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katerina-marie · 2 days

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The Hot Mic Incident (Feel Like Falling in Love)

Sukuna x Reader

A sequel to this and part 2 of a larger (unnamed) series. I do recommend reading part 1 first to be able to understand certain references in this one.

If someone asked you who was most likely to accidentally spill the beans about your new (and still secret) relationship with Sukuna, your answer would have to be your white-haired co-star. But when an unintentional hot mic reveals to the world what wasn't ready to be shared, let's just say it wasn't Gojo Satoru at fault for once.

Notes: A continuation of my Sukuna x Reader celebrity!au inspired by music (though only loosely, so don't look too closely at lyrical meaning). In this case, it's Feel Like Falling in Love by MeloMance. I'm writing this series as inspiration strikes, so these fics may not always be posted according to the series' linear timeline. I will make sure to note when each chapter takes place in relation to the others (this one takes place a couple months after part 2). I will also get around to making a master list of them in chronological reading order as more comes. I hope you enjoy:)

Content: bandmember Sukuna x actor female Reader (referred to as such, but left descriptively vague), no y/n, manager Nanami, bodyguard Toji, actor Gojo, other favorites who have small supporting rolls, all fluff, crack, and humor, innuendos, illusions to sexting, but no actual sexting occurs (sorry), so please read accordingly, out of character and fluffy Sukuna. Please let me know if I miss something!

WC: 4.3k

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“Isn’t it a little early in the morning to be sending naughty pictures to your boyfriend? It’s like 7:00 am.”

You jumped half a foot in the air and clambered to juggle your phone in your hands before it tumbled out and slid four feet across the backstage floor of the talk show studio.

“You need to be wearing a bell, Satoru,” you hissed over your shoulder at the menace that had appeared behind you so suddenly, “and it was not an inappropriate photo. I was completely dressed.”

You teetered over in your heels to grab your phone off the floor and prayed that it wasn’t cracked down the middle, lest you make Satoru cough up punitive damages to make up for it.

“In my experience, being fully clothed is not a prohibiting factor.”

Satoru snickered at the look of disgust on your face and gave you a small shrug, “Who knows, maybe Sukuna’s into th—,”

You threw yourself forward to try and cover his mouth with your hands, but even in heels you still lacked the necessary height to make contact. You settled for pinning him in place with a glare.

“Will you keep quiet please? I swear, if you and your fat mouth reveal this to anyone, I’m going to have Toji leak that photo of you from one of our nights working on that period piece last year!”

You watched with glee as Satoru’s eyes widened in abject horror, and he reached out to grip the tops of your arms and drag you close to his face. A quick peek from your peripheral confirmed that the staff lingering around the studio probably hadn’t been close enough to hear, but they were certainly watching with poorly disguised interest.

Were you and Satoru contracted into a false relationship in order to help promote the upcoming movie the two of you were co-starring in? No, that only happened in fiction. Was it firmly implied by the producer that some offscreen tension and chemistry during the course of the film would promise to be advantageous to you both? Yes, and you presumed that in the pursuit of a paycheck some simple flirting couldn’t hurt anyone…though that was a year or so ago, and you were now closer to sending Satoru to an early grave than jumping in bed with him like fans and media were hoping for.

“Suguru swore he made you delete any evidence of that!”

You stuck your tongue out at him and pulled back against the hold he had on your arms, but he didn’t loosen his grip in the slightest.

“He did, but didn’t bother to check with Toji. Looks like that weird phobia you two have of him is coming to bite you in the ass now.”

Satoru released you with a shiver and took a large step back, his eyes roaming the expanse of the studio as if he expected your bodyguard to be summoned out of thin air at the sheer mention of his name. You didn’t blame him, however, because Toji had a habit of doing just that.

“It’s not a weird phobia,” Satoru muttered, rubbing his throat absentmindedly and pouting down at you, “it’s PTSD.”

You snorted. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was too!” Satoru cried, “He punched me in the throat and nearly sent Suguru through a wall!”

“You and your idiot manager were trying to break into my house at 2:00am, drunk as skunks I might add! What did you think was going to happen? We barely knew each other then.”

Satoru looked down at you aghast, stunned that you didn’t sympathize with his emotions. You considered it even more bewildering that he seriously thought that you would pick his side. You were about to let him know such when your phone dinged twice in quick succession, effectively capturing your attention.

“Look,” you huffed at him, waving your phone in front of his face so he could catch a glimpse of the time (and hopefully ignore who’s name had popped up under it), “we only have like thirty more minutes before we have to get out there and I need some time to decompress, so I’m going back to the dressing room.” You started to turn away before throwing over your shoulder, “Don’t get into any trouble in the meantime.”

Satoru rolled his eyes at you, and—in that intolerable way of his—couldn’t let you possibly have the last dig at him and jerked his head to the phone in your hand.

“It’s not me I’m worried about. Have fun sext—,”

“Goodbye, Satoru!” You made yourself scarce before he could say anything else, eager to find the privacy of your dressing room so you could fawn over your boyfriend in peace.

By the time you made it into the safety of your dressing room a few minutes later, your heart was pounding—and not just from getting lost in all the maze-like hallways—and you tried to decide if hiding in the attached closet to talk with Sukuna on the phone or sitting on the couch in the open with a lovesick grin on your face would look less suspicious should someone walk in. Neither option promised much.

Before you could make up your mind, your phone was ringing, so in order to be able to answer the call as quickly as you could, you dove for the couch and tried not to sound completely breathless when you answered with a quiet, “hi, good morning.”

“Hey,” Sukuna replied back to you, voice equally soft but tinged with a dry hoarseness that usually followed him out of sleep. It made your toes wiggle uncontrollably against the floor.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I wake you with the picture? That wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to keep you up to date with my day,” you murmured to him.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t. And besides, even if it did, it’s not a bad way to start my day.” His words made you melt back into the cushions and you kicked your feet in silent giddiness before tucking them underneath you. “You look stunning, by the way.”

“Thank you,” you giggled, “though getting here to get ready while it was still dark outside was borderline torture. I’d say that it’s an unfair slight against women, but I’m pretty sure Satoru’s hair and skincare routine took just as long.”

Your boyfriend let out a disgusted scoff at the mention of your costar’s name, “Please tell me that q-tip is behaving himself.”

“Sukuna!” You chastised, though you couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up in your throat at the comparison, “You can’t call him that…even if it is somewhat accurate.”

“It’s one hundred percent accurate,” he argued, “but I won’t call him that to his face…probably.”

You shook your head in exasperated amusement, nibbling on the bottom skin of your lip before continuing on, “He’s behaving for the most part, aside from his two insinuations that our conversations this morning were of a sexual nature.”

Sukuna was silent on the other end for a moment before replying back in a low voice with something that had you choking on your spit, “Would you like them to be?”

He could be heard laughing as you nearly coughed your way into a premature death.

“I’m about to go in front of a live audience and on live tv!” You exclaimed.

“That’s not a ‘no’,” Sukuna pointed out hopefully.

“No.”

He let out a dramatic sigh and you reached over to a nearby coffee table to unscrew a bottle of water and chug half of it down in the hopes it would help cool you off.

“Speaking of,” he said, sounding just a tad hesitant, “I’ll uh, tune in to the show to watch if that’s okay with you.”

You heart skipped a silly little beat at the idea that he wanted to watch some cheesy talk show just to get a glimpse of you.

“I don’t mind,” you told him, “but it’s going to make me a little nervous knowing you’ll be watching as I stumble through this interview.”

“Don’t be,” he chuckled, though something in his voice sounded just slightly wicked, “now you’ll get an idea of how I feel when I have to perform.”

The innuendo had whatever sweet reassurance you had poised at the tip of your tongue fly out of your head, and you scrambled to come with a response that could be said back without implying anything further. The swinging open of your door, however, saved you from the task.

“Hey, Princess,” Toji called as he leaned his torso around the door, “you need to be out there in five.”

You startled from your spot on the couch, surprised to realize that your leg was bouncing from where it was propped up on your knee and your finger was twirling a piece of your hair.

Love made you stupid.

“Toji,” you snapped, “have you ever heard of knocking?”

Your bodyguard rolled his eyes, “I did. Twice.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, especially because you could hear Sukuna cackling through the phone, confirming he heard what Toji just said.

“Oh…I’ll be right there, okay?” You shooed him off with a flick of your fingers and Toji smirked at you as he began closing the door.

“Don’t be late or I’m sending Gojo in to fetch you.”

The door closed shut before you could get a word in and you leaned back with a heavy sigh before returning your attention to your phone call, “I’ve to go. I’ll call you when the whole thing is over and I’m back home, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll be waiting for you. Good luck, okay?”

You weren’t sure if it was all in your head, but you swore you heard a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Thank you. Bye, Sukuna,”

“Bye, Princess,” he sing-songed, and you couldn’t help but smile as you clicked off the call.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Twenty minutes later found you and Satoru sitting next to each other on a platform stage surrounded by bright lights, a large live audience sprawled in front of you, and an all too perceptive interviewer who had started the interrogation just a couple minutes prior. You wiggled in your seat, uncomfortable from the various wires and clips that secured your mic to your back under your dress.

“So,” she began, nailing you with a look that promised nothing good, “you and Satoru were supposed to film an advert on the beach early this last summer, but it ended up being you and the so-called ‘King of Curses.’ Tell me, how did that come about?”

You hesitated a moment, thankful the question wasn’t anything too invasive, but you were still hoping to avoid talking about Sukuna altogether. Usually Nanami would heavily emphasize what could and couldn’t be spoken of before these appearances, but since he wasn’t here, you assumed it had been left to Geto. In that case, you knew he couldn’t be bothered since predicting whatever was going to come out of Satoru’s mouth during these things was an art not yet mastered.

“Well,” you started, clasping your hands together so they didn’t shake, “it really just came about out of well-timed convenience and a favor to the director. We didn’t want to waste any of the crew’s time or have to worry about re-aligning schedules, so Sukuna saved the day by offering to help. Plus, ‘The Curses’ new song at the time got to debut in it, so it was a win-win for everyone! Except for maybe Satoru, of course.”

In an effort to divert attention from your answer, you threw Satoru a faux-friendly smile and urged him with a widening of your eyes to explain his part.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, adjusting himself in the seat and setting a convincing pout on his face. “I just happened to get pulled into something personal last minute and was going to be late to the shoot. I’m appreciative that the “King of Curses” was able to step in and save the day.”

You didn’t miss the obvious sarcasm dripping from Sukuna’s nickname when it came out of Satoru’s mouth, and you had to hide a giggle behind your hand at the thought of your boyfriend cursing at his TV at home.

“But,” Satoru continued, jolting you into awareness when he turned to you and ran a long finger down the bare skin of your arm, “I’m super bummed I missed our chance to get wet together.” The smirk on his face was downright evil, and you just knew your face was a picture of stunned disbelief. The audience was tittering with amusement.

“You wear me out, Satoru,” you hissed at him, batting his hand away from where it still traced slowly over your skin.

Satoru laughed and threw his head back against his chair before taking a quick look at the camera and then leaning in towards you until your noses nearly touched, “I’m flattered you’d admit that on live television.”

Your jaw, and everyone else’s for that matter, fell to the floor and you could only gawk at him. Over the interviewer’s shoulder, you could see Toji backstage laughing his ass off as Geto stood at a respectable distance next to him shaking his head.

We better get those damned bonuses from the producer.

“Well!” The interviewer laughed a bit nervously, breaking the tension in the room and turning to the main camera in front of you all, “That was surely something. We have to go to a commercial, but we’ll be back with these two in just a couple minutes!”

The outro music sounded over the speakers and you and Satoru were released from your chairs to scurry backstage. In between sending friendly waves to the audience and starting the walk backstage, you flipped the switch on your mic off.

“I’m going to kill you, Satoru,” you spat under your breath as the two of you left stage.

The idiot had the gall to laugh, and in your frustration you took a couple large steps to get a head of him. And because the universe didn’t hate you enough, you felt the toe of your heel catch on a stray cable on the floor, pitching you off balance. In your flailing, you reached out to grasp at whatever object could possibly break your fall, and in doing so latched on to Satoru’s sleeve, jerking the poor bastard off his feet and onto you as you both tumbled to floor in a heap of tangled limbs.

Your back hit the ground first, your mic digging painfully into your back with a suspicious crack of plastic followed by Satoru landing on your front, pushing all the air from your lungs with a painful “oomph.”

You stared at the ceiling of the studio, wondering how quickly things would go if one of the giant studio lights fell from above and crushed you under it. You were never going to live this down, especially since it happened still in view of the cameras and the audience if the raucous laughter was anything to go by.

“You know, I never imagined I would actually get you under me,” Satoru mused, staring down at you for a second before lifting his giant self off and then pulling you up to follow. He held a hand against your lower back as the two of you made it to the cover of backstage.

“Honestly,” you admitted, still a little dazed, “I never would have thought so either.”

Staff fluttered around you a minute later, offering water, smoothing your hair out, and ensuring neither of you were hurt…at least not physically. Your pride was a whole other matter.

“Oh no,” you groaned, catching Satoru’s attention once everyone had cleared out around you, “he was watching. He just saw me eat it on live television.”

Your co-star cocked a confused eyebrow at you, “You mean Sukuna was watching?”

“Oh please,” you muttered, “like you didn’t guess. And yes, Sukuna was watching, and now I’m not going to be able to look him in the eye this evening.”

There was a general increased noise coming from the front of the studio, but you were too preoccupied with your own embarrassment to think much of it.

“And why is that?” Satoru asked.

You threw your hands up purely because you didn’t know what else to do with them, “I don’t really know exactly, but there is still something supremely humiliating about doing something embarrassing like that in front of my new boyfriend. He makes me nervous enough as is.”

There was a sudden outbreak of hollers and clapping from out front, and you swung your head around to look and see if anyone had a clue as to what was going on. It took you a minute before you could see Toji running at you with a wild look on his face.

“Toji, what the hell—?” You didn’t get to finish your question before he was spinning you around by the shoulders, yanking down the zipper of your dress, and ripping the mic from your back. You shrieked in disbelief as you whirled back around to figure out what in the world he had been thinking.

“Toji!”

“Your mic has been on this whole time,” he growled, showing you the blinking green light on the cracked plastic box. You swore you had turned it off, but seeing as how it took the brunt of the impact when you fell on it earlier, you supposed it wasn’t unlikely that it had turned back on.

With sudden cold rushing through your body and a sick ball of dread settling into your gut, you looked between Satoru’s dumbfounded expression and Toji’s face of pure exhaustion and immediately decided that if the ground wasn’t going to swallow you up whole, you were going home.

“Get me out of here!”

——————————————————————————————————————————

After finally making it to some undisclosed back alley across from the talk show studio, you were assisted out from your crouch in a trash bin by studio security and ushered to a small nearby out-cove to wait for your bodyguard.

And you just wanted to be famous soooo bad. Glamorous life, my ass.

As luck would have it, you were made aware today of just how famous you, and especially Sukuna, were. For all the grief you gave Satoru about not accidentally spilling the beans about your newly minted—and still secret—relationship with Sukuna, you were the one that had the unintended pleasure of doing the grand reveal. So now the world was free to stir whatever frenzy they saw fit, from the intensely devoted fangirls of Sukuna’s band, to the entire acting community, and the worst of all…your mother. You suspected you were a couple minutes away from an angry phone call demanding an explanation as to why she had to find out from the internet that you were dating a boy with pink hair and face tattoos and how much longer it would be until she had grandchildren.

All of this chaos and Nanami just happened to be in a whole other country.

You suddenly regretted sending him on that vacation.

A sharp squeal of tires caught your attention and you looked up to see a shiny sports car peal around the corner and come to a rumbling stop a couple feet in front of you. Before you could even begin to guess who it could be, the head of your bodyguard appeared as the tinted black window of the passenger side door rolled down.

“Get in the car,” Toji hissed, eyes darting to and fro.

You wasted no time and nearly dove through the open window in your haste to escape broad daylight. You had just finished buckling your seatbelt in the back when Toji mashed the gas pedal and the car leapt forward.

“Christ, Toji!” You gasped, clasping the headrest of the seat you were just flung into, “Whose car is this? It’s certainly not yours.”

He snorted. “Yeah, cause you don’t pay me enough.”

“Rude,” you muttered back to him, “and not true.”

You tried to squint out the front windshield to determine where you might be, but brick buildings towered on either side of you still, and you assumed Toji was taking some alternative route home. “Seriously though, whose car is this? It’s not one of mine.”

“Does it matter?”

You rolled your eyes at his bored tone, “Yes, it does. Toji, I’m not your wife, but—”

“Thank God.” He sounded entirely too relieved about that.

“Still rude!” You yelped, but brushed aside the sting of offense to figure out whose leather seats your dress was currently dropping glitter all over. “I’m not your wife, so I don’t particularly care to know what unscrupulous activities you get up to when I’m not keeping you busy—,”

“None,” he deadpanned, shooting you a glare through the rear view mirror.

“—which I’m pretty sure I had you sign a non-compete, but that’s besides the point. I really need you to tell me where you got this car. In case you aren’t aware, my name is going to be plastered on every social media post, blog page, and headline in the next 24 hours and I’d rather that not include my mugshot with “accomplice to grand theft auto” under it. So tell me who this car belongs to right now or I’m jumping out.”

Toji had the audacity to chuckle at you before reaching back to pat your knee.

“Relax a bit. You know I wouldn’t ever put you in harm’s way on purpose. This is Gojo’s car. Ours was being swarmed by the media out front after your little slip up, so I threatened Geto for the idiot’s keys cause I knew it was out back and the quickest way I could get to our little rendezvous point.”

“Oh,” was all you managed to get out. Letting your racing mind settle down a bit, you snuggled deeper into the plush leather seats and kicked your feet up onto the center console. You got two seconds of peace before Toji opened his mouth again.

“I’m going to have to call Nanami.”

“No!” You gasped, springing upright again and feeling a warm sting creep to your eyes as your throat began to tense up. “He’s on vacation! I promised we wouldn’t bother him unless one of us was dying. I’d never forgive myself if he had to come home to clean up my sloppy love life!”

Toji shook his head and shot you a sad smile over his shoulder as he reached for his phone sitting in the front cup holder.

“We may not really have an option, Sweetheart. Not only is Uraume going to be a huge pain to deal with since this could affect Sukuna’s band, but you’ve also got contracts and appearances promised that may get shaken by the fact it’s been revealed to the world that you've been secretly dating the music industry’s favorite ‘hate to love’ rockstar. We can’t fix this without Nanami.”

The panic that had been brewing in your stomach this whole time was starting to make your head spin up, so you blamed it on that when you lurched out of your seat and nearly over Toji’s shoulder to snatch the phone out of his hand before he could hit ‘dial’ on Nanami’s contact.

Your bodyguard swore when you knocked him in the face with your elbow in your clamber and his hand gave a vicious jerk of the wheel that had horns blaring from either side of your car as Toji swerved to correct it. You were thrown back into the seat you had just previously been in and you waited with heaving breaths as the car jolted sideways once more before continuing on straight. The fact you barely missed crashing was a testament to Toji’s reflexes.

“Don’t you ever do stupid shit like that again, you hear me?!” You’d never heard Toji raise his voice at you and it did nothing to help quell the tears about to start pouring from your eyes, “I know you’re stressed and something big has just happened to you, I get it, but that’s no excuse to do something dumb! You just about gave me a heart attack,” he finished, his voice still at a higher volume than normal, but it was softened by the edge of panicked concern and the worried glances he was giving you.

That was enough to push you over the edge.

“I-I’m sorry, Toji,” you sobbed, upset at yourself for messing up again, “I wasn’t thinking, and I don’t want Nanami to feel like he has to babysit me for the rest of his life, or you to think I’m an airhead or something. I also really like Sukuna and I don’t want him to hate me because of what I did!”

You let your head fall into your hands and hiccuped through another shuddering cry as you struggled to get ahold of the overwhelming-ness of it all. You felt Toji’s hand on your knee again.

“Hey, hey, take deep breaths for me. No one’s thinking that, I promise you. And I’m sorry for yelling at you like that. It was wrong. It’s no excuse, but that scared the crap out of me and I thought we for sure were getting into an accident,” he admitted. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You nodded through your tears, unable to respond to him in any way that was legible.

“Look, we’re almost home. Try and deep breathe for me. Once we get there I’ll help you get comfortable and we’ll figure this out together, okay?”

As was frequent with Toji, you valued his ability to keep you calm when you got into the worst of yourself and you were grateful for his steady confidence. You reached out and clasped the hand he still had stretched back on your knee to give it a squeeze, hoping it could convey all the thanks you had for him. The two of you kept driving in comfortable silence until you felt the car slow and saw a flash of a familiar gate out the front windshield.

“Hey,” Toji started, his voice suspiciously light, “you think Gojo would realize if we never returned his car?”

——————————————————————————————————————————

Thank you for reading! I've got ideas for parts 3 and 4 already, so I'm hoping to work on those in the next coming days.

I'll also be posting this series on AO3 under Katerina_Mar if you would prefer to read there:)

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #toji fushiguro #gojo satoru

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mana-sama-cult · 6 months

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Atsushi We Miss You

As we all mourn the tragic passing of the INCREDIBLE Atsushi Sakurai, I would like to honor him. Sadly I had made this magazine before his passing, and presented it almost in tears today in class, but it features Atsushi on the cover and a three spread article featuring Buck-Tick

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cy-cyborg · 8 months

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Writing and drawing amputee characters: Not every amputee wears prosthetics (and that's ok)

Not every amputee wears prosthetics, and not doing so is not a sign that they've "given up".

It's a bit of a trope that I've noticed that when an amputee, leg amputees in particular, don't wear prosthetics in media its often used as a sign that they've given up hope/stopped trying/ are depressed etc. If/when they start feeling better, they'll start wearing their prosthetics again, usually accompanied by triumphant or inspiring music (if it's a movie). The most famous example of this is in Forest Gump, Where Dan spends most of the movie after loosing his legs wishing he'd died instead. He does eventually come around, and him finally moving from his wheelchair to prosthetics is meant to highlight this.

The thing is, it's not that it's unrealistic - in fact my last major mental health spiral was started because one of my prosthetics was being a shit and wouldn't go on properly, despite fitting perfectly at the prosthetist's the day before. I'm not going to use my legs when I'm not in a good headspace, but the problem is, this is the only time non-prosthetic using amputees ever get representation: to show how sad they are. Even if that's not what the creator/writer necessarily intended, audiences will often make that assumption on their own unless you're very careful and intentional about how you frame it, because it's what existing media has taught them to expect.

But there are lots of reasons why someone might not use prosthetics:

they might not need them: this is more common in arm amputees because of how difficult it can be to use arm prosthetic, especially above-elbow prosthetics. Most folks learn how to get on without them pretty well. In fact, most of the arm amputees I know don't have prosthetics, or only have them for specific tasks (e.g. I knew a girl who had a prosthetic hand made specifically for rowing, but that's all she used it for).

Other mobility aids just work better for them: for me, I'm faster, more manoeuvrable and can be out for longer when I'm in my wheelchair than I ever could on my prosthetics. Youtube/tik tok creator Josh Sundquist has said the same thing about his crutches, he just feels better using them than his prosthetic. This isn't the case for everyone of course, but it is for some of us. Especially people with above-knee prosthetics, in my experience.

Other disabilities make them harder to use: Some people are unable to use prosthetics due to other disabilities, or even other amputations. Yeah, as it turns out, a lot of prosthetics are only really designed for single-limb amputees. While they're usable for multi-limb amps, they're much harder to use or they might not be able to access every feature. For example, the prosthetic knee I have has the ability to monitor the walk cycle of the other leg and match it as close as possible - but that only works if you have a full leg on the other side. Likewise, my nan didn't like using her prosthetic, as she had limited movement in her shoulders that meant she physically couldn't move her arms in the right way to get her leg on without help.

Prosthetics are expensive in some parts of the world: not everyone can afford a prosthetic. My left prosthetic costs around $5,000 Australian dollars, but my right one (the above knee) cost $125,000AUD. It's the most expensive thing I own that I only got because my country pays for medical equipment for disabled folks. Some places subsidise the cost, but paying 10% of $125,000 is still $12,500. Then in some places, if you don't have insurance, you have to pay for that all by yourself. Even with insurance you still have to pay some of it depending on your cover. Arm prosthetics are even more expensive. Sure, both arms and legs do have cheaper options available, but they're often extremely difficult to use. You get what you pay for.

they aren't suitable for every type of environment: Prosthetics can be finicky and modern ones can be kind of sensitive to the elements. My home town was in a coastal lowland - this means lots of beaches and lots of swamp filled with salty/brackish water. The metals used in prosthetics don't hold up well in those conditions, and so they would rust quicker, I needed to clean them more, I needed to empty sand out of my foot ALL THE TIME (there always seemed to be more. It was like a bag of holding but it was just sand). Some prosthetics can't get wet at all. There were a few amputees who moved to the area when I was older who just didn't bother lol. It wasn't worth the extra effort needed for the maintenance.

People have allergies to the prosthetic material: This is less of a problem in the modern day, but some people are allergic to the materials their prosthetics are made from. You can usually find an alternative but depending on the type of allergy, some people are allergic to the replacements too.

Some people just don't like them.

There's nothing wrong with choosing to go without a prosthetic. There's nothing wrong with deciding they aren't for you. It doesn't make you a failure or sad or anything else. Using or not using prosthetics is a completely morally neutral thing.

Please, if you're writing amputees, consider if a prosthetic really is the best mobility aid for your character and consider having your characters go without, or at least mix it up a bit.

For example, Xari, one of the main characters in my comic, uses prosthetics unsupported and with crutches, and uses a wheelchair. They alternate between them throughout the story.

#disability #disabled #id in alt text #writing #writing disability #disability representation #authors of tumblr #write #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writer #creative writing #writing tips #writing resources #writing help #writing advice #writing disability with cy cyborg

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noneorother · 6 months

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Oh my god, season 2 is The Tales of Crowley Hoffmann

I guess this has to be a series now too. Part 1 l Part 2

When Aziraphale wants to perform a show-stopping magic trick in S2E4, he is shown the "Professor's Nightmare," a rope trick, and references "Prof Hoff himself" at the end of the minisode.

Because we love double meanings so much around here, I decided to actually watch the Powell & Pressburger epic opera film "The Tales of Hoffmann," assuming it was the another P&P easter egg and the other Hoffmann (not the magician) that was being referenced.

One, this movie is unhinged. Two, this season IS The Tales of Hoffmann. Allow me to explain...

There are shot for shot quotes literally everywhere throughout the season.

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Automaton Ball) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Ball"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Hoffmann watches Stella perform) & Good Omens Season 2 "The one with the zombies"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Clerk in Automaton Ball) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Ball"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Antonia, Hoffman & Antonia) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Clue Crowley & Aziraphale"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Prologue) & Good Omens Season 2 "The one with the Zombies"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Giulietta Banquet scene) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Clue Banquet scene" *By the way Hoffmann wears a goatee for this tale

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Prologue "Dragonfly dance") & Good Omens Season 2 Prologue "Before the Beginning" *This is Stella and un unknown devil drangonfly, NOT Hoffmann

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Antonia) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Clue"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Antonia) & Good Omens Season 2 "The one with the Zombies"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Automaton Ball) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Ball"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (End credits through Hoffman's glasses) & Good Omens Season 2 end credit scene.

Stella & Aziraphale. This one makes me laugh.

There are SO MANY MORE, but tumblr has an image limit. Seriously, it's nuts.

2. It seems simple and straightforward, but it's not at all

" Why would ambitious filmmakers simply film an opera? Many admirers of the work of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger have assumed that their decision to make The Tales of Hoffmann (...) was in some way an admission(...) that they couldn’t go on making their edgy, over-the-top melodramas after the rejection and interference they’d suffered (but) there’s a case for considering The Tales of Hoffmann as one of the finest and boldest works that Powell and Pressburger produced, so far ahead of its time as a wholly “composed” film, combining visual and musical elements, that it has still not been fully appreciated... Late in his life, Powell himself said that he thought it was one of the best films that he and Pressburger had made. What makes the film so remarkable is a series of paradoxes: the fact that it virtually reinvented the freedom and fantasy of silent cinema while making full use of Technicolor and a stellar cast of dancers and singers..." - Criterion, The lives of marionettes

3. The structure of the story is the same as the show

Here is the story of the Movie** (Not really the Opera that inspired it) In the prologue, we see the dance of the dragonflies onstage at a ballet. Count Lindoff (very bad dude) is spying on both the principal dancer Stella, and the audience member Hoffmann (who's admiring her). Lindoff is behind the scenery. During her dance, Stella passes a love note to her assistant for Hoffmann. The bad dude intercepts it out of jealousy. During the intermission, Hoffmann goes down to the tavern next door, watched by his sort of buddy in red, Nicklaus. People ask him to tell stories to while away the time, and so he tells 3 stories (actually four but we'll get back to that).

We launch into 3 tales/minisodes in other times and places : 1. The Tale of the Ball of the Automaton where he falls in love with a robot. He is humiliated. 2. The tale of Venice (Giulietta) where he falls in love with a courtesan/double agent who crosses him. 3. The tale of Antonia, where he falls in love with a girl who feels trapped by her living dad, her dead mom and a mysterious bad dude (Lindoff). She is murdered in a ring of fire, but becomes a ghost and is resurrected and sent back to earth. At the end, we snap back to the tavern in the real world. Hoffmann reveals that these three women are all metaphors for how he feels about Stella, his true love. He's drunk and depressed now, thinking she never sent for him after the show. Stella arrives in the tavern looking for Hoffmann, ready to run away, but now accompanied by Lindoff (dressed as an angelic figure) who followed her. She looks to Hoffmann to save her, but he's too blinded by the fact that he doesn't think she loves him back to pick up on the signal. He gives up, and she goes back up the stairs guided by Lindoff. Her assistant (who was bribed by Lindoff at the beginning) is given the go ahead by Lindoff to go back to the tavern and taker over. They close the door to the tavern, while she walks up ethereal stairs with the bad dude. THE END.

The one story that doesn't fit into the minisodes and is told in the real world is Kleinzach. We understand by the end of this one that this is Hoffmann's self loathing about never being good enough for Stella, because Stella is perfect and Hoffmann is ugly and deformed. The main love interest attempts to steal Kleinzach's essence through a mirror by the end. 4. Powell & Pressburger recast four actors in new roles In The Tales of Hoffmann, P&P decided to recast four of the principal actors/dancers from the film The Red Shoes in new roles, wanting to recreate the magic that they brought to the first ballet film. Sound familiar?

5. Crowley is Hoffmann

"The Tales of Hoffmann" original 1881 costume concept for Hoffmann & Crowley costume sketch for S2E3 1827 Edinburgh. Glasses are a really important aspect for Hoffmann in both the opera and the movie versions of The Tales of Hoffmann. Hoffmann is gifted metaphorical magic glasses that he wears to be able to perceive his love in a way they aren't really in real life. In the opera, he wears dark glasses to shut out the real world, not just as a metaphor. Check out a modern day version of the opera's Hoffmann costume :

He's french and slamming a beer but you get it. Crowley also canonically loves watching movies. It would make so much sense that his minisode recountings with him and Aziraphale would resemble different styles of movie that he loves. Seeing as we see him drive away at the end as the last character, an argument could be made for him being the ultimate narrator of the story in season 2.

6. The original American release of The Tales of Hoffman had 14ish minutes cut out of it by the studio. So we all know by now that whole debacle about having the clocks jump 14-15ish minutes during the kiss?

"The Tales of Hoffmann found an audience far wider than expected, despite Korda’s misgivings about the movie’s running time and his decision to cut 14 minutes out of the film for its American release." - Criterion, The Tales of Hoffman

I have been unable to unearth what the difference between the American & British versions of the P&P Tales of Hoffmann is, if you know let ME know. I want to know! _____________________________________

And I HAVE SO MUCH MORE. This is long enough already so I'll save the more detailed stuff for a new post.

**The opera is a whole other beast. You can read about it here, but basically there's a lot more going on in the opera because the composer died before finishing it, and multiple versions exist after the original uncompleted score got lost IN A FIRE. Anyway. Here's part 2

#good omens meta #good omens season two #art director talks good omens #go season 2 #good omens 2 #go meta #good omens season 2 #go2 #crowley x aziraphale #anthony j crowley #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley and aziraphale

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choism · 9 months

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Shameless | c.s

san solo, choi san

Genre: canon compliant, smut

Words: 1.8k

Summary: A month of sexual frustration and a pair of sweatpants can really bring out the animal in someone. In this case, that someone is San.

Warnings: Smut, masturbation, pillow humping, implied sexual tension, implied mxm pining, inappropriate use of a plushie, plushophilia, poor mokoko..., san masturbates basically

A/N: This is a request done for my beloved @kitten4sannie, ily bestie. It is also HEAVILY inspired by my beloved @parmesannie's fic on ao3 called Bring Me To Ruin. I say heavily, it's mostly the plushie part but we ball. I hope you enjoy! Cross posted to ao3! Will probably have a second part from Wooyoung's POV and end up becoming a woosan fic, we shall see...

The sound of shoes squeaking, music blaring, and people panting fills the practice room late at night..

San and Wooyoung had decided to do a last minute, late night practice session before their first comeback show for promotions. The choreo isn’t difficult by any means, but they felt like they had to show off more this comeback, hence why they are sweating their asses off at nearly eleven at night. The sound of their title track plays in the background as they move around fluidly, sweat dripping off their bodies and onto their shirts as they work hard to perfect every single move.

They finish up the chorus and Wooyoung moves to the computer to pause the music, “Wanna go again or take a small break, you look frustrated.” He says to San, jutting out his hip and putting all his weight onto that side, taking a swig from his water bottle as if he’s trying to seduce someone. San had been furrowing his eyebrows so hard Wooyoung thought they would fall off, or fly away.

“Yeah a break is fine, sorry.” San mutters and plops over to where his bag is, taking out his water and gulping it down furiously. San wipes the beads of water that dribble down his chin and Wooyoung’s eyes linger a bit too long until he snaps back into reality.

“What’s got your panties in a twist? Is it your part during the bridge? I think you look fine.” Wooyoung says trying to comfort his best friend even though he isn’t sure what’s bugging him. San lets out a huff and wriggles his hips a bit, probably just trying to adjust or get comfortable, Wooyoung assumes.

He takes another chug of his water before answering, “Nothing, I just think I’m tired all of a sudden and it’s getting to me, we can go another round.” Wooyoung quirks an eyebrow suspiciously but just mutters an ‘alright’ before restarting the part they had been working on. Both of them go and stand back in front of the wall mirror and wait for the counts to come so they can get their respective moves down.

San had only been slightly lying to Wooyoung about why he felt so frustrated. Yes, he is tired. They have been practicing non stop for this comeback and this final session is doing him in a bit, but it’s not the main reason.

The main reason is that San is wearing sweatpants.

Soft, comfortable, loose gray sweatpants.

‘What’s so frustrating about sweatpants?’ You may be wondering. Well it’s not just the sweatpants, he isn’t wearing any underwear either, which means he can feel the delicate and soft material rub against his soft cock, slightly springing it to life with each tight pull of his pants when he moves his legs. San hates underwear, they are uncomfortable and restricting, but he also loves sweatpants, so comfortable and freeing.

And sometimes, when he combines wearing sweatpants, with no underwear, he forgets just how pleasurable it makes him feel. This feeling, plus having not been able to jerk off in so long is really getting to him, clearly. They have been so preoccupied with promotions for this comeback that he hasn’t been able to properly touch himself in about a month, which is keeping him incredibly horny and frustrated. Sure he could have had time to rub one out if he hadn’t told Wooyoung he would practice with him, but he couldn’t say no to Wooyoung. Maybe this was a bad idea.

With each move he can feel the material move and strain against his now semi hard cock, when he was sitting on the floor earlier he tried to get a bit of relief by wriggling around a bit, but it just made his situation worse, and also made Wooyoung shoot him a weird look. He just needs to get off so bad, he needs it and it’s now clouding his brain. Clouding his brain so much that Wooyoung has to restart their part over, and over, and over.

“Alright maybe we should head to bed, you clearly aren’t focusing very well and you need sleep.” Wooyoung saunters back over to the computer once again to stop the music and San takes a second to catch his breath before responding.

“I’m sorry Youngie, I’m sure we’ll do great tomorrow anyway.” Wooyoung agrees and pats his back, shooting him a million dollar smile that shows he cares for the other man and his health more than some silly practice session. San sends back a more pained smile, but a smile nonetheless, and they head back to the new dorms.

***

San swears he’s never felt more relieved at having his own room before. As soon as they entered the apartment building San stormed off to his room, a disgruntled Jongho murmuring to Wooyoung, “What’s his deal?” And the other man shrugs in return.

The moment San is in his room he locks the door and looks into his full length mirror. His cock is very visibly hard against his sweats and there’s even a small stain of precum where his tip pushes against the soft material. “Fuck…” He whispers and hopes Wooyoung hadn’t noticed such an embarrassing thing. San immediately gets to work, rubbing his cock through his pants, the delicate material rubbing along the head of his dick making his belly swell with arousal. He sits on the ground and fucks up into his palm, trying to gain as much friction against the material as he can but it’s no longer enough, he wants, no, he needs more.

Hastily he clambers onto his bed and rids himself of his shirt, shoes and socks, his torso still sweaty from his practice session and his chest gleaming, nipples hardened. San takes a pillow from the head of his bed and places it underneath him. He finds an angle that works and lines himself onto it, shallowly thrusting onto the pillow to feel more friction. The front of his sweats are practically soaked, precum leaking all over them. He moans and grunts as he chases the feeling, the material of his sweats pulling forward along his cock with every grind onto the pillow, and the pillow adding a needed to pressure onto his longing cock.

It’s still not enough to get him anywhere, all it does is fill his belly with a small fire, but it doesn’t blaze to anything else. He needs more, he’s so desperate, he needs anything. Through his haze he looks around his bed to see if anything else will satisfy his needs until his eyes land on it, and he immediately has second thoughts.

His sweet, innocent mokoko plushie is right in his line of vision. It’s right there, beckoning him to use it. The small opening between where it’s holding a heart and it’s chest is perfect, a perfect spot to fuck into. Wait. No. He can’t fuck his plushies. He couldn’t dare soil his precious, special edition mokoko plushie….Could he?

He could.

In record time he finally peels off his sweatpants, his angry, throbbing cock springing out and hitting his stomach with a small slap sound. He discards the pillow underneath him onto the floor, it needs to be washed anyway, and with one last regretful look he turns back to his mokoko plushie and grabs it. “I’m so sorry Mokoko, I’ll make it up to you later.” He whispers and switches positions. He flips onto his side and props himself up onto his remaining pillows with his arm, and lines the plushies opening with his leaking cock. He says one final prayer before sliding his cock into the opening and he lets out the most groundbreaking moan he's ever moaned. It feels perfect. Nothing has felt so good before. Well, that’s debatable, but at this moment, after not having jerked off in nearly a month, the feeling could only compare to heaven itself.

He nearly comes right then and there, but he takes a second to compose himself. The soft, velvety material of the plushie brushes along the shaft of his cock so well, and while humble, he knows he’s well endowed and is reminded when the tip of his cock pushes into where mokoko’s mouth is. It’s kind of fucked up, but that’s just how the cards fall he guesses.

After gathering his bearings, he slowly starts to fuck into the plush, his lips falling into an ‘O’ shape at the feeling. He cants his hips up, making sure to appreciate every single detail of the way his cock feels fucking into the tight space, moans slipping from his mouth everytime the head of his cock pushes into the plush. San’s cock twitches with pleasure as he picks up his pace and while closer than ever it’s still not enough. The material is great but now it’s starting to rub. He needs lube.

Briefly, he gets up to reach into his nightstand for his lube and generously squirts some into his hand, warming it up and slicking up his cock soon after. He feels so bad, he’s about to ruin one of his favorite plushies, but his horniness is overtaking his sense of logic. He can just wash it after…right?

Removing the thoughts from his head, he switches positions, now laying the plushie underneath his hips so he can fuck into the plushie from the top. He aligns his cock once again, and slides into the opening once more. He nearly moans unbelievably loud but stops himself when he hears someone walk past his room. Once he thinks they’ve left he continues, fucking into the plushie again and, fuck, does it feel better than ever. He lets out small grunts and groans as he fucks into the opening harshly, feeling his orgasm finally building, and boy is it building fast. San has been practically edging himself this entire time, so it’s no surprise that once he finally figured out what he needed, he comes quickly. Three more thrust and he bites down on his lip to suppress his moans as he cums all over the plush, disgustingly coating its face and god there’s so much cum. It’s literally seeping into the material once he’s finished, and the ropes went so far some even landed on his sheets above where the plushie was, he guesses he really, really needed this.

After coming down from his high, he quickly realizes what he had just done. He ruined his favorite, one of a kind plushie. Jesus what has he done, how will he clean it, can he clean it? Should he throw it away? As he’s trying to come up with a solution to save his poor, poor mokoko he hears a knock at the door.

“Hey Sannie, can I come in?”

Fuck, It’s Wooyoung.

#choi san smut #san smut #k labels #choi san x reader #san x reader #ateez smut #ateez x reader #woosan smut #wooyoung x san #san x wooyoung

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strawbeerossi · 8 months

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One Margarita

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Luke Alvez

Description: When a popular tiktok song makes its rounds around the BAU, the poor men of the BAU have to listen to the women belt it out constantly.

Content/Warnings: Pure fluff honestly, the whole team is silly, the girls have fun, suggestive dialogue, dramatics of Spencer Reid

Word Count: 0.8K

Navigation || Masterlist || Request

Another post I’ve had locked away for a while! Sorry for not posting this last night as promised, I had entirely too much to drink last night lmao.

Tagging my two besties @daddy-dotcom and @rainaaaskyy

There were some songs that were just meant to be catchy, no matter how annoying they could be. The rise of catchy songs came with the likes of TikTok, especially when it is filled with people who get famous for dancing to the most random songs or it inspired artists get their work into the world.

Some songs were made for humor related purposes, which birthed some of the most catchy pieces of music that would have anyone driving the surrounding people insane. Case in point, Penelope came into work excited to show the girls of the office one song she found on the app.

At first, they made fun of it and they all had their laughs, then the five of them put together a dance for themselves. That made the rest of the BAU endure the group acting like a group of teenagers who just had their favorite band release a new song that they needed to listen to until they got sick of it.

Spencer felt like he was going insane, Matt couldn’t help but laugh every time they broke out into their own song, Dave just thought they were insane but he found himself humming along with the girls, then there was Luke who thought it was the most amusing thing he’d ever seen. It was like Y/N would sing it everywhere and even if the song was one of the dumbest ones he heard, he’d admit that it was catchy.

That was why he’d belt it around their shared apartment, which would always result in the two getting into a laughing fit that left both of their stomachs hurting. He would even do his own improvised dances for each line of the song, which again, could have Y/N crying laughing.

It was a slower paced day at the office, everyone getting caught up on the paperwork that they hadn’t gotten around to yet because they were caught in an endless loop of jumping from case to case. They had to work fast because evil never seemed to give them a fucking break.

So, it became bustling with everyone gathering up reports and getting ready to give them to Emily to have them finished and filed away. To nobody’s surprise, it wasn’t long until Tara was humming the familiar melody.

“No. Please. I’m begging you..” Spencer groaned as he brought his hands up to cover his ears. “This is worse than prison. You know that? A million times worse.” They always appreciated the dramatics of Spencer Reid. “I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know, just stop torturing me.” He breathed out.

Luke was already laughing at the man’s actions. “You know they sing it because you have that reaction, right?” He asked, making Matt stop to lean against Luke’s desk. “He’s got a point, Reid. If you laugh about it, they will do it less.”

Y/N was coming in from the kitchenette while shaking her head. “No such luck, boys.” She laughed as she was skipping to her desk. “I think you should embrace it, boy genius.” She had commented, ruffling his hair on her way to her desk with a smile.

“I think you boys are just overly dramatic.” JJ piped in with her own opinion while heading over to her desk in order to finish the finishing touches on one of her reports. “No, we are not. That song drives me bonkers.” Spencer responded, his nose wrinkling as he was looking at the two men in front of him. “You’re telling me you like it?”

“It’s not so bad.” Luke responded while Y/N gestured to her boyfriend. “He sings it too! Don’t you, Alvez?” She smirked while lifting her coffee mug to her lips. “I do, yeah. It’s catchy!” Luke began to laugh as he put his hands up in self defense with a grin on his face. “We went out to dinner last night and I got a strawberry margarita and he started singing it!” Y/N emphasized while laughing at the memory of the previous night.

“Make fun of me all you want but you weren’t opening your legs after that drink at all.” Luke bit back while chuckling as his girlfriend’s cheeks were red.

“Give her one margarita and she’s going to bed.” He sang while the rest of the office was reduced to their own fits of laughter. “Face it, Cariña. Nobody is getting head or anything of the sort after you’ve had a sip of a margarita. You’re out of commission.”

Y/N was waving her boyfriend off while laughing. “You’re never getting head from me again, Alvez.” She teased while looking back at her paperwork. “You’ve ruined it for yourself!” She laughed at the male, who was putting his hand over his chest in a dramatic fashion. “That is the worst punishment ever! I’ll buy you a margarita after this as an apology.” He mused.

“Then I'll be happy while I'm going to bed.”

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silentcryracha · 9 months

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Hey 🌷 so I was absolutely smitten over the Hyunjin Baby fever series and would like to request some headcanons for all skz as new dads 😩

Hi love <3 Thank you so much for reading! Apparently a lot of people got a soft spot for that 'series', and it makes me so happy lol

Of course, dad! skz coming right up!

warnings: afab reader, term wife is used, mention of pregnancy, mention of pain and giving birth (no graphic/descriptions), the gender of the babies is never specified

word count: 3.5k

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Chan - From the exact moment he knew you were pregnant you became his number one priority. I mean, you already were, but things could always go south in a marriage/relationship. But he would never, ever, let things go 'south' with his kid. Absolutely not.

He was attentive and very helpful thought the whole thing, including the actual birth, to which I'm sure he would've been in the room for. He'd 100% cry as soon as he holds his baby. He probably wouldn't even try to hold in the sobs as he leans down gently to kiss your forehead, showering you with praises and love.

'You did so well, my love, you're so strong' 'I love you so much, you know it right? You were so brave, my baby' . Would also thank you for giving him such a precious gift any chance he gets.

I feel like he'd take a hiatus for a while. Of course he would've done it anyway to be at home with you and help you, but he also wanted to be present as much as possible.

I feel like while he basically needs someone to drag him away from his work generally, in this case the decision would be the easiest of his life. He could almost be scared to get sucked in his overworking and not pay enough attention to you and his child, so he'd just take both a physical and mental hiatus.

But, I do think that he would feel very inspired especially lyrically, and maybe keep tabs and notes of inspiration that he would use later on. He'd be so inspired by this new kind of love that he's feeling.

Would absolutely be the perfect dad and husband. Taking turns both day and night to change diapers, feeding, bathing, dressing, playing with the baby and so on. I can't help but imagine him constantly having to cuddle his baby :(

He would pick them up, lulling them into his arms to make them stop crying or to sleep. He'd love to just hold them and walk them around showing them new things, like looking out of the window, or some mundane action like preparing their own milk/food. That's his new best friend for sure.

He would also love, safely, to let the child either rest or play on your shared bed, with their mom and dad at each of their side to watch over them :(

He'd sing to them, play the guitar and piano for them, and generally would try so bad to get the baby to enjoy/recognize his own music and voice.

The members would become instantly the privileged uncles. And I'm pretty sure that at least two of them would be named the kid's godparents. My bets would be on Minho and Changbin. Maybe Felix.

Minho - Minho starts behaving like a father way before the baby is born. Because now, his job would be to baby you. He'd make sure that you rest as much as possible, but also try to make activities that would help you physically. Absolutely he's the one that signs you up for prenatal classes, and would make sure to not miss a single one.

He's the kind of man that would rebuild his whole life and routine just to serve you. He'd become your personal driver, shopper, cook, exercise buddy, cuddler and motivational speaker. You need something? Just say it and he'll make it happen.

Now, of course he'd be in the delivery room. Of course. Because I also would imagine that you'd feel lost without him at your side after all those months he spent with you and taking care of you. He would be freaking out inside but he'd keep it cool for you, trying to help you breathe properly, checking in with the medics to make sure that everything was going smoothly, and encouraging you a lot.

'Okay kitten, you heard the doc, right? It's 7 centimeters of dilatation, so you just gotta hang in there for a bit more.' 'I know it hurts my darling, I'm so sorry, if I could take all your pain I would'

When the time comes he'd hold your hand, or better, he'd let you squeeze it, without saying 'ah'. He'd also peek once in a while to check the situation, out of concern and curiosity, which made you scold him for embarrassing you. But he'd say that it's nothing he hasn't seen before or something like that lol

Lee Minho never cries. But not even he could resist getting chocked up when he first heard his baby's cries. He watched quietly as the nurses brought it to your chest, caressing your hair gently and kissing your head and temple while he quietly praised you. 'You did so well, kitten' 'You're the strongest person I know, I love you so much'

The silent tears that he kept hidden at the beginning, couldn't be saved anymore the first time that he actually held his baby in his arms. You knew better than tease him in such a vulnerable situation, and you didn't even want to. You just watched quietly with a tired smile as he had his own little moment with his newborn baby.

He'd also be the perfect husband/dad. Everything was split 50/50 and even 70/30 for all he cared. He was always down to do whatever needed to be done, both around the house or with the baby itself.

Minho is not someone who usually expresses his feelings openly, which is why I feel like small moments of bonding with just him and his baby would be fundamental for him. He'd sing to them, play with them, take some walks with that chest carrier for babies. Yes, he'd love to bring them with him on his fishing, camping adventures. He'd bring them to the beach, around the city and so on.

Of course he'd love to spend time together as a family, especially knowing that you wouldn't have judged him for handling things as he saw fit. You'd organize movie nights, picnics, aquarium dates and so on, as a little family.

Changbin - The sweetest husband and daddy. So emotional too. We all know Binnie is such a sweet man and isn't afraid of showing this softer side, but he doesn't go as far as crying. Seeing Changbin cry isn't an easy occurrence, but you bet this man WILL be bawling his eyes out in the most important moments of his life.

From the time in which you confessed that you were expecting, to the first ultrasound scan, to the first time he noticed your belly showing, the first time he felt the baby kick. It was like putting down small green flags at each step.

His number one priority was your and his baby's health. He'd make sure that you're as comfortable and peaceful as possible during the pregnancy, and wouldn't hold back on expenses either. You'd have the best food, best maternity clothes, best doctors, baby supplies and essentials and so on.

He'd talk to your belly all the time. Sing to it, rap to it. You'd swear that the baby's first word out of the womb would be the whole Thunderous intro mentioning his name. Binnie would be obsessed with the idea of teaching them to rap, for real.

He's the type that would act all brave big and strong but would lowkey faint in the delivery room just from the though of pain. Yours, of course. Of course he'd be there to hold your hand, giving you kisses on the head and caressing your hair, offering words of comfort and encouragement but God forbid if he even as much gazed south to your belly.

Absolutely bawled shamelessly when he heard the first cry, and was so so gentle while holding them for the first time :( He was lowkey afraid of hurting them because his baby is SO tiny :( He'd keep repeating it like a mantra, ' They're so small, how can they be this small?' :')

Changbin wouldn't let you lift a finger, for anything that didn't specifically require your attention, like breastfeeding for example. That would be his way to bond with the baby too. Quality time with daddy Binnie since the start aw :(

He'd love to show his baby off. Like literally. 'They got their looks from us, that's why they're stunning' 'This Dolce & Gabbana jacket would look so cool with the Celine cap and the Gucci shoes wouldn't it?' 'Did you see how they looked at me? They already understand so much, my little genious' . Would absolutely be his mini me, doesn't matter if it's male or female.

Hyunjin - As soon as he heard the news, he was over the moon. Truly. And even more because I imagine that you and him were actually trying for one. He seems like the person who likes to do things in steps, or 'traditionally' if you will. So of course there was the dating, then marriage and then babies.

I also don't feel like he'd settle down too early or when he's still got an active and busy schedule like the one of a young idol. I imagine him still working but being comfortable enough to take some time off to focus on his family.

I feel like he'd take care of you well during the pregnancy, but aside from that his priority would be creating as much memories as possible, hopefully to show your children one day. He's the type of husband who would organize maternity photoshoots, both for you as a solo and with his 'little family', or paint on your belly, take SO many candid pictures.

He'd love to make you as relaxed as possible. He'd run you baths with bubbles and oils and candles, cook whatever you wanted for you, massage you when you were sore, spread creams and oils on your belly to keep the skin hydrated and soft. He'd pamper you, okay? You were about to give him the best gift of his life, you were about to make him a father. He worshipped you.

In the delivery room he'd definitely have to distract himself to not get too anxious, to be strong for you. Otherwise if he actually let any of the ugly and painful reality of it sink in his mind he would've not managed to be calm, and therefore he would've made you anxious too. He did feel like throwing up a few times from the anxiety of hearing you in pain, the doctors talking, and overall the ugly situation.

So instead he just focused on you, holding your hands, kissing them, kissing everywhere he could reach and would be comfortable to you. He'd also repeat til nausea how much he loved you, how strong you are, how amazing and magical you are, how you're going to be the best mother, and how lucky he was to be by your side.

He'd absolutely get ten times more relieved as soon as he hears the cries, because the worst part is over. But would actually get emotional only when you manage to have an intimate moment within you three. He'd fall in love instantly, feeling such a strong sense of responsibility and affection that he hasn't felt before. He would also bond with the baby by spending quality time with them, walking them around, taking care of them, playing instruments and singing for them. He'd absolutely encourage them to draw and paint, and would save every single Picasso style artwork (lol).

Jisung - Han is an anxious person who loves a lot. Which of course will influence his mood and behavior in such a situation. Regardless of the type of relationship that you have, married or not, for how long etc... when you tell him you're pregnant he'd almost have a heart attack. There's no other way to say it to be honest. He could be (and probably would) the happiest man on earth but could as quickly let his brain overthink, killing a little of his enthusiasm.

Mainly because he'd start questioning himself. 'Will I be a good father?' 'Am I mature enough?' 'Will I be able to care for them as best as I can?' and stuff like that. You'd eventually calm him down, so he'd just focus on starting to 'practice' by taking care of you. Whatever you need, you have it.

For the love of God don't let one of those hormonal crisis go around him or he'll just panic. You keep telling him that you can't quite control it and that he didn't do anything wrong but for some reason he'd just blame himself regardless and feel guilty. But he would truly be the best at taking care of you, and you'd make sure to remind him and thank him for it every chance you get, because he need to hear it.

In the delivery room, he's the kind of man who gaslighted himself on being mentally prepared but at your first hiss of pain he feels his legs go jelly. You'd probably have to calm him down and tell him to focus on you because one of y'all needs to make it out alive anyway lol. So he tried really hard, to the cost of going on autopilot and dissociate for the whole thing, but he pulls through.

Would absolutely need to sit down when he finally has the confirmation that both you and the baby are fine, otherwise he'd fall to his knees. Then he'd calm down, telling himself that he needs to be calm and strong for his baby. 'If I'm nervous he'll feel it and cry' 'Is this shirt too rough?' 'What if I hold them wrong?'

And once again you'd have to guide him through it and reassure him. 'See? They love you already. You don't have to worry, baby. Everything will come naturally' , you'd say as Jisung hold his child in his arms gently and sheds a few tears.

After the first few experiences he'd get the hang of it so he'd be way more calm and confident. The only things that would make him panic are the 'unexpected' things. Are they hungry? In pain? Is it the air in the belly? and all that. I feel like he'd never get rid of it truly.

But he would spend as much time as he can with the baby, taking small steps. For example, he'd start by hanging out with them while they're in the cradle, then on the (protected) bed, then on a soft rug and so on. He'd love to sing and play for them, and try to get them to watch his childhood cartoons and anime so that he could grow up with his same core memories.

Felix - A ball of sunshine that was gonna have another small ball of sunshine in 9 months. Of course he was beaming at the news, getting emotional and everything. He'd be the type to organize a whole list of creative ways to tell your loved ones the news and then shamelessly film their reactions.

He'd be your source of comfort and support thought the whole duration of the pregnancy and beyond that. Felix would take such good care of you, only letting you do whatever you felt like doing, not pressuring you on maintaining routines or stress you out at all.

His social media would immediately turn into a baby fever/daddy/family type of content, and he'd probably would try out some funny or sweet things. But he'd also get a lot of useful content, about pregnancy advice, facts and scientific informations and even some practical and medical videos.

By the time it's actually the time for you to give birth he'd be really excited but also quite stressed out, mainly by seeing you in pain and worrying about the baby's health even though (probably and hopefully) the doctors assured you both multiple times that they're fine. He'd hold your hand and support you through it but I feel like he wouldn't be able to look further, may even sob a little but desperately try to hide it.

Would definitely cry in your shoulder and hug you when it's over. But then he'd have the biggest sweetest smile on his face as he holds his baby for the first time. Would spend a lot of time with them and try out all the advice he gathered in the preparation months. To him it would be super important to make sure that he creates a strong bond with them.

Definitely the type of dad to take a shit ton of pictures and post them everywhere, not to show off but genuinely to share the immense joy that his little one brought him :(. Would probably make so many posts both with you alone, thanking you for this gift that you gave him and to tell you how much he loved you, and with you, him and the baby as a happy family.

Seungmin - Would be overwhelmed. He gives off a similar vibe to Jisung I think, in the sense that he'd feel a lot of pressure on his shoulders to be the best father for his child. He'd be extremely happy (and emotional, you can't tell me that he wouldn't fold and cry at the news) but also super nervous :(

Seungmin is another one of those who'd take it as a job to basically learn everything that he can before the time comes. How to take care of a baby, of you during the pregnancy, how to be a good father in general.

Like, one day you could be just chilling and he'd go 'You know that garlic can help cure fevers?' and you'd just look at him confused, 'Okay? Why are you telling me this now?' 'I mean I imagine sooner or later the baby will catch a cold'. The baby in question literally still being in your belly lol

He'd also be really attentive and do everything around the house, no questions asked. Not that he wouldn't do them normally, but of course he wouldn't want you getting fatigued. He's not the best on the emotional side of things but he'd try really hard to support you (and himself) through it.

In the delivery room I feel like the adrenaline and extreme pressure would make him act way cooler on the outside than he would be feeling. He'd be really grounded and so good at also keeping you sane and spur you on, encouraging you. As soon as he'd hear the first cry he would be almost in shock, struggling to believe that his child was just born, but probably allow a couple of tears only in private afterwards. He'd be the type to be super formal and thank the doctors for their work lol

As a new dad Seungmin would have to learn how to let himself be vulnerable sometimes. Not because he'd a cold person, the opposite. But because he seems like the person who'd want to be strong and balanced in the eyes of other people AND for his loved ones, so you'd have to help him with it. But in general he'd be the perfect husband, super helpful and willing to do what needs to be done. He'd like to play and hold the baby a lot, probably sing him lullabies too.

Jeongin - He'd a hundred percent a green flag, change my mind. That babysitting video just showed to me how good he'd actually be and how happy he could be. Jeongin would be overjoyed at the news, mostly because he's also another one of those who looks like the type that if he had a kid, it's only because he'd be actively looking for it. Otherwise he doesn't seem the risky/irresponsible type at all.

He has experience with a younger sibling so he wouldn't be totally oblivious to how to take care of a baby, which would make him way more confident and let him enjoy his happiness more. I feel like the happiness and excitement would overshadow any self doubt. Would announce the news quite privately and probably be careful for the first months, as people usually do.

Jeongin would do so so well I feel, both during and after the pregnancy. He'd take care of you, do chores, help to take care of your body, lighten your mood if you needed it and so on. In the delivery room his job would be to reassure you and calm you down. He'd probably be sick with the adrenaline of the moment but wouldn't let it affect him on the outside.

I don't see him as the type who cries easily, but I think that he would tear up as he hold his child for the first time. He'd be all smiles and giggles constantly, holding the baby and rocking them in his arms while he sings softly to them. He's another one who'd be big on play time, but would also just genuinely enjoy taking care of them. Like giving them baths, feeding them, dressing them up, would bring him such joy.

He'd be the silly type of dad that would buy funny toys and onesies for their child but also like to play with them like little dolls to dress up. That baby would have so many unique and high fashion items and accessories, I just know.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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cherrybyunss · 6 months

Text

Ship: Park Jisung (NCT) x female reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Mentions of Alcohol Consumption, Smoking, Dirty Talking, Oral (M receiving), Fingering, Protected Sex, Nipple Play.

A/N: This is the first scene of the new fiction I'm working on called "Make Me Feel Lightweight", which was inspired by the song "Streets" by Doja Cat. And by inspired, I mean I was listening to the song an started writing. The entire story is a little angsty but this excerpt is just pure smut, so till I'm done, please go ahead and enjoy whatever smut excerpts I post on here lol.

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), not proofread, protection is important, this is purely fictional and has nothing to do with the real idol.

cheryybyunss Masterlist

________________

“Hey.”

Courtesy of the flashing lights and loud music of the club, combined with the alcohol in your system, you’d barely heard yourself, but you were sure you had the attention of the man you’d whispered to, with the lingering touch, and the dangerous eye contact – his body language matching your own flirtatious one.

“Hi.”

Jisung was a junior in college. He was a part of the brother fraternity of the sorority you used to be in. Part of the same social circle, you’d talked to him enough over the past couple years, quantitatively and qualitatively, to occasionally be considered close.

You showed him the cigarette in your hand. You wished to smoke with him alone, and he seemed to love the idea, for he took your hand and led the two of you to a secluded corner where the bass from the sound system didn’t feel like your own heartbeat.

“Say,” You spoke as Jisung took the last puff. “Are you single?” Just to be sure.

“Yes.” Jisung breathed, exhaling the smoke. Damn was he hot.

But you knew that. “Do you do hook-ups?”

“Yes.” His eyes got darker, in spite of the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.

“And...” You stepped in front of him as you spoke. “Do you...” You moved in closer and spoke against his ear. “Hook up with people you might have to see again...” You made your way down his ear, your lips ever so slightly tracing the skin. “And again...” You breathed against his neck, as if waiting for his permission. “And again.”

You felt him snap as he turned you around and slammed you against the wall, and his lips against yours. You felt your soul leave your body from how fucking good that felt in your tummy. Jisung was hot.

His hand grabbed your waist under your top, and you gasped, clutching his back and shoulders for support. The longer you kissed, the more desperate you grew, and Jisung was the same.

He pushed your chin up with his thumb as he frantically moved down to kiss your neck with the same heat, and you moaned, your eyes rolling to the back.

Ah yes. Just what you’d wanted.

He found a weak spot, and sucked, and you positively lost your mind.

He pulled away, catching his breath, mercifully letting you do the same, and looked at you with eyes that made chills run down your spine.

“You sure like dangerous games.” He spoke, not looking away even for a second.

And you smiled playfully in the drunken haze, as you took his hand, slowly bringing his fingers up to your mouth, and his eyes turned dark with anticipation.

You licked a stripe up his fingers, looking him straight in the eyes, before closing in on two, and taking your sweet time pulling them out as you sucked in.

You were making your own case worse if you were being honest, for his hands were the fucking epitome of sex appeal, and the reason you’d first gotten off to the thought of the younger boy fucking you.

But you could see him gradually lose his mind as his breathing got heavier, and reveled in the effect you were having, pressing your legs together for your own sake.

Jisung was hot.

You leaned in, whispering into his ear again. “You wish you were privy to the games I like, sweetheart.”

And he grabbed your hand and made his way across the club.

You were sure some of your friends had seen you. And maybe you weren’t supposed to fuck Jisung. But it was way past you to care. You had nothing to lose anymore.

The restroom would’ve been a nuisance, so you ever so discreetly snuck the two of you into the staff-only restroom, which turned out to be way cleaner and more spacious than you’d imagined.

But that thought could only last so long when Jisung pushed you up against the counter in front of the mirror, using his own arm as a shield from the impact as the other circled your waist so your back was pressed up against his chest.

He nuzzled into your neck as the two of you stood face to face with your reflection, before licking a strip up to a sensitive spot, and sucked again, tightening his grip on your waist.

You gasped as your eyes rolled shut, and your head fell back onto his shoulder, giving him access for more. But you needed to see. See how bothered you looked at his mercy.

“Allow me,” He looked your reflection straight in the eyes as whispered against your ear, and you felt yourself lose your mind as you felt impossibly turned on by him.

His hand moved down, making you burn in anticipation, before he pulled your skirt up and ran a couple fingers between your legs.

You shuddered, your legs almost giving in.

He pushed the cloth adorning your core to the side, and exhaled as his fingers massaged the slit, making your breath come out in broken moans.

“So fucking wet...” Jisung spoke before biting onto your ear.

“Aah–”

He teased the clit and entrance a little, simultaneously leaving hickeys on your neck and shoulders.

But you groaned in desperation, and he bit down onto your skin as he pushed a finger inside and curled it onto the sweetest spot, and you saw stars.

Not allowing you fall forward, he propped your chin up with his thumb. “Look at you, so pretty.”

He hummed in satisfaction, a dark smile appearing on his face when you clenched around his fingers. His compliment had a condescending tone but you loved every bit of it.

He found the perfect rhythm as you screamed in ecstasy, your back arching away from him and legs closing in, but you were no match for his strength, for he continued to assault that one spot till you were clenching around his fingers and begging him not to stop.

“Jisung–” You were cut off by your own moaning. “Oh my god, that feels amazing!” You managed to exclaim.

Jisung smiled, and you caught the sight of him just in time as he licked a strip up against your ear and breathed, “Cum for me.”

You felt your soul leave your body as you came all onto his fingers, and he knew exactly how to let you ride that wave out. It was the best fucking orgasm you’d had in a long time.

And looking at the mess you called yourself in the mirror through and after it – with your flushed out cheeks and teary eyes, made you feel butterflies in your stomach – a feeling you knew you wouldn’t be acknowledging ever again.

Jisung only waited till you’d caught your breath before turning you around and kissing you like a man starved. And not yet having recovered completely at all, it made you lose your balance.

One of your hands latched onto his shoulder, as you supported yourself up against the slab with the other.

His tight grip on your waist, combined with the heat he kissed you with was starting to make you dizzy, when you felt his hard on against your abdomen, and of all feelings, it made you blush.

Never breaking away from him – for it felt like you never could, one of your hands travelled forth on its own, and you heard Jisung gasp when you bit his lip at the same time as you gave his length a stroke.

Jisung pulled away and looked at you with shadowed eyes, and breath heavy. And you felt your walls clench around nothing.

“Do you have a condom?” You spoke.

And Jisung wasted no time before pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, and taking out the condom before discarding the wallet onto the counter.

He watched you as you unbuckled his belt and lowered yourself onto the floor.

Jisung was big.

The initial shock wore off as he caressed your hair, setting your skin on fire, before holding all the hair back so you had none in your way.

You’d had guys acting like this all the time, but Jisung was driving you haywire for some reason.

He was hard already, standing bigger than anything you thought your already sensitive core could take at the time but you couldn’t help but give him a couple of strokes, meeting his eyes every now and then, before taking the length into your mouth, and sucking.

Jisung took sharp breath, his grip on your hair tightening.

You continued to work your mouth in ways you knew would drive him crazy, and his groans and sighs felt like music to your ears.

Saving yourself from getting carried away, you pulled away and stood up. And thankfully, Jisung needed no instructions, for he grabbed your waist and slip you onto the counter top before pulling your panties off and discarding them.

He rolled the condom on, lined his cock up against your entrance, and with a singular nod from you, he rammed into you, making you grab onto him and scream.

Oh my god! It was absolutely outrageous how amazing Jisung felt.

“Aaah–” Your screams came out in broken moans with every thrust as you felt yourself get consumed by pleasure in lieu of sanity.

“You like that?”

“Fuck yes! Jisung– Aah! Please don’t s-stop!”

“Of course, baby.” He spoke in a harsh voice, and bit your ear, increasing the force he was using, and you positively lost any semblance of grace you’d ever felt.

One of Jisung’s hands went behind you, and he undid the clasp your bra, before pulling your top down, and exposing your breasts to him.

He grabbed one of them, still fucking into you like an animal, and sucked onto your nipple. And your back arched as your primitive self practically took over with how loud you allowed yourself to scream as you came.

Jisung fucked you through your orgasm, the way you clenched around him triggering his own, hands desperately gripping onto the other as waves of pleasure washed over the two of you.

Both of you stayed in the same position till you caught your breath, and then looked at each other, before a smile made its way onto both of your faces.

Jisung carefully pulled away, discarding the condom, and getting to cleaning up after the two of you.

“Fuck.” You said, and grinned as you sat atop the slab.

“What?” Jisung smiled softly himself.

“I needed you to be good at this so bad.” You said, covering your face sheepishly.

And Jisung chuckled. “I’m assuming I was.”

“An understatement, if I may.”

Jisung walked over in front of you, cupped your face with one of his hands, and kissed you.

Your eyes fell shut, and a familiar feeling returned.

Jisung kissed your jaw, and then neck one more time before pulling away.

“Should I be looking forward to getting used to this?” He smiled.

And you felt the sinking feeling deepen till it clutched your brain.

You shook your head, plopping yourself up on the floor with your hands.

“It was a one-time thing, Ji.”

Jisung looked like a mix of puzzled and disappointed. Rightfully so.

“I have someone I love.”

________________

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robinhobiii · 4 days

Text

The Truth Untold

CEO! Jeonghan

Y/n’s son goes missing and there’s only 13 suspects that last seen her son. One of them happens to be her husband, Jeonghan.

Bad clue inspired

It has been approximately three months since Jeongmin was last seen. Y/n was restless. Her beautiful baby boy was missing and she was a wreck. What made it worse was that fact that her husband, CEO Yoon Jeonghan, was not really bothered by the fact that he was missing.

Where was the caring father that he showed Jeongmin? Where the loving man that put his family first?

She was anxious and nervous by this. It’s as if her status as a detective meant nothing in this moment. The court and other officials forbade her from digging into the case. This was a family related case and she wasn’t allowed to have any bias towards anyone.

That caused her to get even more mad. No matter what, she’ll find her precious baby boy.

. . .

She decided to visit an old friend. A friend that go way beyond her and Jeonghan’s history together.

“Hmm~ What’s this? Miss goodie two shoes at my office~?”

She looked almost defeated as she had to ask him for help.

“Seokjin, please help me”

Kim Seokjin. A man that has so many underground connections, that even he forgets who he knows. They coincidentally met one night when his wife was kidnapped and he had to turn to a real detective instead of intel from the mafia organizations. Her time and devotion to find his wife was admirable to him that he kept her around for certain small tasks. However, Y/n distances herself from him as the rise of scandals among officials were coming out at a rapid speed. She didn’t want to harm her or his reputation so she kept a safe distance from him. His, obnoxious behavior, seems to have never changed like all those years ago.

“My, my~ you seem so desperate. What’s the special occasion~?”

She looked to the side and sighed. She didn’t want to regret this but he was making a bit difficult to not.

“My son is missing and the court is not really taking it seriously.”

His eyebrow quirked up as he smirked slightly.

“So I’ve heard. Well then, what’s my repayment?”

“Jin, you still owe me for helping you find your wife all those years ago”

He heartily laughed as his smirked broadens.

“You’re right I suppose. However, your husband is a very powerful man. If we get caught, it’ll only plummet you and your career as detective. I’m protected by Mafia Law. Only you know how your husband acts so proceed with caution. You’re aware of all this right?”

She nodded. “I know. I’m ready to take any precautions moving forward. Just please help me find him”

“Very well then Miss Y/n, it’s a pleasure to work with you again.”

He shook her hand to seal the deal.

. . .

It’s been officially four months since her son has been missing. Her and Jin were able to list out 13 possible candidates that could’ve known what happened to her son.

One and two. Choi Seungcheol and Lee Jihoon.

Business partners and close childhood friends. Stick together like glue and never make a decision without consulting each other. They own the music academy that Jeongmin used to attend.

Three and four. Lee Seokmin and Boo Seungkwan.

Both music teachers at Jeongmin’s music academy. Jeongmin often spent extra time after classes to stay with either one of them for extra practice.

Five. Seo Myungho.

His personal bodyguard slash butler that has been assigned by Jeonghan to protect Jeongmin. He’s almost everywhere with Jeongmin and does almost everything with him.

Six and seven. Lee Chan and Kwon Soonyoung.

Both run a dance studio that the music teachers frequent. They’ve been seen with Jeongmin plenty of times.

Eight and nine. Joshua Hong and Hansol Chwe.

They both are assistants to Yoon Jeonghan and Lee Jihoon respectively. They seems to be very close despite working at two separate companies.

Ten. Jeon Wonwoo.

Personal tutor and mentor of Jeongmin. Spend a lot of time with Jeongmin after school and often takes him out for ice cream as a reward.

Eleven and twelve. Kim Mingyu and Moon Junhwi.

Personal chefs at the Yoon residents. Often seen with Jeongmin making dinner or desserts. They always take him out to fields and farms to let him pick fresh vegetables and fruits of his liking.

Thirteen. Yoon Jeonghan.

Jeongmin’s father and Y/n’s Husband. A wealthy and power man that over looks almost all of Korea’s wealth. His influence is unmatched and he knows it. He was the last official person to ever see Jeongmin before he went missing.

. . .

She dissected through their entire schedule. Making notes and comments about their daily lives. She needs to see a solid pattern before making any assumptions about any of them. Her increasing anxiety was keeping her on edge.

Jeonghan seemed to have noticed this slight change in her. He watched her look out into the calm and cool night from the balcony. He hugged her from behind and rested his chin in her neck.

“You okay baby?”

She only hummed a response and continue looked at the night scene.

“You know everyone’s trying their best to find Jeongmin. Don’t you worry your pretty little head. He’ll be back before you know it.” He says as he gently kissed down her neck.

“Are they really? It’s been four months Jeonghan. I want my son now.”

“Shh, honey. He’ll be back before we even know it. We’ll see the truth behind his disappearance and everything will be fine”

Oh, how true this statement is. However, the outcome is not what is to be expected.

. . .

Her eyes raked through the various pages of information about these men. Their every move and decision was document. What was the cause of this?

How are these men connected?

Do they really know what happens to Jeongmin?

These questions and thoughts are flooding her brain. She constantly is reminded that her beautiful son is not with her and it kills her everyday.

Her husband doesn’t seem to be bothered by their son’s disappearance. It irks her so much as he doesn’t care about their only son’s disappearance.

To be continue. . .

. . .

Hi! This is my first time doing any type of series! I really like the bad clue series from going seventeen and I wanted to make something inspired by it. This had been in my draft for months now and I just wanted to get something out already, lol. I honestly don’t know how long this will take, or how many parts there might be. So, I hope you enjoy as I write this.

Thank you ♡

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spdrvyn · 3 months

Text

7 days until valentines

as compensation for my lack of posts, here's a short blurb of miguel with an autistic reader! i'm projecting really hard though

Miguel didn't know where the transition from his to 'our' workspace had begun. It was the little things, you'd leave a small cup with pens in it at his desk without bothering to pick it up after you leave his office. Eventually, that cup became a real pencil holder now you had journals, notebooks, and basically everything that wasn't work related neatly cornered into one part of his desk home with the scattered papers and unfinished gadgets Miguel has.

You also make home at his desk, efficiency was one of your strengths, but your productivity reached maximum capacity whenever you were with him. No words were spoken while the two of you worked, Miguel greatly appreciated it.

Not that he'd mind a little bit of small talk, but he enjoyed silence without feeling like the loneliness was clawing at his insides.

Though normally you (almost inhumanely) finished your work way earlier than he did, but you didn't leave. No, you didn't.

This habit of maintaining his presence while you're off doing something kept even when you were pursuing your own personal interests, Miguel would catch you on your laptop chatting to your friends whenever he had to check something on one of his monitors.

Other times, you'd have headphones on. Listening to music or catching up on one of your shows, your reactions are as muddled as they can be to not disturb. But one moment, he'll look away with you completely deadpan then look back to see your jaw widely agape and pupils blown wide from devastation.

Tonight was no different, if anything more convenient for you because a new episode of this unnamed media just dropped. Admittedly, your expressions and small noises entertained him as he worked. You did try to be discreet, but that super hearing of his could pick up on your small gasps and 'aww's on opposite sides of a workspace.

His concentration is broken when you practically slam your laptop shut, packing your earbuds into their case with an audible snap. You hop off of your place and solemnly walk over to where Miguel is standing, he quirks a brow at you.

Uncharacteristically, you slump your head against his shoulder with the biggest frown he's ever seen you in. "They're not getting back together, Miguel."

"Oh?" maybe feeding into your theatrics wasn't a smart decisions, but analytics dulled in comparison to whatever was going on inside your head. "Who?" he continued to interrogate.

"My only reason for light and happiness, my true inspiration for spreading love and joy across every corner of the multiverse." Miguel rolls his eyes. "Do not give me sass right now, I am so upset."

He genuinely can't tell if you're joking or not, perhaps a mix of both. "I don't get how I'm supposed to sympathize with this ex-couple when I don't even know the title of their story?"

"It's a cartoon. You'll laugh."

"Cartoon or animated?"

You quirk your eyebrow this time. "Huh?"

"I'm asking you, cartoon or animated? There's a difference, animated features aren't always classified as cartoons. Cartoon is more of a term for animated medias directed towards children. Aren't you the one more adept at this topic?"

He looks at you with an almost-smirk. It's teasing at his lips, full and plump. There are many sensations that you hold resentment for, but one you've always wanted experience is Miguel's lips against yours. The ultimate sensory triumph, all you've been waiting for.

God, you want to kiss him.

"Yeah, I- uh, animated. I mean, animated."

"Tell me about it when I'm not trying to keep the world from ending, please?" he grumbles, and you raise your head off of his shoulder. Damn right you'll tell him about it, and probably kiss him after too.

#projecting soo hard #yes i want to be an animation student #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #autistic reader #fluff #romance

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blue-jisungs · 7 months

Text

love is the fuel

author's note. minghao is so?? he’s inspiration himself. like whatever i’d come up with, he’ll always fit the scenario. or in general, i feel like i just want to write for him again and again and again??? do you get me???

author's note. cursing

word count. 729

the soft jazz music filled the room, along with quiet sounds of minghao folding the paper. it was calm and relaxing, especially with the rain drops tenderly drumming on your windows.

suddenly there of a ping! of incoming text, followed by–

“for fuck’s sake! god damnit, no! i’m done, i have enough! no, no, no. i’m not doing it anymore!” you whined and stood from your chair, paddling around the table. minghao looked at you, slightly amused and concerned.

you let out a deep sigh, pushing your hair back.

“what is it, love?” he asked gently, putting away the origami figure he just finished making. then he rested his chin on his palms, watching you.

“can i just drop it? oh, i know! we can just marry secretly with no family whatsoever or, or they will just stand there like everyone wants! i don’t care…” you grunted and leaned against the chair, gripping the backrest. your future husband tilted his head curiously, lips curling into a smile.

“honey, i don’t know what happened but don’t let it make you want to run away” he chuckled, slowly grabbing another paper to start folding another origami figure. maybe a tiger now, for soonyoung.

“no but…” you whined and rushed next to him, plopping down. then you handed him your phone with the text you just got “it’s my aunt. she just texted me she doesn’t want to sit next to mrs lee because they just had a fight. and if there’s no option for her to sit somewhere else then either she won’t come or she wants mrs lee not to come”

minghao halted his moves, gaze shifting at you.

“i… can we switch? you’re doing what you like, having fun the origami and i’m struggling with the seats” you grunted, crossing your arms.

sure, you knew planning a wedding will be hard but you hoped it will make some great memories and people will help. and yeah, your and hao’s friends helped in this and that but there were certain cases that you had to take care of. like seating the guests.

“but you wanted to do it in first place, baby” he hummed, amused by the aunt drama.

“yeah but… i thought it will be fun. how do you have the patience to do that and i don’t…” you mumbled, resting your head on the table (careful enough not to crush his paper figures).

“i don’t”

you looked up, sending him a confused look. minghao scoffed at your cutely frowned eyebrows.

your fiancé wanted to hand make origami figures for each guest and staff member. some of them were personalised, like tiger for hoshi or cats for wonwoo, jun and woozi. that way they could enjoy the wedding as well and take the figurines home as a precious memory.

“sure, i thought it will be fun. just like you. but i ran out of patience, especially when some of them just didn’t look right. for example, the one for lee sungkyung took me three days to finally get it right. i wanted to give up, really” he sighed and started tracking shapes on your arm “but then i thought… it won’t be fair, right? some of the guests will be treated like royalty and some won’t? but above all the love for you is my fuel”

“what?” you looked up, meeting his ebony irises. he caressed your face and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“whenever i wanted to give up i thought about you. how hardworking you are… or how much i love you. and it worked” he hummed “i can help you if you want, hm?”

you nodded, pecking his jaw.

“thank you. and i love you so much” you said. a bright smile bloomed on his face

“show me the plan, what do you have so far” he put the origamis away gently, careful not to destroy them. especially the one he made for you, from the hand-written letter he wrote (obviously you didn’t know, he will give it to you after the ceremony) “maybe we could place seungcheol next to your aunt? i’m sure she’d love his company”

you giggled, to your fiancé’s relief. he couldn’t help himself but place another loving kiss on your forehead. grabbing your hand and interlocking your fingers, he listened to you as you explained all the seat arrangements.

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth

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slasherscream · 8 days

Note

Hi, can I request a poly ghostface with a reader who's in drama? How would they react to her getting a lead in a horror musical (for example Mrs. Lovett from Sweeney Todd)?

A/N: going through my inbox and trying to get to the oldest stuff that still inspires me to respond. sorry for the world's longest wait. i am simply an easily distracted creature of the night.

They're hyping you up beyond reason. You're talented, but it doesn't matter if you sucked, they'd give you an ego about how good you are either way. Why? Because they love you. So everyone else better love you too... or else 🔪🔪🔪.

It's giving everyone better clap for my s/o when they come out to make their final bow or we'll blow up this fucking building, yeah.

Despite loving you, attending theatre really isn’t their favorite thing to do in the world.

So you getting a role in a horror musical is like… even though they love you: *insert finally some good fucking food gordon ramsey image here*

Are you more pumped to have gotten the lead in this play or are they?

No amount of fake blood is enough for them. They want to see you dripping in the fake blood of your fake victims. They bully their way backstage during the intermission of the show and they make you do a twirl while covered in fake blood. You look delicious.

It isn’t appropriate to do but Stu can’t stop himself from cheering at certain points. Billy hits him and tells him quietly to “shut your fucking hole they’re trying to act up there!”

Billy reads up on how to care for your vocal chords. Right before you go on stage he’s always got a hot lemon tea in hand for you. He makes you use a vocal nebulizer every day and go to a steam room twice a week. He’s got no clue if any of the stuff works but he doesn’t want you damaging your voice, so do it just in case and stop bitching about it.

Stu is your hype man. Even on the days they don’t attend performances, since the show runs for a while, he sends a shit ton of flowers for you to receive. We’re talking roses in every color. If someone working on stage crew has allergies, watch out! The sheer amount of flowers is a genuine public health hazard. He wants everyone to know you’re the best there is. A dozen rose bouquets might not send the message. Twenty will!

They keep an eye on your understudy as if your understudy is going to plot to kill you. You are not allowed to hang out with your understudy when they’re not around.

Billy saw you drink a beverage that your understudy handed you and barely wanted to speak to you on the way home after rehearsal. “You’re asking for it. You’re really asking for it, Y/N. You don’t know what that nutcase might have put in there!” Sir, I think the only nutcase here is you.

They might have to kill that understudy just to be safe.

#stu macher x reader #billy loomis x reader #poly ghostface x reader #black!reader #clearing out the inbox #they would be so fucking annoying #limit the amount of times they can attend a week #for the mental health of your coworkers please #think of the stage crew

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thestreamdreampony · 2 months

Text

Me adding my two cents is probably not gonna do much, but here I go, I guess:

I want to preface this with saying that Wilbur's content and Lovejoy have been incredibly important to me and I've put a lot of time, effort and money into supporting Lovejoy especially. So finding out about this, before finding out about the details, I had originally reacted with incredulous derision of twitter stans. And then erring on the side of caution about how things developed.

At this point there's almost no question that it's Wilbur, for the simple reason that Shubble would have cleared up his name if it wasn't. There's no way she would throw someone innocent under the bus, if she knew somebody else was guilty. Additionally, not a single person in Wilbur's surroundings has disputed any claims and have only narrowed it down further towards Wilbur. At this point it is incredibly unlikely she is talking about anybody else.

I do want to take a moment to comdemn those (mostly on twitter) who used this opportunity to dig into both Shubble and Wilbur's private lives, trying to construct a narrative of her abuse and in some cases going so far as doxxing Wilbur. It is entirely possible to support Shelby and condemn her abuser, without invading their privacy and endangering people's lives. Shelby's goal was to warn people and to make them more aware of the signs of abuse. As well as make it as clear as possible, who she's talking about without saying who it is directly, for a meriad of possible reasons. It was not an invitation to write abuse fanfiction about her private life.

That being said, the way I will feel about this in the long run will depend heavily on how Wilbur deals with this situation. I will definitely distance myself either way (slowly but surely), but his reaction to this will influence how I will act moving forward.

Should he stay silent or respond with insincerity/derision/defensiveness/etc., then that's it for me. Fuck him.

But should he come forward, own up to it, apologize and prove that he is working on himself, then I might be able to find it in myself to give him a second chance over time. I just don't believe that doing bad things makes you irredeemable forever and ever and ever.

We know for a fact that Wilbur has been struggling with mental health problems for most of his teen and adult life and from his solo music we are also aware that he is incredibly aware of the fact that he is the problem in his relationships. Expressing dark thoughts in music, does not automatically mean somebody is abusive. In fact, creating dark art is an excellent way to deal with harmful thoughts and impulses. I have literally never taken his lyrics to mean that.

However, his lyrics in YCGMA and MSR have always been incredibly autobiographical and do show that he is acutely aware that he's the unhealthy element in his unhealthy relationships.

We also know directly from him, that he has distanced himself from most of his social circle and sought out therapy as recently as 2 weeks ago in an effort to improve his mental health.

This does not excuse his actions whatsoever. Mentally ill people are still responsible for the harm that they cause and Shelby is unbelievably brave to tell their story. I hope they finds peace, I hope she has all the support she could ever need and I hope she has achieved her goal of making people more aware of how people end up in situations like this. She is an inspiration for standing up for herself like this.

But I also think that, should Wilbur come forward, admit to his wrongdoings and prove over time that he is working on becoming a better person, friend and partner, that he does not have to be shunned forever and ever and ever. He has a long life in front of him and I hope both for him and all his future friends and partners that he manages to find a healthy, happy way of living. This can happen, even while he never bothers Shelby, or the other people he hurt, again.

This is a best case scenario. I do think he is allowed to take some time to formulate a response. A hasty response to situations like this have never helped anyone ever, neither the victim, nor the accused. Taking his time to come to terms with the situation, which surely came as a shock, and to really think about how he wants to deal with this situation is much better than him writing a twitlonger as soon as he finds out.

Either way, I will distance myself from him and Lovejoy, slowly but surely. I won't get rid of the merch clothing I own because it was quite expensive and throwing it away is a waste of perfectly good clothing, but I won't find the joy I once felt wearing them. (I am salty about me being gone from home for a few months and having ordered Lovejoy merch, which had been waiting for me for weeks and then finding out about this literally the day I travelled back. It definitely felt weird as hell to unpack that stupid NORMAL longsleeve with his fucking face on it, while being hurt and confused and angry.)

Listening to Lovejoy's music, likewise, will never feel as euphoric as it once did, even if I go back to it. Which really sucks cuz they genuinly hit my sweet spot in music taste. YCGMA and SISV specifically, have been so, so important to me and removing them from my listening rotation i going to Hurt.

Interestingly, I don't feel quite as terrible as last time I had to suddenly cut a content creator out of my life. So I guess practice makes perfect lmao.

I don't know if me writing and posting this had any point. I guess I just wanted to get it off my chest and maybe it resonates with somebody.

Anyway, take care of yourselves. Take it easy and try to focus on other things, if this hit you hard (ideally offline). Try to meet with friends, maybe play some boardgames (or video games), go for a walk,read a book, have a coffee with a loved one. There's joy in the world, despite it all.

#wilbur soot

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youryurigoddess · 3 months

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The stuff dreams are made of, or the interesting case of Anthony J. Crowley

We’ve talked a bit about Crowley’s trauma and his way of reclaiming the narrative in the past, but it’s time for some deep dive into the story he’s trying to tell. A story that meanders through the fabric of time and space, slightly changing with the human fashion trends, but slowly and surely bringing the demon closer to a certain angel like the red thread of fate.

1793

Some stories start in a garden, some even Before the Beginning, but this one starts with an Arrangement. Or, to be precise, a little bit after that.

See, most of the iterations of Crowley we saw throughout the history until then didn’t delve too deep into human cultural tropes. If anything, they were the inspirations behind more or less prominent biblical figures, maybe some nameless villains matching his demonic provenance and role assigned to him by his employers.

But in the hustle and bustle of the revolutionary Paris, Crowley emerges as a prototype of the Scarlet Pimpernel — a chivalrous Englishman who rescues aristocrats before they are sent to the guillotine. Stan Lee famously called him “the first character who could be called a superhero”.

Sir Percy Blakeney, the main character of the novel and the West End play under the same title, leads a double life. Appearing as nothing more than a wealthy fop, in reality he’s a formidable swordsman, a quick-thinking master of disguise and an escape artist. Even his own wife, Marguerite, has no idea.

Unfortunately Marguerite is being blackmailed with her brother’s life to find and expose the wanted Pimpernel. She regrets betraying her husband the moment she's forced to do it and spends the rest of the plot working to save him. She does, they make up, and return together to England.

In Aziraphale and Crowley’s case there was just a short stop for crêpes. But what seems to be an inspiration of a specific scene might as well come up later in the wider perspective of the show, so keep in mind those fragments of the musical’s libretto:

We all are caught in the middle

of one long treacherous riddle.

Can I trust you?

Should you trust me too?...

We shamble on through this hell

taking on more secrets to sell

'til there comes a day

when we sell our souls away.

We seek him here, we seek him there,

Those Frenchies seek him everywhere!

Is he in heaven? Is he in hell?

Where is that damn elusive Pimpernel!

1941

The London Blitz is when we see a full-fledged iteration of the superhero Crowley performing dashing and heroic deeds under the literal cover of darkness and air bomb smoke. In a bespoke double-breasted suit and a fedora — still free from the unfortunate modern connotations from the internet culture — he’s clearly channeling Humphrey Bogart as a private investigator Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon (1941) now.

It all starts with a woman and a simple plan gone wrong: Spade’s partner is shot dead, just like the man he was supposed to be tailing upon the request of a mysterious Miss Wonderly. And when a very soft-looking, sweet-scented man named Joel Cairo appears in his office willing to pay a hefty price for a "black figure of a bird", Spade starts not only a new job, but also his own quest for truth.

On the surface, The Maltese Falcon ends happily: the killer gets caught, and the hero winds up with the Falcon. But Spade's victory is completely hollow. The Falcon itself, originally meant as a symbol of loyalty, transforms into a symbol of a corrupting, futile, and self-destructive greed that makes people betray their own loyalties.

The treasure is just a worthless forgery and he’s fallen in love with the criminal — one of the first femmes fatales on screen. Despite his feelings for her and a kiss, Spade gives her up and submits the statuette as evidence, describing it as "the stuff that dreams are made of".

Remember the eagle lectern? The eagle was believed to be flying highest in the sky and therefore closest to heaven, symbolizing the carrying of the word of God to the four corners of the world. Aziraphale in the 1941 church scene is the closest to Heaven we’ve seen him on Earth. Just look at him: dressed in a smart, well-fitted coat with peaked lapels, symbolizing his Heavenly allegiance, and doing good this time not as a work assignment, but of his own accord. Being the closest to Heaven means the furthest and most unattainable for a demon like Crowley.

The Maltese Falcon is a metaphor for unattainability — things out of reach to desire and fight for, although never truly possess. It’s “the stuff that dreams are made of”. But Crowley secured the original — made of gold and encrusted with jewels, but hiding its real value under black enamel — eerily reminiscent of the demon himself and the unending kindness behind his inappropriately tight black clothing.

Quoting Michael Ralph — the production mastermind behind Good Omens — from the S01E04 “Saturday Morning Funtime” DVD commentary, “We wanted to tip our hat to the Maltese Falcon as being a precious object that no-one thought really exists but it does”. So we can safely assume that Crowley can and will achieve his dream in the future.

1967

Do you know what else happens in 1941 in Scotland? Ian Fleming, a British naval intelligence agent, meets with the famous occultist Aleister Crowley and asks him to lead the interrogation of newly imprisoned Rudolf Hess — a leading member of the Nazi Party in Nazi Germany appointed Deputy Führer — given the two men’s shared enthusiasm for the occult.

This meeting has a significant impact on Fleming’s work as a writer; Aleister Crowley becomes the inspiration for his first villain Le Chiffre and creates a blueprint for most of the James Bond’s franchise ever since 1953, the publication date of the novel Casino Royale.

Meanwhile our Anthony J. Crowley believes in himself not being the villain he’s usually and sometimes forcefully painted as, but a superhero in disguise. The character of James Bond in particular inspires him so much that he buys petrol to get the limited You Only Live Twice (1967) window decals for his Bentley, dons his own tactical turtleneck, and sets off to organize a heist like no other. Sean Connery style.

Like a typical superhero, Crowley’s once again both saved and betrayed by his love interest. Aziraphale leaves him with a thermos of Holy Water, a faint smile, and a hope that they’ll soon match their speeds to meet halfway at the Ritz. The cancelled heist is not an ending, but a promise of a new beginning. And the fact that UK decriminalizes homosexual acts in the very same year is more than telling in this regard.

2019

An exceptional situation calls for exceptional solutions, and what’s more important than the impending Apocalypse? Demon Crowley does his best to put the arsenal of his 20th century film inspirations to good use.

"Ask yourself, do you feel lucky?" Crowley drawls, clearly imitating (although slightly misquoting) the titular Dirty Harry (1971). He’s hoping to be menacing and making the point of being the one on the right side of the law and history.

Some situations require more than quoting action heroes is not everything though. He knows what to do:

A jeep was heading purposefully towards the gate, and it looked as though it was crowded with people who were about to shout questions and fire guns and not worry about which order they did this in.

[Crowley] brightened up. This was more what you might call his area of competence.

He took his hands out of his pockets and he raised them like Bruce Lee and then he smiled like Lee Van Cleef.

'Ah,' he said, 'here comes transport.'

When in doubt, Crowley acts. He transforms into a combination of a stoic martial arts phenomenon and a sardonic, menacing character. His smile alone — even on Aziraphale’s angelic face, as seen in one of the final cut scenes — seems to be enough to ward off evil spirits, angels, and humans alike.

But we all know that even as breathtaking performances as those can’t protect anyone from the cogs of the Heavenly machine and its plans.

2023

No wonder that Crowley’s tactical turtleneck comes back in style after mere four years of retirement with a self-introduction “Former Demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”. Something has changed during this time; he’s more mature now, not playing pretend by hiding behind the usual veneer of sarcasm and movie quotes anymore. Finally comfortable with the fact that this is his own story and there’s no need to become anyone else than himself.

The bookshop fire and the Heavenly trial still seem to haunt the demon in a way that makes him realize what all humans know: that every hero is his own biggest enemy. His ultimate dream might effortlessly change into his greatest nightmare any moment now, and the only thing he can do about it is hover in a two-minute distance from the epicenter of his feelings. But Crowley has no time to work on it when a new mission appears, to protect his angel from Gabriel and the combined powers of Heaven and Hell. Even if this — rather ostentatiously — is the last thing he wants to think about at the moment.

Crowley tries to plan ahead, while his story slowly warps into a different genre due to Aziraphale’s interruptions. He eventually changes back into his usual Henley shirt after agreeing to swap places and guarding the bookshop while the angel is off to Edinburgh, collecting more clues. Did he finish his personal quest off-screen? Did he just give up on it in the whirlwind of matchmaking shenanigans? Remains to be seen.

In the S2 finale our master of disguise in yet another turtleneck proves that he can successfully infiltrate even the universe’s back office. We don’t know where he drives off in the end, but one thing is certain — he’s got a plan. And a world (and his dream) to save, like a superhero he is.

#a turtleneck kind of day #crowley is a superhero #and a master spy #with a plan #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #go2 meta #ineffable husbands #crowley #turtleneck crowley #yuri is doing her thing

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katerina-marie · 5 days

Text

The Beach Episode (Romantic Sunday)

Sukuna x Reader

You and Satoru are supposed to be filming a short ad on the beach, but your blue-eyed costar has a habit of never showing up on time. What happens when a certain tattooed, pink-haired band member surprises you with a visit? You frolic in the ocean of course!

Notes: A celebrity!au that popped into my head while listening to Romantic Sunday by Car, the Garden and would not leave. While this is a Sukuna x Reader fic, other characters do play minor roles and may have brief POVs. This fic is pending in my head as a chapter in a larger work that chronicles reader's and Sukuna's developing relationship and is inspired by other scenarios that come to be while listening to music, but nothing is concrete. Since that's so, Sukuna and reader's relationship isn't explicitly defined but is certainly past friendship.

Word Count: 5.3k

Content: bandmember Sukuna x actor female Reader (referred to as such, but left descriptively vague), no y/n, manager Nanami, bodyguard Toji, actor Gojo (he's picked on, but I love him so please don't take offense), other favorites who have small supporting rolls, all fluff, crack, and humor, includes an innuendo or two, but other wise PG/PG-13, out of character Sukuna (he's so fluffy).

P.S. I've used a line from a favorite TV show back in my teen years. Let me know if you recognize it!

——————————————————————————————————

“Well…you did say you wanted to go to the beach, Kento. Look where we are!”

Your teasing tone and amused grin did nothing to budge the frustrated scowl off the face of your manager. If anything, it drove the furrow between his eyebrows that much further, and you swore a vein in his forehead started to throb.

“A vacation, actually,” Nanami began, sending you a pointed look that said he knew exactly what you were playing at, “in Malaysia…on a beach…by myself.”

You tutted at him before giving him a dainty smile and settling further into your makeup chair, “I was only trying to make you laugh, Kento.”

In your opinion, laughing and smiling was something Nanami Kento seldom did but often should. Whether it was a personal standard he held himself to or some other form of ritual torture, your manager stuck to a strict dress code no matter where he went. Case in point, on a beach in the middle of the summer, Nanami was clothed in his usual suit, tie and dutifully styled hair in tow. The only indication that he planned for the environment you all would spend the day in was the thick white stripes of sunscreen pasted on the sharp angle of his nose and over the apples of his cheeks. Whether he intentionally matched the color of his tan suit to the sand under your feet was anyone’s best guess. You hesitated to ask, a mercy for Kento if you did say so yourself, if only because he looked one wrong word away from throwing himself in the ocean, and not in a way that indicated any fun would be had.

As if privy to your thoughts, he released a drawn out sigh and crossed his legs in his own chair across from you. He took a quick glimpse at the time on his phone and shook his head.

Poor Kento. He really did deserve that vacation. And honestly, you did appreciate and acknowledge his dedication to his craft—and you, by extension.

“I’m sorry,” Nanami murmured, an apologetic softening of his eyes making his whole expression smooth out, “my frustrations are not towards you, I assure you. I’m confident you could guess at whom my ire is directed at currently.”

You snorted. “Well, of course I c—,”

“That blue-eyed bastard is late again!”

The flap of your makeup tent was thrown back with enough force that you were surprised it hadn’t ripped clean down its seam. Your overgrown tree of a bodyguard had a habit of “forgetting” the strength and stature that made him so adept at his job and simply enjoyed his ability to throw any object—or person—around as he pleased.

You scowled at Toji for interrupting you and watched as he stomped over to stand next to you and Nanami with a pout that pulled at the, frankly, appealing scar at the corner of his mouth. Between that, his eyes that looked as if they knew every secret you ever had and shaggy black hair that probably needed a cut, Toji posed both an intimidating and handsome figure. That was besides the point though and not that it mattered much to you. He had a son that was a friend of your friend and only a couple years younger than you. Not that Toji looked it one bit.

“Satoru hasn’t been heard from, I presume?”

Toji and Nanami both leveled you with a deadpan look and answered you at the same time with the same disgruntled voice, “no.”

You threw your head back in exasperation and instantly regretted it when you were reminded of the dozens of pins holding your styled hair in place as they all poked you quite viciously in the back of the head. You winced and raised your hand to rub at the sore spot, only to have it slapped away by a member of the hair and makeup team to prevent you from mussing it further. You crossed your arms with a huff and slouched further into your chair.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Toji remarked, his smirk full of sarcasm and twisted amusement. “I think they missed a spot with your makeup though.”

You found no humor in the waving of his hand as one of his fingers circled the entirety of your face in the air in front of it, nor were you concerned with the false insinuation that you looked anything other than well put together. Now, the chance of said makeup sliding right off your face as soon as you stepped into the late afternoon sun? Plausible, but best left to the worries of the experts.

“Toji,” you crooned, voice cloyingly sweet but eyeing him with a sharp glare he was surely well acquainted with, “we’re at the beach. Why don’t you, oh I don’t know, go play in the ocean and swim with the fish? Or, do you want to build a sandcastle?”

The smug grin he was wearing fell clean off his face and was replaced with an ugly pinch of his nose.

“Hell no, I hate sand! The damned stuff always gets everywhere no matter what I do. In my socks, my sandwich, the crack of my a—,”

“Enough!”

Nanami’s exclamation was loud and angry enough that it caused you and Toji both to jump and effectively ended whatever crude tale he was about to subject the crowd in the tent to.

“I’m going to go call Geto and see where the hell his client is.”

Nanami stood and brushed any bits of sand from his suit. Not that anyone could tell if there had been any in the first place.

“You,” he added, pointing in your direction, “will get dressed so that once I finish ripping Gojo’s manager a new one, we can talk with the director of this damned affair and see if we can get any film done with just you while we wait.”

Without leaving any room for protest or discussion, Nanami was gone with a flutter of a tent flap and you were left making wide eyes at your equally stunned bodyguard. There was silence and stillness for a beat of time before Toji shrugged and movement about the tent resumed again.

“Well,” he drawled, “that’s my cue to leave. I’m off to go guard some bodies and what not.” His eyebrows danced and his eyes flashed, not in the least deterred by your annoyed stare.

“We’re on a closed off, private beach, Toji. There’s no one here for you to throw out.”

He was unbothered and took a few sauntering steps back towards the entrance of the tent.

“Still, I wouldn’t want you to think I was slacking on the job and quit paying me. Have fun getting dressed, Princess.”

Toji ignored the baring of your teeth and left just as quickly as Nanami did. You blew out a resigned sigh as you took a peek at the mountain of lace, fabric, and strings that hung from a corner of the tent and decided at that moment that you wished it was Toji being stuffed into a dress and primped within an inch of his life.

“He’s going to charm his way back into the refreshment tent and pass out,” you grumbled, and oh yes, that was seething jealousy you held for your bodyguard. Someone chuckled behind you, but was quick to prompt you to stand and disrobe.

Really, it couldn’t be that bad…right?

——————————————————————————————————

Some suspiciously placed tape, three assistants, and nearly forty five minutes later would prove you to be exceptionally wrong. Lace sleeves had been tugged up against sweaty arms, the strings at the back of your dress that held it together had been pulled and tied so tightly that you were hesitant to move too suddenly for fear of busting it, and the pins in your hair had been removed to let it lay as styled. You were one moment of heat induced lightheadedness away from falling over into the sand, and there would be no getting up after that. There was fabric clinging and swishing against your legs and you thought you had seen a train at the back of the dress, though that made no sense to you at all given what was planned to happen in front of a camera.

“Please,” you begged to anyone in the room that would listen. “Can I be done now? If I don’t get a breath of fresh air, I’m going to pass out.”

Your wish was acquiesced, and with the promise to not mess anything up, you made your great escape out of the tent and towards the edge of the ocean before anyone could change their mind. There was no need for any more hair to be pinned, makeup to be touched up, or fabric draped.

The water that went on endlessly for miles in front of you was a light blue and mostly calm in its movement for the day. Sandy beach on either side of you stretched out until you could just barely see it transition into rocky cliffs that helped form its crescent shape. If one could ignore the highway and paved parking lot a couple minutes walk behind you, it was almost like you were on a secluded island paradise.

Though the sun was still hot, the fresh air was successful in clearing your mind, and the salted mist of the water was enough to help balm the warmth under your dress. The multiple tents strewn across the sand each served their own niche purpose with people popping in and out of them all day. There was chatter about, people hustling from one side of the camped setup to the other and cameras placed strategically to capture whatever commercial or short that you and Satoru were supposed to film. However, no one paid you much mind at the moment, and you sidled up to where the water met the sand, dress held above your ankles so the waves could tickle your feet.

“Don’t you look pretty.”

Elated surprise made your heart leap at the sound of a familiar voice, and you whipped around with excitement written all over your face to meet the eyes of the handsome man behind you.

“Sukuna! What are you doing here?”

The man in question grinned, his expression half mischievous and maybe the slightest bit bashful, though no one would dare point it out. His pink hair was pushed back into its normal style, but due to the humidity, random pieces drooped down his forehead and into his eyes slightly. His tattoos were on full display in the tank top and swim trunks he was wearing. Every bit of him was a sight for your sore eyes. Sukuna opened his arms for you and it took only a moment of hesitancy before you stepped into them for a quick hug.

“Yuji and Choso wanted to go for a drive since the day was nice, and naturally Fushiguro tagged along. Coincidentally though, Yuji had us drive along the highway behind the setup you all got going on and ‘poof,’ here we are.”

You pulled back from Sukuna as he finished his sentence and gave him a small, happy wiggle of your shoulders. You made a note to remember how you felt his fingers dancing down languidly over the lace covering your arm and swirling gently around the edge of the sleeve that came to a point on the back of your hand before letting his arm fall back against his side.

“Well, I’m glad the four of you made it, coincidence or not,” you quipped at him. Your eyes still hadn’t left his and you knew it was going to be a struggle to wipe what had to be a lovestruck grin off your lips.

“You sure about that?”

Sukuna laughed and threw a hand back over his shoulder, gesturing towards what your eyes followed and found to be the refreshment tent. What you saw had you doubling over in laughter, or at least as far as you could in your dress.

Yuji and Choso, Sukuna’s brothers and bandmates, were struggling to stifle giggles as they hovered over a hulking figure laid out in a chaise underneath a misting fan. As you predicted, Toji was dead asleep, mouth agape and a half eaten cheeseburger dangling from a hand resting on his chest. What really set the whole thing apart was the way Yuji and Choso were surreptitiously trying to see how many french fries they could place in Toji’s mouth before he either woke up or started to choke when one inevitably fell back down his throat. In the corner, Megumi stood watching with barely concealed glee and a phone in his hand capturing the whole ordeal. You assumed that no matter what way this went, Megumi was bound to come out of it on top with either the joy of having comedic blackmail to hold over his father’s head or the pleasure of getting to watch him beat his friend’s asses. In the best case scenario, it was both.

You recovered from your laughter with a shake of your head and a measly deep breath before turning back to Sukuna. It was sucked right back out of you when you found his eyes trailing up from the tips of your toes, lingering at where the dress cinched your waist and then at the lace scalloping your chest before finally coming up to meet your eyes. His gaze was half lidded and heavier than usual, and it set your cheeks aflame in a way that you could never pass off as from the sun. He smirked when you stuttered over some inarticulate noise that had escaped your mouth, and you were about to take a giant step back to compose yourself when his face eventually softened. Sukuna offered you a quick wink, not so devious and more contrite than anything else, though it didn’t seem to affect your racing pulse any less, and then continued his tirade as he hooked his pinky finger around a lock of hair framing your eyes.

Somewhere in the back of your head choirs were singing and clouds were parting, but all you could think about was the hint of black polish on his nails that you spotted out of your peripheral and the growing number of people you could see beginning to take interest in the way Sukuna towered over you and how you didn’t seem to mind. You finally made space between the two of you by pressing your knuckles against his chest with just enough pressure to send the message. He obeyed and returned the small smile you sent his way to soften the gesture.

“So,” he started, his hands set deep in his pockets and a rock to his heels that would make anyone else look nervous, “what are you all waiting around for?”

Thankful for conversation to focus on, you threw your hands up to convey that you were just as confused as he was and followed it up with what you made to sound like the most logical and obvious explanation in the world;

“Sa-to-ru is late. Again.”

At the first enunciated syllable of Satoru’s name to leave your mouth, a corner of Sukuna’s nose quivered in disdain and he rolled his eyes in a way that was clearly disparaging, yet you found weakened your knees.

“Tell me about it. He most likely forgot or got caught up w—,”

The most ungracious snort left Sukuna’s nose, and you were so taken aback by the fact that it happened, and let alone found it attractive, that you missed whatever he had hissed under his breath.

“Tied up is probably more like it.”

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing important.”

His voice was too intentionally innocent and his face suspiciously cleared of any ill will for you to believe an ounce of what he said, but there was no chance in getting Sukuna to admit anything he didn’t want to, and you were more preoccupied with getting that look from earlier back in his eyes. So with that, you meandered back a few steps into the water and waited.

“So, tell me, what brilliant songwriting have you been up to, oh esteemed ‘King of Curses’, or is that strictly confidential, band member-only info?”

You knew asking Sukuna, or even Yuji or Choso, about their wildly popular band ‘The Curses’ was a sure fire way to get them talking about their shared passion, and it always brought a smile to your face to see them so excited. You expected the same now, but were caught off guard when Sukuna stumbled over the step he took to follow you and the brief way his face shuttered blank before he recovered. That act alone would have been enough to put an end to your flirty intentions—because you just knew that nickname of his got him riled up whenever it came out of your mouth—but the sensation of fabric being pulled tight against the back of your legs had you stopped. A quick glance down into the water confirmed that he had stepped on your dress and the extra fabric was beginning to swirl around his calves.

So that’s what the train was for! A devious, delicious idea began to form in your head and you knew you had only one chance to make it happen.

You glanced up at Sukuna through your eyelashes (he struggled to recall in that moment if they had always been that long or if it was the makeup making his mind fuzzy) and cocked your head gently to one side before beginning a slow prowl around him.

“What, no love songs or epic tales of star crossed romance have emerged from that practice studio of yours lately? Don’t tell me a cat has got your tongue?”

Ever focused on the way your lips curled into a sultry smile and the feather-light drag of your finger along the top of his shorts at his hip, Sukuna was unusually quiet as he followed you with his eyes. You began to pass behind his back and your circle was nearly halfway complete.

“Su-ku-na,” you called when you received no answer, watching as he gave a shake of his head as if to clear a haze from it.

“Quit being a brat and distracting me!”

There was no malice in his tone, but you could tell that he was being truthful. You had completed your circle and came to stand in front of him once again.

“I’m just waiting for you to answer my question,” you sing-songed.

Sukuna’s mouth stuttered open for a second and nothing came out before he finally seemed to collect himself, “No! No love songs, no sappy lyrics, and no star crossed romance. Who do you take me for?”

Your peals of laughter that followed his blurted response floated about the beach and seemed to soothe whatever had come over him in the last couple of minutes. In a haste, you cast a glance down at his legs to check that everything was in place.

“I’m just playing with you, Sukuna,” you cooed at him, “there’s no need to get defensive.”

His eyes narrowed and you watched with glee as he pulled himself up to his full height, leaned down into your face, and let a haughty smirk tug the corners of his mouth.

“You don’t want to play with me, Sweetheart. I. Play. Rough.”

“Hmm, you think so?”

You let a delicate, breathy sigh brush up against his mouth from yours while you arched your back slightly to press your chest against his. Sensing you had Sukuna’s full attention, you smoothed your leg between his to let the side of your foot trace oh so gently over the bone in his ankle. His breath hitched, and in the same moment you tipped your head back to close a fraction of distance between your lips, you also tightened your fingers in the furls of your dress.

“Really,” you whispered, “somehow I think that I play rougher.”

Yank.

Since he was already off balance when you ripped the fabric of your dress out and around from under his feet, it only took a quick sweep of your foot against Sukuna’s leg to keep the momentum going and to dump him and his gobsmacked expression into the knee-deep water of the ocean. You jumped back to avoid as much of the splash as you could, and in the same heartbeat, you lifted your dress and took off in the direction of the tents set back on the shore. Your plan was a success.

There were two oversights on your part, however, that became all too clear in the couple seconds after this monumental event took place.

One, the amount of water your dress accumulated and how much it now slowed you down due to its weight and tangle in your legs.

Two, which you really should have anticipated if you thought back on it, was the unbelievable amount of speed and agility with which Sukuna pushed himself out of the water, set a borderline maniacal look upon you that promised glorious retribution (you would have to question yourself later as to why this sent shivers down your back and warmth to places you would rather not think about), and thus began an inhumanly quick sprint towards you.

So, naturally, you did what any independent, perfectly capable woman would do; you screamed at the top of your lungs bloody murder for your bodyguard and high tailed it out of the ocean.

——————————————————————————————————

The first thing Toji wondered upon being awoken by the screams of a dying woman was why his mouth was full of french fries. He sputtered on the cold and soggy pieces in his mouth as he leapt from the chaise he had barely remembered falling asleep on and frantically looked out towards the water to see what fate he had let come upon you. Toji was certain there were only two possibilities.

One: he had fallen asleep on the job and you were now being eaten by a shark.

Two: he had fallen asleep on the job and you were now drowning in the ocean.

To his sleep addled brain, which was currently working through the onslaught of you shrieking his name, either option had an equally probable likelihood of occurring. The outcome, however? In both scenarios, there was only one logical conclusion. He was getting fired.

With that thought in mind, he started the process of becoming your own personal search and rescue. All in a flurry of forward movement, he kicked off his shoes, dropped the crumpled half eaten cheeseburger from his grasp, and flailed his hand around in his pocket to locate his wallet. He was not about to let his most important possession be lost to the tides—especially with the encroaching threat of unemployment looming over his head—and was about to seriously consider dropping his shorts to the ground altogether when he heard your screams reach a sudden pitch and then descend into hysterical laughter.

Toji took that as a sign to further scope out the situation in front of him and after rubbing sleep and sand from his eyes, he could now better understand that you weren’t actually in mortal danger. You were just flirting.

With the adrenaline that was previously coursing through his body now taking a sudden nosedive, Toji staggered back into the tent to plop onto his previously occupied chaise. While he was obviously relieved to see you weren’t dying, he was even more glad that he wasn’t going to have to call Shiu tomorrow and admit that his asset was dead and he was in need of a new job. Surely offers would be next to none, and he didn’t think he could handle guarding any more feisty starlets or listen to them vent about their secret love affairs with pink-haired band members…at least not without the blood pressure medication his doctor had threatened him with at his last check-up.

At the sound of muffled laughter to his left, Toji swung his gaze over to his son, a grin on Megumi’s face and phone in hand, and his son’s two idiot friends, both of whom were having to help hold the other up.

“Not you three now too,” he grumbled, standing up from his chaise and making his way over to where they stood. “What’s got you idiots making so much n—,”

Toji came to a sudden halt as Megumi’s hand lifted up to shove his cell phone in his face. His eyes squinted at the screen, the laughter from Yuji and Choso increasing in volume, and he needed only a second to process the video he was watching before snapping his head towards the two brothers.

“You bastards!”

Megumi watched as his father and two friends stared wide eyed at each other for a couple of seconds before they all took off running out of the tent and beyond. The thought of catching the pummeling that was coming the brother’s way once his father caught them was plenty enticing, but years of living with Toji Fushiguro taught him that he too was to be considered guilty as an accomplice, and thus making himself scarce was the wiser decision. Besides, there were plenty of cameras already rolling anyway.

——————————————————————————————————

You had taken only a couple of steps onto dry land before a set of well muscled arms locked around your midsection, lifted you clear off your feet, and jerked you back against a solid chest. Sukuna’s breathing was loud and heavy in your ear and you could feel water leaching through the back of your dress from where he pressed forward against you with the entirety of his body.

“That was naughty,” he taunted, and the low scratch of his voice made your feigned attempt to wrestle out of his hold falter.

Before you could say anything in response, in an impressive feat of strength, Sukuna once more swept you off your feet and planted you stomach down over his shoulder. He turned and began to wade back into the water, and it wasn’t until your view from beside his hips started to be filled entirely by water that you struggled—in earnest this time.

“Sukuna!” You gasped, trying to come up with some kind of plea that would keep you from your fate of being dropped into the ocean. “Suk-Sukuna, I can’t swim, I can’t swim!”

This wasn’t true in the slightest, but you hoped his concern for your safety would outweigh his need for vengeance. Just as the ends of your hair became engulfed by water, Sukuna dragged you back up from over his shoulder and slid you down his front until he could grasp at your thighs and pull them open around his hips. You threw your arms around his neck and prayed that the pleading look in your eyes would work.

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” was all the warning Sukuna gave before cocking an eyebrow at you and promptly falling flat backwards into the ocean with you secured against his chest. The two of you crashed into the water just in time for a wave to surge over you both. It was a cold shock to your system, but you had no more than a hiccup to process the feeling before Sukuna was up on his feet and trudging back to shore with you in his arms. You sputtered the whole way back and pawed at your face to pry a curtain of soaking wet hair from your eyes.

It was at the line where ocean became more sand than water that Sukuna stumbled, presumably from wet fabric caught in his legs again, and rotated mid-fall just quickly enough to save you from being squashed under him.

It took a minute for your combined unabashed laughter to subside, and when you finally caught your breath from where your head rested against the curve of his shoulder, you flew upwards. You swatted Sukuna’s chest when the glimpse of sparkling eyes and a full smile snagged your attention, and you hoped that the swaths of fabric pooling around the two of you was enough to disguise how you straddled his hips and that his fingers were tracing absentminded figures at their place right on the small of your back. Unable to control the flush of heat through your limbs, you exclaimed the first thing that popped into your head and then immediately regretted it.

“Sukuna, I’m completely soaked!”

The quickness of the wicked grin that spread across his face astounded you, and when you noticed his lips begin to part, to no doubt retort something highly inappropriate for the given situation, you slapped a hand over his mouth. His smile was still present under your palm, his eyes soft and adoring, and you swore you felt him place a small kiss at the meat of your thumb.

“AND CUT!”

The director’s shout was enough to shatter the intimate quiet that had gone unnoticed by you two, and the both of you lurched just far enough apart to separate your bodies but remain near enough for the bump of a knee or shoulder. Before you could even gather your bearings enough to understand what was going on, a tall shadow appeared over you, and you leaned your head back to squint up at whoever it was.

“That was certainly entertaining.”

You recognized the voice of Satoru’s manager just as he held out a hand to help you to your feet, and you shot him a look of dismay once you steadied yourself.

“It’s nice of you and your client to finally grace us with your presence, Geto,” you replied dryly.

Geto shrugged, not a single care evident on that pretty face of his, and brought your attention to the crowd gathered behind him with a flourish of his hand. You took a tentative glance at what he was referring to and nearly cringed when you caught sight of the numerous cameras pointed at you and Sukuna. Not to mention Nanami, who stood next to the director with a hand pressed up against his temple like he was in great pain. Though from the small smile you could just barely make out and the animated chatter from the director into Nanami’s ear, you assumed that what had just transpired wasn’t such a bad thing. Even Toji, who was a couple feet behind them with Yuji and Choso in head locks under each of his arms, looked like he had gotten quite the chuckle out of the whole thing.

“It seems like the film was still able to get captured well enough without us,” Geto remarked. “I don’t believe there’s any reason to re-do anything with Satoru just for the sake of appearances.”

You were about to open your mouth to make known your agreement to the idea when Sukuna suddenly threw an arm around your shoulder and popped back at Geto with a brusque “hell no.” You weren’t sure if you felt offended or disappointed by his objection, but before you could start to fret over it, Sukuna was stroking his thumb gently across the back of your neck, and you proceeded to melt into his side. Perhaps his initial disagreement had less to do with his reluctance to be seen as part of the project and instead had everything to do with him making sure you had the full ability to determine how much of him at your side you were ready to share with the world. The thought had you giddy.

“I have zero objections to using the film with Sukuna.”

There was a jubilant cheer from all the staff once they heard your words, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from the satisfied look on Sukuna’s face that followed them.

“Ah, question,” he called out suddenly, making pointed eye contact with the director, and even Nanami too. “By agreeing to this, that means she doesn’t have to frolic around here with the white-hair idiot, right?”

Over the immediate roar of laughter from everyone around, an indignant “hey!” could be heard from the nearby makeup tent, and for just once, you were grateful for Satoru’s inability to ever be on time.

——————————————————————————————————

Part 2

Notes: If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you didn't catch it, the line "Somehow I think that I [you] play rougher" is taken from a scene in the Vampire Diaries (I was obsessed). Did I also get inspiration from that scene in the horse movie Spirit for Sukuna and Reader's moment in the water? Yes, yes I did.

Also, in my decade and a half of reading fan fiction, I have not once written or posted any of my own. So if I miss something important, please kindly let me know.

Always feel free to share comments, thoughts, or questions <3

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #nanami kento #gojo satoru

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underscorehealy · 2 months

Text

producer in crime - matty healy x labelmate!au

chapter 1: part of the band

wc: 1.1k

cw: none

an: hiya!! this is the new and improved au i've been working on and i'm sorry again for deleting the last one. it really just wasn't it for me. but i'm so stoked abt this one!! this was a lot of fun to write and i genuinely hope you like it as much as i do :)

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

you trip over the main flight of stairs as you enter the main room of the studio. today's the first day of production on your new album, interstella. the name came to you like that, mainly because your name is stella. you'd never really worked in a proper studio before, as before this, you had usually made all of your previous works on your laptop in bed. so naturally, this was a huge deal.

you'd recently been signed to indie label, dirty hit, who is home to a few notable names like the japanese house, beabadoobee, and the one you're most excited about, the 1975. they were such a big inspiration for you to even start making music. but you had been friends with amber (aka the japanese house) for a few years now so when she introduced you to jamie, the label owner, you were ecstatic to finally have a place to showcase your talents. so some hope and a few paperwork signatures later, you were finally about to record your debut album.

"you okay?" a deep, male voice said as he watched you trip over the stairs. "oh yeah!! thanks" you chuckle. when you look up, you notice george daniel, the drummer and producer for the 1975. you had felt honored to be in his presence. jamie had usually set new artists up with george and matty healy because of their level of skill but you still felt incredibly honored.

"yeah thanks!" you catch your breath with a slight blush of embarrassment. george leads you into the studio and you're automatically in love with the sight in front of you. recording booth, guitars galore, it's everything you've dreamed of and more. "george. nice to meet you. first time in a studio?" he says giving off a cheeky grin. "yeah. pretty nervous actually. from a laptop in bed to a full studio really is a big progression." "yeah, been there." you show george some of the writing you've done and the demos you've made when all of a sudden you hear running footsteps rushing into the room.

"fuck. am i late?" a decently tall man (taller than you anyway), with coffee brown curls that look like little croissants at the top of his head and tapioca colored eyes, completely out of breath while almost dropping his guitar case pronounces. "yeah, where the fuck were you mate?" george shoots the man a glare. "alarm didn't go off." "mhm. sure." george passively says. "matty, this is stella. stella, this is matty." you and matty both introduce yourself to each other. from your understanding (what jamie told you), matty is co-producing the album with george, and providing backups on whatever he needs to. you involve matty in the discussion of presenting demos and having them listen to some of the voice notes you recorded on your phone.

both matty and george seem pretty impressed on what you already have. now you just have to bring all of the demos to life, but you have the fantastic duo to help you along the way so in reality you're incredibly lucky to be in this position.

today was mainly spent going over the album, listening to demos, playing around with different sounds and coming up with ideas to make the album even better. though you would be lying if you didn't feel a bit awkward in this position. you're with 2/4 of one of the most popular bands in the world who are so much more experienced than you. to be fair, they've been doing this for 20 something years so next to them, you feel like a tiny ant next to a big tree.

"yo, scarlett!! i have this little intro guitar idea thingy for the 6th song. you wanna hear??" matty shouts from the other corner of the room but you're too busy thinking about the potential of the album and hoping you'll make it work. you feel a sudden slap on your shoulder. "you good?" he says as he lets out a chuckle. "oh! yeah! totally fine! what's up?"

after you guys are done at the studio for today, you get a text from jamie just asking about how today went and setting up a label meeting to talk about the album, it's visuals and the future of your career. you tell him your down for a meeting on monday, which is only 3 days away.

george is the first to leave the studio, having to go take mayhem on a walk. "you excited?" you hear matty's dark but somewhat girly voice across from you, while putting out a cigarette. "yeah definitely!! as well as completely and utterly nervous at the same time. this is my first time ever in like a professional studio so this is a giant leap for me." you say as you continuously spin around in the spinny chair. "yeah, feel ya there." matty says. "we've worked with small artists a lot, especially with ones that are just getting used to the industry. this shit is crazy so it's good to have mentors that can start you out and guide you but its not like we're gonna leave you off after to fend for yourself. hell, george produced ambers last album and she's been doing this for a bit, you know?" "i can't really say i know but i'm totally grateful to have you and george guiding me." you say as matty shoots you a smile .

"well, stella, it was great meeting you!!" he says as you hands you a small paper slip. "here's my number just in case you need anything. cya around!" you didn't get the chance to say goodbye before he packed up his guitar case and left but you were too exhausted so after he left, you followed not too far behind. you hopped in your car and headed off back to your flat.

right after you enter your front door, your cat, eloise, nuzzles up against your ankle and you can't help but laugh and snap a picture. you pick her up and head to your couch, plopping you and eloise in front of the tv. nothing good on, but you decide on some dumb reality show anyway. you pick up your phone and shoot matty a text.

(your texts | matty's texts)

hi!! this is stella btw :)

yo, you good??

yeah. everythings okay. just wondering if you wanted to have a coffee or something before the meeting monday.

yeah, that sounds great actually. 9am-ish??

yeah, sounds great. cya there!!

you smile with excitement filled in your eyes as matty reads your last message sent to him. and at that moment, you feel incredibly lucky to be in this position and to produce your album with 2 of the most inspiring people on the planet.

#matty #matty the 1975 #drive like i do #the 1975 #bfiafl #matty healy #iliwysfyasbysuoi #at their very best #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x labelmate!au

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