testosterone meeting complete?!?!?!?!???!!!

When They’re Jealous//ATEEZ

A/N: An attempt was made lol

Hongjoong

“This sounds incredible!” You couldn’t stop smiling as you listened to the song you had just finished recording, your producer doing as you asked and not auto-tuning your voice like the previous ones had.

You were making your comeback album and needed a new producer immediately, one that understood you were talented without vocal enhancements and could respect that, but all of them ignored you and only followed what they thought sounded right, causing the general public to mock you as an artist. But then you met Jihoon, or Woozi as he wanted you to call him. He was an excellent composer and an even greater producer, having a great ear for music that he even helped you find your range, something your vocal coaches even ignored or struggled with.

You were enjoying the moment until you felt your phone vibrate erratically, your heart sinking into your stomach as you read Hongjoong’s name from the screen. You excused yourself from Woozi as he continued to touch up on a few songs. He was always so immersed in his work.

“Joong,” You breathed out once you removed yourself from the room to drown out the noise inside.

“Hey. I came by your apartment so we could eat dinner together but I forgot you said you’ll be at the studio tonight. You mind unlocking the door for me once I get there?”

“I-uh-how about we go to the cafeteria upstairs? People get mad when we bring food in the studio anyways.” You said, biting on your bottom lip in hopes he would agree, but you knew that was too much to ask.

“I’ll make sure we clean up well this time. Besides, I wanna help out on a few of your songs.” You wanted to cry at this point, knowing there was nothing stopping Hongjoong from walking into his worse nightmare.

“O-okay. I’ll leave the door open for you.”

“Thank you, baby. I’ll be there soon, love you.” You gave a small ‘I love you’ before hanging up, rushing back into the room only to be met with a soothing melody played on the studio provided keyboard, but it didn’t ease your anxiety.

“Woozi, listen, you need to go before Hongjoong gets here.” You said bluntly, watching as his fingers stopped before looking at you, his eyes filling with worry at the sight of your own panicked expression, your bottom lip close to bleeding from how hard you were biting it.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t have him know you’re here. Please, you just need to trust me-“

“Is Hongjoong hurting you, (Y/n)?” Woozi asked with genuine concern and a hint of outrage.

“No, but he’ll hurt you if he knows your my producer so you need to-“

“(Y/n/n)…”

You turned around and tried to hide your fear with a large smile, Hongjoong staring at you with an almost pained expression that made you let out a small whimper despite your seemingly casual appearance.

“Hongjoong! This is Woozi. He’s a-“

“Producer, I know. So you helped on (Y/n)’s album?” Hongjoong stated with a bitter yet monotonous voice, handing you the large bag of takeout before making his way into the room and taking a seat next to Woozi, your heart ringing in your ears as you watched them interact.

Hongjoong was always begging you to collab with him on a song or album. You could just picture his smile as he talked about how he’d listen to it over and over again, reminding himself that, even though your relationship wasn’t allowed by your company and he wasn’t able to show the world how great you were together, he’d be able to say you were great together as musicians and collaborators. But you crushed those dreams by asking Woozi to help with your album instead.

Hongjoong couldn’t deny he was hurt, and maybe even a bit jealous. Woozi was an amazing composure and producer, but so was he. Did you think he wasn’t good enough and that’s why you didn’t ask for his help? Or maybe it’s because you always liked Woozi better. Hongjoong recalled all the times your absentmindedly praised the older male’s musical abilities, a mixture of anger and self-doubt consuming him as he gave half-assed comments on the tracks Woozi played from your upcoming release. They were perfect, and that only made Hongjoong feel worse.

It took some time for you to regain your composure as you set the food down and stood beside Hongjoong, listening to him give a bit of critique to your title track, praising it despite his entire demeanor showing he was less than pleased with the situation.

“I’m gonna head home now to give you two some space. You need me to come by tomorrow to work on that bonus track?” Woozi asked while packing up his belongings.

“No, that’s fine. Thanks again for today.”

You both watched as he finally left, the tension in the air nearly suffocating you as you tried to find the words to say.

“He’s a great producer. Glad he helped with your album.” The tone of his voice was so defeated and sad, the small sigh you released doing nothing to relax your tense body.

“I wanted to ask you but you were already focused on Ateez stuff.”

“I would’ve made time for you.” He finally looked at you, his gaze soft despite the painful thumping in his chest fueled at the thought you went to another man for help. It almost felt like he was just cheated on.

“That would’ve been the most selfish thing for me to do and you know it. But look,“

You walked around to the seat Woozi previously occupied, finding the notebook you kept for all of your songs and picking out a loose sheet of paper. It looked a bit faded and old but you could read the lyrics perfectly.

“I wanted to make a bonus track that’d be released before the album and, considering we wrote it together, I thought it’d be wrong of me to have Woozi work on it.”

Hongjoong gently grabbed the sheet and read over the page that had strange doodles in the header and margins, a small smile appearing on his lips. He wrote this for you as a confession while he was still a trainee, giving it to you as a birthday gift before you returned it with drawings and extra lyrics added, you both going back and forth like lovesick kids until both sides of the page were filled.

“Are you doing this to pity me?”

“I’m doing this because you’re a great producer with amazing talent that will make this song better than I could ever imagine.” Despite your words being genuine, he felt you were only telling him what he wanted to hear. And he was okay with that.

“Alright, should we get started now?” He asked eagerly, moving to the keyboard to find a perfect melody for the love song.

“Let’s eat first. I’m starving.”

“Nope. With me it’s business first, leisure second.” He said with a nonchalant yet peppy tone, your body sinking into the seat as you realized he alone would go days without a meal until he perfected a song, so there’s no telling what you’ll have to endure with him. Maybe you should’ve stuck with Woozi on this one.

 Seonghwa

You couldn’t read him at all. He was smiling like usual but his eyes were somehow narrowed with a glare. His body was so relaxed yet the arm around your waist was holding you into his side so tightly. And his voice; he was holding a conversation like normal yet sounded so sarcastic and bitter.

You could never pinpoint Seonghwa’s jealousy, he was a master at hiding it. But he knew when it kicked in, especially with the way your work husband, as he introduced himself, came rushing towards you with a bear hug during your company’s recent office party. He knew there’d be someone at the office interested in you, it’s hard not love someone so kind and energetic. But he also had to make a point of you being his, and what better way to do that than with class?

“Every day I come in, (Y/n) manages to make it better. It kinda bummed me out when you told me you were with someone, cause I would’ve had you for myself by now.” You coworker joked with a laugh, you and Seonghwa returning the laughter before the same arm around you tightened once more and you were certain you’d pop any second now.

“Well, let’s just consider you unlucky, right?” Seonghwa’s joke left an uncomfortable silence between you three, your eyes going between him and your colleague.

“I think (Y/n)’s incredible, sweet, talented. I’d say you’re a hard worker but that’s pretty obvious since you practically live at your office, right?” Seonghwa continued, facing you as you tried to make sense of what he was thinking and feeling, slowly piecing it all together with his little rant.

“But I think the greatest thing about you is that you’re mine and mine alone, and no work husband could ever compare to your real one.”

“My what?!” You snapped out of your trance as your coworker finally spoke up, apologizing if his comments made either of you uncomfortable, your head shaking frantically as he excused himself.

He was the only fun person you worked with that was around your age, everyone else in their 30s or 40s and having no time to joke around. His presence made your job bearable, and now you probably lost that thanks to the passive aggressive fool next to you.

“Why would you make up a lie like that? I should’ve known you were just jealous from the start.” You grumbled, wanting to remove yourself from his arms and apologize to the man that would usually give you a coffee with a joke written on the cardboard sleeve.

You gasped as you were pulled back once more, not too harsh but enough to make you turn and face Seonghwa, staring down at you in such an intimidating yet passionate way. It was scary yet exciting.

“I didn’t lie at all. You’re mine just like I’m yours and, we may not be married now, but it’ll happen soon.” He clarified, standing upright and looking away from you as a familiar smirk played on his lips.

“And I never get jealous, you know that.” Liar.

Yunho

Jealousy wasn’t something Yunho typically felt, but when he felt it, it hit him hard.

He wasn’t sure why he was so jealous, you were only talking to an old friend, one that you introduced him to as your “first crush”. But those feelings were from years ago, you were with Yunho now so there shouldn’t be a problem. Until he remembered he was also your crush at one point, you pining after him for two years until he caught on and accepted your feelings. If you could wait that long for Yunho, who knows how long you’d wait for this guy.

You were in a public space, walking alongside one another in the park Yunho always took you when he was stressed from work and practice, but this situation was just as stressful. Yunho felt like a kicked puppy at the way you gave all your attention to someone you haven’t seen in years and, from the sounds of it, had nothing in common with anymore, just fond memories. He didn’t want to start pouting because he’d be too obvious about his envy, his eyes rolling whenever you laughed at a lame joke he said. Seriously, he wasn’t that funny.

“Yunho, I forgot to ask what you did for work.” The other man, Chris, spoke up, causing Yunho to finally give him his attention.

“(Y/n) and I work together. I’m an idol while they’re our makeup artist.”

“Makeup artist? I can’t believe that’s still your dream job after these years. Congrats.” Chris smiled down at you before reaching to place his hand on your head, ruffling your hair as you let out a cute faux-whine and that was the last straw for Yunho.

You gasped as you were suddenly spun around, crashing into your boyfriend’s chest as he held onto you tightly, trying to hide his glare as he looked to a shocked Chris.

“Sorry but I just reminded myself we’ve been on break too long and I have to get back now.”

“Oh, well (Y/n) and I can hang out while you head bac-“

“No.”

You barely managed to give a proper apology and goodbye to Chris as Yunho dragged you off in the opposite direction, your body fighting against his until he released you, only to grab onto your hand with a gentle yet iron-tight grip. You’ve only seen this side of Yunho once before, and it was when you first began dating, the head makeup artist being a male that you had to give your undivided attention to in order to learn properly.

The lack of eye contact, the way his lips formed a pout despite him licking them occasionally to erase it or at least hide the fact it was there only to have it come back deeper than before, and the stand-offish yet clingy affection he gave you, almost as if he was angry at you but desperate for you to comfort him. He was jealous, and it was honestly amusing.

“You know, you have to stop getting jealous like that.”

“I’m not jealous.” He said bluntly, a small giggle leaving your mouth.

“Okay, sure. I bet you were fine with the fact Chris kept calling me his ‘love’ too, right?”

“When did he say that?!” You couldn’t stop the laughter leaving you at his outburst, ceasing his steps to face you with a devastated look.

“I’m sorry, I was only kidding, I just love how cute you get when you’re jealous.”

“I was jealous that you weren’t including me in your conversation. Him calling you love is just disrespectful to our relationship.” He clarified, your head nodding understandingly.

“Well, that doesn’t matter because he’s not my type.” You paused to kiss the hand holding onto yours, looking at Yunho’s face with a small smile.

“I prefer giant crybabies.”

Yeosang

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you stood alongside Park Bo Gum in the makeshift apartment on set, your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you watched him recite his lines for the third time that night. Sure, he was probably annoyed and exhausted because you could only stare at him in absolute admiration which led to you forgetting your own lines, but the words he spoke never got old to you. The character he was playing was confessing to you, something a rookie actor like yourself could only take to heart, especially when the man opposite of you was your celebrity crush.

But that only made Yeosang stand far behind the camera sulking. Seeing as you were always so excited after the end of filming each day, Yeosang took it upon himself to come watch you, only to realize this was the cause of your joy. When you said the leading actor for the upcoming drama was a ‘surprise’, he didn’t think you meant Park Bo Gum, yet here he was: staring down at you with soft eyes and a toothy smile that made Yeosang want to roll his own.

After various attempts, you final managed to deliver your lines, you and the slightly older male ending the day with a seconds long kiss that would be edited to last an eternity, the entire cast and crew relieved that you got it together so they can wrap up and go. Yeosang couldn’t help the way his face burned with irritation as he swallowed his jealousy, it always happened when he did. He also couldn’t help how cold he was acting as you approached him with a large smile.

“Did I do well? Did you like it?” You asked hopefully, Yeosang slowly cracking at the nervous and childlike gaze you gave him, a sigh leaving his lips as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Yeah, you did really great, sweetie.”

“(Y/n)!”

Yeosang’s bitter scowl came back as Bo Gum approached, his typical smile planted on his face and the poor boy couldn’t help but admit he was a real life prince. No wonder you could barely speak in front of him.

“Sunbaenim!” You greeted, bowing politely before gesturing to the obviously angry man next to you.

“This is my boyfriend, Yeosang.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you. (Y/n) talks about you all the time.”

You watched as he kindly extended his hand, Yeosang’s eyes staring at it pathetically before drifting upwards to glare at your elder, a shocked gasp leaving you as you apologized to the equally shocked, but honestly amused, actor.

“I’m so sorry. He’s a bit socially awkward outside of his performances so you’ll have to excuse him.”

“It’s fine, I get that way sometimes. But you did great today, don’t forget to practice more when you get home.”

You nodded and watched as he strolled away to return the outfit used for today’s filming, your head snapping to your boyfriend’s unbothered figure.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You just disrespected Park Bo Gum! Are you insane?”

“Stop talking about him like he’s some god. He’s just like anyone else.”

“Even if he is, that doesn’t excuse you being rude.”

You huffed as you walked away from him, the crew and director putting their items away as he stood awkwardly with his arms crossed over his chest, upset but still willing to wait for you to collect your items so he could take you home. You didn’t know why he acted like such an angry brat when he was jealous, but you could understand that you having a romantic scene with someone you’ve admired for years would obviously be an ego killer for him. You couldn’t help that you put Bo Gum on a pedestal, it was the fangirl in you. But your boyfriend was just as famous and meant even more to you, so why weren’t you treating him the same?

Yeosang heard your timid footsteps stop just in front of him although he refused to look at you, your arms wrapping around his torso as you pried his own apart with your head so he could hold you properly, staring up at him with a pout.

“Stop being angry with me.” You tried to say in your cutest voice, Yeosang trying hard not to break his sour puss persona.

“Act cute all you want, but I think Bo Gum would probably like it way more than I do.”

“I’m too young for him. Besides, he probably doesn’t like weirdos like me.”

You felt two warm hands cup your face before squishing your cheeks together, making your pout more prominent and fish-like, Yeosang finally smiling as he playfully tilted your head from side to side.

“Yeah, you are pretty weird.”

Everything seemed fine and well for you two again, especially when he leaned forward to plant a small kiss to your lips, only to retract instantly with his previous stone-faced expression.

“You didn’t wipe your mouth after he kissed you, did you?” Your eyes widened in realization just after he released you, turning on his heels to walk away only for your body immediately follow his, preparing to fix things once again.

“Wait, I forgot to! I didn’t leave it on purpose! Yeosang!”

San

It all happened last night: San taking you out to dinner, the waiter flirting with you heavily, you giggling in a mixture of awkwardness and flattery, and San biting back his jealousy. All of that was last night, so why the hell was San romancing the hell out of you now?

You watched carefully as he maneuvered himself around the dorm’s dining room table, standing at your side as he cut your steak for you and even opted to feed you, his eyes staring into yours lovingly as you chewed although you were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed, finally bringing yourself to look away.

“Shouldn’t you take a seat and eat as well? I feel weird having you do this for me.”

“Nonsense. I’d rather starve before I learn you haven’t had your meal first.” Your eyes widened at his words, staring at him in disbelief as he eagerly held another piece of meat to your lips.

The jealous San you knew was pouty and clingy, but this one was suave and charming, making your heart skip a beat whenever he looked at you. But you could tell he had some impure motive behind this, most of your instincts telling you he wasn’t just spontaneously feeling enamored.

“Well, I can’t take another bite knowing you aren’t eating either. Please eat, Sannie.”

He gave a small smile before setting your utensils down and pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth, making his way back to his own seat where he didn’t even look at his food, just stared back at you with the same gaze as before. You mentally groaned, knowing this would be a long night.

And, by god, it was.

From the painfully uncomfortable dinner, to the way he held your hands and complimented you as he presented a necklace with his name on it, to the way you slow danced in the center of their dorm. You just couldn’t handle it. But you still allowed him to sway your bodies together as he held the same joy on his face, almost oblivious to the fact you wanted to push him away, a simple sentence leaving him that made you snap.

“I just want you to know that there’s no other man in this world that’ll treat you like I do.”

You glared up at San before removing yourself from his grasp, walking towards his phone placed on the nearby table and turning off the music he had playing before returning to stand in front of him.

“Listen, it took some time for me to figure out you were jealous, but to go through all of this? You’ve clearly lost it.”

“I just want to show you how much-“

“You love me? Because this ain’t it, San. You just wanted to one-up a waiter that I laughed at because I was uncomfortable and wanted him to leave me alone.” His eyes widened at your words.

“So you didn’t like him talking to you?”

“Hell no. I was hoping you’d do something besides sit in your corner having a pity party. Now, here we are, in the middle of your dorm slow dancing while you’re in slacks and a dress shirt and I’m still in my pajamas. And we both know Seonghwa made that steak, so don’t take credit for it.” You’ve said so much already yet your rant didn’t end there.

“I think the worse part of all of this is that I asked you for this necklace when we started dating last year, and to finally receive it under these circumstances makes me not even want to wear it. I honestly prefer your usual whiny self to this.”

A brief silence, your hard gaze boring into his shocked one, neither of you knowing want to expect next until San acted first, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you into him with a whimper.

“You promise you didn’t like him more than me?” You couldn’t help but smile and place a comforting hand on his back. This was your San.

Mingi

He felt so childish and stupid for being jealous, but how could he not be when his own partner was sitting on his lap but giving all of their attention to Hongjoong.

He was happy you were getting along with his group members, but hearing how you laughed and talked with his elder, your body perking up at every word he said, your conversations dragging on as you discussed your shared interest, something you and Mingi struggled to do as you were totally different people, his eyes widening whenever you mentioned a new fact about your life. He sat back and silently wondered if you preferred Hongjoong over him, if you ever wonder what he’d be like as a boyfriend. His thoughts were so negative, only growing grimmer and sadder with each scenario playing through his mind, his arms loosening from around your waist as he abruptly stood, your lips no longer moving as you stopped your conversation to check on the giant leaving you.

You followed him into the kitchen silently, his back to you as he rummaged through the fridge, not wanting to see or talk to you as of yet.

“I was gonna head out to eat soon, wanna come?”

“Why not go with Hongjoong?” He muttered, not being able to help that the snarky response slipped out.

“Because the main person I want to be with right now is my boyfriend.” You were met with silence, causing you to sigh and desperately grab onto his arm until he finally faced you.

“Mingi, what’s wrong?”

“Do you like Hongjoong? Like, are you interested in him?”

The laugh you let out was loud enough to cause Hongjoong to questioningly glance towards your direction although he couldn’t see you, your body doubled over as you tried to ease your hysteria.

“Holy fuck, no. What makes you think that?”

“You two just have a lot in common and get along a lot better than we do.” You sighed and reached down to grasp his hands, staring into his eyes despite him shyly looking away, obviously still battling with his insecurities.

“Hongjoong is a great friend, but I’d be so bored with him. I like to talk about our hometown, and how we both love Iron Man films, sure, but you’re always teaching me new things and increasing my hobbies. Remember how I didn’t like rap before you? Now I love it! And it’s because I chose someone I can stay with forever and learn something new about every day.”

You felt your lips tug upwards as he finally looked at you, unable to contain his smile as he pulled you into him, a light squeal leaving you as you held one another in a tight embrace. As much as Mingi wanted to scream to Hongjoong that he won, having you choose him and only him, he stayed silent and mentally celebrated his victory.

Wooyoung

Unbeknownst to you, Wooyoung liked to make you jealous. He found it cute when you shoved his arm and told him to stop being so flirty with other people, only to apologize and remind you that you were his one and only. It was a stupid and silly cycle he loved. But the second you started being cute and flirty with anyone else, hell broke loose.

You didn’t know you were coming off flirty, thinking you were your typically friendly self as you spoke with a fellow idol, congratulating them for their win on tonight’s music show and praising their talent. Sure, he gave a few winks and flirtatious remarks here and there, even stepping closer to you as you continued to converse in the backstage area, you completely unaware of the angry body quickly approaching yours, but Minho catching onto his presence quickly.

“Wooyoung! You did great tonight.” The older star said, Wooyoung giving a curt smile and nod, wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing you to face him, your eyes wide and cheeks burning at the sudden action.

“Same to you. I’m just upset our song wasn’t part of this week’s voting, we would’ve won thanks to my good luck charm here.” If your face wasn’t bright red before, it surely was now, not used to Wooyoung being this touchy in front of others.

Minho’s eyes widened as he finally realized the situation, bowing respectfully and apologizing for not realizing you two were together, your hands gently pushing Wooyoung to pry him off, not liking the way he stared at you with amusement and an almost predatory glint.

“A lot of people don’t know about us, and I think it’s because I’ve never gotten them a necklace or something to show they’re taken. But I think I have a better alternative.” You gulped as you once again tried to escape, knowing exactly where this was going.

“Wooyoung, don’t you dar-“ You were cut off by your own whimpers, eyes shutting in embarrassment as Wooyoung latched his lips onto your throat, sucking harshly and squeezing your body closer to his.

You knew how Wooyoung got when he was jealous, he was possessive and willing to do such risky things to show whoever was entranced by your natural beauty and presence that you were his and only his, and that a simple touch from him would prove that true as you only craved more.

You released a sigh you didn’t realize you were holding as he finally pulled away, admiring the purple and red mark stained onto your neck before finally giving Minho a glance, the other boy staring at you both in what you could only assume was embarrassment and shock.

“Now, I’m gonna head home. You can come with if you don’t feel like staying out too long, okay? Congrats on that win again.”

Wooyoung went back to his usually cute self, kissing your cheek and casually turning away to stroll from the room filled with a few forgotten people that took in the scene, your bottom lip being sucked into your mouth before bowing and apologizing profusely and rushing out the door. Not because you were mortified, but because you needed to catch up with Wooyoung, unsure if you wanted to yell at him for humiliating you or finish what he started.

Jongho

As a barista, your job was to provide excellent customer service and, not to brag, but you were beyond excellent. Your friendly smile and bubbly personality made it impossible for people not to gravitate towards you, leaving you in a loop of minutes long conversations about nothing with each and every customer while also serving them with their order. Seriously, you were basically perfect.

That kind of perfection is what caused Jongho to fall for you, coming by your shop every day for the same drink just to have more conversations about nothing, and you enjoyed his companionship, your typical work related jokes becoming personal rants that he happily listened to, loving how you both finally grew closer to one another. Of course, he hadn’t asked you out yet, but that was his main and only goal for the day as he entered the small shop. Until he realized you were giving the same undivided attention you gave him to someone else.

They were the only customer as it hasn’t hit peak hours yet, you both sitting at a table just by the window, your head tilted as you listened closely to his words, nodding along as he smiled softly and spoke. Jongho didn’t want to intrude but he was curious. What did this man possess that was similar to or, worse, better than him? The light giggles you occasionally let out didn’t put him at ease either. This man really must be something.

“You’ve honestly really made this day better, (Y/n/n). Seeing you doing well on your own is making this moving thing a lot easier on me.”

His hand, reaching across the table to hold onto yours, brushing his thumb over your skin as you stared ahead giving a shy laugh and smile. Your body shivered as a strange chill ran down your spine, your body feeling stiff and tense as if something was looming behind you menacingly and, once you turned to invalidate your suspicions, you let out a loud yelp that they were true.

“Jongho! I can’t believe I didn’t hear you come in! Come on, let me make your usual.” You said cheerfully while standing from your seat, only for the stone faced boy to ignore you, eyes boring into the man he still had no idea about, but a lot of opinions of.

“You must be Jongho. (Y/n) talk a lot about you.”

“That’s good to hear, since they don’t mention you at all.”

You stood there with wide eyes, blinking away your disbelief before hurriedly looking towards the male, apologizing profusely much to Jongho’s dismay. The unidentified man took the hint that there was a bit of tension from his presence and decided to leave, avoiding giving you a hug as he usually would. As soon as he was out of sight, you crossed your arms, ready to give Jongho a piece of your mind until he cut you off.

“Don’t let anyone else touch you. Or look at you. Especially when you smile because that makes them want to talk to you more.” He stared at you with a small pout and round puppy like eyes.

“And since when have you become my boyfriend?”

“Since now.”

Quite honestly, this was the coldest confession you’ve ever received, but it made your face heat up all the same, a playful smirk making its way onto your face as you approached the still pouty and jealous boy.

“I think I can accept that, as long as you direct your jealousy to someone that isn’t my brother.”

The realization and embarrassment that crossed his face was an instant pass to your forgiveness.

The Bae’st of All

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Kyubae the bae’st bae of all aka Kyubei

Prompt: Seeing how Kyubei is named after an alias that the real Mitsuhide Akechi used (Juubei) the chances of fans getting a Kyubei route from Cybird are slim. However, it is simply impossible not to fall for this man. He is too good. So here have my attempt at writing a route.

A/N: Longer chapter this month and no, that isn’t the reason why I’m not back on my weekly nonsense. 

The key of the previous chapter was (Romantic/Dramatic):

+2/+4

+4/+4

+4/+2

Chapters:

1.1| 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 3.1 | 3.2 | 4.1

Avatar Challenge 1| 3.1 Gacha POV | 1st Letter

Keiji wore an impish smile as he smiled down at me, his eyes crinkling into half moons.

“Well? I know that Kyubei went back to work already.”

Shifting in my seat I wondered if Keiji had been watching me, as he flashed me another bright smile, a hand reaching out to me as he pulled me up.

“Come on, let’s go. Knowing Mitsuhide he really didn’t bother having you shown around properly so far, and knowing Kyubei he has been far too busy to take you out properly. Let me fix that!”

Excited Keiji bounded off, my hand tightly held in his as I flash a look of regret at the sweets and tea I had barely started on.

“Ah, Keiji!”

A friendly old man calls out to us, seated cross legged on the ground he has a drum in his lap, dressed in decorative robes as he waves us over.

“Old man!”

Keiji responds with a beaming grin, earning the look of similarly dressed people, some holding instruments, others in the middle of some warmup poses.

“Is that the new princess the castle town has been talking about? She is much prettier than our princess.”

The ‘old man’ gestures at me, letting go of a dry laugh at my blush. Somewhere in the back a girl dressed in brighter and bolder colours than the rest gives the man a playful push, a huff escaping her lips.

“I just need to dance like one, not look the part.”

Her answer earns her another round of taunts from the rest as they push and pull between their teases as I watch them with some envy.

(They’re all so comfortable with each other, like a bunch of childhood friends, or one big family.)

“They’re not much different from our antics, you know?”

Keiji’s words pull me out of my thoughts as I blink at him, wondering how he managed to read my thoughts so easily.

“Everyone wants to get to know the chatelaine better, but as long as she remains afraid there is little we can do.”

Keiji’s words struck me as I blink up at him, confusion settling over my expression as I wordlessly sounded my question.

“I don’t think Kyubei minds your company, but there is no need for you to actually study so hard. Nobunaga would be just as pleased to have you lean back and indulge in the luxuries provided.”

A bad feeling rises over me, clambering around my heart as I eye Keiji, trying to discern the true meaning of his words.

(I thought I was brought to the Akechi manor to teach me proper manners, but are they saying that I have been sheltered instead? That they were worried that I would be uncomfortable and hence let me stay outside of the castle?)

“Ah, no need to look guilty. No one thinks you are a burden, or a nuisance. We just want you to be comfortable, even Mitsuhide.”

Letting the words sink in I realise the consideration everyone has ever had for me. The presents that the warlords kept on sending me, their occasional visits, and the kindness in which Kyubei taught me despite his own work.

(They have been nothing but kind to me.)

“Hey, cheer up. There is no time to lament, dance!”

Keiji’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts once more as he leads me into a circle where the rest of the troupe is as well. When the old man hits the drum I realise that they are about to start their performance, expectant eyes from the crowd slowly coming to a stop as they eye me.

“I can’t dance!”

(I need to get out of here!)

“No!”

No matter the protests I’m already brought into the crowd before I know it, stringed along to dance with Keiji as the crowd cheers.

(This is actually kinda fun?)

The sound of music slowly takes away my embarrassment and before I know it I’m immersed into their music, enjoying my time here.

“Told ya, there is nothing much to fear, princess.”

Keiji smiles brightly at me afterwards, his cheeks slightly flushed from the exercise, but content.

“Next time I will play an instrument for you, old man!”

His energy seems endless as he continues to banter with the troupe, an instrument pushed into his hands as he plays a little tune each time. I realise that Keiji is familiar with all of the instruments introduced.

In awe I look upon him in amazement, not noticing the rough shoulder that pushes me to the side as the crowd disperses itself, a mean looking man stepping forward.

“What are you low-lives doing here?”

(Yikes, we got a bully there.)

The man and his friend surround the troupe, hands settled upon their swords as they glower down the group, aiming for the old man specifically.

“You are hinin, return to your rightful place outside of the castle-town.”

The man spoke sternly as he kicked out the drum from the old man’s hands. The troupe stilled, their expressions taut as they glower the man down.

“We are at the border of the castle-town. Surely we can play music here?”

The response of the old man is calm and unflinching, as if he has experienced this on a daily basis. It hurts to think that he might.

“Didn’t you hear me? You vile people should leave at once before we cut you up!”

The threat rings through the air as my eyes widen. Without another thought I rush in, spreading my arms out as I stand between them.

“H-hey now, there is no reason to treat people like that. They’re making an honest living, not?”

To this Keiji steps into view as well, slinging an arm around the man with the sword as he smiles gingerly.

“Listen to the lady, she is right, they aren’t bothering anyone, but you are bothering them, not?”

“Lord Keiji!”

The man’s lofty attitude instantly crumbles at the sight of Keiji as the other shrugs his shoulders.

“Wish you could keep that attitude up, scram off and don’t let me hear of this again.”

The words Keiji spoke are unlike the bright bubbly character that I have come to know so far. His expression now severe as he watched the men scramble off, clearly not ready for a confrontation with the real authority.

“You have guts, princess. I knew I didn’t misjudge you. After all, you saved Nobunaga.”

Keiji addresses me once more, his expression back to the bright and bubbly persona from earlier, though I can still see the traces of his earlier irritation.

“Now, you just have to reach out for that courage and I’m sure you'll fit right in with the rest of us.”

(Is he comforting me?)

Confused I turn my eyes to the rest of the troupe, the dancers and musicians looking dejected as they gather their things again.

“Thank you. You shouldn’t have to. You know how common it is for us to face such discrimination.”

The old man addresses the both of us as he slowly gets up from his place.

(Common? That is awful, why would they…)

“Common or not, it shouldn’t be tolerated. Not as long as Nobunaga rules here.”

Keiji’s tone is clipped as he says this, but his smile returns soon enough as he pats the old man on his shoulder.

“We shouldn’t punish you for losing your original home. Not when we are the cause of it.”

I’m still not quite following as I watch Keiji interact. It is only after that the troupe has left to return to their homes outside of the castle town that I dare to ask.

“What are hinin?”

Keiji eyes me with surprise as he grimaces ruefully at me, a hand reaching out to pet my head.

“Under which stone did you crawl from?”

His tone is teasing, though sad as he retreats his hand, a sigh escaping him. For once Keiji’s expression is serious, though more out of respect for the topic than true sadness or pity.

“You know that there are classes, right? Though Nobunaga has abolished them now. Hinin are outcasts, so to say. Foreigners from other lands that have followed warlords in the hopes for a better future.”

I turn to look at the retreating figures of the troupe with a new understanding of their situation.

(How awful. To be discriminated against like that because of the place of birth.)

“Nobunaga values his people by merit. It helps people like them to climb up in ranks, fortunately. It isn’t much now, but hopefully in the future we can all stand equal.”

Keiji’s voice sounds hopeful as he expresses himself and I as well feel my heart lurch up, nodding in enthusiasm back at him.

(I can’t say anything now. But it will be better in the future.)

With that said Keiji returns me to the Akechi manor, his demeanour once more slipping back into his cheery self as he grins at me.

“I hope to see you back in Azuchi soon, princess. Everyone is looking forward to befriending you.”

Though I find it hard to imagine I’m starting to see the sense of it all as I nod in response. Keiji’s eyes crinkling into mischievous slits as he leans over.

“However, I think you will make a certain foxling lonely if you left so soon, so be sure to visit him often?”

I blink a few times as I wonder who Keiji is referring to, earning a boisterous laugh from the male as he pulls away, leaving me at the gate.

“Say hi to the two of them. I will skip by again when I feel like it.”

Raising up a hand he waves himself off without ever turning back.

Dance

Summary: this was a request by @rosasteri [who may as well be dubbed my creative muse bc the request i get from them make me super inspired ]“ hi, can I request Jaskier x reader? jask, geralt and reader stay in tavern. jaskier plays his music, but other bard comes and jaskier decides to take a rest. people start to dance so jaskier offers to reader his hand and trying to convince her to dance. but reader doesn't know how to dance so Jask teaches her “

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 2,019

A/N: i really dont have anything to say, lmao, for some reason im at a loss for words today - spent most of it writing original story, and now have an this dying rge to read percy jackson, so guess i know what i will do tonight, lol, either way

any and all feedback is appreciated and can be left anonymously on my ask page <3

I heard raindrops outside before Jaskier strung his lute again. I peak out the window to see lighting strike somewhere far away. The tavern, however is dry and safe. A fireplace is lit near me, providing a good bit of warmth. I lean my back against it now, looking at Jask.

His shadows remind me of the monsters Geralt slays, splashed across the floor. The wood creaks beneath his feet, but his music overpowers it as his singing fills the room. I hear Geralt grunt in front of me as he chugs his ale. Our eyes meet, and while he seems annoyed, he also looks happy. He got rid of some noonwraiths today, so we were celebrating. The townsfolk were welcoming to their newly found hero and his sidekicks.

Jaskier prances to our table, as if to check if his friends were paying attention to him. He made it really hard not to. I wink at him, as he offers me a smile, dancing away now. I sip my wine, taking eyes off the bard to look at the witcher. His gaze was glued to the window, but a smile was on his lips. I decided not to bother.

I hear some disturbance come from the entrance, as a man rushes in. He’s wet from the rain, but I doubt he cares about that. From underneath his jacket he pulls out a lute, inspecting it to see if there is any rain damage on it. I see his shoulders relax and the answer is clear.

Jaskier seems to notice a fellow bard too, stopping his lute. He waves the guy in, allowing him to take the honours of entertaining the guests, as he drops next to Geralt.

“I need a break.” He exhales the words, taking his ale and sipping it.

“Oh yes, being a bard is sure tiring.” Geralt teases, as Jask nudges him.

“Try to do it yourself, then.” I smirk at them, twirling the drink in my glass. “Y/N, do you think being a bard is easy?”

“Easier than being a witcher.” I mumble, chuckling. “But sure, it’s not easy.”

“I have to entertain the masses, you know what happens when they aren’t pleased?” Jaskier dramatically throws his hands in the air, looking to Geralt and back to me.

“They throw rocks at you?” I can’t help but let out a laugh and Geralt’s comment, who in response smirks. “Because that’s what some do when they see a witcher. They throw rocks or whatever happens to be at their disposal. One time it was a cat.”

“Oh no.” I say, now fully laughing. I see Jaskier break character too, as he giggles. “Cats hate you, Geralt.”

“Feelings mutual.” He smirks, as I giggle again.

The silence between is comfortable, but soon the rained upon bard fills it. His lute sounds different, not the sounds I’m used to, but it’s still pleasant. His voice now fills the tavern and I steal a glance at Jaskier, to see what he thinks.

From what I can tell, he likes it. His lips are curled in a smile, and he’s nodding along, without realizing it. I relax, glad he’s not getting competitive. Our eyes meet and he sticks his tongue out.

“I wont try to overplay him.” He says, as I smirk.

“Not again.” Geralt corrects the bard, who flushes red, downing his drink.

“Shut up.” He practically gargles at us.

I laugh. One time at a similar evening, another bard came in and Jaskier wasn’t happy about it. He also wasn’t on his first ale. Or his fifth, for that matter. So he tried to overplay the other guy, and things went wrong faster than Geralt and I could grasp. Our good friend was trying so hard, he danced into a pillar, breaking his lute in half, and then crying.

We helped him out. After we stopped laughing.

I see people spring to their feet now, as the empty space is filling up with patrons, dancing. Couples and friends alike start to move. In turn, bard makes his melody more cheery. I appreciate that, nudging my head side to side in beat.

“Y/N! Let’s dance!” Jaskier yells suddenly, startling me. I stare at the bard, who is already on his feet.

“Jaskier, you know I don’t dance.” I say, as he rolls his eyes.

“Stop being a party pooper and just do it.” He teases as I cross my arms. He grabs my shoulder shaking me.

“I don’t know how to dance!” I argue, and he stops the shaking only to start poking my arm.

“I’ll teach you.” He argues back and I see Geralt raise his eyebrows.

“Teach Y/N how to dance into pillars? Don’t let her embarrass herself like that.” I give witcher a thankful look, but Jaskier is relentless.

“Geralt, fuck off.” He puts his hand right up Geralt’s face, before looking to me again. “Y/N, let’s go!”

“Fine!” I finally give in, as Geralt looks like he is really close to losing his shit and hitting Jask or, gods forbid, his lute. I’d rather avoid another broken-lute-and-cry situation, as funny as it was.

I lazily stand up, and before I can even gain proper footing, Jaskier drags me out. I nearly run into one of the dancers, but at a last second, Jask pulls me out of the way. I glare at the bard who offers me an apologetic smile.

I straighten up, as he starts to step around, dancing. I blankly stare at him, not moving an inch of my body. Jaskier sighs, grabbing my hand and waving it around.

“Loosen up, Y/N.” I roll my eyes.

“I’m dancing. It’s called a statue.” I tease, as Jaskier nudges me, laughing.

“Just step around.” I raise my eyebrows. “Like you really need to use the restroom, but in time with the music.”

“What now?” I laugh, as he rolls his eyes, pulling away.

I try to take his advice the best of my ability, stepping around a little, but timing it with the music. Jaskier grins and I can tell he’s trying to hold back a laugh. I stop, getting embarrassed, once he realizes that, he laughs and hugs me.

“I’m sorry, it’s just your legs, they move, but from waist up you look dead.” He laughs in my ear as my face heats up.

“Well should I just act like I’m dying and shake all around?” He snickers, pulling away. His hand still on my shoulder now slides to my hand.

“Let me lead you.” I press my lips, nodding.

“Sure.” I say, through my teeth.

“Do the leg thing.” I am not sure what he means, so the bard sighs. “The toilet dance.”

“Right.”

I do ‘the leg thing’ as Jask gently moves my arms around. He sees that I am not showing much, if any, restraint, so he grows more confident and bold in his moves. I feel like a ragdoll, dragged around, and he starts spinning.

Until I trip, falling and getting under his feet. He crashes on top of me, and I swear I hear Geralt laugh.

“I can’t breathe!” I grunt, as I feel Jaskier vibrate on top of me. It takes me a moment to realize he’s laughing. I try to push him, but the bard just won’t budge. “Jaskier, for the love of god!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He says, finally lifting himself off me. I glare at him as he extends his arm to me, helping me up. He breaks out into laughter yet again. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” I say, cleaning my dress with my hands. I feel my cheeks heat up as I see people snickering looking our way.

“Like you hate me.” He pokes my cheek, removing his hand before I can punch it away.

“But I do.” I respond, as the bard ends his song. People cheer for him, as Jaskier and I stare at each other. I struggle to keep a straight face, breaking into a smile. “I hate you.”

“Sure you do.” Jaskier purrs, winking at me, before the bard plays another song, and he starts dancing around.

I don’t wait for him to drag me around again, and I start moving. I do the toilet dance, not forgetting my upper body this time. Jaskier looks me up and down, smiling. The tune pics up in speed, and I struggle to keep up, scared of tripping.

“Don’t be so scared.” I hear the familiar voice, as if he just read my mind. I give a quick glare at the bard, before focusing back to my feet. “You’re thinking too much.”

“If I don’t, I’ll be falling too much.” I hiss, still not lifting my eyes, until his hand lands on my shoulder, stopping me.

“Just look at me or close your eyes, and listen to the music.” He does a twist, grinning. “Let the music carry you.”

“I’m not a musician, Jaskier. Music doesn’t carry me.” He beeps my nose in response, an even bigger grin painting across his face.

“Music has a power to carry anyone. You just need to allow it to do it.” He waves me closer to himself, so I lean in. “And the secret is, nobody knows how to dance. That’s why nobody also judges others. We all just… allow ourselves to move.”

I step back, taking a deep breath in. I close my eyes, listening to the fast-cheery tune. I focus on the bards voice, as it wraps around me. I try to let go off my anxiety and fears, letting my body lose. I try not to think of what I’ doing and who may be watching. I follow the notes like my body is the instrument.

It feels freeing, as if some weight has been lifted off my chest.

I open my eyes, expecting to see some judgemental looks, hear some laughter, but just like Jaskier said, nobody was judging me. I even stole a glance at Geralt, who was simply paying no attention to us. I look at the bard, as he gives me an encouraging nod.

The song dramatically slows, and he now steps closer, extending his arm. I never danced with anyone, but Jaskier seemed like a good practise. We were great friends, so if something went wrong, I am less likely to want to dig myself into a hole.

His hand lands on my waist as I put mine on his shoulder. He takes our free hands, lifting it to the side. I know males lead, so I try to do the same thing. Give in to music, and follow the energy, which in this case was my partner. Our eyes meet and his blue ones shine, reflecting the fire. I smile, not even realizing we are, in fact dancing.

“You’re a natural.” He says, gently pushing me so I would turn.

“Maybe you’re a good lead.” He pretends to be surprised, twisting me around.

“Yes, I think that’s it.” He finally agrees, winking, as I let out a giggle. “See, dancing isn’t that bad.”

“I guess so.” I am reluctant to agree, I know he wont let me live this down. “As long as no pillars happen to be in a way.”

“You will never forget it, will you?” He says through his giggle, and I shrug.

“Maybe. But I wont forget this either.” I say, as he gives me a kind smile.

The song ends and I don’t let go off his hand, dragging us back to our table. We sit down and Geralt looks at us.

“You two danced well.” He says and I am taken back, as it is rare to get a compliment from witcher.

“Thanks.” I whisper, looking at the table.

I let go off Jaskiers hand, my heart beating faster. I don’t hear whatever he starts to blabber about, and I notice Geralt look away too. A different song picks up, and I cant stop my feet from dancing under the table.

I look out the window to see the rain has passed. The sky is clearing up.

If I Could Fly - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!OC

Fandom: X-Men

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Gay, Fluff, Erik being genuinely happy, Karmel being a babyass bitch, TW SELF HARM MENTIONS,

Notes: I’m not telling you if this is canon or not because that spoils the series, and also spoils the fun. The song used is If I Could Fly by One Direction, it’s in the Erikarmel playlist. Enjoy!

Karmel walked inside Erik’s and his home on the island of Genosha, dusting dirt off of his shoulder. “Ricky, y’here?”

“You left.” 

Karmel turned and saw Erik standing in the shadows. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yea, sorry, hon. Promised Decker I’d show him around the fucking island.”

“‘Decker’?”

“Yea, the new mutant. Dreadlocks, kinda has vitiligo?” Before Karmel knew the official name for vitiligo, he remembers calling it “spotty syndrome.”

Luckily, he was a child at the time. That made it seem less mean, or ignorant, since as a child he didn’t really know any better.

“Ah, okay. You could’ve told me first. Waking up without you for the first time...who knows how long, was...strange. A bit disconcerting.” Erik drifted in and out of the sentence, still not used to being openly emotionally vulnerable. He slowly walked out of the shadows, a hanging lamp lighting up his features.

Karmel scoffed, placing a hand on Erik’s shoulder. He smiled when Erik responded with his automatic hands around his waist. Karmel then had an idea. “I’m glad you’re awake now, though.”

“Aren’t you always?”

Karmel rolled his eyes, pulling away from Erik’s touch. ”Well, yea, but that’s not the point right now.” He answered, walking over to a different corner of the room. “I reckon I’d show you this song I wrote, ages ago.”

“How long ago is ‘ages’ ago?”

“Ages as in while you were in Poland. Seems like literal ages ago.”

Erik nodded.

Karmel had a guitar in his hands; he dusted it off. “It’s called ‘If I Could Fly’ and I didn’t let Grimm release this one. It felt...too personal.” He explained, sitting down on their bed and tuning the guitar to perfection. 

Erik, almost like an eager child, rushed over and lay on the bed in a position where he rested his head on Karmel’s legs- the guitar occupied his lap.

Karmel raised an eyebrow. He chuckled, “comfy, captain?”

“Always, with you.”

“Loser.”

“You love me.”

“Yea, yea, whatever. Just lay there, look pretty as per usual, and listen alright?” Karmel instructed, taking a deep breath.

Erik nodded obediently. “Yes, sir.”

Karmel nodded back at him. “If I could fly, I’d be coming right back home to you...I think I might give up everything, just ask me to.”

Erik rested a hand on his chest, eyes watching Karmel’s, which were careful on the guitar’s strings and frets.

“Pay attention, I hope that you listen- ‘cause I let my guard down. Right now, I’m completely defenceless,” Karmel continued softly. “For your eyes only, I’ll show you my heart. For when you’re lonely, and forget who you are. I’m missing half of me, when we’re apart. Now you know me, for your eyes only...For your eyes only.”

Erik let Karmel meet his eyes for a moment, offering the man an assuring smile.

Karmel fought back a smile of his own; focus on the song, he thought. Focus too much on Erik, and you’ll mess up. “I’ve got scars, even though they can’t always be seen. And pain gets hard, but now you’re here and I don’t feel a thing.”

Erik glanced at Karmel’s limbs, knowing he’s fallen victim to seeing those scars one too many times. Including the scars Karmel had that weren’t physical, but mental, and emotional. Erik’s seen Karmel for who he is and who he isn’t, but to this day continues to love all of him for who he is.

“Pay attention, I hope that you listen. ‘Cause I let my guard down. Right now, I’m completely defenceless...” Karmel repeated, doing the same with the chorus. But louder this time, and with more feeling.

Erik closed his eyes slowly, feeling peaceful enough to let Karmel’s voice, the one he cherished so much, to carry him with their flow.

“I can feel your hear inside of mine; I feel it, I feel it. I’ve been going out of my mind- I feel it, I feel it. Know that I’m just wasting time...And I, hope that you don’t run from me,” Karmel crooned, eyes falling down on Erik’s features the same ones he’s memorized a thousand times over. He remembers the original lyric behind ‘And I, hope that you don’t run from me, again’ but the word didn’t fit into the beat; plus it just felt mean.

Erik opened an eye, a small grin on his lips. “Never” he whispered.

“For your eyes only,” Karmel locked his eyes with Erik, “I’ll show you my heart.”

Erik trailed his hand up to his chest, placing it flat over his own heart.

“For when you’re lonely,” 

“Which I never am, anymore.”

Karmel giggled, softly shaking his head. “And forget who you are.”

Erik thought back to the gap of time he had been in Poland for. He remembers Karmel released song after song after song through Grimm, being that Grimm was an actual musician so he produced the songs and released them (after either gender-bending them or gender-neutralizing them for the public). Erik sighed silently, not knowing how he could process how he feels for Karmel like Karmel does for him through these songs.

Erik is deep into his high-held relationship with Karmel, yet he still isn’t used to being emotionally vulnerable. He can’t blame Karmel for not being able to teach him subconsciously though the years, because it’s been clear that Karmel isn’t used to being emotionally vulnerable himself. Erik knows that he’s trying, though, he’s trying his best, and so is Karmel. Ever since they began this relationship, they’ve spent every moment possible on making it work out. Clearly, they’ve done well so far.

This song itself, “For Your Eyes Only”, is clearly about Karmel being emotionally vulnerable with Erik, and Erik only. It’s about the unique intimacy Erik and him share, Erik knows that by now. It’s Karmel’s way of telling Erik he’s completely open with Erik, and he’s okay with that.

And Erik’s more than glad.

“I’m missing half of me, when we’re apart,” Karmel riffed ‘me’ like an angel, fingers dancing across the strings. “Now you know me, for your eyes only” he cleared his throat, the final chorus being the loudest part of the song. “For your eyes only, I’ll show you my heart! For when you’re lonely, and forget who you are- I’m missing half of me, when we’re apart. Now you know me, for your eyes only...”

Erik smiled up at Karmel, the type of smile he had reserved for Karmel, and Karmel only.

“For your eyes only...For your eyes only.” Karmel finished. He exhaled heavily, setting the guitar aside eagerly; he raked his now-free hand into Erik’s hair. Karmel whistled lowly. “Well-?”

Erik took Karmel’s other hand, placing a soft kiss on each beautiful knuckle of his. “You’ve got a major talent in you, Karmel. Why did you confine yourself to that library?”

“Don’t ask as if you don’t remember, babe.” Karmel grinned.

Erik scoffed. “You enjoyed the pay- despite being born rich. You enjoyed the idea of getting to tell people to shut up for a living,” he chuckled, “you found it cute when little kids or anxious teenagers would skulk up to you for help finding stuff. Yea?” Erik remembered, sitting up.

Karmel shrugged half-heartedly. “Yea.” He cooed, nodding. “I leave all the talent up to Grimm. He’s the star of every show.”

“Yet you’re the star of mine.” Erik flirted, pointing at Karmel.

Karmel rolled his eyes playfully. “I hate you.”

“’Til the end of time, my paradise?” Erik raised his eyebrows hopefully, the smile on his lips outshining the damned sun in the sky.

Karmel cupped Erik’s cheek, holding it as if touching a sacred artifact worth millions. Which was half-true: Erik is sacred, and Erik is worth millions, if not, billions. Trillions, even. “Even then, you’ll still be mine.”

Necropolis. (Sweet Pea x Reader)

Summary: Vampire AU. When Y/N finds a bleeding Sweet Pea, she doesn’t expect to find herself falling in love with a human.

Word Count: 2,438

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings: Blood, swearing

Usually my job is peaceful and the majority of the time, I am left alone. Though tonight some insolent human has decided to take it upon themselves to piss me off. To make my job harder. Setting down my bottle of whiskey, I follow the strong scent of blood. Doing my best to ignore the growls of hunger I feel in the pit of my stomach, I edge closer. My eyes scan the darkness, trying to track down the person that my nose seems to have picked up. If it weren't for the small grunting noises, I doubt I would have been able to see him. Dressed in all black, a boy sits hunched over underneath the large willow tree. Normally, I would be quick to rid the graveyard of a curious human but for some reason I can't bring myself to tell him to leave. Instead I find myself inching closer. Trying to fulfil my own curiosity. He hisses slightly, moving his rather large hand. Warm, thick blood drips between his fingers and I find my mouth watering at the sight. Licking my lips, I realise that this boy needs help. That I should help him rather than let him greet death. "Hey, I'm here to help you." I whisper, shyly placing my hand on his leather clad shoulder. He looks shocked to see me, possibly due to the fact that we are both in the middle of a graveyard in the dead of night. Despite his shock he makes no attempt to argue when I offer him help. Gripping his jacket, I do my best to pull him to his feet. However, this turns out to be a lot harder than I originally planned as the male seems to be a lot taller than he looks. Fortunately he can still carry his own weight, so only need to keep hold of his hand as we begin to walk over to the mausoleum. His steps are slow and each time he winces in pain, I feel a pang of hurt pulse through me. It's as though I'm hurting because I have to see him in pain. Upon reaching the stone building, I make sure that he lays down on the top of the coffin that stands in the centre of the room. Not wanting to risk him collapsing on to the ground. When I finally manage to get a look at him in the candle light, I immediately spot the blood seeping from beneath his shirt. The boy looks at me nervously, raising his shirt so that I am able to take a look at the wound. Before I get chance to begin patching him up I see his eyes flicker closed and I instantly feel panicked. He cannot die, I have to make sure of that. The gash on his side is deep and it's clear he needs medical attention quickly. As fast as physically possible, I stitch up the wound, dabbing at the blood with a cloth. The red liquid stains my fingers and the overwhelming urge to drink becomes almost unstoppable and I find myself sucking on my fingers eagerly. Glancing over at the boy, I notice the small details I was unable to see clearly in the dark. The small scar beneath his right eye, the softness of his lips, the delicacy of his skin. In his slumber he looks almost angelic. Deciding he needs his rest I exit the building and take my seat on the steps. Sipping from the bottle of whiskey I left previously. I watch the sunrise as it begins peaking out from behind the long row of trees at the opposite end of the graveyard. This is undoubtedly the highlight of my job. Listening to the birds singing as they wake up and watching the soft glow of the morning light. It reminds me of all the beauty the world has to offer. My head tilts back to see the boy still peacefully asleep on top of the coffin. Clearly his exhaustion has caught up and now he is regaining his energy. Entering the mausoleum, I drop the now empty whiskey bottle in the recycling bin by the door and make my way over to the elegant record player that I keep in the corner. I play my old Ronettes album, quietly humming along to the tune of Walkin' In The Rain. Out of all the bands and musicians I have witnessed live, the Ronettes were undoubtedly the best. Closely followed by Queen. A soft grumbling sound catches my attention and I realise that the boy is trying to sit himself upright. Possibly questioning where on earth he is and how he ended up here. I make my presence known by gently tapping his shoulder and smiling softly at him. "You were there last night." He mutters, almost as though he is trying to work out what actually happened. Most likely suffering from temporary amnesia. "I fixed up your side for you. It'll be a pain in the ass for a while but you're as good as new." I tell him, nodding towards the injury beneath his ribs. He smiles shyly at me when he realises that he was injured. The slight tinge of red tells me that he is embarrassed. Not used to having people help him, he seems like the type to tough things out. To be independent. Not that there is anything wrong with independence. Though sometimes it is now to have somebody to rely on. Somebody to care. "Thank you. Really, you didn't have to." Furrowing my brow, confusion fills my body. What does he mean I didn't have to? Of course I did, if I didn't then he wouldn't be alive. Within days his family would be planning a funeral. A funeral nobody expected nor wanted. They would be mourning the death of a teenage boy that had his whole life ahead of him. If I had simply left him to die then that would have stayed on my conscience for eternity. I had to help for my own sanity if nothing else. "What were you doing in the graveyard anyway? Do you live here?" He asks, glancing around at the furniture placed in the mausoleum. Now it's my turn to feel embarrassed, I rub the back of my neck nervously. Eyes scanning the room to make sure that nothing is out of place. Looking back at the boy, I notice genuine interest in my answer. He sits patiently, eyes shining bright as we stay silent for a few moments. "Yeah. I like it here, it's comforting." I admit, I mean technically it's not a lie. He smiles for a moment, silently taking in everything around him. I understand why. It's not everyday that you meet somebody that lives in the middle of a graveyard, but somebody has to live there. That somebody just happens to be me. "I'm Sweet Pea. I don't suppose there is any chance you'll be attending Riverdale High School?" He asks, voice almost hopeful at the idea. As much as I don't want to let him down, I've done the whole high school thing. Several times at that. Each time I thought it would be different, but alas it was always the same. Half of my high school career was spent hiding away from the kids that would taunt me daily. I believe it's fair to say I don't exactly have the fondest memories of high school. "No. I'm home-schooled." Lies. All lies. I feel guilty. An emotion I haven't exactly felt for a long time. Then again, this is the most interaction I have had with anybody for a long time. It almost makes me miss the social situations I used to find myself in. Though I suppose those days are far behind me. "You must be real lonely then. Do you have any friends at all?" He asks, the question ringing through my head. His words, although never intended maliciously reminded me of high school. The second time around. Pushed to the ground, I was repeatedly stomped on whilst being asked that very same question. If I had any tears to cry, no doubt they would be streaming down my face by now. "Not really, but it's not a big deal. I quite like being alone." I tell him, genuinely being honest with him. "I'll be your friend. If you want? We can hang out and I can take you to all my favourite places. We could even go catch a movie, if that's your thing. Only if you want to though, no pressure or anything." I watch as his eyes light up when he talks, excited at the idea of haning out with me. Nobody has ever reacted that way to the idea of spending time with me. Usually it's is regarded as more of a punishment to be in my presence. "Sure. I'd like that." Sweet Pea diverts his attention towards the front of the building, noticing the morning sun. A small frown appears on his face, yet disappears within seconds. So fast that I almost didn't catch it. He pulls himself off the coffin, holding on to his side carefully. Taking care to not hurt it anymore. The tall boy slowly inches towards the door. Small sounds of pain leave his mouth with each step but he does his best to silence them. "I've got school today, but I can swing by afterwards." Sweet Pea tells me, looking over his shoulder to see my reaction. I nod my head, a smile on my face. Sweet Pea takes that as his answer and trudges down the steps and out into the graveyard. Leaning against the doorframe, I watch him silently as he closes the metal gate. Perhaps this could be my first genuine friendship? Shaking my head, I rid my mind off the thought, not wanting to get ahead of myself. *** Pink and orange hues stain the sky, creating the most ravishing sight as I start my duties for the night. I make my way through the graveyard, stepping over each grave with care. Not wanting to disrespect the dead. I make sure each headstone is in tact, no chance of escapees. It happens, sometimes the dead simply don't want to rest. By the time I make it back to the mausoleum, I see a figure sitting on the steps. The worn leather jacket and matching dark clothes instantly tells me that it's Sweet Pea. He has a cigarette between his lips, doing his best to light it despite the breeze. "That's not going to work." I state, watching as he continues to struggle. My comment doesn't stop him, instead he tries even harder. Almost as though he is trying to prove me wrong. We stay like this for a few minutes. Me simply watching him try and continuously fail. Finally he gives up and slumps down in defeat. "Just go inside. It'll make things a lot easier." He looks surprised at my statement yet follows me inside anyway. Hesitantly he lights the cigarette, awkwardly looking down at his feet when it lights the first time. I smile triumphantly knowing that I proved him wrong. However, he still looks uncomfortable. Eyes not meeting mine. "You know it's not polite to smoke in people's homes right?" Sweet Pea asks, taking a seat on the battered leather couch in the corner of the room. I'm confused by his question. Since when was this rule made? How was I unaware of it? Smoking has never been that much of a big deal yet now it's considered rude to smoke in people's homes? Sweet Pea notices my confusion and begins to laugh heartily. "Smoking used to be common courtesy when going to somebody's home. In fact the host would most likely offer guests a smoke. Cigars were first but after the popularity of cigarettes, many homes stocked up. Making sure to have enough for guests for whatever the occasion." I say, causing Sweet Pea to stop laughing and instead look at me with raised eyebrows. "You like history?" He asks, clearly not expecting me to know so much about such a trivial topic. "You could say that." Sweet Pea shrugs off his leather jacket, revealing a simple black tee. I know I shouldn't be staring but I just can't seem to help myself. The skin on his arms looks so soft and smooth. His top is tight around his muscles, accentuating them even more. The colour in his skin contrasts mine. His shows lift and mine death. "I still don't know your name." He points out as I walk over to my makeshift kitchen. Grabbing two bottles of whiskey and making my way back to the sofa, I carefully perch myself next to him. As though I'm a guest in his home not the other way around. He takes the glass bottle gratefully, unscrewing the lid with ease. Even his smallest movements are enough to make me swoon. "It's Y/N." I state, for some reason I'm nervous for his reaction. What if he doesn't like my name? What if he thinks it's weird? What if he makes fun of me for it? I mean, it's not as cool as the name Sweet Pea. "Cute. It suits you." When he speaks, there's a small laugh in his voice. Making him look far less dangerous than he appears. It shows a softer side. Presumably one that he likes to keep to himself. After all, by the looks of him he has to keep up his bad boy reputation. "So are we going to go out then?" He asks, holding his hand out for me as he lifts himself off the sofa. Nodding my head, I gently take his hand. The skin rough beneath my palm, clearly used to manual labour. His hands are a lot larger than they actually seem and almost devour mine. Warmth radiates from his fingers as they intertwine with mine and it's strange to say the least. It's fair to say I haven't exactly felt any sort of heat in a long time. The sensation is unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Sweet Pea excitedly tugs me towards the gates of the graveyard. Obviously pleased that I agreed to let him take me somewhere. I know that I should be doing my job, and I know that if I leave the graveyard now then the council will be pissed. Yet I can't seem to stop myself. As the giant in front of me strides ahead I happily follow along. Yearning to see where this adventure will take me.

35,18,3,7 (on the original Charmed)

Thanks for playing! ^-^

3. rant. just do it

Okay, here goes nothing.

Americans annoy me with their high hourse TV plot writing these days. Like, yeah, just as any other sane person, I know that your guys’ government putting human beings into cages and separating children from their parents and basically Third Reiching it up in there is really terrifyingly bad - as a German, I might even get that a little bit more than some others.

But I’m... I’m really tired of them doing this “what is happening right now is Really Very Bad and we will whack you over the head with that in your fun escapism TV show”.

Because look. If I’d... If I’d want to engage with this terrifying shit going on, I’d be right now watching the news. Not Supergirl. Not Legends of Tomorrow.

I, like many others, watch TV as a means of escapism. Especially shows about idiot timetravelers and aliens who are unrecognizable when they put on glasses.

That a show like Orange is the New Black that is set and grounded in this reality and actually deals with prison conditions and has tackled these type of injustices from the get-go addresses it makes a whole lot of sense and fits the theme.

But every single show turning into “we shouldn’t treat other beings who are just like us but have slight differences and may come from a different place like they are below us!!!” is... it’s exhausting.

Not everybody watching this is American. It’s not like we can do anything to help. And, let’s be really really clear: A show that is so damn heavy on feminism and LGBT themes has long since lost any of the viewers whose hearts and minds these kind of plotlines are meant to change. No Straight White Male Republican Racist is still watching a show with half the cast being POC and LGBT and female. The only people you’re reaching are the people who absolutely know that what is happening is wrong and terrifying.

And what makes it more frustrating was that Supergirl in particular was always very out of this world; quite literally. They opted, after Trump was elected, to put a female president onto that Earth. A reasonable, wise woman who works for the rights of others. And that made this show all the more wonderful and all the more escapism from this reality because it was literally presented as a better alternate Earth to ours. That they had to get her impeached to replace her with a Straight White Male Racist so you can hammer the metaphor of aliens = immigrants in was... not necessary, not on that world.

And especially not with the exact same message running course on three different shows that share one universe -  because yeah, the whole “metahumans are different than us and are being murdered” thing is the same tune, you just exchanged alien/magical creature with metahuman there.

I just... It’s too much. I get tight-chested every single time I have to face another horrible, inhumane, Hitleresque thing that Trump said or did. I don’t need you to whack me over the head with thinly veiled metaphors.

Especially since you’re not even doing it in a creative way. The bad guy is the Old White Man, while most of the aliens and magical creatures that are prominently features are played by actors of color, just in case anyone was still missing the metaphor. It’s... It’s not even clever writing.

And I don’t... I just... Honestly, I actually find it kind of offensive that writers think we need a metaphor where the immigrants are literal aliens. Like, humans do this shit to other humans. That you’re pretending that “oh no they are doing this to aliens while all humans hold together” is... even more unrealistic than the whole premise of Supergirl to begin with, to be quite frank.

It’d even be... fine. Durable. If it were one show only but to be whacked over the head with the exact same message on multiple shows running parallel is really tiresome actually.

I get it. I know what you’re saying. I agree. And so does the whole entire damn rest of the audience. Because if they didn’t get the whole point of Superman and Supergirl literally being refugees on Earth and them LITERALLY being created by Jewish men during WWII and if they weren’t racist enough to stop watching when two black men became superheroes and if they weren’t homophobic enough when one of the main characters came out as a lesbian and started very explicitely to have a relationship with another woman and if they weren’t transphobic enough to quit when you introduced a trans character to the main cast and if they weren’t misogynistic enough to just straight up quit this majorly female-led feminist show on season one, then honestly you’re barking up the wrong tree there.

7. opinion on… Charmed

THIS WAS MY FIRST BIG OBSESSION! *^*

Oh, I loved Charmed - literally all of my walls, including my ceiling, were plastered with posters of the show! I did the puppy-dog eyes at anyone who bought teen magazines back then, I got cut-out articles about it every time it was somewhere, I still have self-recorded VHS tapes with the entire show in my closet.

I even wrote my very first fanfiction for this show, back then ink on paper in a journal because we’re talking pre-Phoe-is-allowed-on-the-internet-age, I had my first next gen OC line-up for that show.

And it was, to date, the only ever where I actually also got invested in the actors. Particularly Alyssa Milano. And if I saw anything where Alyssa Milano or Julian McMahon were in, I watched it, not even caring what it was, because I loved them so much.

I mean, I’ve always loved witches, you know? But this show just hit everything for me. Back then I really related to Phoebe the most, because she was the youngest and thus most relatable for pre-teen me, she was kind of a screw-up who didn’t really know what she was doing. I always wanted big sisters like Piper and Prue.

Many of my favorite tropes were first introduced to me there. Seriously, this show is why I love a good “everybody lives together”. A team as a family, by blood and also beyond that.

Them killing off Prue killed me. I cried so hard so long back then.

And also this is like the only show ever where I got incredibly invested in the canon ships. Leo/Piper, Cole/Phoebe, Andy/Prue. All. The. Way. Obviously, canon broke my heart twice but that doesn’t mean I can’t live in eternal denial.

It’s also the first time I encountered a TV show overstaying its welcome, because that last season was absolutely unnecessary, start to finish. The season before that had the perfect finale - the sisters, getting to live a normal life, then that little wink by the door closing just like Prue’s powers used to close it, it put tears in my eyes and had me incredibly content. Then they had to add a blonde Mary-Sue to the mix and go on for another season and just nope.

And yes, you notice my focus on Prue. I love her. She still remains my second favorite after Phoebe and I will admit I never quite warmed up to Paige and would have preferred if the whole... actor fall out hadn’t happened and Prue could have continued on in the show. So, that’s my favorite part of it; back when Prue was alive and Cole was also still alive.

18. rant about your favorite musician

...At this point, I am thinking that maybe you should have asked each number in a separate ask because this thing is long.

But okay, I actually do have something to rant about there!

HOW DOES THE YOUTH TODAY NOT UNDERSTAND PUNK. URGH.

A few weeks back, my favorite musician was on TV. There was a music event, I think it was a benefit and also a peaceful protest, led by him, among others, and before it, he stepped up to the mic to say a few words and I was watching that with my grandparents and my brother and he just went “Urgh, that guy again. Why does he have to be everywhere? And why is he talking about this? It’s none of his business, he should just do music”.

Like.

No.

Campino is a punk. Die Toten Hosen is a punk rock band.

Protesting the government and what is wrong with society is literally what punk does. Punk is only secondarily a music genre. First and foremost, it is a means to be loud and vocal about politics. So to organize a peaceful protest and to speak up about the mistreatment of immigrants in our country is literally what punk should be.

The fact that there’s younger people who don’t know that is terrifying. The fact that younger people in Germany just know Campino as an old musician and not as a punk is also terrifying. Go listen to DTH and study up on punk, please.

35. what does home mean to you?

Ah, finally a short one! xD (Just kidding, I do love ranting!)

Home is where I feel at ease, where I can be myself, where I’m happy. These requirements can be fulfilled outside of my own four walls - it’s like, when I am in London, this incredible sense of home fills me too, surprisingly enough. Gods, I wanna go back to London...

Unusual Ask Game

Heart’s Rhapsody (Akira Kurusu x Reader)

Word Count: 3,935

A musician reader requested by @galaxia0u0​ and @blissfullydiabolik​ ! If you haven’t played the game yet then this just touches on the first boss / chapter. This is the first request I’ve done, I’m sorry if this wasn’t written to your satisfaction!

*     *     *

     Suguru Kamoshida has infected everyone.

     They sing his name with praise and adoration as you pass through the hallway like a ghost, keeping your head low and tightly clutching the handle of your instrument case. The school year just started, why do you have to listen to that noise? Was riding on the coattails of such a disgusting person really worth everyone’s suffering? Is glory really that wonderful? You wouldn’t know, you’ve only tasted humiliation.

     Other students purposefully bump into you and knock you around like you’re in a pinball machine while you try to fight the sea of people. It’s hard to ignore the smug snickering and glances, but you’ve been dealing with this for a good while now. In the defense that the volleyball team was the school’s cornerstone, Kamoshida personally wrote a proposal in the second semester last year to have the music classes’ budget transferred to sports. Neither the band or orchestra students gave a damn as long as they got their fine arts credit out of the way, hardly giving a decent performance at any given time in the first place. The music groups turned into even more of a joke than usual before the classes were finally disbanded.

     You would try forming a club if there was anyone else who even gave a damn about music in the first place and didn’t just want to make a light music club to follow their half-assed anime dreams. Your motivation fades as and the case feels heavier with each step, reminding you of how pointless one of your few hobbies had become; It feels like a burden to carry the hunk of metal. All the concerts your class had been scheduled for were canceled for volleyball matches and you had no one to perform for but your parents, who would politely clap and tell you how “nice” they thought it was.

     Now that the future of Shujin Academy’s band and orchestra were done for, no one bothered lugging their instruments around school anymore, but you had your reasons. Your former music teacher told you about a practice room with a broken lock and you’d go there during lunch for practice. There was nothing more satisfying than your sound cutting through the silence of that quiet space, for an invisible audience who you’d imagine cheering like they did at the volleyball games. The thought puts the perk back in your step and you quicken your pace as you hurry down the stairs--

     Packets of bread are suddenly flying everywhere in your eyes. What? Where did those come from?

     After watching them all hit the ground with satisfying crinkling sounds from their plastic packaging, you only now register that you bumped into someone and he’s currently acquainted with the wooden floor.

     ... Oh dear.

     Setting your case down, you rush down the last few concrete steps to help him up, profusely apologizing as he rubs the back of his head. He’s tall yet lanky, which would probably explain why he was knocked over so easily. When you ask if he’s okay after he adjusts his glasses, he lets out a sigh, followed by a soft “Yes, thank you.” He offers a kind, polite smile as he removes his hand from his messy hair, patting the dirt off his uniform. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking.”

     Involuntary gulping, you’re surprised by how deep his voice is; it certainly doesn’t go with his soft, nerdy appearance but it was pleasantly melodic in its own way. He turns away and starts picking up the bread, piling it into his arms until he’s got a bountiful harvest. Was he that hungry? You remember your precious partner behind you and quickly pick it up, relieved and shocked that no one tried to be a jerk and steal it again. Actually, you don’t even hear the incessant sneering anymore. There’s fear as you hear “criminal” passed through the student body in concerned whispers and slowly look to bread boy, who has been staring at his feet and appearing somewhat troubled with furrowed eyebrows and a pressed frown.

     They couldn’t be referring to him, could they? That’s ridiculous. You recall hearing about a transfer student who was supposedly up to the worst of deeds, but...

     Wait, you’re not going to have enough time to practice if you don’t get going and he definitely wasn’t heading towards the cafeteria. Although hesitant from the rumors surrounding him, you suggest that he joins you in the music room for lunch. To make up for bumping into him and all. You’re sure he probably wants to get away from the mob as well, and he seems rather appreciative of your offer. The way to your destination feels faster than usual and it feels like the crowd is parting for you, but more eyes seem to be on you today.

     No, you know it’s not you.

     Slipping into the room, you start unpacking your instrument as your companion pulls up a chair. After pulling out a stand and a couple sheets of music, you do the usual tuning and maintenance before taking the proper stance. Bread boy curiously watches as you start playing like always; You really don’t need to look at the sheets anymore nor do you have a partner to look on with. Once you burn through the song with ease you hear gentle clapping and glance to the side.

     “I didn’t even know this school had a music course.” It used to, you confess to him dejectedly. “Oh? What happened to it?” He meets your eyes straight on. Normally it would be unsettling but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you with genuine interest and... perception. Had you been speaking with anyone else you wouldn’t feel so comfortable all of a sudden. Maybe it’d be alright to talk to him about it.

     But you you bite your lower lip and avoid his gaze, remembering your unfortunate reality: you’re still in Kamoshida’s territory. Although you don’t openly express your hatred, you want to still be able to play your instrument and there’s no one to trust or confide in here. Even outside of school was risky...

     “Touchy topic?” He runs a hand through his hair and plays with his bangs for a little while, trying to think of a way to change the subject. “Ah, thanks for letting me eat lunch here. Eating in the bathroom’s terrible.” He forces out a pathetic laugh and you can’t help but sympathize.

     I come here every day for lunch, you can join if you want. The proposal falls from your mouth faster than you can say it and your words unceremoniously stumble over each other as you throw in your name. The bespectacled male stifles a chuckle and readjusts his glasses. “I’m Akira Kurusu. It’s a pleasure.”

     No, no, it’s your pleasure...

     Spending some more time playing before the bell rang, you quickly tuck your instrument away before scurrying out of the practice room with Akira and parting ways to your respective classes. Shoot, you forgot to eat lunch again. Time to sneak something next period, you think your teacher gave up on trying to get everyone stop snacking after lunch anyway. The rest of the day is white noise to you even as you return home and fall asleep. After all, there’s nothing to do but repeat the monotonous cycle of Kamoshida’s glorious Shujin.

      Well, you suppose lunch time is something you can look forward to even more now.

     Even if he’s just being polite, it feels so gratifying to hear his compliments and applause. Akira seems to genuinely enjoy your music and listens as you tell him of random useless trivia that may not even be true. You wish your time together wasn’t limited to this measly half an hour in school but he said he had things to do after school and you don’t quite have the guts to ask for his number...

     On the day of the volleyball rally you had the luxury of staying outside the gym since it was full enough and you wouldn’t be missed. Although you didn’t know anything about writing music yourself, you considered trying your hand at composing something just to express the crush you had on Akira somehow. It definitely wasn’t going to be through a confession! Oh, speak of the devil, it looks like his class is transitioning in next. He waves and smiles at you for a brief moment before a blonde boy blocks his line of sight with you and you can’t help but sigh. At least you’ve still got today’s lunch period.

     When you meet up, he asks, “Could you tell me why you have to stand like that to play? I’m curious.” You never expected him to ask that, especially when he watched you the whole time, but you indulge him without thinking about it as you take the stance that’s been beaten into your head since you started playing. You begin to explain as best as you could with your hands full and he nods along, then stands behind you to get a better look, or so you think. Even then you feel the skin on your back tingling as you can’t help but feel more self-conscious of the space between the both of you. Does he have to look over you so closely?

     Akira lets out a thoughtful hum. “Don’t your shoulders get stiff from doing this so long?” His fingers ghost over your shoulders and you hold your breath, but he doesn’t dare to touch you and backs away. “Well, I suppose you know what you’re doing.” You think you would have died if that went on any longer. The bell rings to save you from the tension and you shake your nervousness off.

      “By the way, you didn’t have to participate in the rally, did you?” he asks as you snap the clasps on your case shut. Fortunately not, everyone knew your place was far outside the world of sports. He smiles in relief at your answer as he slings his bag over his shoulder. “That’s good,” he murmurs. Pausing for a moment, he takes your hand without warning and all your breath escapes; He gently, slowly, thumbed over your knuckles. “I’d hate to see your delicate hands get hurt and covered in bandages.”

      You hope he doesn’t feel your palms getting sweaty. Out of nowhere you get the guts to impulsively ask if he would kiss them better. There was an attempt to sound smooth and flirtatious, but your voice sounds hilariously cracked. Akira doesn’t pay much attention to that and flashes a charming smile. “As many times as you want.”

      Did he just flirt back? Is he flirting with you? You’re at a loss for words as he releases your hand and you’re careful not to look flustered. He waits for you in the doorway so you can leave together for the short time you walk the same way. When the day passes and you’re home, you find a blank notebook and start drawing the lines for sheet music, filling in notes and key signatures. You get the feeling you might understand how people could stand to write cheesy love songs, now.

      Although you weren’t sure if you wanted to meet with Akira today considering you felt anxious from yesterday, so you figured you could leave a note by the practice room. As you thought about what to write in your first class of the day, you could hear commotion outside and your teacher and classmates started to turn towards the hallway. Other teachers were shouting at their students to stay inside as they rushed to the windows and a common word was being thrown around in the noise. Is it a name? Despite your desire to know what was going on, it was probably safer to stay at your desk than get trampled by the hoards of adolescents rampaging down the halls.

     It’s only when you’re going to your next class that you hear what happened from the gossip of people clogging up any chance of getting anywhere on time. A girl tried to kill herself. She jumped off the roof. Someone named Suzui. Someone from the volleyball team. No, not even Kamoshida would go that far, right? Not even he could recover from that, could he? Your busy body feet are already taking you towards his office; You’re not sure why, you couldn’t do anything about the situation yourself, but--

     “Everyone present right now... will be expelled.” You can barely hear him through the door. What? Now talk of expulsion? Outraged voices follow and you press your ear against the door to listen better but you hear footsteps coming closer and quickly hop away, hiding around the corner as you watch two boys you don’t know walk out, followed by Akira. Surely he wasn’t getting expelled too? What did he do?

     You don’t get the chance to think about it for very long, the door slams open again and Kamoshida himself walks out and his gigantic stature is intimidating. Shrinking back and praying he’d ignore you did little when your instrument case banged against the wall and his head practically snapped towards your direction; you didn’t want to be scared of a shitty man like him, but you can’t control your knees from shaking and knocking together. He’s absolutely furious and you don’t dare to let a single sound out.

     Then he smiles.

     “What are you doing? You need to get to class.” He holds his hand out. “Why don’t I carry that for you? You’ve been dragging that thing around since last year, haven’t you?” Your knuckles turn white as you grip the handle and hug the case as close as possible to yourself. His eyes narrow and the corners of his fabricated smile drop a bit. “What’s wrong? I won’t do anything.” That’s a lie, you want to scream but you’ve lost your voice. He easily snatches it from you--there was no contest of strength to begin with--and the edge smacks you right in your jaw, followed by a ringing sound irritatingly emitting through your head. That’s definitely gonna bruise, but more importantly that bastard has your beloved partner!

      He’s already made it halfway up the stairs and you hurry after him. “Why do you keep bringing this thing to school, anyway? There’s no fine arts program anymore.” With each word, he’s purposefully slamming your case against the railing. “Isn’t it embarrassing for a student like you to let your future be weighed down by such an unrewarding area? You should really focus on other things.” Your legs are shaking so much you can barely keep yourself from falling over.

      You want to shout at him to give it back, to take back the expulsion, to stop being such a horrible person, but--

     “Oops.” He drops your case and you try to catch it as it tumbles down but it slides across the floor and hits the wall with a heavy thud, its formerly perfect exterior now full of dents and scuffs. You could only imagine what the inside must have looked like. “You need to take better care of your things.” His absurdly huge hands slam against your back as you look with horror, practically knocking the wind out of you as he walks back to his office.

     That’s it. You fall against the wall and slide down, on your knees as your jaw swells and feels warm. The bell rings, signaling the next class to begin. Hearing footsteps of hall monitors come closer, you force yourself to stand and pick up your case. It feels like you’re a zombie, waddling back and forth as you slowly walk away and towards the practice room. You stare at the empty space for a while before laying down on your side, and slowly undid the bent clasps as best as you could, opening the case and peering inside.

     The insides are warped, yet all the pieces look... fine. Your fingers won’t stop shaking as you trace the bumps and holes, making sure it feels alright. Thank goodness. The encounter has completely drained you and you pass out on that cold, hard floor.

     “Hey, get up!” It only feels like a second when you feel someone shaking you and you hesitantly open your eyes, seeing Akira and feeling his arm around you. “What happened to you?” He touches your jaw so gently that you can barely feel his hand. “Who did this? No, wait, hang on.” He lays your head down on his lap and rummages through his school bag, pulling out what seems to be an entire first aid kit. How did he manage to fit that in there with everything else? As your consciousness gradually faded back he took care of your bruise with swift skill and sighed in relief when he confirmed you weren’t injured anywhere else. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with the music program being canceled, does it?”

     It’s too much to hold it back anymore and you spill it all out, trying to cover your eyes as you cried out. Damn that Kamoshida to hell, curse him, punish him, destroy him, kill him. Why did that man have to exist? Akira listens to you quietly and pets your head as you let loose your frustrations and anger until you’re nothing more than a sobbing mess. When your cries grow soft and you can only hiccup, he has you sit up and wipes your face with a tissue.

     “It’s going to be alright,” he whispers before he rests your head on his shoulder and places his arms around you. “You don’t have to believe me right now, but trust me.” With the conviction he has in his voice, how could you not? Despite how little you have known him for, you let your emotions rule you for this moment.

     It took a couple days for your bruise to heal but Akira’s care for it left no trace behind. Since your case was in shambles you couldn’t transport your instrument and Akira suggested to keep it in the practice room. There was apparently two weeks until he would get officially expelled and you grew anxious for him but he just smiled as he pulled up his usual chair. “It’ll be alright,” he assured as you assembled your partner. “If you’ll keep playing for me then I’ll have the confidence I need.” But why, you wonder aloud.

     He thinks about his answer before running a hand through his hair. “The sound of your music is the requiem of my life.” That’s so bad. That’s so bad, that’s so bad, that’s so bad, that’s...

     So embarrassing...

     But if that’s what he says, if he says he needs your music, then you’ll gladly give everything you have. As the days pass, you’re composing your first piece with ferocity, researching as much crash course music theory and tutorials as you can off Google and rewriting and rewriting and rewriting--gosh, it’s a miracle you haven’t torn your notebook to shreds with how hard you’re writing. You’re not paying much attention to what’s happening in school, something about Phantom Thieves and a calling card. The deadline’s getting too close for comfort and you finish on the day he’s supposed to be expelled. Did he accomplish the impossible?

     The entire school is called into an assembly on the second day of May. The principal is addressing the girl who jumped; isn’t it a little late for that? As you listen respectfully, the doors to your right burst open and there stood the dirtbag. He claimed he was reborn and walked onto the stage. In a mournful voice, he confessed his crimes, fell to his knees, hung his head, offered to kill himself... Seriously? You stood in a daze, everything else staying tuned out as the teachers forced everyone to leave and the swarm of students swept you away.

     Lunch felt even farther than before. The moment the bell rang, you shot out of your seat and bolted to the practice room, turning the corner and crashing into someone. No, it wasn’t just someone, there’s no one else who would come here now. You prop yourself up with your hands on either side of Akira’s head, the latter looking the same as he did the first time you literally ran into him. You can only smile at each other like fools before sitting up, neither of you able to anything else but stare at each other.

     “You did it,” you manage to say. “You didn’t get expelled.”

     “Mm. I heard they’re considering putting the music program back next semester.” Really? You didn’t think that would happen, or even hear of such a thing. “You didn’t know?” No one told you. Even if they did put it back, you doubt anyone would care. Not to mention you wouldn’t be able to use the practice room for yourself and Akira anymore.

     Wait, speaking of which. You get to your feet and ask him to listen to a song you wrote for him. “... Really? I don’t remember asking you to do anything like that.” He follows you into the practice room and you set up in record time. Oh god, you didn’t have time to rehearse, what if you fuck up--

     But one look into Akira’s eyes is all you need to sooth your nerves. You relax your shoulders and perform your concert.

     With one last motion, the final note rings in the air, and you slowly exhale, your heart racing as you wipe the sweat off your forehead with your sleeve. Akira does his best to give you the loudest, roaring applause that one man could give. Before he can say anything, you butt in first.

     “Can I have your phone number?!”

     He stares at you for the briefest second before letting out a delightful laugh. Music to your ears. And rests his head on his hand.

     “You had to write a whole song just to ask that?” He hums in thought and closes his eyes, tapping a finger against his thigh. “It wouldn’t be fair just giving you a number, would it? I should give you something more...” He looks at the floor before looking at you. “You must have worked your hands to play and make that song for me. How about I kiss them better?” As many times as you wanted? A corner of his mouth raises to a smirk. “As many times as you wanted.”

     You carefully set your partner down and take a step towards him. He takes your hand and starts at your fingertips, pressing his lips against each one, then moving up to your knuckles, to the back of your hand, your wrist, and your palm. That’s not enough, you decide, and he looks up. “Greedy, are we? I don’t think you’ll be satisfied with just your hands, then.” He pulls your arm and you fall onto his lap, surprised by how swiftly he managed to close the gap between you two. “Where would you like me to kiss you now?”

     You spent more than enough time just trying to ask for his phone number, you have the guts to go for the kill. Here goes nothing.

     Your eyes fly shut as you press your mouth against his; Akira doesn’t react right away, but you feel him smile against your lips and returns your gesture. It ends too soon and you slowly open your eyes. Surely you must look ridiculous, but you don’t care.

     That’s not enough, you decide.