up to your rant died in your throat, eyes widening at her words. Your brain was short circuiting. “You think I’m pretty?”

The taller girl scoffed at that, brows furrowing. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

“Why?” You asked, genuinely.

For a moment she gawked at you, deep in thought and searching your face for insincerity. Bada was unable to find it.

“It’s not the only thing I think of you.”

Something about the atmosphere in the room changed when she spoke, and you almost forgot why you were upset in the first place. She carefully tucked your hair behind your ears, her eyes staring into yours unblinkingly. It reminded you of the way she had looked at you during practice days prior, when you had pulled her close by her collar for the first time. Her attention on you was suffocating, but you were glad to be drowning.

You sucked in your lower lip for a split second, releasing it, and waited with bated breath for her to continue. Her eyes dropped immediately, following your movements. She slid one hand down to the crook of your neck, slowly, the tips of her fingers tracing along your skin and leaving shivers in their wake; her other hand curled under your chin with a loose grip, tilting your head back slightly. Your head felt so heavy you could only lean in closer, wanting more of something you couldn’t even put in words.

But as always with Bada, she seemed to know what you wanted before you could open your mouth and ask for it. She closed the distance, brushing her lips against yours in a soft peck, and it was when you realized she was also holding her breath.

Her thumb trailed along your jawline, breath fanning over your lips. “Is this okay?” She asked quietly. You placed your hands on her thighs to brace yourself, your own lightheadedness overwhelming you, and nodded.

There was a shadow of a smirk on her lips when she kissed you a second time; lips connected with more force this time before gliding together in tandem. She tilted your head to get impossibly closer to you, her hand moving from your chin to tangle her fingers into your hair and cradling the back of your head. When her lips parted and closed around your bottom lip, nipping eagerly, you inadvertently let out a soft noise at the warmth of it all which only seemed to spur her on further.

You curled your hands into the front of her shirt as her back straightened, crowding around you as if her goal was to subdue, the trampoline creaking underneath your shared weight. She seemed to relish in overpowering you, inhaling sharply through her nose when you parted your mouth for her further.

You felt the tentative prod of her tongue, and accepted. The wetness made you shiver as she swallowed your quiet gasps. The hand that was previously nestled against your neck slid lower, began exploring along the curve of your waist and feeling the bare skin your crop top couldn’t reach to hide.

She parted the kiss, and you let out a soft whine. Biting her lip in an attempt to hide her smile, but ultimately failing, her eyes were drinking you in. You could only imagine what you looked like as even Bada was flushed all over, chest heaving from excitement. Then, as if she was reading your mind, her eyes glanced over to the mirror in front of you.

Bada shifted her position behind you, running her fingers through your hair before ultimately placing her palm against the other side of your waist. Steadily, as if she were correcting a move during practice, she turned your body to face the mirror. At this rate you simply accepted the effect she had on you, and wordlessly obeyed her ministrations. She planted her feet on the floor, long legs on either side of you; and ultimately caged you in, nestling her chin into the crook of your neck. Her eyes never left the mirror.

She brushed some of your hair over your shoulder as if she were propping up a doll, and spoke in a hushed voice: “Look at yourself.”

The sight made you feel all the more dizzy. Through half-lidded eyes you barely recognized your own reflection; hair slightly mussed and lips swollen and lovebitten. Someone did that to you. Bada did that to you.

The taller girl, pressed up against you, placed a kiss on your shoulder, fingers running up and down your body and making the hairs on your arms stand straight in exhilaration. You loved the way she touched you, how it made you feel; as if she was tracing the lines on an art piece. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered against your shoulder, “people would kill to see you like this.”

The honesty in her voice made something in your stomach roll. “Bada…” You began, but you didn’t even know what you wanted to say.

“You have no idea how other people look at you.” Her hands cradled the small of your waist, fingertips digging into your hips. “So let me show you how they look at you.”

She began kissing up your shoulder, soft and warm presses of her lips, before parting her mouth against your neck with a tangible hunger that left you sighing. You tilted your head to the side to give her more room and every inch you freed, she swarmed eagerly. Her tongue swirled against a patch of skin, hand flattening on your lower stomach as the other traced higher and higher, along your ribcage, before inquisitive fingertips moved under the hem of your top. As she sucked a mark onto your skin, you clenched your thighs together at the familiar sensation between your legs. Your eyes slowly fell shut as she crept up higher, lips pressing right below your earlobe with a barely-there hum.

She whispered: “Keep looking at yourself.”

You obeyed bashfully, right when Bada reattached her lips to your skin. She had been tracing lines along the hem of your sports bra, enthralled with the way you shivered in her grasp, before slipping a hand under; her hand was warm as she kneaded your breast, but your nipples stiffened at the sensation all the same. You pushed out your chest to convey your delectation, and she rewarded you by sinking her teeth into your skin. Suddenly, with a swift movement, both her hands hoisted up the hem of your top and bra, and pulled it upwards, your breasts releasing from its confines. The cold air made them perk up and Bada’s hands cupped the underside.

She detached her lips from your skin with a wet sound before looking up at the mirror, taking you in with her saliva-slicked mouth agape.

“So pretty,” Bada muttered, bringing your breasts a little higher, “Are you sensitive here?” She wondered loudly before tracing her thumbs right below your nipples. Once again your legs squeezed together, feeling yourself throb from excitement, and Bada picked up on the hint with a wide smile. “You are.”

In your reflection you saw Bada bring her fingers up to your mouth, thumb pressing down on your bottom lip imploringly, and you opened your mouth. She slipped her digit past, pushing it back against your tongue and you sucked obediently. Her eyes were drilling into yours through your reflection, enthralled by how pliant you were under her care.

You released the digit with a wet ‘pop’ and Bada promptly brought it to your nipple, rubbing it in circular motions as her other hand continued to knead your other breast. A quiet moan escaped you, chest rising into her touch and Bada giggled, pressing another kiss on your shoulder. Your own hands ached to touch her, but she kept you firmly locked between her legs; instead you squeezed her upper thighs, feeling her shapes through the baggy cargo she was sporting.

“Give me a kiss.” She commanded, and you immediately twisted your neck to capture her lips.

It was all teeth, wet noises echoing through the room as your tongue swirled against hers; the taller girl groaning into your mouth at the sheer force you exerted. She gave your nipples a pinch before rubbing her fingers over them repeatedly, and she swallowed your breathless moans greedily. You dug your nails into her thighs as she cupped your breasts again, her tongue slipping out of your mouth to trail along your bottom lip instead. Your head was chanting her name, getting drunk on the near delirious attention she gave you. Tilting your head back even further, you connected your lips again even though the angle was uncomfortable. You were starting to feel desperate, hips lightly rocking back against the firmness of her body as Bada sucked down on your tongue.

One of her hands released your breast and trailed down the expanse of your stomach, once again breaking the kiss and instead opt to look at you in the mirror. Her fingers found the knot of your joggers as your eyes met in the reflection, and she pulled on the string; untying it.

“Okay?” Bada inquired meaningfully, and you nodded much faster than you intended. “Let me hear you say it.” The tone of her voice, which was otherwise so gentle and quiet, made your full body shiver.

“I want it.” You spoke breathlessly, squirming impatiently between her legs as her fingers finally slipped down your pants.

She trailed along the sweatband of your underpants before cupping your heat over the fabric, fingers pressing against your folds inquisitively. Her eyes never left yours, quietly measuring your reactions. Unwittingly your thighs clamped around her wrist, breath hitching in your throat as she began to caress you with a touch so gentle it didn’t fit the precarious position you both were in.

“You’re so wet.” Bada spoke coyly, smirking at the way your eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. She began rubbing circles over your covered folds, feeling your wetness spread as if on command. Your breathing turned into whining, subconsciously grinding back against her hand.

She removed her hand much to your distress, until you realized what she wanted: Bada began tugging the fabric of both your joggers and underpants down as far as she could, before giving your hip a commanding pat. You raised your hips to assist her ministrations, and she pulled the clothing down past your knees before you kicked them off fully.

Your thighs were pressed together when you got back in place and suddenly felt self-conscious at how exposed you were despite your own eagerness. Bada wasn’t having it: her eyes were taking in your figure, hands immediately coming down to smooth along your thighs. Then, she squeezed tightly and wrenched your thighs wide apart, making you expose yourself for her. Before you could instinctively close them, her long legs hooked over your ankles, forcefully keeping them in place. All of it only made you throb harder.

“You don’t want to know how often I’ve been thinking about this these past few days.” Her hands smoothing along your sides in marvel, cupping your breasts once more. The tip of her nose pressed against the shell of your ear. “How many times I’ve watched those recordings and imagined you, exactly like this.” Her fingers fit into your mouth once again, and you sucked on them, letting your tongue swirl along the digits as if you were starving for it. “I think I lost count.”

Her confession made you moan around her fingers, shivers running down your spine. She scooted back ever so slightly, pulling your hips back with her unoccupied hand until it was the angle she needed, and then dropped it between your legs. Her fingers spread your folds and she sucked in a breath, completely mesmerized by your reflection. You were still swallowing around her fingers and she hummed encouragingly, hand cupping your vagina and spreading your wetness across your heat.

She removed her fingers from your mouth and you caught your breath, fingers digging into her upper thighs as you braced yourself. As one hand kept your folds spread, the other, spit-slicked, began rubbing slow circles against you. You gasped at the sensation, mumbling her name in amazement. You raised your hand to the back of her head; grabbing a hold of her braid to simply have a hold of something, but it earned you a particularly sweet noise from the girl behind you. Your hips rocked back against her movements trying to find more friction in the right place, and Bada slowly sped up, moving her wrist up and down to try and find the spot that did it for you. Her lips pressed against the back of your neck so tenderly, and something about the dichotomy between that and the way she was touching you between your legs made your eyes roll back; lids closing as you thrusted back against her hand.

You didn’t understand how she was able to build up to that familiar knot in your stomach so soon, and it almost made you feel embarrassed, until you realized Bada was savoring every second of it. Her eyes never left your form, as if she were studying just another choreography, lips parted in an awestruck way. You had long foregone the urge to keep quiet, vocalizing exactly what she was doing to you: You let a particularly loud moan leave you when she rubbed along your most sensitive spot. Trying to pull more sounds from you, she pressed against your clit with more force and rubbed faster. Your hips could only chase her touch as your lower stomach constricted.

Bada brought her hand up to her own lips and lapped at her fingers, effectively pausing her motions for a split second and thus drawing a broken whine from you; both because her hand wasn’t where you needed it to be and also because she had no qualms about having you in her mouth. It didn’t last long: she hushed you soothingly as she put her hand back where you felt it belonged and used the added wetness to add faster friction against your clit. Your head rolled back and you tugged at her braid, pulling an attractive groan from the girl behind you.

You weren’t far away anymore. Your lower stomach was unbearably tight with desire and you were a gyrating, frantic mess against her hand while her fingers rubbed against you in vertical swipes, her name falling from your lips repeatedly as if you were reciting a prayer.

You managed to utter an “I’m close”, and Bada crowded against you before you could start begging her for release. “Come for me.” She demanded, and then immediately captured your mouth in a desperate kiss, teeth clashing together while she drank your sweet moans.

As if on cue, the tension in your stomach imploded and you gave her braid a sharp pull. You gasped into her mouth, no longer kissing each other but rather breathing each other's air, as your orgasm rippled through you.

You felt your whole body quiver and shake in pleasure as Bada led you through your release, thighs trembling despite the hold the choreographer’s legs had on you. Her fingers hadn’t left your core, but the rubbing slowed down until you were gasping at the overstimulation, yet unwilling to make her hands leave you. As if she read your mind her movements came to a halt, but she pressed her palm against you; almost possessively. She planted kisses along the side of your throat, whispering praises against your skin as you caught your breath.

Once you had the rise and fall of your chest under control, her arms curled around your waist in a fond embrace, and you turned your head to look directly at her. She had already been staring at you, meeting your eyes with a bashful smile. The two of you laughed at each other, and Bada pressed your foreheads together.

“That,” You mumbled, eyes falling shut as you relished in her open affection: “Was amazing, thank you.”

“Was happy to do it.” She responded playfully, rubbing the tip of your noses together affectionately.

“Will this happen every time I get self-deprecating?”

“I definitely intend to do this more often, but you could also just ask nicely.” Bada retorted with a smirk before pecking your lips. You giggled, putting your hands over hers and leaning back into the embrace.

After several more shared kisses and hushed whispers, both of you decided to get a move on: you were starting to get cold in your exposed state so Bada urged you to get up. She helped you step back in your clothes, a smug self-satisfied grin never leaving her face when she noticed the unsteady wobble in your legs.

When you pulled your bra and top back over your breasts, Bada pouted. You gave her a playful shove but she caught your arms instead, bringing them around her neck as her own enveloped your waist.

“Wanna grab dinner?” Her eyes were round and hopeful.

“I would love that.” You replied, and gave her a kiss.

As the both of you tidied up the practice room and gathered your things, Bada listing off food suggestions in the background, your eyes slid to the table at the front of the room.

A familiar device remained perched on the edge, a small green light lighting up proudly.

“Hey, Bada.”

“Hm?”

“Camera’s still recording.”

She stumbled over looking mortified, snatching the device off the table and rewinding haphazardly.

“Oh, fuck.”

#bada lee x reader #swf2 #bada lee #bada lee smut #street woman fighter 2 #dalla!writes #im sorry in advance bhahaha #idk what i did

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avocado-writing · 2 months

Note

hiii your bg3 writing is so *chefs kiss*

I was hoping you'd be able to write the companions' reactions to a bard!tav, giving them a private serenade one night. like they lead them to a clearing away from camp one night and there's a picnic set up and tav sings a song they wrote specifically for their love?

if all the companions is too many, could you please specifically do Halsin, Astarion, Minthara and Wyll?

oh, cute! going to give you a lute, as I think that’s easiest!

Astarion

he makes a comment about how he feels the picnic was a bit unnecessary as he can’t eat it, but you mention you’re his snack later ;)

you sit him down, pour him a glass of wine, and pull out your lute

you ask, suddenly uncharacteristically shy, if you can play him something.

he cocks his head to the side and nods.

your fingers dance across strings, and when you start to sing, he realises it’s a song about him.

you once offered to be his mirror, and tonight you repeat that. your song is about how lovely he is, in every way. how he’s handsome but kinder than he wants to admit. brave. fierce.

its the most sincere celebration of his character he’s ever heard, and by the end of it, he’s left shocked.

“oh…” “did you like it?” chewing your lip, nervous.

“it’s… you’re…” he really doesn’t have the words to convey how you’ve made him feel. so he gently takes your chin in his hand and kisses you.

the kiss gets deeper. the lute is abandoned. so, really, is the picnic. the music the two of you make then is of a different kind.

later, when he has time to come up with a suitable review, he will tell you how much it meant to him. you are his favourite musician, and he has a new favourite song.

Halsin

oh, he’s been around for a long time, but this is the first time someone’s done something like this for him.

he’s just sat in bowled-over silence as you play for him, and it is amazing. an epic ode to his life and kindness, how strong and handsome you think he is.

he comes closer as you sing, sitting right next to you. studying every inch of your face as you perform.

when you’re done, he tells you that it was the loveliest thing he’s ever heard.

“I’ve heard pods of whales singing as they meet up with their lost family… until now, it was the sweetest sound to have graced my ears.”

he gets you to repeat the song and turns into different animals to enjoy it, be it via vibrations or different ways of hearing. either way he wants to be surrounded by your music, and you.

Minthara

absolutely no idea how to respond.

she was brought up in a cutthroat world. this softness is new to her.

she remains quiet for a while as she tries to work out if you’re trying to get anything from her. is this a trick?

”oh, I’m sorry,” you say after a while when she’s just been staring. “did you not like it?”

”no. no, it was… play it again.”

you do, and she really listens to the lyrics. they’re about her beauty. how glad you are to have met her. her strength in battle and soul.

she’s exceptionally moved.

“this is… a priceless gift that you’ve given me. I have no way to repay you.” “I don’t need repayment. it was freely given.”

she kisses you, for she has no way else to thank you. you have moved her more than she thought possible.

Wyll

you play and he listens. his eyes and smile go wide.

absolutely enraptured. claps when you’re done, and cheers your performance. you laugh and bow for him.

he tells you how much you mean to him, what a sweet gift this is. how your love is his most treasured possession.

he reaches into his pocket… and takes out some paper.

“I… I know this is incredible timing but actually… I wrote you something, myself.”

and he starts to read out a poem.

oh, it is lovely. full of flowery verse, and sweet appreciations of you. all the little things which make him love you. you pick up your lute and play along eventually, and he gets into the rhythm too.

the two of you laugh at the fact that you both had the same idea! you’re so alike, so in sync.

he holds you tenderly, kisses you softly.

you end up writing many songs about your Blade. he is your perfect muse.

bonus:

Karlach bursts into tears when she hears it, and scoops you up into a big hug at the end. she’s so emotional. she can’t stop saying she loves you, she loves your song, all of it. lots of wet kisses for you.

Gale is rendered speechless for the first time he can remember. he just stares at you in adoration. he’s never had anyone love him enough to write a song about him before, and he full force of his affection for you hits him in that moment. he is smitten.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x tav #wyll ravenguard x reader #karlach x tav #karlach x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #minthara x reader #minthara x tav

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mymelloii · 1 month

Text

Random Ren/Redacted HCs

---Minors/Ageless blogs DNI---

CW: Mentions of gore and stalking

_____

Ren has his eyes and mind on you 24/7, on the days you stay home so does he. Whenever you go out, whether it's with friends or to run errands he's always trailing close behind; far enough not to be noticed, but close enough to protect his angel.

-If you ever have the misfortune of coming across a creep during one of your walks, he'll promptly drag them into an ally way and give them the ass whopping of a lifetime before they can do any harm towards you. Typically he wouldn't even allow those types of people to approach you, let alone gaze at you, but on the rare occasion that someone does cat call you or even tries to touch you he'll bash their head into some good ol' concrete; without you noticing of course.

On the days you stay home are probably his favourites, he gets to watch you all day, doing your morning routine, while you busy yourself with your hobbies, or better yet watch tv/your preferred streaming service. As you lounge on your couch Ren is watches you through the camera he installed in your living room. Meticulously watching each and everyone of your reactions. Whenever you laugh so does he, if you start to cry or tear up, so will he. His emotions are practically interconnected with yours.

-His PC setup isn't anything notable, despite the fact he has 3 monitors, the first one capturing you, the one next to it being all open tabs of all your social media accounts, and the last one being work related or his screen saver of you. He has a simple wooden desk with a gaming chair, no RGB- though, he might have one of those mouse pads with a character that eerily resembles you.

Whenever he works, he loves having you on his main monitor; it truly makes him feel like your there with him. If he's alone, which is most of the time he is, he'll find himself talking to himself. Each topic of conversation is always about you, he's either commenting about how amazing you look today, or praising you for the littlest things. In his eyes everything you do is nothing less than perfection.

-Although he has a playlist of his own he loves listening to any and all of your favourite songs, doesn't matter what genre it may be he's all up on that shi. Extra points if it's romantic. He'll go on a daydream about you, imaging you, how whenever you listen to the song you can't help but to think about him and how your chest tightens up at the mere thought of him; as he feels with you. He knows every song in your playlist and all the lyrics to your favourite songs. Maybe one day you'll notice him and make a playlist just for him.

This one is less serious but as mentioned before on the 14DaysWithYou blog Ren had a red room phase. Though it was short lived I like to image that while he was selling the parts he obtained totally humanely that he often added a thank you note and one of those cute freebies you get whenever you buy from an Etsy shop. The note reading "Thank you for supporting my small business. Your patronage means everything to me! (*^_^*)" ITS SO DUMB DJKSDUVI

-In canon, he is extremely apathetic towards everyone with the exception of you. Which also makes him extremely accommodating towards your needs, he knows all your struggles even if you haven't voiced them to him yet. He accepts you and your struggles, no matter how big they may be; he'll always find a way to help you. This could be helping you with work, making or ordering special meals for you or simply listening to you vent. Whether it's mental or physical to him your health and happiness is his main priority.

Which leads me to that while he may be exceptionally caring, he's also remarkably jealous, towards everyone and everything that catches your attention. Now, he would never do anything that will harm you, but he's not above harming or black mailing others that get closer than he's comfortable with. Could be a coworker or a friend that is getting a bit too friendly with you which will enable him to scour every crevice of the internet to find any dubious rumors or photos including them. He'll also hack into their phone and go through their internet history and photos for more evidence against them. He'll then DM them through one of his burner accounts and present everything he found and threaten to leak all their information on multiple threads. Moth watch out 😨

-If the subject of your affection happens to be an animal or a stuffed animal he obviously can't go through those lengths. Although he would get jealous if he sees you cuddling with your pet instead of him he knows that the affection you feel is different and will opt to plopping himself next to you and proceed to get extremely clingy. He doesn't mind sharing you with any of your non-human companions as long as he stays yours.

_____

I haven't wrote in a while so srry if there's any run-on sentences + it's late so SPARE ME. Again these are all headcanons and if you wish to find canon content of 14DYW visit here, as well as to remember and respect the creators wishes and boundaries ^^

Side note I plan on writing more so if you have any suggestions please let me know! I haven't made a list of my do's and don'ts but please don't get offended if I don't take your suggestion!

#14dwy ren #14dwy #14 days with you #14 days with you ren #14dwy redacted #ren 14 days with you #14 days with you fanfiction #14dwy x reader #yandere #yandere visual novel #please dont flop

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azsazz · 1 year

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Lips of an Angel (Part 2)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Part 2 to Lips of an Angel per the request of many. The OG request came from @eddiesbixch696 : This randomly came to me because the song came on the radio but an absolute angst fest of an Azriel fic based on the song Lips of Angel by Hinder. The whole “my girl is in the next room but sometimes I wish she was you” lyric as he watches Elain. Ugh I love breaking my own heart sometimes 😭

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,512

[Part 1]

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This winter is one of the most bitter he’s experienced in Velaris. Or maybe it’s just him, his feelings as of late, the cold and empty cavern that is his heart without you, his thoughts wandering towards the female he’d left behind for the one who he’d thought would be his end all be all.

He turned out to be so fucking wrong about Elain.

She’s at dinner with the rest of the Inner Circle but Azriel had chosen not to go. She’d begged him, tugged on his arm and gave him that doe-eyed look that normally would have him giving in to any of her demands. Now it just makes him grimace.

He could hardly think about eating with the guilty thoughts swirling through his mind, consuming him completely.

What is wrong with him? He wanted Elain, and he had got it, at the price of hurting you. Azriel hadn’t seen a glimpse of you or heard a whisper about you in years. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were even still in town, how you’re doing now.

He’s been distancing himself as of late, and if the middle Archeron sister has any worries about it, she didn’t voice them to him. It’s hard to be around her when all he does is compare everything she does to you. They way she hugs him with her arms around his neck, staring up into his eyes when you would wrap your arms around his middle and burrow your head into the crook of his neck. The way that she goes on and on, needing to fill any and all silence with stories and anecdotes, whereas with you, the two of you could just enjoy each other’s company, no words needed.

He’d hardly been coming to bed, unable to sleep because of the constant running thoughts of his ex. The drink he usually had was more like a bottle, but did nothing to aid his insomnia. Flying didn’t seem to help either, nor sparring. It’s like all his favorite things had been tainted with the thought of you, in his arms gliding over the city or the smile on your face when you’d landed your first strike on him with the practice sword after six months of giving it your all.

Azriel doubted you’d kept up on your training after he’d ended things.

When he was able to get a few minutes of shut eye it was when he was away and could hold the necklace you’d left behind in his hand. His only reminder that you were ever really his to begin with.

It was the only thing he’d had left of you. You must’ve dropped it behind the dresser some time before you’d cleared the home of your things and he’d found it when Elain had wanted to move the furniture around in his room. Something about a more peaceful mind, if the bed was slid to the wall that didn’t face the door. He’d caught sight of the gleaming metal and tucked it away before she noticed.

He’d tried to regift it. First to Gwyn, because he still wanted to see it, gleaming, wrapped around another pretty neck. He’d gone so far as to give it to Clotho before promptly asking for it back thirty minutes later with crimson cheeks and a heavy heart.

He’d even thought about giving it to Elain for a special occasion. Surely she wouldn’t even know that it used to be yours. He’d imagined mouthing at the pendant hanging between your breasts every time you wore it. He hadn’t had the gall to give it to Elain.

So Azriel had hid it in a secret drawer of his desk after that, promptly forgetting about it because he’d been so enthralled with the breath of fresh air that was Elain.

He doesn't know what he’s doing in the city. Usually he opts for a long flight or time off in a different court, hoping that the warm sun of Summer would burn his feelings away or the fresh breezes of Autumn would clear his head.

But he’s here, shrunk down into his coat because he hadn’t thought to put a hat on, the bitter winds kissing his cheeks and neck annoyingly, and it reminds him of you. Of course it does, because he can’t seem to stop thinking about you, the way you’d always press your freezing fingers up under his shirt for warmth on a cold day.

Azriel’s hair keeps getting blown into his eyes and as much as he tries to shove it back it only slaps right back. He needs to get it cut but doesn’t even have the energy to do that, with everything going on in his mind lately.

He blinks harshly at the tendrils poking his eyes. He stumbles slightly, a strand stuck, and he’s trying to claw at it while grumbling, not quite watching where he’s going because he assumes that everyone will give him a wide berth like they always do–

He runs straight into someone, stumbling back as he frees the piece of hair from his eye. He blinks, an apology already rolling off the tip of his tongue when he realizes exactly who stands before him–

He’d forgotten how perfect you were.

An angel in the flesh.

“Azriel,” you breathe, stunned, and it makes his heart fracture in his chest.

You’re not alone like he wished you would be when he’d thought about all of the times this could happen, should he be so lucky. There’s a child with you, immediately tucking behind your leg at his appearance.

“(Y/N)...It’s really good to hear your voice,” he forces around the thickness in his throat. Saying my name goes unsaid.

Azriel can’t stop looking down at the little boy, hiding behind his mother’s leg. You’ve got a protective hand curled around his thick knit hat, the other clasping a to-go mug of what he scents as hot cocoa from the best bakery in Velaris. The one they used to frequent together, though he always remembered that you were more of a warm cider kind of female. Oh how you’ve changed.

It’s clear the babe is nervous, by the way he keeps tugging on the bottom of your coat. You don’t hesitate, hauling the little boy into your arms even with a hand full.

Azriel’s breath catches and his heart hammers in his chest because there’s tiny wings poking out of the child's fluffy coat.

“This is Wren,” you introduce awkwardly, shifting on your feet anxiously.

He looks closer now, noting how he’s around three or four, from what he can tell, and his heart aches because surely there is only one explanation for this. There's a burning in his chest, even though he knows he shouldn’t feel this way, that he’d moved on even quicker.

Those eyes…

Azriel’s brows furrow, his mouth parting but no words come out. His mind is whirling because Wren’s eyes are a mirror of his own and the longer he looks the more he can see himself in the child. The natural downturn of his mouth, almost apathetic in appearance, his wide eyes, lids lowered a touch over his perfectly round irises - the most stoic child he’s ever seen.

His eyes are glued to the small boy. He has your nose, your ruddy cheeks that nearly give every emotion you’re feeling away. Your cheeks are red right now, in fact. He’s sure that if he tugged the hat off of the child’s head all he’d see is inky black hair.

“Is he–”

There’s no way he’s not.

You’re quick to intervene, pressing your wrist over the boy's ear and leaning his head into your shoulder, blocking out your response from his tiny ears. “Yes, he is.”

Everything freezes. The snow fluttering down pauses its tracks, the wind is no longer a nuisance brushing the back of his neck with cold fingers, all of the sounds of the bustling city are drowned out by the ringing in his ears.

His hand twitches, lifting as if to touch the child, make sure he’s real, maybe pull that hat off after all. He knows that you’re telling the truth, you were never one to lie about anything, would rather suffer the consequences than talk your way out of it.

But this…

You turn, shifting away from the hand that’s reaching out.

Azriel flinches, arm falling back to his side. He physically cannot look anywhere else besides his son, who seems perfectly content in your arms, head shoved where your neck meets your shoulder. His gloved fingers clutch tightly to your jacket but his wide hazel eyes stay locked on male in front of him.

A punch in the gut is all he feels as he nearly collapses under the child’s gaze. He can feel his heart beating in his chest, the pulse that has his neck throbbing. There’s a dull ache inside of him, a numb feeling humming around his hollow chest where he wishes your mating bond would lie. Countless nights he’d prayed to the Mother to tether the two of you together - each night had without answer.

He never prays for Elain.

“He doesn’t know,” you admit, and it burns your throat like acid. You hadn’t had the guts to tell Wren that his father had broken your heart into a million pieces a few nights before you found out that you were pregnant.

You hadn’t had the heart to tell Azriel either.

Hadn’t thought it necessary, as he was perfectly happy with Elain while you were slowly putting yourself back together for the babe growing inside of you. You were determined not to let Azriel affect your life from then on, and it had been hard, but you’d finally gotten that feeling shoved so deep down inside of you you could pretend that you were okay, for Wren.

You hadn’t been expecting to run into Azriel ever again, and now that he’s standing in front of you, that part of your chest has been blown wide open.

He nearly looks the same as he did that night years ago. Hair disheveled from the winds, never thinking to bring a hat with him when his mind was awry, like he didn’t deserve to be warm. His eyes had dark rings around them much like they do now, the hazel color shroud by shadows, like the ones wrapped around his legs, the same way Wren had cuddled into yours before you’d picked him up.

His lips are chapped from the cold and even from beneath his thick coat you can tell that he hasn’t been eating well, sleeping either. Something awful must be going on.

He’d seemed so much happier with Elain that day he left.

You don’t have the heart to wonder what must have happened.

But as much as you want to ask, it’s no longer your place. You shouldn’t care about the male before you, eyes looking so painfully similar to your sons, it was hard not to think about Azriel every time you looked at Wren, even with the wings to match.

He nods once, finally breaking contact with the mini version of himself. He swallows and it hurts, there’s a lump of emotion caught in his throat because he hadn’t been prepared to run into you out and about in the city after years of not seeing you, but now he has a child. A child that doesn’t know him from the next male walking down the street.

He’s not sure what to say, what he can say. I’m sorry doesn’t seem good enough. I still love you won’t have an effect on the female who surely doesn’t believe that could be true.

He startles when a figure draws closer. He had been so caught up in what was going on before him that he hadn’t noticed the approaching male or heard his shadows repeating the information to him.

The male stops next to you, catching your attention with a hand on your lower back. He immediately senses something wrong when you look up at him with a forced smile. His mouth turns into a frown, emerald gaze taking in the shadowsinger standing across from you, immediately recognizing him.

“Azriel,” and there’s your fucking perfect mouth speaking his name. His heart still leaps in his chest when you do, and he wonders how he ever could’ve been so stupid as to choose Elain over you. “This is Malik.”

The man nods at him, eyes sparking with an emotion that’s gone before even Azriel can pick it up, so he responds the same, tilting his head but offering no words to the male who’s stepped up beside you.

He watches the male beside you with his spymaster’s eye. The one that’s kissed your cheek and has a hand caressing your back, when it should be him who’s doing that. It should be him who Wren is reaching out to.

“Daddy,” Wren smiles, and Azriel’s heart twists in his chest, splits down the center at the utter confidence in his son’s voice, claiming this male to be his father.

Malik is…handsome, Azriel supposes, in his own way.

Azriel studies him and finds that the male his son is calling his father looks quite similar to him. Dark hair shoved under a matching knit cap, thick lashes dusted with snow, fluttering over his piercing green eyes. Instead of lines around his mouth from centuries of frowning he has them by his eyes, like he’s the happiest male on the planet.

If he’s truly with (Y/N), he is.

“Would you mind giving us a minute, Malik?” you request gently, passing the babe over. The male gives you a soft smile that makes the fire in Azriel’s stomach grow. He watches Malik lean down to press a chaste kiss on your cheek, and Azriel doesn’t miss the way that you lean into it before flinching back, turning your guilty gaze on him like he’d just caught you cheating.

No, it had been the other way around, hadn’t it?

“Mommy?” Wren questions with a glance towards Azriel. He stretches his wings out behind him and Azriel’s eyes prick with emotion, seeing wings so little.

Wren is already so much like his father, with his dark hair and pouty frown, gleaming eyes and controlled temper. But those tiny wings hurt you that much more.

A not so subtle reminder to Azriel of all of the flaws he passed down to his son. Never a babe with Elain, though. The children he used to imagine all had your eyes and smile, your calming aura and beautiful laugh. He’d never thought his son would be a spitting image of him, with his hair, his eyes, his nose, his wings.

“I’ll be right there baby,” you reassure, passing your cup of cocoa to Malik. Azriel watches the brush of your fingers against his and his throat clogs with emotion. The skin of his hand is flawless, smooth and stretching across muscle and bone, nothing like his, marred with callouses and scars.

“It was nice to meet you, Azriel,” Malik says in that low voice, one that Azriel would feel like is completely genuine if he weren’t kissing his (Y/N) and holding his son.

“Likewise,” he answers stiffly because he doesn’t want to upset you. He’d done enough of that.

Wren doesn’t say anything as they depart, keeping his big hazel eyes on Azriels. They widen slightly when his gaze brushes over his wings but he’s not as impressed as Azriel would’ve thought, and he doesn’t know why the response doesn’t sit well with him.

“I know you must have a lot of questions,” you begin when they’re out of earshot.

“I do.”

“And I know that,” you murmur, squeezing your eyes shut for a breath while you twist your fingers together. You’re nervous. Hadn’t planned on telling him ever, and now that he’s seen Wren up close there’s no denying it now.

Of course you’d thought this day might come, but now, every scenario you’d thought thorough in your head disappears.

“He doesn’t know,” Azriel states again because all of this seems like a dream gone rogue. He wonders if he’s somehow slipped into an unconscious state, a lucid dream perhaps, which didn’t seem unlikely because he hasn’t been sleeping lately.

“No,” you agree, “And I don’t want him to.”

His head snaps up, mouth parted in disbelief. He’s ready to argue, slipping so easily back into the way he was right before he’d ended things, emotional and utterly a wreck.

You speak before any words can escape, “Whatever it is you’re going to say, don’t. You have no say in my son's life. You gave that up when you gave me up.”

“I didn’t even know you were pregnant.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

Azriel stays silent.

Your voice is thick when you respond and he hates that he’s made you feel like this again.

“Exactly.”

He doesn’t even know what to say. There are so many questions racing through his mind he doesn’t even know where to start so he just blurts out the first thought his tongue grabs onto.

“Who’s going to teach him to fly?”

“Rhys said that he would,” you answer, and the flicker of anger that cuts across his eyes tells you that he hadn’t been aware his brother knew he had a child. The muscle in his jaw ticks and his shadows sweep around his feet now, just like they always do when he’s upset. “He’s taking care of us.”

Azriel needs to calm down, he knows he does, but he feels completely blindsided by his own brother right now that he doesn’t know what to do. He’s torn between winnowing right up to the River House to give Rhys a piece of his mind or jumping up into the air to release all of the rage and sadness that’s consumed him tenfold.

He’s taking care of us.

Azriel should be the one taking care of you.

“He knows?” His voice is deathly calm and it sends shivers up your spine.

It’s why Wren didn’t look impressed by his wings. Because he has seen Rhys’ before.

His shadows are whipping around erratically and Malik takes notice, questioning your safety with a single look.

You reassure you’re okay with a nod and he relaxes slightly, letting Wren to the ground when the little boy squirms in his grasp.

Azriel watches how the male places his hands on his son’s shoulders, holding him in place.

“I asked him not to tell you,” you admit wetly, “Begged him, really.”

He’s brewing.

“Don’t,” your voice is stern, not liking how he’s stewing. “Don’t you blame him. It was my choice.”

“And what about my choice?”

Your mouth goes slack, “Your choice in what?”

“This,” he roars because he can’t take it anymore. His shadows flare around him, a wall of darkness sweeping up from the ground to his shoulders.

Wren screams, pushing away from Malik and rushing over to where you’re facing off with Azriel.

“Mommy!”

The utter terror in the little boys voice makes Azriel’s spine straighten and his stomach churn.

Wren’s on him in an instant, little fists shoving and hitting his thighs. It shouldn’t have the slightest effect on him but it does. He’s defending his mother because some strange male has raised his voice at her.

Each point of contact is a stake to his heart. Azriel stands helplessly, watching the little boy go at him until you’re crouching down and pulling him away, Malik pressing behind you with his hands on your arms and a glare in Azriel’s direction.

You look up from where you’re hugging Wren tightly to your chest that’s throbbing painfully, heart racing from something akin to fear, something you’d never felt for Azriel before. There’s tears brimming in your eyes from the sight, from the conversation. He’d never raised his voice at you like this.

This male…you don’t even know who he is anymore.

Your voice shakes when you speak, “You don’t get a choice, Azriel. You lost that a long time ago and you know that.” Your eyes wash over him, up and down. He nearly melts, when venom laces your voice, despite the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “You made that choice.”

“(Y/N),” he reaches out to try and stop as you stand, lifting Wren into your arms again. You shrink away from him.

“I have to go,” you mutter, allowing Malik to usher you and your son away from the stewing Illyrian. You’d always been able to fight for yourself, even without the training. Malik surely knows that, but it still disgusts Azriel how he’s done nothing to defend you.

Azriel turns to look at the babe one last time. He’s stood frozen, head hung and snow falling into the back of his jacket like a fool, watching the love of his life walk away from him again, but this time, he’s the one who’s heartbroken.

#Azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #part 2 #azsazz #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotarxreader #dad!azriel #wren alternate timeline #dad!azriel au #daddyaz #azriel angst

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year

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MIDNIGHT CRUSH

A/N: another year full of fanfics behind is!! it's crazy how fast 2022 has passed by, thank you for being here all year, thank you for reading my works, for all the messages and kind words!! hope to see many of you next year on this hell site haha!

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

SUMMARY: Harry has had a crush on Sarah's sister for a long time and this year, at the NYE party he can finally shoot his shot, because she's freshly single.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“So, what should I bring for the party?” Harry asks as he, Sarah and Mitch enter the couple’s home following their Christmas lunch together that Harry invited them out for.

“Just yourself,” Sarah smiles.

“Booze,” Mitch says at the same time, making his friend laugh.

“Got it. And who is coming?”

The three of them walk into the kitchen as Sarah grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge to pour them all a drink. Harry climbs to a stool by the kitchen island and mumbles a thank you when she hands him his glass.

“Mostly the same people we always invite,” Mitch shrugs. “Oh, and Sarah’s sister.”

Harry almost chokes on the wine, the pair exchanging an amused look, because they expected him to react like this.

“Y-Your sister is coming? Y/N?”

“Yeah,” Sarah nods smiling. “You know, she was planning to stay home, but I can’t let her celebrate alone, not after the year she had.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Sarah smirks, knowing well Harry most likely has no idea what happened to you just a few months ago. “She broke up with her boyfriend.”

“Y/N is single?” Harry’s eyes are basically popping out of his head before he tries to control his face and rephrase his reaction. “I mean, what happened with them? I thought they were doing fine.”

“The dude was an ass,” Mitch speaks up, leaning against the counter. “We don’t have proof, but I’m pretty sure he cheated on her.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t working either, so she broke up with him in… what, like October? I don’t remember,” Sarah shrugs.

“Oh, wow. They’ve been together for a long time, right?”

“Three years,” Mitch nods.

“She’s been pretty bummed, so I want to get her out of her little cave,” Sarah smiles, taking a sip from her drink.

“So she’ll be at the party,” Harry hums.

“Yeah. You two got along well, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yeah, you could… say that.”

That is an understatement and all three of them knows. To be exact, Harry fell in love with you probably the moment he laid his eyes on you at Sarah’s birthday party last year, but you were happily dating Matthew who couldn’t come to the party because of a work trip. You and Harry hit it off right away and you were inseparable the whole time, he felt like as if it wasn’t the very first time he met you, like you were good friends since forever.

Finding out that you were in a long term relationship was like a slap across his face, but he tried his best to mask his disappointment. Every time the two of you saw each other he forced himself to keep a distance, but always failed and ended up falling for you even harder. He could feel his heart breaking every time you went home to your boyfriend and he knew he should forget about you, but it was easier said than done.

But now you’re single and he’ll be seeing you again and for the first time, he won’t have to be ashamed to be pining after you.

“Just make sure you don’t drool when she arrives,” Mitch teases him, to which Harry just rolls his eyes.

He was already excited about the party, but now it feels like a second Christmas, he counts down the days until the last one of the year finally arrives. He tries to busy himself during the day and not get ready at one pm for the party that starts at seven. He watches movies, cleans the kitchen, scribble down new lyrics, but nothing keeps him occupied long enough to stop him from thinking about seeing you again.

He even stalks you online, something he never does, but this time he just cannot stop himself. Though your Instagram account doesn’t give away much. Just a handful of pictures, from the past few years, only two of them were taken exclusively of you, one at a sandy beach and another one from two Christmases away, looking cozy under the tree with all the gifts around you. There are a few with Sarah and Mitch, some photos of hills, forests and lakes, Harry remembers you told him how much you like going on hikes and exploring new places.

The last post was six months ago, four hands holding drinks meeting in the air, one single wine glass emoji as the caption.

Harry wonders if you had more posts up with your ex, photos where you kiss, where he is hugging you from behind, photos that would definitely turn him into a jealous little gremlin in an instant.

It’s past three when he finally gives up and gets ready. He takes a steamy shower, even attempts to style his hair before spending an obscene amount of time in his closet, trying to find the best outfit for the occasion.

By four he is fully clothed and ready to leave the house, even though he still has hours. He feels like a total fool, roaming around the house, pretending like his pants doesn’t feel like they are on fire.

It’s past five when his phone rings, Sarah’s smiley face appearing on the screen.

“Hey, you’re driving over, right?” she asks when he answers the call.

“Yeah. Do you need me to pick something up on my way?”

“Yes, well, not something, but someone. Y/N’s car broke down, do you think you could…”

“YES!”

“…give her a ride?” she finished chuckling at his enthusiastic response.

“Sorry,” he huffs out a laugh. “I can totally pick her up.”

“Great, you’re a lifesaver. I’ll text you her address, you think you could be there at six thirty?”

“Sure, absolutely!”

“Alright, see you two soon then.”

He fights the urge to jump around the living room like a kid. A minute later his phone chimes and as he opens the message from Sarah, he stares down at the address with never ending excitement. There’s something oddly intimate in knowing where you live, up until moments ago the two of you only existed at parties and Sarah and Mitch’s wedding with lots of people around you, but now he’ll have a glimpse of the home that’s just yours.

He has a fleeting idea of getting you flowers on his way, but that would be just way too much, this isn’t a date, though he wishes it was. He’s just picking you up to drive you to the party you both will be attending.

Parking down in front of a cozy looking townhouse he gives himself a peptalk before getting out of the car and walking up to the front door. He hears the bell ring through the house as he waits for you, a pair of high-heeled feet approaching the door in a hurry and when it flies open, Harry forgets to breathe and blink.

Because there you are, in a stunning, elegant black dress, your hair pinned up, your makeup appears natural, but he notices how glowy your skin is and you gift him with a bright smile upon seeing him on your doormat.

“Hi!” you greet him.

“Hi,” he smiles, finally putting his lungs to work.

“Let me just grab my coat and then we can leave.”

He nods as you reach to the side, taking a simple black coat off the hanger and when he sees you struggle to put it on he’s quick to help it onto your shoulders.

“Thank you, you’re such a gentleman,” you chuckle softly, grabbing your purse from the side table before stepping out and locking the door. Harry can feel himself blush, even the tip of his ears are getting hot at your simple compliment.

“You look wonderful, by the way.”

“Thank you, you cleaned up nice too,” you smile as the two of you walk back to his car. “Thank you so much for the ride, I really should buy a new car already, but it’s my first car, I’m too sentimental to get rid of it,” you sigh, buckling yourself up as Harry starts the car.

“So it’s an old friend, huh?”

“You could say that.”

The ride to Sarah and Mitch’s place is filled with comfortable small talk, catching up about what happened since the last time you saw each other, but Harry makes sure to avoid asking you about your ex. He’s not sure how you stand with that situation and the last thing he wants to do is to upset you.

Every time you laugh at something he says it feels like a victory and he just wants to hear that sound every day. He wishes his friends lived farther away so he could spend more time with you alone, but eventually you arrive to your sister’s home and the bubble pops.

“Hi sis!” you hug Sarah lovingly when you walk in, the two hosts greeting you warmly.

“So glad you’re here,” she pats your back, exchanging a knowing look.

Harry is snatched away from your side just moments after his arrival and this one time he wishes he wasn’t such a good company among his friends. But he keeps an eye on your at all times, he sees you mingling, sipping on your drink and every time you laugh at something jealousy tightens his chest.

“Dude, you promised not to drool,” Mitch teases him when he catches Harry staring at you once again.

“Fuck off,” he huffs, taking a sip from his drink.

“Just go talk to her.”

“I’m trying not to be a weirdo,” he sighs, making his friend laugh. “And I don’t want to be pushy, I don’t know if she’s over her ex already.”

“Mm, don’t be a pussy,” Mitch teases him before walking away.

Harry loses track of you for just five minutes while he uses the bathroom and when he returns you’re nowhere to be found. At first he just keeps looking, hoping you’d show up somewhere, but you never come.

“Hey, have you seen your sister?” Harry asks when he finds Sarah in the kitchen, refilling the chips bowl.

“I think I last saw her going upstairs,” she shrugs.

He lurks through the guests and makes his way upstairs, not too discreetly looking for you in every room he passes by, until he finally finds you in one of the guest bedrooms. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed your heels has been kicked off and you’re staring out the window, lost in your thoughts.

“Hey, where did you go?” he softly asks, walking over and sitting next to you.

“Ah, I just… it became a little too crowded for me,” you shrug shyly. “Wanted to have a break from the chit-chatting.”

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks, feeling like he is bothering you with his presence.

“Oh, no! That’s not what I meant,” she chuckles, her hand brushing against his knee for a second, the tiny gesture etching into his memory forever instantly. “I just lost my energy for small talk, but it’s not like that with you. I’m trying to recharge, but I wish I brought some booze with me.”

“I’ll get us something,” he offers. “I mean, if you still don’t mind having me here with you.”

“Won’t you be missed down there?” you look up at him curiously as he stands from the bed.

“They’ll survive without me,” he shrugs smiling.

“Then I would love to have your company.”

God, those words are like honey dripping from your perfect lips. He quickly makes his way down, hunting for a bottle of alcohol the two of you can share. He finds a bottle of champagne, snatches two glasses and dodges every attempt to drag him into a conversation as he returns upstairs, excitement filling his chest to have some more alone time with you.

“Oh, great!” you beam when you see him holding up the bottle and handing you a glass he pours you a drink, the fills his glass as well before the two of you settle back on the bed. “Mm, this will numb me well,” you let out a tired sigh. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

“Why? You seemed like you were having a good time.”

“I’m good at masking,” you huff out a bitter laugh. “It’s just so frustrating…”

“What is?”

“Am I so boring that all people want to talk about is my exboyfriend?” you ask, surprising Harry with bringing him up. He also can’t help a tiny frown.

“Not at all,” he shakes his head, taking a sip from his drink.

“Then why did I have to dodge questions about him like a million times the past two hours? Like… I’m a person outside of Matthew, hello!”

Harry’s unsure what to say. If you asked he would tell off every single person downstairs who made you feel like this.

You look at him with a tiny smile.

“Thanks for not bringing him up.”

“I…” he starts. I’ve had my selfish reasons, he wants to say, but swallows the words. “Just wanted you to have a good time,” he ends up saying.

The champagne bottle starts to empty out and the two of you are having a private party of your own, having a blast away from all the guests. Sprawled out on the bouncy mattress you talk and laugh and play silly little games as the clock is ticking towards midnight and the new year.

You’re definitely feeling dizzy, not drunk, but the champagne has loosened you up enough to be a giggling mess. Harry is sitting with his back against the headboard while you’re lounging across the bed, your legs tangled with his.

“Ah, I missed this,” you let out a pleased sigh.

“Missed what?”

“Having fun,” you huff out a laugh. “It’s been a bitter few months.”

“We can hang out more,” Harry suggests, his hands reaching out, gently massaging your calf. He’s been fighting the urge for a while, but he feels like you’re comfortable in your little bubble enough to allow this physical contact. You don’t move away, even let a tiny moan slip through your lips at the pressure of his touch and pride fills his chest.

“Be careful, I might end up at your doorstep every single day,” you joke.

“Feel free to do so,” he replies, fully meaning his words.

Your head rolls to the side to look at him, a soft smile stretched across your face as you blink at him lazily.

“Wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“Impossible.”

“What about when you’d want to be with a woman? Go on dates?”

“I don’t do that,” he shrugs.

“I don’t believe you,” you grin at him. “There’s no way you’re not dating supermodels and movie stars…”

“Oh, but I’m not,” he chuckles, his eyes fixated on his hands working on your calves.

“Come on! You gotta have a crush on some insanely gorgeous woman!” you tease him more, but

“It’s you,” he blurts it out, his honesty surprising the both of you. “I have a crush on you,” he then adds.

His eyes shyly move up to meet your gaze, but your face is too blank to read anything off of it as you blink back at him, lips slightly parted. A minute passes by and he starts to regret that he couldn’t hold his tongue. You then push yourself up into a sitting position, eyes still glued to his face.

“Really?” is all you say when you finally break the silence.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just blurted it out.”

“No, it’s… I just…” It’s hard to find the right words and Harry is patient with you, but a knock is heard on the door and he almost curses out whoever is on the other side.

“Hello? Are you guys in here?” Sarah’s head pops in before the rest of her body follows, taking in the sight of the two of you on the bed. “Hey, ten minutes until midnight. Are you guys joining us?”

“Yeah,” you nod, sounding breathless and Harry can feel himself deflating. The moment is gone, you know he is into you, but your reaction wasn’t quite what he was expecting.

He watches you climb off the bed and is sure you’ll just walk out with your sister, leaving him behind, but when you put your heels back on you turn to him with a warm smile.

“Come on, we can’t miss the countdown.”

He’s stunned at your friendly behavior, but he just nods and follows you, the three of you returning to the rest of the guests downstairs. The party is buzzing, everyone is excited to greet the new year, but Harry can only care about you. Both of you get a flute of champagne and standing in the corner of the room, you’re a bit awkwardly wait for the countdown to start.

Then the last ten seconds arrive and Harry’s mind is racing more than ever. Where do you stand? Did he ruin everything? You won’t even want to be friends with him? After all the pining, is this really how he had to admit his feelings to you?

He hates how quiet you are next to him, how he has no idea what you wanted to say before Sarah arrived and he would kill to read your mind.

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!...”

He bites the inside of his cheeks, nervously switching his weight from one leg to the other, staring ahead of him.

“Six! Five! Four!”

He can faintly hear you take a deep breath and from the corner of his eyes he can see you turn towards him. Your gazes meet and his heart is brutally hammering in his chest when your eyes flicker down to his lips for a split second.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

There’s a heartbeat of hesitation in you before you splurge forward and press your lips against his, only to pull back almost immediately, afraid that you did something wrong. But Harry is quick to silence your worries when his hand grabs the back of your neck and he pulls you back in for a lot longer and more passionate kiss that the previous one.

He grins against your lips when he hears someone cheer on the two of you, judging from the voice it’s Mitch, but Harry doesn’t bother to check, he’s way too busy kissing you over and over again. He never even plans to stop, but you shriek out a laugh when he accidentally spills some of his champagne on you while trying to wrap his arms around your waist, coordinating with the flute in his hand.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” he gasps, placing the glass to the nearest surface instantly before he could pour more on you.

“It’s okay,” you chuckle, wiping the fabric with your hand on your hip.

“I got a little… carried away,” he breathes out with a smirk, but you just shake your head grinning up at him, your gaze lacing together with his once more and before you could even think about your actions, you push closer to him and kiss him. You simply can’t stop, you need to be touching and kissing him as if you could die if you took even just a step away from him.

For the rest of the evening the two of you turn into giddy teenagers. Not wanting to be rude you stay downstairs with the rest of the guest, mingling feels easies for Harry with you by his side. He keeps a hand on the small of your back at all times and every time your eyes meet, he can’t help but steal a quick kiss.

It’s past three in the morning when you leave your sister’s home and Harry drives you back home. The ride is silent, but it’s comfortable, the moments you shared tonight speak for you.

“Can I call you tomor—erm, later today?” Harry chuckles when he realizes it’s already the next day.

“Absolutely,” you smile and you both move towards each other at the same time, lips meeting over the console before you get out of his car. You wave at him from the front door, watching him drive away with the cheesiest, most lovesick smile on your face.

Though Harry is still buzzing from the events of the night when he goes to bed, it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep. It’s been a long and memorable day, he needs to recharge before jumping into the new exciting year.

He has just put on the coffee to brew when his phone starts buzzing on the kitchen counter. He rubs his eyes before snatching it and checking the screen, an unknown number flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” he answers hesitantly.

“It’s me.” He recognizes your voice in an instant, eyes popping wide open and he didn’t even need the caffeine.

“Hi!” he breathes out, trying his best not to sound too excited, though he fails, because he hears your chuckle on the other end of the line.

“I’m glad you’re up, Sarah said you might sleep in late when I asked for your number.”

“I just woke up, actually.”

“Good. You can let me in then.”

“What…” he gapes and then hears the doorbell ring.

He drops the phone to the counter without even ending the call as he sprints to the door in his slippers, almost tripping on his way before he flings the front door open just to find you on his doormat.

“Well, I told you I would just show up at your place every day,” you chuckle. “Do you want to spend the first day of the year together?” you ask, noticeably nervous about his reaction, but he melts at your presence and he takes your hand before pulling you in.

“Wouldn’t want to spend it with anyone else.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb

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crispycreambacon · 1 month

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You fill your head with thoughts you find you can't even feel

Try to make room in your skull, but it’s full of them

All of the things that you think and then think about thinking

I know it’s hard, but they're not who you are

They're white noise

— White Noise, Will Wood —

Welcome one and all to "Mashing Two Interests Like Playdough", the first episode is Puppet History x Will Wood, specifically the Substitute x White Noise 'cause holy moly. It fits him so well. Omg.

I had so much fun creating this poster! I'm really proud of how the poses and the rendering turned out even though both gave me a rough time at first </3 I actually had an earlier version of this poster, but I scrapped it because it wasn't doing it for me ngl :,D I'm glad I did though!

Anyways if you'd like to know more about why I think this song fits the Substitute, you can read my interpretation of the lyrics and how they can relate to him below the "Read More" button. You can also find the glitchless + filterless version of the poster there.

Note: A lot of this is speculation on my part, and you don't need to conform to this reading. This is just how I perceive him.

They paint the walls with colors that you're not meant to notice

They fill the halls with tunes you can't get into your head

Let's establish the obvious: The Substitute can't feel. The extent of his unfeelingness is unknown, but what is known is that he can't taste and can't have the sensation of touch. This may lead to him being isolated due to his inability to relate to experiences both humans and his fellow puppets seem to have, particularly the experiences of the one he is based on.

Yeah, it sorta sounds like a retro top-40 but wrong

You're not meant to sing along

It isn't that kind of song

It's white noise

Despite his unfeelingness, he still wants to have the experiences others have. After all, he literally almost killed someone just to have that chance, but his plan is not entirely well-thoughout. How was he going to dispose Ryan's body without getting caught? How was he going to sew the skin onto himself and dispose the rest of it? What was he going to do after he finally what he asked for?

In a way, he was doomed to fail. He was never meant to gain sentience anyway, let alone have the desire to feel like his counterpart. His existence is a complete accident. Now he has to deal with the consequences of actions he never even had a hand in doing.

But if you listen closely I swear, to God I swear

You can hear the ocean if you hold it up to your ear

This lyric directly inspired the pose of the Substitute listening to the conch shell. He has memories of some of the most wonderful sensations on Earth yet he can't connect with any of them. Perhaps when no one was looking, he tries to recreate some of them in a desperate attempt to find a scrap of semblance of feeling and gets increasingly frustrated with his inability to understand them.

Is it any wonder that he would do anything to regain that scrap of enjoyment? To end his torturous experience by any means necessary?

Its personality's a lack of identity

The entire second verse in general speaks about the meaningless of art and how people try to give it meaning anyway. The Substitute's only purpose was to replace the Professor either to console a dead mass or to continue the show. Now that the Professor is back... What can he do?

Moreover, he's also never allowed to have an identity of his own. Since he's meant to be a perfect copy of someone else, especially someone who's presumed to be dead, he can never really deviate from that role because it would break the illusion the puppets created to cope with their grief. No matter what his desires are, he can never really explore any of them because no one is allowing him to do so.

Also, the way the orchestra swells during this part kinda calls back to theatrical music for me. I feel like the Substitute would enjoy performace arts. His bombastic musical number implies he had a flair for the dramatics, and despite his lack of feeling, his expression of his ambitions is quite dramatic.

You fill your head with thoughts you find you can't even feel

This can relate to how the Subtitute is forced to relive the memories of the Professor despite not being able to experience the emotions connected with them. In a way, he has to so that he could remind himself of his motivations. Remembering the joy the Professor got through feeling would keep him going on this path in the hopes that some day, he could feel that joy too.

I know it's hard

But they're not who you are

They're white noise

This line can be taken in two ways. One is based on the speculated official meaning of the outro which is centered on intrusive thoughts. No doubt the Substitute deals with homicidal thoughts, but I wonder if he truly believes in them. Does he genuinely enjoy indulge in them, or does he act on them because it's all that he knows? For all the talk about him having the Professor's memories, at the end of the day, he was crudely coded for one simple purpose. His thoughts are very simplistic—as seen with how quickly he jumps to murder as the most logical solution for his problem—and I wonder if he was given a chance to grow beyond his purpose, he could've reliazed that homocide was not the right course of action.

The other way, which is likely more relevant, relates back to the Substitute being intrinsically tied to the Professor. His thoughts, his memories and his actions are all in a way influenced by the Professor. But it didn't have to be this way. As unlikely as it is, he could've had a life where he discovered his own interests and his own personality outside of being "the evil Professor". If he had gotten to learn more about the world on his own, if he had been able to act not as the Professor but as himself, he would've been able to develop more and find that joy he was missing. He could've had a life.

Unfortunately, he was never given that chance, and it is unlikely that he ever will be.

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viviennevermillion · 2 years

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Al-Haitham and the arts

notes: ever since I saw the akademiya's stance on the arts I had this idea. seeing al-haithham as someone from the akademiya slowly growing to appreciate art especially in relation to his (artist!)s/o seemed like such a sweet scenario

contains: al-haitham x gn!reader

warnings: none

A l - H a i t h a m

Like many people who followed the Akademiya and as one of the most rational people you ever met, Al-Haitham struggled to find merit in the arts. Whether it was music, dance, painting, writing, theatre....he thought it was a waste of his time.

That was until he met you

You loved all these things and Al-Haitham, despite not knowing it yet, loved you. He was unsure of his feelings, trying to stay rational at all times and not ever expecting himself to fall in love with someone. He never bothered looking into love or putting a label on his feelings because he thought that they were distracting him. Yet he knew you had become important to him.

Once you gave him a Radiant Spincrystal with music you liked and told him it was a gift for him. "Oh...", he goes and then looks up to you, "why?"

He tells you that he doesn't listen to music and that he thinks it distracts the scholars but you insist the music is good and Al-Haitham realizes you're passionate about this so he'll listen to it and instead focuses on studying what makes music enjoyable for people. But when he sees you express emotions, sometimes he thinks of these songs and realizes how much they remind him of you.

So he finds himself listening to them when he misses you. When you've been traveling or busy with work. And it makes him feel a little closer to you.

If you show him poetry (either written by you or from a book) he struggles to understand the meaning since they're full of metaphors and also can mean different things for different people. So he's like "I don't really get this." "This is how I feel when I read your papers", you argue. He looks at you with a dead-serious expression: "I can explain them to you again if you'd like to." "No need, I'm good."

If you like to draw he would sit down next to you and glance over your shoulder, his cheek occasionally touching yours. He'd see you draw something and he comments on how concentrated you appear and you're like "well, art takes a lot of focus and technique as well" and Al-Haitham takes a sketchbook and gives it a try. He tries to draw the big tree in Sumeru City and is frustrated when it comes out looking like a squashed potato

Definitely has a new-found respect for your art now

The first time you took him to watch a play he paid attention the whole time and was entertained but he kept asking afterwards why the protagonists made such terrible decisions. You chuckle: "Well....they were in love. Love can make you irrational sometimes."

He nods and is like "Yes, that's how I feel with you." Completely calm.

You almost spit out your drink

For Al-Haitham you knowing about his feelings is not a big deal at all. He knows love can make people act differently than usual and he doesn't want you to wonder about his behavior.

"I- I like you as well", you reply and hold his hand in yours. He looks at your intertwined hands wordlessly and curiously but feels warmth in his chest.

When you ask him whether he'd like to be your significant other he tells you he needs to give the matter some thought and evaluate the pros and cons. Very romantic.

Comes back a few days later and tells you he'd like to engage in a committed relationship with you. He's unsure what to do next so you take the initiative and ask him for a kiss.

Kisses and affection makes Al-Haitham flustered and god he's not used to that at all. He loves it though. He's like "do it again please."

If you write stories or lyrics or poems etc., after getting together with you, Al-Haitham tries his best to get to know your interests more so he dedicates an afternoon to reading your works. You come home to find him at your desk, fiddling with a huge folder and your creations. "What are you doing there, love?", you ask and raise an eyebrow. Al-Haitham doesn't look up. "I am sorting them alphabetically", he explains and you chuckle and pull him closer to you by his arm.

"How about we cuddle instead?", you suggest and wrap both of your arms around his torso and trail kisses down his neck. He can feel goosebumps on his arms. "But I haven't finished sorting the-"

You interrupted his sentence by kissing his lips tenderly. Al-Haitham melts into your touch and presses you closer against him, kissing back passionately and letting out a sigh. You won him over this time. Spends the rest of the evening enjoying your affections and letting you kiss him for as long as you want to. He even puts on some of the music you showed him.

You ask him for a dance. "This isn't an occasion people usually dance in", he remarks and you just tell him you'd love a dance with him. He doesn't understand why but hell would freeze over before Al-Haitham would say no to something as simple as a dance to make you happy. He loves seeing that smile of yours so much.

He has never danced before though, so he steps on your feet a couple of times. You teach him to the best of your abilities and Al-Haitham is always up for learning new things. He even continued trying to draw after his first attempt.

In the end he understands a bit better why you like this because he gets to hold you close

He smiles and kisses your forehead and your cheek. "I love you", he reminds you and squeezes your hand.

But as soon as you go grab some food or take a shower he will go back to finish his folder

Overall he's way more perceptive of the arts now that he's with you. He listens to your favorite songs because they remind him of you. When he hears street musicians, he makes a mental note to take you to see them later, looking forward to that smile of yours that he adores so much. He gives mora to street performers now and takes home flyers from the theatre that he used to throw away when they were handed to him. He tries to improve his drawing skills so he can draw something beautiful for you (he has a long road ahead of him). He also considers taking you to a festival so the two of you could dance there together.

He tried to write a short story once. Titled it "A day in the life of the Sumeru Rose" and it just came out like a biology paper. Actually it pretty much was a biology paper. He gets a kiss for effort.

#genshin impact #al haitham #alhaitham #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #sumeru #genshin impact headcanons

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jiniret-writings · 9 months

Text

Sweet Nothings

Inspired by Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Pairing: idol!Bangchan x idol!Reader

Warnings: Reader ruminates over how they're constantly criticized

Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are welcome and appreciated!

On the way home I wrote a poem You say, "What a mind" This happens all the time

They always wanted so much from you. It was like everyone had some expectation of you that you could never reach. Every lyric scrutinized, every dance move analyzed; even the way you walked was up for scrutiny. What once brought you joy started to feel like a chore. It felt like you weren't allowed to have fun with lyrics anymore unless you wanted articles written about how you had "lost your spark".

That was until Chan came along. The first time you met him you thought he would be like everyone else. Especially since he was a producer and songwriter, you were expecting him to give you feedback from the first meeting--as most producers you met did. Instead, he talked to you about your crocheting. It was a little hobby you had that you barely ever talked about, but he remembered it.

You two had a blossoming friendship that turned to more on a drive home from dance practice. You were playing around with a beat and wrote some lyrics that didn't mean much. It was just an in-the-moment type of thing. But when he heard it, he just smiled at you and added to your little bundle of nonsense.

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more" To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

He never judged you. That's one of the things you loved most about him. You were both idols who got extremely busy and each had your own bundle of problems, but at the end of the day when you two were airing it all out in the open and ranting about everything from a small inconvenience to huge scandals, there was never any judgement. Only understanding.

There were days when it seemed like nothing was ever enough. You'd go live and message on bubble and post on Instagram and weverse and even uploaded a vlog! But there was always something amiss. Some challenge you didn't do or some song you didn't talk about. Your captions were either lackluster or too cringe. You kept a brave face around the fans, and even started doing so in front of staff. It was only when you were with Chan that you could let the facade crumble and hide yourself in his embrace.

They said the end is coming Everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

You were only 24 but were already reminded of how easy it would be for you to fade into nothingness. Every month a new artist debuted, and while you were secure where you were now, there was no guarantee for the future. One day, the world would deem you too old to be an idol and all you'd have left was your name.

But when you came home, it was like all your worries were silenced. There were no expectations between the two of you other than to just be.

"Be yourself, that's all I want from you", he'd said one day when you'd tried breaking up with him early in your relationship. Just be you.

Everything was something to be celebrated. Something as small as waking up was an accomplishment when you were with Chan. Lazy days in were rebranded to self care days. There was no such thing as a lazy meal because everything tasted better when you were together. Chan was your safe space and you were his. All there was between you two was pure love. You treasured each other as you were, not as you could be.

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

This has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for a while, but after Chan changed his Instagram caption I realized how I wanted to write this. I hope all of you have someone you can turn to who can just accept you as you are and not for what you can be. You deserve to be with someone/people who don't have expectations for what you need to be. As always, have a great morning, afternoon, evening, and night <3

-Jini

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sea-of-dust · 2 months

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Soulmates can hear eatchother sing even from across the universe- Jing Yuan

N: low-key read that as "even in another universe" I was like how the fuck am I gonna write that... thanks for the request nonnie!!

Event link here: 3/5 requests

Unironcally the first time he heard you sing was when you were trying to show off to your parents. He thought you were fine at first (he invested in ear plugs) but did think you coulda used some work. Funny to think you thought the same, bullying eatchothers singing abilities while fresh outta high school

He has noticed you've sung more often maybe singing classes? It was nice you've gotten better, he's quickly fallen inlove with your voice, how calmly you sing certain notes controlling your volume with minor fixes here and there. Most of the time he enjoys your first attempts at a certain lyrics, but hearing you sing has become a something he looks foward to.

He's tried to talk to you via singing he could have sworn he heard you laugh but he knows you can't. When you do respond sometimes your singing voice is wonderful. "Do you mind saying that again~" "No problem" the smoothness of your voice is heavenly its like your right next to his ear, you could probably hear him blushing with every response you give. "So what planet are you from" the sudden question shocked him a bit but he answered calmly "Xianzhou Luofu" "really?" A sudden interest burst through your usual elegant and calming voice "I'm from Penacony" "I see" "I can see if I can do a show there In the future maybe I can see you" you should have seen him he was like a child, it wouldn't be out of character if he mumbled a yes and pumped his fist. He could be calmly doing paperwork and then his hands slam on the desk eyes widen and he sings, these rumors were overdramatized but it did get a laugh outta you imaging such a scene

Little to say, when he heard the express landed with a reported star from Penacony he thought of you instantly calmly walking toward where they landed where his mind was yelling at him to hurry it up. When he finally arrived little to say there was a reason Yanqing was there. "You're acting like a child" "this is normal behavior you would have nearly flew on them" "No I wouldnt!" He smiles before seeing a person holding a box talking to March 7th. "I'm a bit nervous thank you for bringing me here" "I can show you around" "thank you" grateful you turn to suddenly see a bird fly infront of you with the white haired male following behind it "apologizes he's been expecting someone's arrival" "does it involve a star from Pelacony?"

That smirk of yours, from an outside perspective it may be seen as arrogance but he's heard your voice enough to know exactly what you ment. "A little birdie did mention a general that was so love struck he was able to sing a whole musical when his soulmate was to sing" he giggling embrassed someone caught him responding to you "I'm glad you enjoy listening to me that much" You kiss his cheek. He blushes putting his hand to the cheek you kissed. "I'm glad I finally got to meet you aswell" he kisses your cheek as you two continue your lovey dovey first meet, handing him the box with things you thought he'd like. "It has a ticket to one of my shows aswell, I hope you'll be able to make it" "I'm sure I'll have time to" you two lost in your own world forgetting about the others. "You think they ever thought of asking for his number?" March leans in to whisper "now that I think about it do you ever think they asked?" Those two made an inside joke about it, little to say they're never gonna look at either of you seriously again

#jing yuan x reader #star rail x reader #fluff #x reader #gender neutral reader #jing yuan #dust events #honkai star rail #star rail

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archivalofsins · 4 months

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Weird gripe but it kind of ticks me off that people are still treating Haruka like he has more than just communication issues. Especially since his song titles have been the most complicated out of the prisoners since trial one.

Or how it's bluntly stated in his character description on the website he has communication issues and nothing more.

"A quiet young prisoner who always keeps his eyes downcast. At first, he only responds with a word or two in response to Es's questions. By communicating with each other through meetings, the number of words gradually increases. Once we are able to have a conversation with him, we can begin to see his true kind nature. He has a quiet temperament and shows no signs of dissatisfaction with Milgram's environment. He tries to communicate with Es and the other prisoners, but there is something off about them and they don't really get along."

Outside of his literal character description, there's an abundance of evidence in the Portal Timeline and his trial songs that continue to showcase that his issues are solely verbal/communication based. Along with the fact that interacting with all of the prisoners and being given guidance from a particular one has been a great help to him in becoming a better communicator.

So, let's go over what I mean.

Let's start with his trial songs.

Weakness bringing it to attention through its lyrics,

"The word I tried to say was “You’re unfair”." "If I tried and couldn’t say it, You would get angry at me and say “You’re hopeless.”"

And it's Japanese title. Something so complicated that it needed to be explained to me again. Thanks @doctorbunny-

So, that's definitely not the naming conventions of someone lacking when it comes to literacy. Shockingly enough it is possible to have very advanced literacy comprehension and low communication skills. Something that is highlighted through Haruka's character greatly. Yet, they translated his songs title as Weakness due to it being a bit too complicated to translate over.

His second song is called All-knowing All-agony for fucks sake. Stop treating him as though he doesn't know anything just because he's autistic coded. It's real ableist bullshit. Autism isn't a monolith it's a spectrum. People with it can have issues reading/writing, communicating verbally, or both. So, it'd be great if the fandom could stop fucking around with disorders they know nothing about.

It's embarrassing. Also here's timeline interactions where we are expressly shown the other prisoners helping Haruka work through his communication issues in various ways. Further showcasing his issues are verbal.

20/06/05 Haruka: Ah…… ah, u-um, Mikoto-san. The c-communication……? thing, that you were saying was important. I-I thought, I’d give it my best…… Um, so, Mikoto-san, what’s your favourite food……? Mikoto: Ooh? Nice going, Haru-kun~ Yeah, we still have no idea how long this lifestyle will go on for, so it’s best if we all get along together here. My favourite food…… I like pasta and horse-meat sashimi. Also bubble tea, and recently I’ve been big on custard puddings. What about you? Haruka: ……ah, I, I wonder…… H-hamburg steak, and omurice, a-and also…… what else? Ah. Cotton candy…… Mikoto: C-cotton candy!? That’s the first time I’ve met someone who has that in their top three favourites!? ……man, Haru-kun, you really are hilarious.

Mikoto introduces Haruka to the concept of small talk. Asking others questions in order to better get to know them.

20/06/12 (Haruka’s First Trial) Mu: ……Haruka-kun…… are you going? Are you going to be ok……? You don’t know what’s going to happen, so it’s scary, huh…… Haruka: Ah, y-yeah, I don’t know. But I definitely have to go, th-that’s the feeling I get. Mu: ……is that right. Let me know whether it hurts or not…… All the best…… Haruka: Ah, eek…… o-ok. ……I’ll…… be off……

Mu introduces Haruka to the concept of checking in on others who are either about to do something difficult or troubling or seems to be having a rough time.

20/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday) Haruka: ……*sigh*…… Mahiru: Haruka-chaaan, come over here a bit! I’m looking up everyone’s horoscopes right now to check our compatibility~ What’s your star sign~? Haruka: Ah, erm…… s-star sign……? I-I don’t know. Can’t remember…… B-but, my birthday’s June…… 22nd…… I think, that was it…… Mahiru: Ok then. June 22nd is Cancer, so…… A kind person who prioritises their feelings, and…… hm? That’s today!? June 22nd! You should have told us~ Happy birthday~! Haruka: Huh? Ah, yeah…… Th-thank you…… very…… much…… hehe……

Mahiru introduces wishing remembering and wishing others a happy birthday to Haruka. Something he will attempt to do several times until he succeeds at saying it.

20/06/28 Futa: You said you don’t play any games, right? Do you not watch league or premier either? Haruka: E-eh, I, I don’t understand, what that is…… That… uh, “leeg”? Futa: Huh!? It’s international soccer. It’s normal for guys your age to know stuff like that. What a pain… I really have nothing to talk to you about, huh. Even though we’re around the same age. Also don’t speak to me so formally. It’s gross. Haruka: Ah, e-excu-, I don’t, I uh… got it…… Futa… kun……

Futa introduces the concept of formality. Showing that people near your age will find it gross or inappropriate for him to refer to them to formally. This comes up again later.

20/08/05 (Kazui’s Birthday) Haruka: ……Kazui-san…… um…… Are you, happy…… on your birthday……? Kazui: Hm? If I’m being honest, at this age I don’t really think much about birthdays any more. But…… it can be nice to have as a means to start something. Like, for a friend you haven’t seen in a long while, it’s a good excuse to suddenly start up a conversation, you know? Being able to hear from a bunch of people like that makes it fun. Haruka: I-is that, so…… That’s… nice…… I’m, kind of… jealous. But, I’d also, want to hear from people…… e-even if, there isn’t a reason…… Kazui: Haha, but it can’t always be like that. You know, for us adults…… we always want a reason or an excuse for everything. ……hm? Wait, is today my birthday? So is that why you went out of your way to talk to me yourself for once, Haruka?

This is the first instance Haruka tries to apply what he saw Mahiru do. But doesn't really succeed at saying Happy Birthday to Kazui. Instead just asking if he's happy on his birthday.

20/08/18 (Haruka and Yuno’s Interrogation) Yuno: Hey, Haruka, did you fill those out too? I remember doing profile notes like this in like prima11ry school and middle school too. Wasn’t it nostalgic? Haruka: ……e-eh? I don’t… k-know about that…… B-but, if someone wants to hear, I thought I… should answer…… as much as I can……

More practice with small talk and engaging with conversation even though it's a short one.

20/12/15 (Kotoko’s Birthday) Kotoko: I still need more information before I make my move. ……I wish my turn would get here faster. Haruka: Um, Koto-Kotoko-san. I h-heard that it’s your birth, day…… Kotoko: Ah, that’s right. ……what about it? Haruka: !! A-ah, no, um, it’s, uh, nothing…… S-sorry for, bothering… L-later……! Kotoko: ……what was that about??

Here's his second attempt at wishing someone happy birthday but he gets scared off by Kotoko's blunt nature.

21/04/19 (Futa’s Birthday) Haruka: U-uh, um, Futa-kun! Um! Um!! Futa: Huh? Shut up already… Didn’t I already say not to make a big fuss about my birthday. I’m not some kid who gets excited by stuff like that anymore! Haruka: ……?? Ah, er, i-is it your birthday……? Th-that, ah, um, h-happy birthday…… Futa: …………You will tell nobody about this conversation.

Look he did it. This was not his intended purpose in this conversation. He did not know it was Futa's birthday but it counts.

21/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday) Mu: Haruka-kun, are you awake……? Happy birthday. Haruka: M-Mu-san? I… I-I’m awake…… Th-thank you, very much. I’m… glad…… Mu: ………… Shall we talk? You know, recently I’ve been pretty interested in you. Haruka: ……!! I-in me…? Hehe, hehehe…… interested, in me.

This comes in right after this in a very interesting way.

21/09/02 (Yuno’s Birthday) Haruka: Y-Yuno-san. Good morning! T-today’s your birthday, right……? Ha-happy birthday……!! Yuno: Oooh…… Thanks? You’ve definitely changed a bit huh, Haruka. You speak a little louder now, and actually look people in the eyes when you talk. Haruka: Eh, ah, i-is that so…… I wasn’t, aware of it myself, but…… Heh, hehe. Is that so. Yuno: Ding ding! My sensor is telling me…… this is probably a girl’s influence. Well, everyone here is slowly changing, I guess. Even me.

Oh Haruka is speaking more clearly and looking people in the eye while talking to them. Now who could he have gotten that from. A girl's influence well hm. Let's keep going to be sure.

21/12/15 (Kotoko’s Birthday) Haruka: Ah…… H-happy birthday, Kotoko-san. Kotoko: ……thanks. You’ve definitely changed a bit. Do you remember before? You could barely even talk to me. Haruka: I-is that so? Now that you mention it, I, I maybe have got a bit better since then. ……m-maybe I’ve got more used to being around people. There’s other people here who are interested in me, and, um, in particular Mu-san pays a lot of notice to me…… I… I’m enjoying myself here…… Kotoko: ……hmm. It’s just a theory I have right now, but I get the feeling the outcome of Milgram’s judgements are having some influence on our mental state. Well, I only noticed because I happened to be last up though. Good for you, then. This must mean that you’re fine. ……I’ll accept those birthday wishes.

Success he wished Kotoko a Happy Birthday too. Hm, in particular Mu-san? Isn't Mu younger than Haruka why use san instead of chan. Whelp probably nothing.

22/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday) Mu: What’s wrong, Haruka-kun? Did something happen? You shouldn’t look away like that when you’re together with me. Haruka: Ah, s-sorry, Mu-san. Um…… No, it’s nothing. I just, suddenly got a feeling. That something is about to happen. Mu: Isn’t that because it’s your birthday? Or perhaps it’s a sign the guard is about to wake up again soon? Fufufu, I bet they’ll be really surprised at a lot of things. Haruka: That, might be true. But, I want the the guard to see. ……the new, me…….

"You speak a little louder now, and actually look people in the eyes when you talk." "A girl's influence." "Mu-san pays a lot of notice to me……" "You shouldn't look away like that."

Well, with some active reading we've determined whats going on here. Haruka has been learning to better communicate with the prisoners through various parties. However, Mu-san the one who pays the most attention with him has been helping him learn how to better communcate with others. Telling him to look people in the eye when speaking to them and to speak clearly as to be heard.

Haruka even asks Mikoto a very similar question to the one Mu asked him when he was going to his first interrogation on his brithday.

Are you going to be ok……?

22/10/06 (Mikoto’s Birthday) Haruka: Mikoto-san. Um, are you ok……? Mikoto: Ah, Haru-kun. It’s been a while since we last talked, huh. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you doing ok……? Haruka: Ah, I’m fine. I’ve been enjoying myself, a lot. Um, I’m sorry, for avoiding you. I was a bit scared. Of you, honestly…… Mikoto: Ahhh, yeah. I’ve been lashing out whenever I go to sleep, right? ……it’s fine. Even I think you’re right to be scared. You know, I kinda just hate that I don’t even know what’s going on myself….haha. Ah, but despite all that you still came and talked to me because it’s my birthday, right? Thank you, you’ve grown into a good man.

(Star barging in real quickly! Wanted to say that the way Haruka almost doubles back to apologize after Mikoto responds welcomingly to Haruka's attempt to talk with him reminds me of how Muu apologizes to Shidou for finding him scary after he actively shows worry for her.

20/06/17 Shidou: ……do you mind if we talk? It seems you’ve relaxed a bit more recently, Kusunoki-kun. Mu: Eh... yeah, definitely compared to the start... just a bit. But I’m still scared… we still don’t know what they might do to us. I want to go home soon… I wonder what’s happening there… Papa and Mama must be really worried… Shidou: That’s good… You were crying so much, so I was concerned for you.… yeah, I’m sure. Your family will definitely be worrying about you. I… hope you can go back soon. Mu: Shidou-san…… did you come here to comfort me…? I’m sorry, I’d thought you were… a scary person… fufu.

Though there are obvious differences, such as Haruka being the instigator of his interaction vs Muu, who was the one being interacted with. Haruka also apologizes for the actions he took, wheras Muu apologized for her old perception. Also when excited or pleased they both end their sentences with a laugh Mu going "Fufu" and Haruka going "Hehe". This has nothing to do with her helping him communicate it's just a cute thing Gunsli and I noticed.)

Then Haruka continues to use his newfound communication skills throughout trial two. For Mu-san's sake that is.

23/02/19 Haruka: Guard, can you hear me? You can, can’t you? Haruka: I meant what I said in the interrogation. ……please forgive Mu-san. 23/04/07 Haruka: Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. PleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-san

Up until the point that won't even work anymore of course.

23/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday) Mu: Haruka-kun, I brought your food. Are you still alive? Has any mould started growing? Haruka: ……ah, thank you very much. Mu-san. Sorry, um…… I…… Mu: You shouldn’t just lock yourself in your room all day. You have to eat your food properly. Hm, well…… I do understand why you’re feeling down. It feels bad. The atmosphere recently Haruka: Um, I’m totally fine…… Just a bit, I’m thinking, about how to do it. What to do, what to do, to…… fulfil my promise. For Mu-san’s sake……

At that point the only thing left for him to do is figure out how to act all for Mu's sake of course.

#milgram #haruka sakurai #muu kusunoki

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da-awesom-one · 4 months

Text

At All Costs (Snowflake Version) - Chris Pine & Idina Menzel

Art I commissioned from Frost_Art on Instagram.

*DISCLAIMER: These lyrics are fan-made lyrics of a song created and owned by Disney for characters that are owned by both Disney and Dreamworks respectively . No money is being made off of this. This was solely written for recreational purposes.*

Context: This is set during Frozen II, in the middle of the Dark Sea scene. They’ve barely survived the Nokk, and Jack is the most upset he’s ever been. Elsa left him behind not once, but twice. The first when they left Kristoff and Sven behind, and the second when she sent Olaf and Anna away. Not only that, she recklessly runs into the Dark Sea, and that’s not mentioning his fear of water. Coupled with the fear of being sent away, and not feeling like he has a place in Arendelle, he’s really struggling to prove his worth without being selfish.

Love is selflessness, and he has taken that to heart since the events of Frozen 1, where he abandoned Elsa before her parents died, and he did everything in his power to make up for it when she finally sees him again. However, it doesn't always work in the right way. So he’s desperately trying to not be what he perceives to be selfish, for being selfish is what almost lost him his best friend in the first place, and he is deeply afraid of losing his new family. Of losing Elsa.

But somewhere along the way, whether he understands or want to admit it or not, things changed. Jack sees Elsa differently, just as she started to in her late teens, but kept quiet due to what happened and out of respect to her friend, also because she's not sure she understands it either.

They argue in the Dark Sea, telling her he doesn't want to lose her, but right as Jack’s about to say what he actually wants, he relents, saying what he wants doesn’t matter. Elsa doesn’t accept that. Once they get to safety, she tells him what he wants matters to HER.

And he tells her he wants to stay with her forever. That he sees her the way Kristoff does to Anna. But time, fate, what have you, makes it seem like no matter what he does, he can’t. But still, he wants to be with her regardless. Because she is his destiny. And being with her makes him feel better, and whole.

So then he starts singing. And so does she. And for the first time since entering the Enchanted Forest, they're on the same page. Better now than ever before.

Sing = Siiing

(VERSE 1)

J: If destiny is a set-in-stone thing,

Mine would be you.

If you'd have told me the feelings you'd bring,

I'd think them untrue.

Yet I never thought I’d meet someone like you.

Not in this life.

You still amaze me after all this time.

(PRE-CHORUS)

You pull me in like some kind of wind.

Clearing up all the doubts within.

Making me wanna tell ya...

…That I…

(CHORUS)

Love you as one does.

I, I would protect you

At all costs.

Take you here into my arms.

I, I would protect you

At all costs.

(VERSE 2)

E: How to say… the words that I wish to convey?

That I want you, too. Even if I tried to,

I can’t go back to life before you.

If someone tried to stop this, I don't

See how that could happen.

I'd fight for us in ways you can't imagine.

I’ve felt this once before, so I hope

It would be alright to stand right here and tell you…

(CHORUS)

B: I love you as one does.

I, I will protect you

At all costs.

Hold you right here in my arms.

I, I will protect you

At all costs!

(BRIDGE)

If you're ever feeling like you're lost,

I’ll come find you!

Man all fronts! There's no ocean I won't swim across

To be right by you!

And not just once. Here and now, I swear on my response,

I'll remind you…

(FINAL CHORUS)

I love you as one does.

I, I will protect you

At all costs!

Keep you safe here in my arms!

I, I will protect you

At all costs!

At all costs.

(END)

Debated whether or not to do this after posting the Jack Frost This Is The Thanks I Get?!, and finally hearing this for the first time. I got giddy, as this is definitely one of the top songs from the Wish soundtrack, and it struck me as odd that the villain, who in the movie was married, and the protagonist would sing something that sounded... well, romantic.

After seeing Wish for the context of it, and later discovering the Demo Version, learning that it WAS originally written as a love song, well... I had to go back and tweak my original draft.

@doodlemel's Animatic of them singing this song definitely didn't help, either. XD

I had to tweak bits that weren't making sense for Jack to say, especially parts that Magnifico said in the movie that kinda hinted to his more sinister persona. Because Jack is a good guy, but also someone who has never experienced these kinda feelings before, as well as also dealing with a lot of mistakes and trauma that influence his perception of whether or not his feelings are genuine, and whether he has a right to feel these feelings.

Elsa, for her part. is more straightforward, remarkably. Because I headcanon that she fell in love first, but Jack was being Shonen Protagonist oblivious to it. And by the time he started feeling a spark of something similar, stuff had already happened between them that they needed to clear up. But her feelings for him never really went away, even if she got better at hiding them. So when she hears him FINALLY admit that he feels the same way, she doesn't have to hide anymore. She lets him say his piece, and responds in kind.

Ultimately, I didn't really change much but the first parts where they sing, and parts of the choruses. Especially the “love” parts, as I just HAD to incorporate the original Demo Version into it. It's telling a sort of story. Of them slowly synchronizing once more, and finally ending with them being of one mind and heart.

For to love on a spectrum that has both beings as one, in my opinion, is truly a beautiful thing.

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kylelover · 1 year

Note

ok so i was thinking, the main four w a reader who flirts by songs/playlists, and how the boys react to it?

i love this sm ofmfmmssn

this is so cute!!

Team Stan with a reader who flirts subtly by making playlists to them

Stan

- he thought it was so cute when you send him a playlist just for him

- didnt notice the name of the songs at first

... why is there a song named loverboy?? 🤨

- this little detail made him notice that the lyrics to every song on the playlist were romantic

- he didnt know if you meant to do that... so he decided to ask

hey uhh, i noticed that every song on the playlist is romantic...

- he was so flustered once you explained

- like... he had to take his nausea pills...

- he tried to make one back but got lazy since he didnt know many romantic songs

- he still showed it to you though

- you gave him bunch of kisses back!!

- he made a shared playlist for you both so you can listen it together<3

Kyle

- kyle really appreciated it and found it so sweet when you did this

- he notices extremely fast what the song is about and he gets so giddy

- he reciprocates ur feelings by dedicating you one as well !

- depending on the context of the song he might feel either flustered or not

- he loves them

- he might send you a really sweet song and text "this reminded me of you. ♡"

Kenny

- kenny loved when you did this since he already knew most of the songs

- he responded back by sending you 34+35 from ariana grande....

- he jams to the songs you send him

- theyre just so good he doesnt notice the lyrics at first

- when hes alone he sends you videos of him singing the songs you dedicate to him lmao

Cartman

- he doesn't actually notice the songs lyrics

- thinks you just dedicate it to him because you like the beat

- he does it back (once every 6 months) but its just random songs he likes

- so when he dedicated you anaconda you were really confused

- once you explained to him the playlist he got a little blushy

"Thats so dumb, why would you even do that??"

- deep inside he loves it

- so when you stopped sending him songs he was like all offended

#south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #stan marsh x reader #eric cartman x reader

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e-dubbc11 · 7 months

Note

for the song lyric prompt, I'm presenting you the super classic 'with or without you' with the most incredible obsessive love presence and our fave obsessive man: billy

My dear Selene,

I love this song, it’s one of my favorites! Thank you for sending this one in. My head has been wrapped around writing for Rumlow the past couple of weeks and I’ve missed writing for Billy so I hope you like what I did here

Thank you again!

With or Without You

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: little bit of angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.3k-ish

Summary: You see a picture of Billy that you’re not very happy with

A/N: This is one of my favorite songs even though I don’t like U2 all that much.

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

He was so stubborn but you were too.

Billy Russo made you absolutely crazy. No other man frustrated you like he did but you’ve never loved anyone as much as you loved him either which is why seeing that picture of him online kissing another woman shattered your heart.

The ache you felt in your chest was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It was betrayal on another level as tears pricked your eyes scrolling through social media and stopping on a grainy picture of Billy’s lips locked on someone else’s other than yours.

It was from the event that you weren’t able to attend with him because you didn’t feel well.

He told you, “Of course it’s alright, sweet girl. Just get some rest, I love you.”

“I love you.”

Those words were hard for him to say at first, he had never said them and meant it until he fell for you. That’s what he told you, so how could he do this to you? Just like it was difficult to give his heart to someone, it was hard for you to give your heart away too.

All of the others had no problem taking and taking from you but in the end you were alone with a feeling of emptiness from the pieces of you they selfishly took with them when they left.

Against your better judgement, his too, you both opened up your souls to each other, leaving your hearts vulnerable to everything you worked so hard to protect.

Sometimes it was so hard to live with him, even though you didn’t physically live WITH him. The long hours, the constant worrying about him, hoping he was alright taking on so many jobs, and the exhaustion plastered all over his face…you’ve never known anyone that worked as hard as he did.

You didn’t want to live without him though. Billy made you crazy, fights with him made you want to rip your hair out, his jealousy sometimes got out of control but yours did too, hence the rage you felt burning inside your body right now.

You wanted to find that woman and tear her limb from limb, break all of her fingers that were holding Billy’s head in place while she kissed him, and make sure she never messes with another woman’s boyfriend again.

Several texts from Billy came through as you continued to stare at the photo, tears stinging your eyes like stars burning against the night sky.

“Please talk to me, sweet girl.”

“I really need to talk to you.”

“I love you, baby…please answer me.”

Newspapers and websites marketed Billy as an “eligible” bachelor, even though he was in a relationship with you. They built him up to be a local celebrity. From humble beginnings to a handsome successful CEO, Billy Russo was the object of every woman’s affection and you knew what you were getting yourself into when you started dating him but you thought you could handle it.

And you could, until now. You didn’t want to break up with him but you couldn’t look at him or talk to him right now, it hurt too much.

Seeing that photo broke you and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the house that day. The caption for the photo made you breathless with anger and caused your mouth to tighten.

“Where’s your girlfriend tonight, Billy Russo?”

**********

Dark gray clouds blanketed the early afternoon sky while the autumn winds blew around the sparse branches of the trees down below. You could feel the draft coming into your apartment from the weakened seals in the windows that your landlord said he was going to replace months ago. Thankfully your favorite sweater was keeping you warm as you sat down on the couch to enjoy a cup of hot tea.

Loud raps against your door startled you before you could take your first sip, almost spilling the tea into your lap.

“Baby, open the door please! I know you’re home, you haven’t left the house all day.” He said loudly so you could hear him from the other side of the door.

How does he know that? Was he spying on you?

“I don’t wanna talk to you right now, Billy!” You shouted.

Suddenly, the front door flew open and crashed against the wall. Billy had told you before that your front door should be replaced because of how old it is.

Well, he wasn’t wrong and now it definitely needs to be replaced but you were furious because of how far he took it. Just like the door, he was unhinged. But again, that’s Billy. Always quick to fly off the handle.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!!!” You yelled. “ARE YOU INSANE?!!”

You stood up and set your tea on the coffee table as Billy walked over to you.

“I’m not leaving until I explain myself, y/n! I know you’re angry, I know you saw the photo but that woman kissed ME, alright?!! Yeah, I had more to drink that I usually do at these things but I was upset that you weren’t with me last night!” He confessed.

You stood there looking at him with a confused look on your face. You had been to a lot of these fundraiser events with Billy, why was he so upset about you not being at this one?

“I wasn’t feeling well, Billy. I said I was sorry and you said it was ok! Go in my room, the dress I wanted to wear is still hanging on the edge of the door, I didn’t do this on purpose!” You exclaimed.

His expression softened and he was visibly upset, but he wasn’t angry.

Billy lowered his voice. “I know you didn’t, I just…had something planned, that’s all. And I pushed her away as soon as her lips touched mine, ask Frankie.”

You could tell Billy felt terrible for what happened and you…believed him.

“She had been following me around all night. I’m so sorry, sweet girl, I’m sorry.” He said softly.

“What did you have planned, Billy?” You said, remembering what he mentioned a minute ago.

He ran his long fingers through is ebony colored hair and brushed his beard as he paced back and forth, looking very nervous about what he was going to say next.

“I was gonna ask you if…if you would move in with me.” He said.

You felt your stomach drop and start to flutter. Your eyes welled up with tears, happy tears this time.

“Billy…I—I” You started to say.

He interrupted you. “I know we’re together most of the time but on nights that we’re not, I don’t like going to bed alone or waking up alone. I don’t like being without you. I love you.”

Billy inched closer to you, close enough to inhale the scent of his cologne and you felt his warm breath on your lashes.

You snaked your arms around his neck and gazed into his deep brown eyes. “I love you too, handsome. You make me absolutely nuts but I’d rather be with you than without you, so my answer is yes.”

Gently scraping your nails against his scalp, you pulled him closer so you could kiss him which he gladly returned. He loved being touched by you, and only you.

“I told you that you needed a new door, that thing was easy to kick in.” He chuckled.

You playfully slapped his shoulder. “You lunatic, I’m gonna get in so much trouble for that! I know I’m gonna be leaving anyway but you owe me a new door, Mr. Russo.”

He kissed you on the forehead. “I’ll get you a new door, baby…I’ll get you whatever you want.”

Through the storm, we reach the shore

You give it all but I want more

And I'm waiting for you

With or without you

With or without you, ah, ah

I can't live

With or without you

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705

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a-libra-writes · 11 months

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Do you have any more headcanons for our darling Rocky? Romantic, general or whatever. I think that whenever he sees his s/o he has stars in his eyes and that he loves boasting about them to all of Lackadaisy (much to their annoyance; Victor is that close from throwing him out the window).

Who is your favourite character btw?

This is kind of a part 3 to my previous Rocky Romantic HCs, with these focusing more on domestic living together and family stuff! Femme and masc options included.

When Rocky starts living with you, it's an adjustment. He hasn't had a permanent home-home in nearly 10 years. There's so many things he forgot about, and things he missed dearly but tried very hard not to dwell on. And he gets to see so many new things about you - you'll catch him staring more than once as you go about your routines, from shuffling through the morning to winding down in the evening. All the things you keep on your shelves, everything smelling like you, noting all your interesting habits! It's your private world he's been invited into and he's a little obsessed. The place wouldn't need to be anything fancy, either - even in an apartment, he takes in everything like it's s gift.

(You'll find all sorts of cute notes scattered about where you'll surely find them, even if it's weeks later. Drawings, poems, love notes, song lyrics - all sorts of sweet, sappy things like that. Then there's the BIG obvious ones he leaves right on your nightstand or mirror.)

Rocky wants to be useful, of course, he always does, but his domestic skills are ...well. There's room for improvement. Cleaning and keeping up with himself is one of those things he needs to pay more attention to, and while he wants to help with the cooking, uh. Maybe hold off on that until you're sure he won't get distracted in the middle of boiling water. Also, when he does cook breakfast, there's usually a huge mess left behind ... But it's the thought that counts! He'll figure out pretty much any chore you assign him, anyway. And at this point you know how much Rocky wants to please you.

When he first moved in, there was an initial period where you two slept separately. It was only proper, especially if you're femme, buuut that went out the window within a week or two. Rocky wouldn't be the one to bring it up, but he wouldn't complain a bit if you just let him stay in your bed instead of going back to the couch or guest room. (And I mean, he looks so comfy and he loves snuggling ... are you really gonna kick him out?)

Even if you both fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed, eventually the grey tabby will migrate over to you. The clinginess doesn't stop just because he's asleep! And he either sleeps like the dead, or bolts up at the slightest noise. Most mornings Rocky is up at the near crack of dawn, antsy and ready to get on with whatever idea is rattling around in his head. Snuggling might incline him to sleep in just a little longer - or maybe he'll just soak up the comfy bed, sunny morning and loved one next to him. It's a very quiet and still peace that takes some getting used to.

If you're femme - happy as he is to go on about how wonderful you are to others, he doesn't breathe a word of it to his aunt. He might actually be skinned alive if Nina catches a whiff of him "living in sin".

If you're masc, y'alls domestic life is probably closer to a "bachelor pad" than some suburban bliss, but it's still homey in it's own way. It's far more likely you're both sharing an apartment or row house close to the Little Daisy. Your laundry tends to get mixed up (which Rocky doesn't mind at all, even if you're much bigger than him), there's lots of late-night attempte to cook on the terrifyingly worn out gas stove and opening the window at night to let in a cool breeze and the sounds of the city. Other tenants don't may you two any mind, assuming you're family or two workers trying to save money by boarding together.

(Bonus points if y'all live in the same apartment block as Zib and his band, as if he doesn't have to deal with the nauseating lovebirds enough)

Being in a safe, stable place with a loved one can stir up some buried memories. You've probably seen Rocky despair dramatically already, but the actual crying is new. He's a noisy cryer, it's difficult for him to hide it. He'd even apologize if it woke you up, but Rocky is surprisingly comfortable with crying on you and being held, though there been a few times where he's initially resisted, feeling like he ought to hide these emotions instead. It's been so long since he had this kind of comfort, but there's still shame when he feels the tears came from out of "nowhere". Oh, there's a lot repressed there ...

And there's the whole ... getting a concussion and nearly dying bit. Initially Rocky is unaware of long-term effects of the concussion, and later willfully ignores them as long as he can. Sudden bright lights and loud noise cause twinges of pain that can snowball into a full blown migraine, something he's never had to deal with. And the first time he banged his head on a doorframe? Bam, flat on his ass. Rocky woke up resting on your lap, your frantic face hovering above him. He was only out for a few seconds but uh, still scary. Something he should be aware of and more careful about because he's sooo good at being careful...

(Small silver lining is you fuss and take care of him during the migraines but Rocky haaaates having to be still in bed. Good luck keeping him there!)

Regardless of gender, there's some potential friction with your family. You adore Rocky and are perfectly happy with him, but well, to your family ... If they're middle or upper class, associating with a destitute musician with bizarre behaviors was not in the plan for you (god forbid anyone finds out about the bootlegging and arson). No matter how well he cleans up, or is on his "best behavior", you could risk getting cut out from the family entirely. Note if you're masc, your relationship could simply be brushed aside as that "friend" of your's they don't approve of. A woman will be judged far more harshly, especially if you and Rocky are living together without being married. You can kiss any inheirtance or family support goodbye.

(Of course, being from a poorer family or not having one at all mitigates much of this drama.)

The fact you're willing to defy your family for him and defend him gets Rocky emotional all over again. It's probably not possible for him to be any more devoted to you, but now feelings of guilt will bubble up. On darker days he'll worry he's ruining someone's family relationships (again) and it'd be best if he just left.

Actually getting married to Rocky would amp that family drama even further, no matter how happy you are about it. It'd probably end up being one of those thrown-together elopements where you're both giddy and a little anxious and driving out to who-knows-where to find a priest who won't ask questions. There's no ring, but - hey, maybe a family heirloom was found. Maybe a friend lends a dress that's almost white, and you repurposed a fancy tablecloth for a veil, and Rocky is wearing a borrowed suit of Freckle's, and the bouquet is flowers you two found alongside the road.

It's slapped together and messy but also exciting and y'all are so happy in spite of everything. Rocky's grinning so much you think his face might get stuck; this isn't something he ever imagined for himself, but now that you're here, he just wants to love and be with you forever. Expect a few years. Maybe a lot. There could even be a little 'reception' at the Lackadaisy, with lots of dancing and music and everyone having to witness how blindlingly sappy you two are (as if they weren't painfully aware).

(Baby & family stuff here!)

So. If you're AFAB, the reality is you and Rocky will have one ... or several ... scares, unless you're very diligent. Look, his pull-out game is shit because he just gets so caught up in the affection and being with you. Hell, that may be what led to the elopement in the first place, spurred on by a healthy dose of Catholic guilt and maaaaybe a family member's shotgun.

Just like the whole 'Finding the Most Wonderful Love of His Life' thing, Rocky didn't think children were anywhere in his future. If any thoughts were given to it, he might assume he'd been a poor parent, because isn't he a screw-up with anything else? What example did Rocky have, anyway - a dad who basically abandoned his family when they needed him most? He does his worrying and anxiety spiralling in private, but it'd be easy for anyone to pick up on it. Of course he thinks you'll do wonderfully, but the chaotic tabby has little hope for himself.

(If you also have no idea what you're doing, congrats! It's utter chaos. And you think anyone at Lackadaisy knows what to do? Also nope! Godspeed!!)

But the thing is, Rocky is quite good with the kitten once they start crawling and exploring. He has the energy level to keep up with them, and he naturally encourages the kiddo to explore and play more. The tot being noisy or fussy or agitated doesn't faze him much; Rocky quickly picks up when they just want attention and playtime or if something is actually upsetting them. I think he'd also sing and play music to soothe them, like his mom used to do when he was restless.

(Also the three of you going out for a picnic or playing in the park and he's just! So happy!! He really had his own tiny family that loves him. He doesn't care if the kitten claws up his back when they're startled or eat grass and immediately vomit or drop their toy into the park fountain. That's his baby!)

Also, at least one (but realistically most) of his kiddos would also have ADHD. Obviously in this time period there's no recognition or diagnosis, but it's easy to notice if his kid has similar 'odd' behaviors and mannerisms. Anywhere from the hyperactivity, to fidgeting and chattering, to sudden focus on things that interest them. I think anytime his child seems to act like him, even if it's considered "misbehavior", he just melts and can't find it in himself to scold them. Rocky would generally be the forgiving, fun and permissive parent, much as his own mother was. He'd also worry about being too absent; normally no one cared when he was gone for days (or weeks ...), but now there's a little one who can't even handle him being gone for an evening. No Rocky you can't strap the kitten to your back and take them everywhere....

Notably if the kitten was neuroatypical in a different way, or disabled - either deaf, or they struggle to walk, etc, Rocky picks up on this quickly. He'd be good about thinking up accommodations or ways for them to get about the world easier, and patient, so very patient. Making up hand signs? Jury rigging a mobility aid? Recognizing when a place might be too overwhelming for the kid? Figuring out exactly which textures are upsetting for them? It may shock people how observant he is about these things - and, given the time period, he could be seen as too "indulgent". Okay he's definitely an overly indulgent parent in other ways, but in this case, Rocky is quite fixated. He's very familiar what it's like being on the outside and disregarded.

He absolutely wants to teach his kiddo music, and likes singing to them and rattling off poetry when it comes to him. The household is full of music and art in general, especially if you're artistically inclined yourself. He'll gather all sorts of unusual books to read to them (even if they're too young for it, his voice is nice to listen to). He's the parent who keeps literally anything his kid makes him and gets happy and emotional all over again when he sees it. He's also the parent who can't deny his kiddo when they've had a bad dream or are afraid of the dark ... so either he falls asleep on the couch with them, or he carries them back to y'all's bedroom.

It goes without saying that Rocky's going to continue his criminal activities. If anything, he's been spurred on even more in order to support you and the kitten, especially if this is after 1929; the kids would be growing up during the worst of the Great Depression. This could either be a point of contention between you and Rocky, if you aren't doubling down on the crime yourself.

(Personally I HC that, if he had a family to provide for, he'd 100% stay involved with crime even after Prohibition and/or the Lackadaisy is gone. What other choices are there?)

Note if you're masc and had a kiddo from a previous relationship, a lot of these HCs still apply! Rocky would still find himself bonding with them and being delighted by how much they seem to care for him. He likes noticing the mannerisms that are just like your's, and how their faces mimic your own expressions. They'd refer to him as "uncle Rocky" but sometimes they'll slip and say "papa". Which totally doesn't make him want to cry or anything.

#also rocky is my absolute fav... and he didnt start that way haha #im obsessed w him now #rocky rickaby x reader #lackadaisy x reader

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