butch!oikawa tooru is the bassist of your favorite underground band ꒰ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
cw: creepy men, misunderstandings, art by ranitas4rts
Seeing your favorite band live for almost free is such a privilege. After discovering them and finding out that they were from your town, you kept going to every of their concerts. There was something so mesmerizing about seeing them live while singing all their songs, it really makes you feel like you're one of their biggest fans since they started.
If that isn't enough, all of the members are also gorgeous. The lead singer is beautiful woman with the voice of an angel, it's so sad that she's always bringing her boyfriend on stage and telling people a very sapphic-coded love song was inspired of him. Whatever.
The drummer and guitarist are also pretty women with an amazing stage presence, rumors say that they're dating each other.
And then there's the bassist. A boring looking man with short brown who always wears big t-shirts that it's obvious he cut the sleeves himself. His eyes are pretty, tho and he's amazing with the bass.
This night, you're sweaty after singing along the whole show at a bar two towns away from yours (a sign of them getting more famous) and your throat hurts so you go up to the bar to order a water and call it a night. This time you had to come alone, all your friends busy with important projects of university.
You already had the water in your hand when you feel an arm creep your shoulders, making you gasp in fear.
"Lemme invite you a drink, gorgeous." There's a man touching you at this moment, hugging you tight against his chest.
"No, dude. I'm not interested." You try to let go, pushing his sides with both of your hands, your water bottle dangling between two fingers, but he's stronger than you.
"C'moooon, it's just one drink! And it's free!" he insists, guiding you to the bar with him.
"Let me go!" You started hitting his chest and kicking his legs, but nothing seemed to hurt him.
When you were two steps away from the bar, this man forcing you to take a drink with him, you see the hand of someone tapping on his shoulder.
"Care to leave my girl alone, you pervert?"
The creep freezes for a second, turning his head. Before he can even snap back, the bassist of the band steps right in. His hand finds yours fast, fingers sliding between yours like it was the most natural thing. He pulls you closer to his side, your shoulder bumping gently against his chest.
"Fuck off, man," the bassist says, those pretty eyes narrowed right at the guy. "She's with me. Touch her again and we'll have a real problem."
The creep's arm finally slips off your shoulders, but he still looks annoyed, like he can't believe someone interrupted his gross plan.
"Yeah, fuck off," you add, squeezing the bassist's hand back without thinking. Your voice comes out stronger now that you're not alone. "I already said no like ten times, you creepy asshole. Go bother someone else who actually wants your free drink."
The pervert mutters something under his breath, calling you a tease or whatever, but he finally backs up a couple steps. His eyes flick between you and the bassist, probably deciding it's not worth it with someone who looks ready to throw hands. After a tense few seconds, he turns and disappears into the crowd near the stage, grumbling the whole way.
You let out a shaky breath, still holding on tight. The bassist doesn't let go either. He glances down at you, his short brown hair messy from the show and there's this soft little smile tugging at his lips. "You okay? That guy was a total dick."
"Yeah... thanks, man," you say, feeling your cheeks heat up. Being this close to him after watching him play bass all night feels surreal. "You didn't have to jump in like that."
He shrugs, but his thumb brushes lightly over the back of your hand. "Saw it happening from the side of the bar. Couldn't just watch. Want me to walk you out or something?" he asks, still not dropping your hand. "Name's Oikawa, by the way. In case you didn't catch it from the setlist."
Oh this is embarrassing. It always gives you the ick when straight men try to flirt with you and, from past experiences, telling them that you're a lesbian usually does nothing. So you just blink, staring at him, trying to think of a better answer. He's on a group with another two lesbians so maybe he's cool.
"I'm like super lesbian," you tell him, nodding slowly and seeing how he furrows his eyebrows.
"O-kay, thank you for coming out to me, I'm a lesbian too!" He claps softly, not even audible because of the music.
You groan, rolling your eyes back dramatically. "How many times do I have to say that straight men aren't lesbians! You guys are exhausting, dude, stop trying-"
Aaaand you're touching his boob.
Her left boob, to be exact.
"Holy shit." You breath out, giving it a little squeeze. "I'm so sorry."
"Can I walk you out now?" she blinks, and now that you look at her from up close, you feel like the dumbest person ever for thinking that she was a dude.
