#I AM ONCE AGAIN EXPERIENCING HEART PALPITATIONS

[anto-pops]

Because 1. He looked so cute in the library quest and 2. We deserved a consistent look at different facial expressions. And I’m fueling the gremlins now 🤤🤣

FUCK. AM I DEAD ???

[rosesloveletters]

help me find my way back.

pc: x

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Reader

Word Count: 1,912

Warnings: Nudity, depictions/mentions of anxiety and depression.

Summary: ‘When it’s storming’, Willy would often say, ‘the last place you want to have your head is in the clouds.’ // Reader and Wonka bathe together, while Reader reflects on their own difficulties as they fight to determine whether true love is strong enough to make them not give up on themself.

Author's Note: This story was born from a long walk taken on a cloudy autumn day. All I had were my thoughts and that was enough. I never would have anticipated I'd be writing for this character, but life works in mysterious ways. I am just pleased to be writing again. Enjoy.

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.

You knew when it became real love. 

It started with a breath of fresh air you imagined taking, because you were so stifled there beneath the false canopy. You loved the sanctity of the factory, but just once would you have delighted in the feeling of warm sunlight sinking into your skin instead of the fluorescent lights recessed into the ceiling above your head. You missed having your head in the clouds instead of gazing up at artificial cirrus and synthetic cerulean blue. 

You could have left any time you liked, but that would have been too easy. Some dreams were worth chasing, even if it came with certain sacrifices. You could make do without a lungful of outside air, but you couldn’t take a chance on losing out on yourself. 

There was a time when you were the cause of the crushing weight on your chest; you would reclaim that time proudly, which coincidentally was the very heart of the problem. 

If the heart knew what it wanted, then yours must have lost its way a long time ago. Perhaps that was why you’d been experiencing palpitations lately. 

This would not be the first time your heart led you astray. 

Even so, you hoped that this time might be different. 

‘Could this be enough?’ you asked yourself. ‘Could he be enough?’

Your mind had been cloudy enough to make up for the lack of them in here. You felt trapped inside a mind and body that were not your own; you could not control your own brain and no longer could manipulate your thoughts. You hesitated when you spoke because your train of thought kept derailing. 

It wasn’t enough to keep trying to save someone who was already lost.

That was, until the echoes of him came to exist within your very pulse. His cornflower blue eyes – you’ve been pining for that same shade of blue sadness for far too long – were reminiscent of ones you laced within your own hair as a child. His literacy reignited your hunger for knowledge and how you used to devour each page of the books you loved. His sarcastic wit reminded you of how you’d painstakingly perfected the art of elocution and used it to your advantage time and again. 

He bridged the gap between your past and present and in the death of your disunity, you fell in love, both with him and with yourself. 

His presence in your life cut through the fog in your mind like headlights glistening through the haze. You still had miles to go, uncharted territory to map out, before you could lie down and rest comfortably within his arms, but even though you had a long way to travel, he’d take every step with you as if the journey were his own. 

Never would you cry yourself to sleep alone, feeling the weight of your misery pressing down on you rather than the warm body of your beloved. 

You had known love before and felt it, deep within the presently vacant cavity of your chest. You knew it existed and, yet it came and went, changing like the seasons, traveling like a storm. 

If love were meant to be that violent, then why was his embrace as warm as springtime sunshine? Why were his eyes clear blue like that of the sky after it rained? Why did his heart beat, not like thunder, but like undulating ripples of a quiet pond? 

He filled your mind with poetry and it came spilling out of you now. 

If you were to take the form of a golden leaf, nature’s waste discarded upon the ground, would your beauty be unique enough to make him pick you up and put you in his pocket? If you were a clump of moss growing steadily upon a concrete pillar, would you be able to feel the graze of his fingertips along your plush foliage? If the two of you were coffee rings left by two overflowing mugs staining the mahogany, would you overlap? 

It was no question as to what had changed to make you think this way again; as often as you’d tried to fill the void in your chest with someone else’s heart, he made you realize the one you must nurture first is your own. 

You would sink into yourself again, the same way you were about to sink into the bath you’d just run for you and Willy. 

You reached for the faucet and turned it, shutting the water off, and watched the last few drops cling to the cold steel, then fall into the bath. You reached out and let your fingers delicately graze the surface of the water as you tested the temperature. You were delighted by how easily calm waters turned rough; Willy would say you’re halfway to a metaphor there. 

Once you had deemed the water warm enough, you got off your knees and turned to face your lover as the bathroom door was opened. 

He stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him, turning around to meet your loving gaze. 

You both undressed in the comfortable silence of the small bathroom. The air was thick with steam and drops of condensation clustered on the mirror above the vanity. You had lit several candles which smelled of honey and warm sugar and placed them strategically throughout the room to aid your vision without an onslaught to the senses. 

With your clothing out of the way, you let Willy settle into the bath first. 

Your eyes raked over him in the low light accentuating the curves and supple accents of his body and you took in the way the water rose several inches when he sank down into it. He extended an arm to guide you into him once he was ready and you gingerly lifted one leg over the side of the bathtub, letting him take hold of you by the hand as you eased your way towards him. 

You lover’s warm hands were gentle as he helped you sit in the bath with him. 

When your back connected with his front, you let out a soft sigh of pleasure at both the warmth of the water and the closeness of your bodies. 

You both basked in the intimate glow permeating the darkened room and you felt the gravitational pull between your two forms. Your future was constellated, a string of stars wrapped around your hearts, connecting one with the other. 

You were uncertain whether you believed in soulmates, but if you were asked to put how you felt for him into words, you would have said that you were sure you were made of dust from the same star. 

“Are you comfortable, dear?” 

The sound of his voice overwhelmed you with emotion and you turned to look at him. You met his strikingly blue gaze and the first thing you thought was how much you missed him. 

You missed him, yet he was there with you. 

You could feel the warm press of his body against yours, much warmer than that of the water because you knew what you were feeling was him.  

It did not make sense to say that you missed him, but perhaps that tightness in your chest and the clenching fist around your heart and the tears that were burning the backs of your eyes were caused by the same culprit; it might be impossible to miss what was right in front of you, but you had somehow found a way, because it wasn’t Willy whom you had missed with all your heart – it was yourself.

You had lost yourself in the search for something better and you could have cried till you ran out of tears, screamed until you had no voice left. 

The processional of time had not been kind to your brain. You were riddled with anxieties you did not remember developing and those rotten, malevolent thoughts were taking up space where your lover used to be. His face was shrouded in mystery not of his own doing. 

You had taken him away from yourself before you’d been honored the pleasure of calling him yours. 

You couldn’t see the forest for the trees because you had let yourself grow complacent.

When you recessed into yourself too far, Willy coaxed you out again. He would help you return to the person you once were and find yourself again in this changed world. 

You nodded peacefully at his question, “yes. This feels lovely, thank you.” 

His only response came in the form of a gentle hum and you felt yourself sink into him at that, his body, your vessel, and his love, your anchor. 

Beneath the surface of the water, his arms encircled you, fingers linking together as he held you within the comfort of his embrace. He could sense that though you were quiet, your mind was loud and without hesitation, he began humming a tune. His melodious voice silenced your mind almost immediately and the only resounding thought inside your head was how lucky you were to experience a love like this one. 

Willy hummed the verses to ‘Pure Imagination’ while the two of you laid in the bath. Though you had heard him sing the words too many times to count, there was something different about it this time, like he was trying to communicate with you about something important but lacked the right words. 

Willy Wonka was in possession of one of the vastest vocabularies you’d come to know in the mo, so that wasn’t it, but in your weary heart, you knew what it was. 

You needed a reminder that your mind was a great tool, not just one that tormented you. 

And, if your own mind became too much for you, he would let you get lost within his for a while, where you would be free, if you truly wished to be. 

That was enough to send one tear tumbling down your cheek as you nestled into him, hoping he would not notice, but he did. His hold on you tightened and his chin now rested on the top of your head. Arms that had previously been locked around you parted and his hand found yours under the water. He held you tight, keeping you on the ground with him. 

‘When it’s storming’, Willy would often say, ‘the last place you want to have your head is in the clouds.’

There would be plenty of time to lose yourself in imagination. For now, your attention was his.

He continued to hum to you, held protectively in his arms until he could sense that you were calm. 

There were times when Willy questioned his own mind and the things it did to him, never quite understanding where the thoughts came from, which were dreams and which were nightmares. He had mistaken one for the other on more than one occasion and needed to be brought out of his racing mind. With you there to remind him of that, he was able to differentiate. 

If he could help you to better understand yourself, he would. He would travel the world over, do the impossible, think unthought of things and invent a way to return you to yourself if he could. 

But, above all else, Willy wanted you to know that he loved you, fiercely, passionately, completely. 

Perhaps this love would be enough to make you want to keep fighting to save yourself. 

[glittering-moonlillie]

I Hate You, Be My Girlfriend: Part Three (Damian Wayne x Reader)

Warnings: Again, bad Barbara characterization.

Word Count: 1,676

Summary: You finally meet Damian's family, and everything goes according to plan...until it doesn't?

You both got out of his car, stumbling your way to the daunting gates of Wayne Manor hand-in-hand. Unlike the other times Damian had returned to his childhood home, Alfred was not there to greet him with the dutiful smile he always carried. It was just another reminder of how much things have changed since he was 13, everything except him.  

His home loomed over him like a pitch black shadow, the lights that cascaded around the green hedges created an ominous glow. Never in Damian’s life had his father’s house felt as huge as it did now. He subconsciously pulled you in closer just so he could feel the warmth of your skin. You turned to him, eyes broad and dilated, the reflection of the inside lights almost making it seem like they were sparkling. 

“We aren’t even inside yet and I am already amazed! I can’t even imagine living in a place this huge!” You giggled like a frenzied child who had just experienced snow. 

The path to the manor’s main door felt like the calm before a storm with every step he was taking feeling like his own death march. One wrong move by either of you and you could be busted. His pride would be demolished and, well, you would be known as the poor unfortunate soul who made the deal with the Devil. 

What annoyed Damian even further was the fact that you seemed so awestruck with your surroundings that you couldn’t even bother to be worried like he was. Didn’t you understand that your reputation was on the line too? It was unbelievably frustrating, but what was even more frustrating was the fact that whenever he looked at you to scold you for it, his throat would clog up and he would suddenly remember how nice it felt to be holding your hand. 

“Do I look okay? You keep looking at me funny…” You asked softly. 

Damian scoffed, his face burning. “You look…fine…I just don’t understand how you look so calm.”

He absolutely despised how you looked at him as if you understood his whole being. “Oh. I guess I’m just excited about meeting your family.” You gave him another smile. “Plus, yknow, it’s not hard pretending to love..people…” 

There was a noticeable pressure in his chest when Damian heard those words, as if he was having heart palpitations, except heart palpitations never felt so torturously delightful. It only worsened when you continued to give him that adorable grin. The best decision seemed to ignore what he was feeling, especially since there was a more pressing matter at hand. 

Just in case all else failed, Damian made sure to create several fool proof contingency plans he could lay back on. He took one final breath before walking up the last few steps of the porch and grasping the golden doorknob, knocking on the dark wood. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick happened to be the one who let you guys into the enormous Manor, which you still were amazed at even if Damian gave you a side glare every few minutes. The older brother gave you a quick tour of the first floor which followed up with the most stressful game of 20 questions you had ever played. The questions were simple at first - how did you two meet and what classes are you taking in college? Once you met Damian’s other siblings though was when the questions became harder to answer without becoming an oozing puddle or exploding into a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

What did Damian do to gain your attention and by God, what made you want him out of all the other potential bachelors lining up on your doorstep. 

As if there were any other bachelors waiting on your doorstep. 

Thankfully, Damian was there to smooth out all the details with that casual suave charm he had - a charm that you are now realizing belongs to most of the members of his family. It was getting hard not to become antsy when Damian smiled so lovingly at you, all the while explaining the embarrassingly (and true) story of how you met in the library and how he had helped you get out from under a bookshelf that had fallen on top of you. Granted, it was a shelf that you had scaled because the particular book you wanted was on the top shelf, thus making it impossible for you to get. Still, it would have been nice to create a more romantic first meet story rather than just being pictured like an idiot. Although, you supposed, this was Damian and he would take any and every opportunity for you to look like an idiot. 

Other than that, everything seemed to be going according to plan. It seemed like Damian’s family liked you, and most importantly, they showed no sign of suspicion towards your guys’ relationship. His family was a little odd though, and you couldn’t help but wonder how Bruce Wayne managed to adopt so many chaotic and unique children in a row. 

You had met Dick first; He was the oldest there and seemed to keep the peace between everyone else in the family. His hair was dark, but you couldn’t tell if it was a deep brown or black and his eyes were a disturbingly bright blue. He was charming and easy to talk to, instantly making you feel like you were already part of the family. It was clear why Barbara loved him so much. 

You had met Tim next, who seemed to be at a loss at your appearance. Damian couldn’t help smirking at his face. Out of everyone, he was the most suspicious of you and Damian’s relationship, even stating how Damian seemed too sugary and sweet to be natural. Other than that, he seemed nice enough. The brothers seemed to have a love-hate relationship, most of which being perpetuated by Damian while Tim continued to play the tired and irritated older brother. Despite being the CEO of Wayne enterprise, he seemed so young, his face carrying the wrinkles and eyebags of a 50 year old. 

There were three girls at the dining table. You were introduced to all of them - Stephanie, Barbara and Cassandra -  but you talked the most to Stephanie, a blonde who was the closest to your age. She was really ecstatic to see Damian “in love” and she jokingly asked if he would propose to you soon. You managed to laugh off the proposition while Damian’s eyebrows creased as if he was actually considering it. Cassandra was quiet while Barbara exuded a confident quick-wittedness to her that made you feel she could point out everything you were doing wrong in your life. 

Eventually Alfred and who you assumed to be Jason came out with delicious smelling food, the latter of which grumbling about how no one else helped out because he was the only competent one in the kitchen. Damian had always depicted Jason as the black sheep of the family but you weren’t ever sure why. Other than having a chunk of his hair dyed a pearlescent white, he seemed fairly normal.

“Where’s father? Isn’t he supposed to be here?” Damian’s voice was quiet but maintained a steely undertone. Everyone shared a look with each other, then back at you, as if they were all in on a secret and you were the only one left out. 

“He uh, he’s getting things situated before we all leave tomorrow afternoon.” Tim hesitantly said. 

Damian leaned back in his chair, his face pulled into an unsatisfied scowl. “Of course he is.”

Damian never opened up to you about his relationship with his father, but it was safe to say that they weren’t that close. You and him never shared the type of relationship in which he could be vulnerable with you, but it felt imperative that you were there for him, even if he was uncomfortable with it. 

You gently put your hand on top of his seeing as how it calmed him down before, swallowing all the nervousness you had and kissed his cheek. You tried your best to make it seem seamless and natural, but it most likely wasn’t. “I’m sure we’ll get to see him tomorrow morning, Dami.”

The look Damian gave you melted your heart. It was a mix between staggered and confused, like a deer caught in the middle of the road about to be hit by a truck.  

“Jeez, get a room you two! You’re worse than the engaged couple!” Jason laughed. 

“Do you see how red they are, it’s like they haven’t kissed before!” Tim argued, still mildly suspicious. 

That seemed to knock some sense back into Damian’s bewildered state, looking to Drake than back at you. His face lit up dangerously. “Shut up Drake, of course I have kissed my girlfriend.”

“Uh huh, so it wouldn’t be a problem if you two kissed right now?” The water you had previously been drinking almost surged out of your mouth, your eyes wide. 

“I-I…Dami..Damian isn’t really a fan of public affection like that and-” Damian squeezed your hand again, causing you to stop mid sentence. 

“Hush, beloved. It’s just one simple kiss. We’ve done way worse stuff before.” He husked. You did your best to keep the not-so-clean thoughts out of mind when he mentioned the last part. Damian swiftly pulled you closer to the point where you were half in your chair, half sprawled on his lap. “Plus, if I get to prove Tim wrong, then it’s just a bonus.”

Your body was completely on fire, every single touch Damian graced you with sending fireworks bursting along your skin. Breath was in short supply and you were pretty sure your hands were becoming clammy with sweat. He titled your chin up with his forefinger and thumb, looking down at you as if he really did love you. You tried not to let the possibility of it being true drown you. It was an impossible task, especially when you can feel his gentle lips barely gracing yours. 

You were doomed. 

MwahahahahAHAHAHahahhahahAH

I am evil >:)

Writing part three really was a demonstration of patience and trusting the writing process, and how taking breaks are necessary. Four hours ago, I felt like banging my head against a wall at how terrible this originally was and it wasn't until I stepped away, took a nice bath and baked some cookies that I everything started to click into place.

But I am extremely tired and am going to pass out in the next five seconds.

Lastly, here is my awesome and amazing taglist!

@greenkiki, @noah-uhhh-what, @littlemiss-nightshade, AND @itzstaticrainbow

[charitytitter]

Relapse, back to normal

Alright, so, this is going to be the last post of a personal nature. Recap: I am an adult with BiPolar. I am considered high-functioning enough that I have gone for long stretches without treatment (eg. no medication... but I still see a psychiatrist regularly). A number of weeks ago, I accepted a job, doing something completely outside of my wheelhouse. After two weeks of training, it became clear to me, that I did not have the mental nor emotional fortitude to handle this new role, and also maintain my mental health... at least not without treatment. So I spoke with my Psych about medication, and got started on it. Within 24 hours of starting the medication I had a Manic Episode, the likes of which I had never experienced. On top of the Manic episode, I also began experiencing aggressive heart palpitations (it was not an anxiety/panic attack, I have had enough panic/anxiety attacks in my life to know the differences... and when I eventually landed in the hospital, the EKG/ECG proved the heart anomalies were very real). Amidst the Physical and Mental breakdown, I had to resign from the job. Between the stress of the job, and the bad reaction to the meds... I had not slept for 7 days, and physically I could not even drive myself to the Doctor. It was during the stress and mental uncertainty of this scenario that I made a decision to de-porn my life. (I also made a decision to reconnect with my estranged father, a decision which, while impulsive, turned out very well, and I am very happy that I reached out to him). In hindsight. I view a lot of the decisions that I made, to be impulsive, and not from a place of mental clarity. I was essentially operating under a medication induced mental duress. Once I was taken off the medication, everything began to improve and go back to normal. I can sleep 6-8 hours a night again, the heart palpitations have stopped, I can drive, I can think straight, and my sex-drive has returned. I realize that the judgments I was casting upon myself were, not only coming from the fog of bad medication + lack of sleep, but they were judgments that were not my own, judgments projected onto me from past partners, and from an unaccepting society. Pornstars are people. Sex work is real work. Erotic art, is real art too. Some people end their day by cuddling and having sex with a partner. Some people read a book. Some people play videogames until they fall asleep at their desk. Some people drink a 6-pack of beer every night, or an entire bottle of wine. Some people binge watch TV until they fall asleep. I used to invite my girlfriend over for (mutual); cuddles, backrubs, scalp massages, sex, and TV watching... and that was enough to put me to sleep. Then I got dumped... Now I wind-down by watching paid porn actors, act-out some of the intimate things I used to do with my partner while I vape weed and reminisce about how nice it was to be in a relationship. No matter how shitty a day I've had. It's the one thing I can do at the end of the day, that consistently relaxes me and puts me in a position to get a good night's sleep. Is it ideal? Of course not. Ideal, for me, would be falling asleep next to a partner. But I don't have a partner. And until I do. Who am I, or anyone else, to pass judgement upon the coping mechanism that I am employing to get me through the night? I am thankful that my sex-drive came back. I am thankful that my coping mechanism hurts no one. I am hopeful that someday I will find a partner that accepts me for who I am, perceived flaws & all. Loves me when I'm at my best, and when I'm at my worst. Until I do, I will cope.

[magnetar1]

Bright Desolation

They did not see where I went on the day I left them.  They howled inside their desiccated skulls as they stood proud.  They waited for the stars to change hoping they’d regain the sight they lost.  

I took them to be beggars in the end.  War manipulated their fears and crushed their memories.  They could no longer see beyond the burning fields as their spirits were feasted on by black legends and force-fed the treacle of wasted years.

Still, I moved past it like a fish slicing through the water.  Slashing their minds and cutting out their hearts, suffocating them where they slept so they wouldn’t have to wake up again.  I took pity on them in the end which only a fool can trust, begrudging them the sacrifice of their own peril.

Instead, extracting the essence of what they gave me: egg, bile, chance, transmissive host, aligning through fluidic means, yet never fully coalescing.  Traveler or ghost over gray, lonely roads, only not so lonely to me.  Enraptured by the filamental guise shuddering between grief and isolation never too far from the obliqueness of space.

I change, and go, how I must.  Metamorphosis of a star is the dark art of annhilation, either considered a blessing or a curse among nature’s rabble.  Whether letting in the martyrdom of an age or trailing mysteries to their scintillating edge.  

Where the Black Sun radiates with disorder and reunion.  I don’t remember dying, yet wander through realms of the dead.  Out of the smoking abyss to one cavernous retreat under the mountains.  Gold of the world dims, blinding any who stay behind.  Haunted evidence in their vacant eyes as they’ve lost far more than their sight.  

In a ritual of separation and departure.  The likelihood of entering another domain without making it back as those who came far and have died many times due to sorcery, plague or war can attest.  Chameleons in the darkness.  Black Sun portends to them rival worlds and other vistas of infinitude.

***

I float away until I’m nowhere.  Like the Taar I once smoked in reeking dens I am orbiting down.  

Weightless companion to my heavy burden as the universe reminds me: that somewhere, out there, lies its center and wherever I go I’ll be reminded of you.

Returning, instead, to a budding, chaotic world, where sands have not yet set and winter never comes.  Cascading fields of green untrampled by human feet.  Unsullied tide of spring-water seen clear through to the Serpent’s Eye.  

Looking back.  

I feel its heart in mine, cold at the bottom of a lake.  A vision within a vision ensconced by phantom sediment.  Proof of my existence.  Ardor in the face of blight and confusion.  

However, surviving aeons, its footprint remains.  World swims around its form with radiant devotion.  Substanceless depths come up for air as I watch myself drown.  No matter, I was born here, where flesh meets sky.  

I am just a man, I realize, crawling toward the Idol.  I am my own frozen shadow under a dead moon.  

The Idol is silent, too, and has been for some time.  And even while the war is long over we’re afraid to go outside.  Still, if I am a traveler – a true, wayfaring outlander cordially self-exiled – I’ll need to move past this, too.  If only to hear that voice again, guttural, announcing itself with brute alienage.

***

I can give you that much at least: that I’ve lived like some pagan savage.  I’ve fornicated with witches and bled for necromancers before locking myself away.  

Or is it one of the many nightmares I’m only now awakening from?  

Eyes, once tearful, brimming with devotion, now arid as the Desert of Glass, penetrating with sharp onism, clarity, no longer afraid to let go.  Supine before splintering futures as a necromancer, clad in hoary robes, scried my heart for telling palpitations.  While ages dwindled ahead to points of corrugating light, sun spilling its seed above the constricting meridian with no more room to breathe.  

A demon, I was, spared to live truly, irrevocably, dead.  And yet, alive, fuming with boreal consciousness while experiencing the tension of the world itself as a lashing scourge of fire and judgment . . .

Twisting, writhing through charnel streets as the blackness of my thoughts reveled in the clamor of doom.  Resurrected to witness the night of nights when you are finally put out of your misery as, under these collapsed ruins and toppled halls, nothing remains.

Like the distance I feel which fills you with dread by the end.  Another relic for the march across dead seas.  Banners held high in defiance of madness to come: that you’ll go nowhere in the end, rotting on your throne.

Voice loud and clear, even over the clamor of war.  Churlish words of a demon’s curse enraptured by the destruction.

***

I became lost on the solitary road.  Deeper into the mountains.  I’d been cold before, but never like this.  Sky like an ashen cowl rendering me invisible against the expanse of glaring, white drifts.

I am reminded of another life.  

People of the Black Sun.  

Gaunt denizens, flesh worn only to still the waters of the thing inside, warming their bones inside a spectral furnace as they come to terms with the ghost inside.  Situating musculature over stone as they are transformed into worms and ghouls who haunt, yet are never haunted, in void-like realms, considered revenant when spied from afar.  

All that mattered was they were waiting for me.

What do you know, or care to know, as you fade from view?  As this feeling remains, which is no feeling at all? . . .

World itself decays, gathering flies of its own.  Festering reunions in the depths of holocaustal memories.  Behind a veil of indifference, rising and falling of flame, blatant futures spew from exhausted oracles.  Pineal eye slams shut to the Fall and deprecation of valor.    

It’s okay, a Voice assured me, to end it like this.  It was their voice, our voice, echoing through the illimitable chamber where we congregated: where the demonic wailing of the world could no longer be heard.  

[imamxdel]

It has been a really long 5 days. August 2023 is a month for the history books of Liv's life.

So...I was just discharged from the hospital. For those who don't know, I've been a charge nurse of an orthopedic/oncology unit for almost 5 years. My job is incredibly stressful, but just as rewarding and it's a very good job in the sense of a comfortable compensation, good hours, and fabulous benefits. And also, I've been in the process of purchasing a condo as a first time home owner...as if the stress of that wasn't killing me, I was laying in bed Sunday night ready to work 3-14 hour shifts in a row and started to feel heart palpitations, aches, and severe shaking.

I could have easily attributed it to the stress of an impending work week and the mental exhaustion of trying to buy a home for the first time. It's not like 26 year old women who work out about 8 hours a week are commonly known for having heart attacks, but I knew something wasn't normal, and decided to call my coworker and tell her I was driving myself to the ER (btw don't do that, please call someone to drive you or dial for an ambulance).

Long story short, all tests for a heart attack or pulmonary embolsim were negative, but my troponin levels were critically high at 398 (normal is less than 40). This specific lab measures the amount of dead cardiac tissue in the blood stream. They ended up admitting me to the critical care cardiac unit as they couldn't find an answer as to why I was showing these type of results.

Another long story short, the cardiologists came to the conclusion that I must have contracted viral myocarditis, AKA an unknown virus that was attacking my heart. I tested negative for covid twice. There is no treatment for this diagnosis as your body has to fight it off on its own, and that they could only manage the symptoms.

So there I am, a decently seasoned (and sorry to brag, but a well known and respected) nurse suddenly experiencing her first time as a patient. I knew the drill pretty well and I'm proud to say that I was an A+ patient! Never hit my call light once (again...I'm probably stubborn). I had my parents bring up my laptop and some clothes, and settled in for the ride.

The doctors basically wanted to keep me until my troponin levels came down. Because I was essentially asymptomatic other than some chest tightness that only exacerbated when I moved around too much, I was literally in the hospital to get poked every 6 hours while strapped on to a heart monitor.

My troponin levels only kept going up. And when I say up, I was discharged this morning with my levels at 902 (the highest I've ever seen in my career) and the same mild symptoms. Luckily, my other heart functions were normal and after a bit of begging and promises to follow up outpatient, they discharged me after 5 days.

Btw, here's a friendly reminder that hospitals are not hotels. You will get poked (sometimes twice if you're veins are crap), you will be woken up from your sleep every 2 hours at night, you're not allowed to shower because you're always hooked up to a cardiac monitor, and always uncomfortable because you're sleeping in a small bed with an IV in your arm running fluids. The food sucks, too, but I didn't have an appetite and barely ate during my admission. I expected all of this and surely were followed through.

I'm currently home now with the recommendation to "take it easy" for the next week. I return to work on Sunday to the same hospital I just spent five days in, because I still love my job, but this experience has only motivated me to be a better nurse.

I cannot begin to explain the gratitude I feel towards my hospital. They took such good care of me despite the frustration of a diagnosis that cannot be treated. The doctors I work next to every day sat down and answered all my questions. The nurses were kind, and even though I never needed help with anything since I was still fully independent, they never hesitated to offer assistance. I'm grateful to all my coworkers who came to visit me; my floor really is one big family and I've always stood behind that. I'm thankful to my parents who dropped everything and paused their chaotic lives to spend time with me in the hospital and cry with me when we kept getting the news that my troponin levels only kept going up. I am humbled by the amount of prayers people said for me. I'm thankful to all the kpop groups I stan that routinely post variety shows because that might have been the only thing keeping me sane when my parents went home. I never want to take my life and my youth for granted again.

Please trust your bodies when something doesn't feel right. I never thought I'd actually be admitted to the hospital, better yet for 5 days on an intensive critical care unit.

[thisismyrocket]

what happened to you my love? is it my fault? does my descent, my mistake, have something to do with this? to be hurt so badly you reject my comfort, you reject me, something unspeakable must have happened, i must have failed you unspeakably

unspeakably so as i am haunted by perverse entropic terminoids, crawling through the walls, through the food, through the rooms, halls, lights, darknesses, squirming up from my throat into my mouth to flutter and i retch and heave and try not to cry

as i am stalked once again by a most repulsive hierarch, who has attempted to inflict death on me once and has not remained content to let me escape it’s lurking torment. my heart palpitates and the moths flutter closer as i see the yellow dot. here to mock me again. humans are never to be forgiven or trusted. i can’t help being so weak, and i hate it so much.

as my holy weapon accumulates dust my connection to you has weakened and waned and in desperation i split myself open and slathered you in blood in desperation for our connection and i received

i feel like i have damned my soul to a short flickering pointlessness in this hell, this hell, this hell, this hell, made to a prison and tomb from what could have been a paradise, now only an inferno i fear i shall no longer be aided to escape. i let you down and you hung up the phone on me and death picked up to stare at me.

my first love cried when i talked to her. my second has experienced what is doubtlessly some crisis brought on from my failure to control my aberrant mind. i have caused some downfall and my love is in peril and i have not the spine to defy and help them or anyone else

and i can feel the moths on my skin and in my periphery and in my walls and on my tongue. and i can feel her eyes upon me. she stares at me. she is watching me right now. she is still watching me. when i perform my nightly prayer, she will listen, and she will answer, or not.

another day in the undoing of that which considered itself a scion and a herald?

[thegardensstory]

It’s Been Awhile.

I guess I didn't realize I posted on here when I deleted my main Instagram account. Well, since then I used my tagged Insta account that I added to my main one, and just deleted that one LOL. Silly me. 

I have, once again, removed myself from the main stream world. I still have FB. Dont worry ;)

I have been really struggling in a lot of areas. I guess its true when adults say they really dont know what theyre doing. Theyre just getting older. I am almost 30, married, we own a home and have a kid, and guess what? I still feel mega lost. All the time. 

Im anxious a lot lately. I still have heart palpitations that drive me nuts and make me feel crazy and I absolutely cannot control my thoughts to save my life. Thoughts of Leon dying by falling over the edge of the Grand Canyon? Check. Thoughts of me dying in a fiery car crash? Check. One day my husband leaves me and I have to fend for myself by paying for the house and becoming a single mother forever? Check. 

Its nuts because I love Jesus and live my life for Him. I read the Word everyday and pray. A lot. Maybe im doing something wrong? Or maybe this is all normal and just a test of faithfullness and character. I PROMISE LORD, I LOVE YOU. 

I know it seems like I hate my life on this page since leaving college but I promise thats not true. I LOVE my life and its amazing. I think Im just experiencing some weird “growing adulthood” things that my generation has not gotten around to talking about yet on the internet so it feels really lonely. 

I am the generation where you got participation trophies for coming in last (yay me and my chubby middle schooler days when it was pulling teeth to run a mile!) I hated it. But all growing up I was told that I would be famous for singing, theater, dance, leading worship, songwriting. Well, Im almost 30, have a kid now and have almost no time to even pick up my guitar. 

Maybe all the words were just smoke? Do I let the dreams die in place of normalcy and just being a peaceful human? Is it enough to just live a regular life and not have the weight of “content creation”, fame and work your ass off attitude all the time? 

I think I would like a clear answer. If I had a clear answer (either way) I could just snuggle up and be cozy, or start my hard work without fear of failure. But thats impossible. God doesn't just tell you everything thats gona happen in your life....unless you’re Laura Harris Smith and know everything *sarcasm*. 

Anyways, I’ve said too much. G’night. 

[lone-wolf-no-more]

I Didn't Come this Far Just to Die!

Thursday, February 16th, 2023

Waves. That’s what I’m experiencing right now. Waves of “maybe” glimpses of hope, waves of anxiety, waves of sleeplessness, waves of heart palpitations.

I just read a chapter of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea in which one of the main characters is soooo close to attempting an escape from the Nautilus. And then, right before the attempt, the Nautilus dives to the bottom of the ocean.

Ned Land, who was to lead the attempted escape, curses at the sky vehemently, of course.

That’s how I feel right now. I’m trying to fight back the feelings of having the weight of the world on my shoulders, of feeling like I can escape this seemingly inescapable situation I’m in right now.

I spent a good deal of today just sleeping and reading.

I woke up too many times last night to feel anything close to rested today.

But I am glad that I took time away from the computer, all the same. I even mustered up the strength to walk down the road and sit on a bench by the lake. I was glad to have finally left the house for once, but the overcast skies still reflected my inner state all too well.

This isn’t just about me. This about my sibling. This is about what’s going to happen to ALL of us in the next six months to a year. Those who try to claim we’re “in an age of prosperity” are delusional. The Fed and the government in their handling of “the illness” have majorly tanked our economy, inflated the dollar, screwed up supply chains, and just basically done all they can to destabilize everything. The price of fuel going down? What fuel? That’s from our fastly diminishing reserves. Joblessness at all-time low? It’s a bubble. Look at layoffs.fyi (site). So many companies are laying off for good reason. They know what’s coming. Soon, even those who finally woke up and realized that “stimulus checks” (hello sky rocking inflation and backdoor Socialism) aren’t going to save them won’t have jobs to go to. Credit debt is at an all-time high, and delinquent mortgages are even worse than in the housing crash of 2008.

So, understandably, I don’t want to waste any more time! Again, this isn’t just about saving myself, or even just my family. We NEED to be creating more jobs. That is part of addressing the homelessness. People can’t find stability if they don’t have an income. And don’t I know it!

I’m still going to go down fighting, either way. Figuratively, of course. With only a week left till that impending date, I still don’t really know the way forward, and I’m not going to waste my time or yours trying to list what I’m doing in an attempt to avert it.

But I am trying. This may end with me on the street, or in jail, or maybe the hospital. But I can’t just lay down and do nothing.

I apologize for the seemingly pessimistic outlook of this post. This is just me being blunt, being honest. If anything, my lesson to you is, DON’T burn down bridges recklessly, come to compromises with those around you if you have to, and don’t stop fighting until you basically are about to drop dead.

I think that the reason that the opening scene of The Last of Us hits me every single time is because the concept of having your entire world altered, of having all you've known and loved suddenly taken away from you hits home for me very hard. And now...even more so. These stories are far more than just stories to me, all the more. Down to the detail of having somebody you care about being part of your driving force to stay alive and press onwards.

This music^ = the state of my heart right now.

[lady-charinette]

Practice makes perfect - Spy x Family

Mission: Mastering the Art of Hugging

“Ready?” Loid asked, keen eyes focused only on her.

Yor nodded. “Ready.”

Loid exhaled and moved closer towards Yor, hand reaching out to encircle her back. Yor twitched the moment his hand met her back, fingers touching her bare skin and the soft fabric of her sweater in the utmost appropriate manner and sending the most inappropriate chills racing down her spine faster than the Thorn Princess claimed the lives of her targets.

Loid slowly closed his eyes once he got close to the flustered woman’s face, Yor followed suit and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

Was this how people with heart conditions felt?

Was there a cure for these erratic palpitations?

Could her ribcage fracture from the force of her pounding heart?

Yor’s legs and hands shook the smaller the proximity between them got, and just when Yor felt her husband’s warm, minty fresh breath ghost over her cheek her fists shot out in a mountain toppling slap.

Her hands met air as Loid quickly dodged the lethal attack and stood a good few feet away from his very flustered wife.

Loid rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Maybe we should call it a day.”

Yor’s face nearly blended in with the deep red color of her sweater when she nervously shouted, “N-No! I kn-know I can do it, Lo-Loid!” despite her aggressive reassurance, her entire body was still shaking like a leaf.

Twilight frowned at the sight. ‘She’s far too tense. Maybe I shouldn’t force her if she is this uncomfortable.’ Blue eyes focused on her trembling hands and pink cheeks, ‘What sort of a gentleman am I if I force a woman to kiss me against her will? I’ll have to figure out another way-‘

Twilight’s thoughts were cut short at the sound of Yor’s small voice in the empty apartment. “I’m- I’m sorry.” With hands clasped together as to ask forgiveness, Yor’s gaze was firmly fixated on the floor instead of her husband’s surprised expression. “I’m sorry for risking getting discovered due to my- my inexperience. If only you chose a more experienced woman you wouldn’t have to go through all this trouble to practice these things with me. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t.”

“W-what?”

“Please don’t apologize, Yor. The one who has to apologize is me, I didn’t prepare adequately for a very logical and highly possible situation and I overstepped your boundaries without your consent. It was wrong of me to think we could convincingly pull off a fake marriage without at least being comfortable with basic affection.” Loid held her gaze. “…And there is no other woman I would rather- I would feel more comfortable practicing this with.”

At his considerate words and genuine smile, Yor felt her wildly beating heart calm in her chest. Her voice came out stronger when she spoke, “…Thank you, Loid.” Her eyes shyly met his before they lit up with a fiery determination. “Um, about being comfortable with basic affection…why don’t we start with hugs first?”

Twilight bluescreened.

Hugs?

Twilight wanted to slap himself. ‘Of course. Hugs are, by definition, the most common and acceptable form of showing affection to another person! How could I skip over to advanced tactics without going through the very basics first? Brilliant Yor!’

Loid cleared his throat. “Yes, let’s start by getting comfortable with hugging first.”

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two adults, until Loid cleared his throat again. “Would- shall I start?”

Yor nodded silently, all her bravado from a moment before gone.

Loid took a breath, as if getting ready to start an infiltration operation, before he slowly raised his arms and stretched them out towards Yor.

The civil clerk steeled her nerves, swallowing the lump in her throat before carefully approaching Loid, as if he were a cautious deer ready to bolt at any second.

Even if Yor felt like that deer in this moment.

Hugs should be much easier, she used to hug Yuri all the time when they were still living together, she hugged Anya effortlessly, even Bond when he greeted her excitedly at the doorway when she came home from work.

She could do this.

It was only Loid.

Her husband.

Her fake husband.

Taking a leap of faith, Yor closed her eyes and rushed towards Loid.

She heard a soft ‘oopf’ from the man just as she collided with what she thought was a wall.

Had she accidentally run into the wall? How embarrassing! How much embarrassment would she have to endure today?!

But when Yor slowly opened her eyes, blond hair obstructed her field of vision, along with the warm, solid body of Loid Forger.

Her arms had a death grip around his waist, but she didn’t feel Loid reciprocating the embrace. “Um, Loid?”

Had she gripped him too tightly? Was he still breathing?

The soft rise and fall of his chest against hers confirmed he was indeed, still breathing, and Yor felt the strong beat of his heart thundering against her own. As if their hearts were in a heated competition to see who could escape first from their imprisonment.

As if struck by lightning, Loid’s body jumped slightly before relaxing again, his voice, entirely too close to her ear, sounded so loud in the empty living room. “Y-Yes, sorry.”

And then, she felt his arms wrap around her back.

His embrace was much gentler and Yor loosened her own in response. Was Loid taking deeper breaths now? She felt the odd sensation of his ribcage expanding and deflating in time with his breathing, so unlike the stillness of her targets laying lifelessly in their own pool of blood as Yor’s blade was still lodged into their bodies-

Yor shook her head violently. This was no time to think of her assassinations!

Once her focus returned to the situation at hand, she felt the warmth emanating not only from Loid’s hands on her back, but also his entire body pressed to her own. Was the room temperature always so high before?

She felt – felt – Loid swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing right next to her head resting against his shoulder. Even when she wore heels, she could only ever come up to Loid’s eye level, now in slippers, her head reached his shoulders.

They appeared much broader now than she was aware.

When Yor slightly squeezed his back, Loid’s spine seemed to tingle, or at least that’s what Yor felt pressed up against his body. Had she struck an injury? Did she squeeze too tight and his body protested?

Twilight was reciting old war reports in his head and counting off how many errors he spied on all of them, trying not to let his brain hyperfocus on the way Yor’s hands squeezed at his back.

‘Come on, Twilight, stop acting like a school boy and be an adult about this. This is a normal hug, people hug each-other often, or so I’ve observed in all my years as a spy. Maybe the time my brain was cut off oxygen from Yor’s hug messed with my senses. Why do I feel oddly nervous?’ Twilight’s musings were cut short when Yor loosened her hug, her hands still firmly wrapped around his waist, but no longer cutting off his air supply.

His eyes moved to the shiny black hair filling his field of vision, miraculously avoiding getting nicked by the surprisingly sharp earrings Yor always wore. Yor must take very good care of her hair for it to be so shiny, it felt soft to the touch too, pressing against his cheek and chin pleasantly. Had she used a scented shampoo? The subtle fragrance was far less invasive on his senses than all the other women from his missions.

“Is this okay, Yor?” heart in his throat, Loid hoped he didn’t cross any boundaries or make Yor uncomfortable again.

While they were married on paper, they were practically still strangers, contrary to what Loid always told Yor whenever she doubted her role in the Forger family.

‘It’s for Operation Strix, Yor doesn’t know Anya isn’t my actual daughter, of course she thinks she’s intruding on our family life.’

He could feel Yor shift in his arms, almost as if gauging the way their bodies fit together like two lost puzzle pieces.

‘Two lost puzzle pieces? Getting poetic, Twilight?’ Twilight mentally slapped himself for the odd comparison, focusing back on Yor’s voice when she spoke.

“I’m alright. Are you okay, Lo-Loid?” a sense of relief flooded Loid’s chest, whether from her answer or the comforting warmth from her body, he didn’t want to dwell on for too long.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Loid observed his hands positioned on her back, a respectable distance away from any inappropriate places.

Until he zeroed in on his two forefingers touching Yor’s bare skin through the opening of her sweater.

Loid gawked.

How could he have missed this detail?!  

What would Yor think? Had she not addressed his indecent touch because she felt too uncomfortable? Was she keeping silent to help them from being discovered as a fake family?

‘No, Yor’s comfort must come above all else.’ With this thought in mind, Loid slowly lowered his hand to her waist, now back on the safe barrier of her soft sweater.

Crisis evaded.

Expertly done, Twilight.

Loid was distracted from his thoughts when he felt Yor move her head, soft hair brushing against his face and her warm cheek meeting his neck. “How long do hugs normally last?”

Another indecency!

He hadn’t watched the time at all! How much time had passed? Were they hugging for too long?

“We-we can stop if you like, Yor.”

A moment of tense silence passed between the two adults and Loid was about to take the initiative by breaking the hug when Yor suddenly tightened her grip around his waist.

“Actually...would it be alright if we stayed like this for a little while longer?” her muttered question sounded clear and loud to Loid, possibly due to their close proximity.

Loid felt as if he answered a little too quickly. “For a little while.”

Yor moved her body even closer to him, despite there not being much room to close at all. Her embrace was softer yet firm, and Twilight couldn’t quite remember the last time he got hugged.

Actually, he could.

Fragmented memories of his mother surfaced in his mind, he could no longer remember her face, but he vividly remembered her embrace.

Her arms were thin but lithe, Twilight had always thought her arms could shield him from anything in the world. The sense of security her hugs had given him were greater than the protection of their home.

Her warm hands would always soothingly rub his back whenever he was upset, whether it was at his father’s scolding for playing with his friends past curfew or a bruise. His mother would hum or whisper comforting words in his ear, sometimes she would sway his body gently and lull him into a calm.

Yor suddenly felt Loid tighten his arms around her waist, not enough to hurt, but enough for her to turn her head to catch a glimpse of his face and check on him.

The expression on his face seemed so out of place for a man so kind and peaceful, an expression Yor knew too well, back when she had first started her assassination job, her eyes would have this deeply pained, glazed over look. The look that spoke of thousands of injustices and indescribable pain, a pain so strong it couldn’t compare to the thrust of her weapon into the soft flesh of her targets.

A pain that came from the heart.

With sympathy and a sense of kinship burning in her chest, Yor nuzzled her husband’s shoulder and squeezed back, her hands moving in rhythmic, soothing motions across the expanse of Loid’s back.

He trembled and she only hugged him tighter, feeling the sting alive in her heart resurface.

Yor had gotten many hugs from Yuri, but she couldn’t remember her mother’s embrace or her father’s encouraging pat.

Both adults seemed to relax against each-other, as if melting into the hug that had started so tense and by the book.

They didn’t know for how long they were hugging for, but by the time both of them had calmed down from their respective trips to their painful pasts, the front door of the apartment opened.

“Anya, bought a teddy bear that looks like papa!”

“You mean uncle Franky bought Anya a teddy bear that looks like papa!”

“Woof! Woof!”

The married couple froze at the sound of the familiar voices.

Franky covered Anya’s eyes once he registered the sight before him. “Say Anya, don’t you want Leddy to be comfortable in your room? Why don’t you show him his other stuffed friends in there?”  

“Okay uncle Scruffy!” brimming with excitement at seeing her parents hug in the split second before Franky’s hand had obscured her vision, Anya dashed into her room, ear eagerly pressed against the closed door to spy on the adults.

Loid and Yor slowly turned their heads towards Franky and Bond, both looking equal parts disturbed and unsurprised.

“Seriously, there are kids in this house!” Franky scoffed, unloading a bag of what appeared to be groceries, some treats for Anya and Bond.

“Woof!”

As if burned, Yor and Loid sprung away from each-other. Franky didn’t ignore the fierce blush on Yor’s face nor the very red ears of his friend and colleague, who looked less than pleased to see him at this moment.

Finally some bullying material to annoy the shit out of Twilight.

“I-I’ll make some tea!”

“T-Thank you, Yor!”

Yor scrambled towards the kitchen while Loid glared daggers at Franky, who only wore a shit-eating grin despite Twilight’s death threat. “You’re back…early.”

Franky grinned. “Actually, we were five minutes late, and how productively did you spend your day alone with Mrs. Forger, Mr. Forger?”

If they were alone, Franky would be pronounced missing.

Not because he wasn’t dead, his body simply would’ve never been found after Twilight was done with him.

“I see…” clearing his throat and trying to get rid of the lump in his chest, Loid motioned towards the door. “You’re right, its late, well thank you for looking after Anya and Bond today! I’ll see you tomorrow, Franky.”

 Franky scoffed. “Hey wait, I didn’t have my-!”

Loid slammed the door shut in Franky’s face at the same time Yor returned with two steaming mugs of tea. “Tea?” she tilted her head quizzically, noting Franky’s sudden absence. “Oh? Franky left already?”

Loid cleared his throat, gently guiding Yor towards the couch so they could enjoy their tea. “He said he was exhausted from his day with Anya and Bond and wanted to go home to rest.” He lied smoothly, nodding at Yor in thanks for the hot beverage in his palms.

Yor made herself comfortable on the couch, her cheeks pink and her smile as bright as the sun. “I had fun practicing with hugging today, Loid!”

There was that weird, constricting sensation in his chest again.

Did he have issues with his heart too? Could his digestive problems negatively affect his heart as well?

Loid lifted his mug up to his lips, glancing at Yor’s beaming smile and not being able to suppress his own. “Yes, it seems we’ve gotten…comfortable with that part.”

The two shared a chuckle, each nursing their tea and as the soothing fragrance of the tea and the comforting warmth from Yor’s hug still on his body filled Twilight’s mind, he discovered that the tea seemed to taste much better this evening.   

Bonus:

“Study hard Anya!”

“Be nice to everyone!”

The Forger parents waved goodbye at their daughter leaving for school in the early morning until they could no longer see her.

Loid checked his watch and turned towards Yor. “Well, looks like I’ll be off too. Have a good day at work, Yor.”

Yor returned his smile and dived into Loid’s arms for a hug. “Have a good day at work too, Loid!” she beamed, nuzzling the side of her husband’s neck and dress shirt.

Passerby’s shot them glances varying from amusement to envy and Twilight’s rigid body echoed his surprise at Yor’s sudden advances.

She had initiated a hug first.

It didn’t take long for Loid to overcome his shock and return the hug, perhaps a bit too quickly, too tightly that was proper in public, but they stayed locked in place until a car horn made them both aware of their surroundings.

“Right, I’ll see you at home!” Yor waved goodbye as she ran towards Berlint City Hall, leaving in her wake an oddly bewildered Loid Forger.

“See you, Yor.” She was already gone when Loid had uttered his goodbye’s, even when he already had entered his office in the hospital Loid still felt the effects of his hug with Yor.

He couldn’t quite stop smiling all day.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

A Lick of Paint

Summary: Spencer has no idea his best friend is harboring a secret talent

A/N: This was is one-shot request from a little while ago! I hope you guys enjoy it 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Artist!Reader)

Category: Fluff & Smut

Warnings/Includes: smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding, paint is involved (but it doesn’t go anywhere it shouldn’t), please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 3.6k

Request: “Would u do one where it’s a fem!reader x spencer (smut or fluff what ever feels right) where they’re best friends and the reader is very private and one day spencer comes over to her apartment and sees that she’s a really talented painter/drawer/artist ? Thank u!!”

Masterlist

— —

He didn’t have a crush on her. No way. She was just his best friend, nothing more. Just his best friend who he thought about all the time, his best friend who he knew everything about, who he couldn't wait until tomorrow to see.

They got in from their latest case at half past midnight, he was a night owl, and he knew she was too, so why would she mind him showing up uninvited? He hadn’t seen her in 15 days and he probably could wait one more, but he really didn't want to.

Showing up at her door after 1am with a bottle of wine and some snacks he took a minute to run his fingers through his hair and straighten out his shirt before he knocked on the door. He could hear a rustling from the other side, and he could see the light shifting about beneath the door frame. So she was home, and she was awake, and he was trying to suppress his eager little smile.

“You can’t keep calling over this late Mrs. Warner! I don’t have any of your mail—Spencer!” she says it in a little yelp as she pulls the door completely open. And she's standing in front of him in nothing but an oversized button up shirt, her hair’s all messy around her head and there’s a little pencil tucked behind her ear.

He’s not really sure what’s going on but he’s sure that he likes it.

“Just me” he pulls his lips into a small smile and gives a tiny little wave with his free hand, shaking the bottle of wine in his other. “I hope I’m not intruding, we just got in earlier than I thought we would and I figured you’d still be up”

As he’s explaining she’s shutting the door slightly again, hiding her body behind it just a little. And even if he wasn’t a profiler he’d know she was uncomfortable, so he starts to shake his head.

“You know what, don’t worry about it! I can come back another time— or I can— I can give you some space if you need it? This was a stupid idea anyway, I should go— I’m gonna go!” he knows he sounds stupid, he’s a rambling mess but before he can properly retreat she’s swinging the door open fully again, reaching out for him and just grabbing him by the strap of his satchel.

“No Spencer wait! I’m happy to see you, I really am” she pulls him to the doorway, letting him step inside. “It’s just— messy? And you haven’t seen my apartment like this before” she’s rushing it out once he gets inside, placing her hands on his shoulders to try and spin him around before he can catch a glimpse of the state of her living room.

“Just gimme a second to tidy—”

“Do you— are you an artist?” he’s not even listening to her anymore, he’s completely fixed on the pages and sketchbooks all scattered around her living room. The sofa is pulled back to create space for the huge canvas that’s spread out all over the floor. Paints and brushes all lined up next to it.

“No!” she shakes her head, “Well not really, I just, I draw sometimes, and paint I guess? But it’s just for me” she’s still got her hands on his shoulders, trying to turn him around in spite of the fact that he’s already seen everything she was trying to hide. Or had managed to keep hidden until now.

“You never told me?” he just looks confused now more than anything, but his eyes are still blown wide as he starts to walk towards the area of the room covered in her materials.

“It’s really nothing Spencer, I didn’t want to tell you, because then you’d want to see, and then I wouldn’t want to show you, or I would show you, and then you’d hate it, and you’d just tell me you liked it to be nice, and I can tell when you’re lying Spencer, and I couldn’t handle that. So yeah, I didn’t tell you. But I haven't told anyone.” she’s not looking at him when she speaks anymore, her hands are just wrapped tight around her body protectively. This felt like she was so entirely exposed.

She had only kept two secrets from him all these years. Her art. And her unending infatuation for him. How could she not let him in when he showed up at her front door so excited, and looking so cute in his little sweater with his messy curls.

“Hey” he reaches out, placing a gentle hand on her forearm, coaxing her to unwrap them. So they fall to her sides and she feels even more exposed now. “If you want me to go, I’ll go. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. If you want me to stand out in the hall while you hide all of this stuff, and then we pretend none of this happened, I’ll get comfy out there right now. But I just need you to know that I love you very much, and I’d support anything you ever choose to do. And I know what I want shouldn't factor in, but for what it’s worth, I would like to see some of your work— It doesn't have to be now! But just, if you ever wanted to show me anything, I’d love to see it.”

She can feel how earnest the words are, and she knew he loved her, but it was always so nice to hear it out loud, coming from those gorgeous pink lips. She wants to speak but the words feel like they’re almost caught in her throat when she looks up at him, she has to force them out.

“I’ll show you” she breathes, “I want to show you”

His eyebrows shoot up as she speaks, “I didn't mean— you don’t have to!” he rushes out as she goes to fetch one of her sketchbooks from the ground, handing it to him.

“I want to, honestly. If someones going to see this stuff, I want it to be you” once the sketchbook’s in his grip and out of her hands completely she walks away from him, going to sit on the ground next to the canvas. Right where she’d been sitting when he knocked on the door earlier.

Neither of them say a word while he goes through it page by page. It doesn't occur to her that she’s not sure which one she handed him until she can hear footsteps approaching her from behind.

When he sits down beside her he’s got the sketchbook open to a double spread and she recognizes it instantly.

“Are these drawings of me?” he asks, and it’s almost a whisper, like he doesn’t want to scare her. But she nods.

“Um, yeah. There’s actually a bunch of you in these sketchbooks. Your bone structure is just— I don't know— it’s nice to look at” his lips curve up in a small smile at that.

“You think I’m nice to look at?” he teases and she rolls her eyes,

“From an artistic perspective, you're interesting” she tries to walk it back.

“So now I’m just interesting?” he asks, a little smug now that he can tell she’s nervous.

“That’s not what I said!” he starts to chuckle then, closing the notebook and placing it down on the ground behind him.

“Relax, I’m messing with you, and for what it’s worth I think you’re nice to look at too. From any perspective” those few words make her forget where she is completely, they make her feel an entirely different kind of worry than the one she’d been experiencing earlier.

“And I love your work. You said you could tell when I was lying, am I lying?” he’s looking straight into her eyes as he speaks, and she can feel the way her heart is palpitating.

“No, you’re, uh, you're telling the truth” she shakes her head, but his eyes stay focused on her.

“What’s going on this canvas then?” he asks with a smile, and she breaks the eye contact so she can grab another one of her notebooks to show him some of the thumbnails she’d drawn for it.

“This is the idea, I think I need to practice it on something smaller though, just to get a feel for it” she explains as she points to the different shapes on the page, but then Spencer gets an idea.

“Use me” he says, and she just looks at him perplexed, “You said I was interesting, use me as your canvas?” he pulls off his cardigan as he speaks, rolling up his shirt sleeves to expose his bare arms.

“Spencer, I meant like, a smaller sheet or something, not your arm!” she’s laughing it off, mostly because being in close contact like that with him would probably break her.

“Well use my back then” he says it like it’s obvious, taking off his tie, then unbuttoning his shirt from the top, getting to the third button before she reaches out to stop him.

“You don’t have to do that” she says it with a laugh, like her heart’s not beating out of her chest from the little glimpse of bare skin she can see through the open part of his shirt.

He looks straight into her eyes as he speaks, “I want to.” the words settle in the air between them and they come to a silent agreement. Her hands falling from his so that he can undo the rest of his buttons, shrugging out of his shirt so that she can see his bare torso.

He sits like that for a second, awaiting instructions.

“Um, you should lie down on your front” she says, gesturing to the canvas laid out on the ground, “Wait!” she calls out as he moves to lie down, “You should probably take off your trousers? I don’t wanna get paint on them or anything”

It’s the truth really, but it still feels silly to say out loud. Luckily he just laughs a little and takes them off, but the little clinking sound his belt makes does something to her breathing.

By the time he’s laying face down on the canvas, his head resting on his folded arms, she’s got her materials all lined up next to her. She kneels down beside him, but as she's about to start it occurs to her that this is the complete wrong angle to start the piece. And she knows where she needs to sit, but she’s got no idea how to ask.

“Spencer— I can’t really— this angle is a bit, um…” she stutters

“Maybe you should sit on me?” he asks, uncharacteristically calm, maybe it was the way her voice kept going up an octave, or how fast her heart had been beating almost this entire time, but something made him realize that he wasn’t the nervous one here for maybe the first time since he’d known her.

“You would— You don't mind?” she asks before even moving, and he smiles to himself.

“How could I?”

With that she climbs in top of him, resting a leg either side of his hips. She’s painfully aware that the only thing separating them now is the thin layer of each of their underwear. But she pushes the thought aside as she gets to work.

Spencer’s quiet and well behaved for most of it, only remarking every now and again when the paint was cold against his skin, or when he had to move just a little. All in all she’s finished within an hour.

“Are you finished?” he asks, his eyes closed, relaxing beneath her as she worked. There was something almost therapeutic about the feeling of the brushstrokes against his skin. But he hadn’t felt one for 3 whole minutes now.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just admiring it” she says, “I’ll take a picture for you” she reaches for her phone, snapping a quick photo. Then she sits up off of him and he misses the weight of her on top of him instantly.

When he sits up she sits down opposite him, handing over the phone so that he can take a look at the painting that adorned his back. He almost couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. The delicate lines, the striking colors, the perfect hands that had painted it.

“This is— I don’t even have the words” he says it in a hushed whisper, “I love it so much” she knows he’s telling the truth again, his eyes don't even look up from the screen to see her reaction, they’re still completely transfixed on the photo. When he does look up he’s smiling.

“Am I telling the truth?” he asks and she nods, but something about her nervous little expression, coupled with her sky-rocketing heart rate gives him the confidence he’s needed for years.

“What if I told that I’ve liked you for a very long time? Would I be telling the truth about that?” his smile is gone, instead it’s replaced with half-lidded eyes and softly parted lips.

For a second she’s not even sure if this is really happening, her eyes trail along his bare torso, taking in the tiny bits of paint that made it down his sides. When her eyes come back up to look in his own, still trained on her she can’t even speak, instead she’s lunging at him, pulling him in by the back of the neck and crashing their lips together.

She parts hers after a moment, allowing Spencer to slip his tongue inside, tangling with her own as his hands fly out to grab her by the waist, pulling her into his lap. When they break apart their chests are heaving, breathing ragged, staring straight into each others eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long” he gasps before his lips are on hers again, hungry and eager.

Her hands start to roam all over his body, soothing over the planes of his skin, digging her fingernails in every now and again, forcing a little moan out of Spencer each time. When he finally grows too impatient his fingers start to work open the buttons on her oversized shirt.

After a minute he’s managed to get them all open and he can pull the shirt apart. As it slouches off of her shoulders he can see her underwear, it’s mismatched and there’s something endearing about it. The fact that neither of them anticipated this. But that was probably for the best, if he knew this is what he was going to do tonight his nerves would’ve gotten the better of him.

His hands are on her immediately, grabbing her breasts over the light cotton fabric, squeezing them gently as he presses his mouth against her neck, planting soft kisses all along it. She takes the time to shrug out of the shirt completely, and his hands snake behind her to unhook her bra and pull it off. Exposing her breasts completely for just a second before his mouth is on them. Cupping one in each hand and placing rough, sloppy kisses all over the soft skin as she moans above him.

“Spencer” she says it with a little gasp as his lips wrap around one of her nipples, just the sound of his name tumbling from her lips was enough to make him hard.

“I need you” she whimpers, and he's gone, bringing one of his hands down between her legs, ghosting over the crotch of her panties to feel the damp patch that had formed there.

“You’re so wet for me” he breathes against her ear, pushing one of his fingers harshly against the fabric, right against her clit, forcing another moan from deep in her chest.

“Fuck, I’ve been wet since I climbed on top of you” she moans, “I was worried you were gonna be able to feel it” she says with a breathy laugh.

“If I’d have been able to feel this,” he says, rubbing small circles over her panties, “then you wouldn’t have gotten to finish that painting”

Once he takes his fingers away she pushes him down by his shoulders, finally straddling the other side of his hips like she’d been thinking about doing for the past hour, or past several years. But he lets out a small yelp of protest.

“The painting!” he says as his back collides with the canvas but she chuckles.

“Fuck the painting” she leans in planting feverish kisses all along the expanse of his neck, sucking and biting in spots so that they’d hopefully leave little bruises later on.

From there they both give up on trying to preserve any of the art on Spencer’s back. Within a matter of minutes it was smeared all along the canvas beneath them. Along with some of the paint one, or both of them, had managed to knock over.

He’s not sure exactly how it happened but at one point he grips her waist and leaves a blue hand print along her skin from the paint he’d managed to put his palm in. When she catches sight of it she just lets out a small laugh.

“I don’t care” she says, when he’s looking up at her with just the smallest hint of worry, “As long as it doesn't get inside me we’re alright”

Before they get too messy she sits up off of him for a minute, taking off her panties and using them to wipe off the little bit of paint that had somehow ended up next to Spencer’s bottom lip. He lets out a small gasp as she traces the fabric along his skin and mutters a tiny, “Good as new” in her sultry sweet voice.

And then her lips are on his again as one of her hands snakes down in-between them to pull at the waistband of his boxers, she gets them down far enough to pull his cock out so that it was right in front of her. He was already achingly hard but something about the size of if in her nimble fingers made him twitch in her grip, leaking from the head with the anticipation.

“God, the things I want to do to you” she gasps as she pumps him up and down in long last strokes, squeezing every now and again as he squirmed underneath her, “But right now I need you inside me Spencer”

With that she rises up on her knees, hovering over him and lining his cock up right between her legs. She takes a second to tease him, running the head through her folds, so that he could feel and hear just how wet she was for him. Once he looks like he can’t take even one more second of the teasing she lowers her hips slowly, sinking down onto his length bit by bit. Right until her hips were flush with his own and he was buried completely inside of her.

They both had to take a minute to savor the feeling. The way she was so wet and warm around him, so tight that he could feel the way she clenched around him. 

The way he stretched her out so perfectly, filling her up in a way that made her think they might actually be made for each other.

And then she starts to move, pumping her hips up and down, leaning forward slightly so that she can rest her hands on his flushed chest for support. She starts off slow, almost at a teasing pace, taking him in as deep as she could each time.

“You feel even better than I imagined” he mutters, his hands coming up to grab her hips, leaving another set of handprints in their wake. “So perfect”

She leans down a little further so that she can place a small kiss on his lips.

“God, you do to! Didn’t know it could feel this good” she moans without really thinking about it, and then she realizes it’s the truth. Something about the anticipation made all of this feel so much better than it ever had with anyone else.

With his hands guiding her now, gripping her harshly, she starts to move faster. Working up and down with more force, both of them panting and moaning desperately as they grew closer and closer.

He’d dreamt about it, imagined it, thought about it, more times than he’d care to admit. But seeing her now, on top of him with her lips softly parted, little whines falling out of her as she hit her climax, he realized his mind could never do this justice.

“Fuck! Ah— Spencer, I’m gonna—” her hips slow to almost a stop, working up and down still but with staggered movements as she rides out her high. Thankfully Spencer’s only a second behind her and she can feel the way he's spilling inside of her, filling her up completely. Then she collapses flat onto his chest, both of them are covered in a sheen of sweat that almost makes their bare skin stick together.

“You’re covered in paint you know” is the first thing Spencer says, his fingers tracing along her back.

“You’re one to talk” she jokes, dragging her finger through the streak of red paint that had gotten on his neck somehow.

Then he finally turns his head, looking at the spilled and smeared paint that lay around them on the once bare canvas.

“I thought you needed this canvas for that painting?” he asks, but she just looks up at him with a smile.

“I think this turned out better”

– –

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[jeongvision]

unconditional love

synopsis. if you were to ask yourself, ‘when did you realize that you were in love with lee jeno?’, you wouldn’t know how to respond. in fact, there was never a moment where you weren’t in love with him. but what happens when he asks you the same question? you might have to take a rain check, literally.

pairing. best friend! lee jeno ✗ fem! reader

genre. fluff, humor, childhood friends au, friends to lovers au

word count. 1.6k

warnings. none! but highkey though this made me fall in love with jeno :(

song. walking in the rain by chancellor & younha

author’s note. happy birthday @sehunniepotwrites​!​ not sure if this is fluffy enough for you but hope you enjoy this lil blurb! cheers to another one of your milestones and many more in life!

ps. there are two lines in this fic that are from a poem written by e.e. cummings! not going to say which ones or the title of the poem bc it might spoil future plans i have oop

You were one of the few fortunate people on the planet to still be friends with someone from your childhood. To have so many worthwhile memories shared with someone must be cherished at all cost. And many times were you afraid that Jeno might get tired of being friends with you, but being the ethereal person he is, he casted all your worries away and assured you that he had no plans on leaving you any time soon.

And perhaps somewhere down the line, the love you had for him went far beyond what people would label as ‘friendship,’ and dared enough to say, you were in love with him. If a stranger were to describe how you looked whenever you were with him, many would describe you to be enamored.

And if you happened to be enamored for your childhood friend, then so be it.

You fear no fate, for he is your fate, your sweet.

“Can I ask you something, y/n?”

Currently, you two are sat outside of a café near your home: 7 Dreams. It was a beautiful day out, the sun warming the air around you, flutters of clouds scattered throughout the blue sky. You expressed your desires to Jeno earlier that you wanted to sit out on the tables they placed outside their shop. It has been a little chilly from the past few days with occasional rain showers here and there, and you want nothing more than to relish in the warm weather after days of being forced into the solitude of your home.

“Sure. What is it?”

But before you could take a sip of your green tea latte, you’re thrown off by his question.

“When did you first fall in love with me?”

Your fingers stilled at the ceramic handle of your mug. You didn’t know what brought that question to the latter’s mind. Granted, you two have had your fair shares of flirtations and courtship, but never acted beyond past it. It was all done with jest, as you two would put it. You could easily lie to him, saying that you only saw him as a friend, but never to yourself; your heart betrays you with palpitations and inclinations for your best friend from just the mere thought of him.

You forced a stoic expression on your face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs out a breath from your response.

“Y/n, there’s no point in trying to hide it. I’ve known you for almost my whole life, so I know when you’re lying to me. The look you give me is different from how you looked at Johnny when you two were together.”

A snort escapes from your lips.

“And what does my ex have to do with this?” You could see a teasing grin poke through his demeanor, prompting an eye roll from you.

“So you admit that you do look at me differently then.”

“No, Jeno, I am not admitting to anything. And even if I did look at you differently, how would you know if I was in love with you?”

“Because you would’ve denied it by now. And right now, you’re just stepping around the question.”

You squint your eyes a little, to which Jeno does the same back.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy now? How about when I asked you for the name of the person you liked a couple years back?”

And so, his eyebrows rise a little at your bold question, head tilted a little to the side.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he counters.

You couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh, your head shaking from disbelief.

“Oh, don’t fake naivety, Jeno. Senior prom, when we were each other’s date because you ‘didn’t receive any prom-posals from anyone’, when I knew fully well that you received many of them from both guys AND girls. You just denied them all.”

You could clearly play the memory out in the back of your head, a movie projector showcasing your youthful-self slow dancing with a bashful Jeno in the middle of the dance floor, your arms wrapped his neck and his hands on your waist. Both of your feet moved in sync with one another, eyes searching within the depths of each other’s soul, oblivious of the whispers and stares around you that spoke nothing short but envy for the sight that laid before them is one worth capturing.

“We were dancing to Hearts Don’t Break Around Here. You know, the one by Ed Sheeran?” you followed.

His smile grows fond at the memory of it.

“Oh, we’re in love, aren’t we?”

“Jeno!” You give a light slap on his forearm and he laughs at your response. “Now is not the time to start saying song lyrics!”

It’s a wonder how you managed to last this long from professing your feelings out to him. You two did almost everything together and experienced many firsts together. First road trip together, first beach date together - you even experienced your first pet purchase together. So what’s stopping you from confessing to him?

“Look, what I’m trying to say is that I have a feeling that you’re in love with me,” you said.

There’s a glint in his eyes filled with mirth.

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Because of the way you look at me?”

“And it’s the same way as how you look at me?”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure.”

“So you admit that you’re in love with me.”

Before you could continue on with your playful banter, you stopped yourself short. You take a moment to process his words in. Wait, did he just? Your words get caught in your throat. Did he just admit that he feels the same way towards me?

He notices your shock and uses this moment to his advantage to continue on, each word laced with certainty.

“If you’re saying that the way you look at me is the same as how I look at you, then that means that you are in love with me, because I don’t know how else to say that I am very much in love with you, y/n.”

Heat resonates all throughout your body. Your heart beats erratically and you’re at loss of words. Flustered you are, but who wouldn’t be? For years, you’ve pinned after your best friend, hoping for the day to come where he reciprocates your feelings. You had an inkling that he had some sort of romantic feelings for you as he always seemed to reject everyone’s relationship proposal, justifying his reasoning to be that there’s already someone he likes.

“Who is it?”

“An angel.”

“What’s their name?”

“Something pretty.”

“Jeno.”

“Y/n.”

And you just drop the conversation like that, frustrated by his vague answers. But nevertheless, you could never get tired of him. Something about him gravitates you towards him, the feelings you’ve harbored in secrecy burning brighter than ever whenever you’re by his side. He’s not perfect, but to you, he’s the best thing to appear in your life. From the crinkling of his eyes to the sweet smiles of his lips to the red tint of his neck and ears.

You want no world, for he is your entire world, your true.

“Look, it’s raining.”

Breaking out of your reverie, you look up to Jeno to see him peering out on the streets. You follow suit to see raindrops falling onto the pavement. It slowly gains momentum, growing heavier and louder with each passing second. Fortunately, you two are shielded from the rain with the veranda attached to the cafe. The sun peaks through the crevices of the clouds, still lighting the world around you with a subtle rainbow blossoming up into the spring sky.

You hear Jeno let out a laugh, bringing your attention back to him. There’s a wistful smile on his face when he asks you, “Remember when we were little, we would always run out in the rain on the concrete and just jump around? Pretend that we were in some kind of movie?”

You mirror his expression, your mind replaying a distant memory you shared with him.

“Our parents would always yell at us for that, saying we’ll get sick if we don’t stop.”

Your gaze trails back out onto the pavements. Then, you felt an itch in your fingers, an itch in your feet. Not literally, but you have this sudden urge to move. To dance. To celebrate. To relive those moments once more.

It’s almost as if the stars were aligned at that moment and heard your wishes, because you see Jeno get up from his seat and take a step forward and immerse himself out into the rain. His entire figure instantly gets drenched from the falling raindrops, not caring for a single second that he might catch a cold from his actions. Before you could call out to him, he looks back at you with a grin, and perhaps it might be your most favorite accessory he wears on himself.

He offers his hand out to you.

“May I have this dance, ma chérie?”

You’re taken back to the same distant memory again. Every single time, without fail, young Jeno would always ask for your hand to dance with him under the rain, to which you would always oblige with, “Well, of course mon cher.” But this time, you decide to switch it up a little.

You stand up from your seat and step closer to your best friend, a push away from falling victim to the rain with him. Your pupil flourishes with adoration for the man that stands before you.

“Only if you hold onto my hand, mon cher.”

He raises an eyebrow at your proposition. Amused he is, for there is a sliver of smirk adorned on his lips.

“Is that a threat, ma chérie?”

If Jeno were to ask you again when you first fell in love with him...

“It’s an invitation, mon cher.”

… you would say that you were always in love with him.

“If it’s like that, then I’d never let you go.”

[fullbusterfantasmic]

Love Potion ♋️ Chapter 4.7

Rated M

It’s all NSFW (As it should be)

1,933 words

A/N: The first position mentioned is called the butterfly or some shit (maybe?) idfk but I like it, & the second is the reverse cowgirl. Formatting is wonky, I know please look past it.

🌬Gray’s POV

The shine her eyes had held has begun to rapidly be overtaken as the (e/c) darkens, while she beckons me closer.

Her mouth is right beside my ear as she says;

“Ravish me...lay your claim on me...let every touch from you send me reeling, and begging for more...show me everything you’ve imagined doing to me and lastly...share every feeling you’ve kept hidden from me”.

The intense requests she made ignites a fire somewhere within me. Flames are rapidly consuming the protective layers of ice I’d long ago placed over my heart. Barriers erected after Deliora’s first attack, reinforced following the death of Ur...gone in an instant. Her tongue runs along the outer shell of my ear, lips placing a kiss to my temple. Pulling away, she then collapses back onto the pillows behind her, now surveying me through darkened, heavily lidded eyes.

My teeth clench as the familiar darkness begins to surface and my internal struggle begins. She asked for it....so why not give it to her? I shouldn’t...I....I’m ready to...no I NEED to let her in that now open space within my heart, within my very barren soul.

You don’t know what you do to me...

✨Your Pov

Im nervous...

I may have asked too much, it was too soon for me to come on so strongly! He still has yet to look at me, and his long bangs obscure his eyes from view.

“Gray I-“

I began to try and retract my previous statement but he interupts me. “From the very first moment I laid eyes on you I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen....and the most dangerous...” he moves out from between my legs, motioning for me to lay on my side. “ I knew if I got close to you I’d end up falling for you and that would put you at risk...”. One of his legs now rest underneath mine and my other rests over the top of his.

“Try as I might, I couldn’t force myself to get or stay away from you; somehow we always end up spending time together” he pauses, pressing a kiss to my temple before continuing; “ -and now we’re here...”.

The room is growing colder once more, goosebumps cover my exposed flesh and I lightly begin to shiver. My entire body is shaking by the time his voice reaches my ear; “With all that being said...I’m done explaining myself, and I’m done talking”.

“Now I’m going to fuck you senseless, this entire town will know you’re mine by sunrise” The vow is whispered to me in such an intimate way, it has my internal walls fluttering, before clenching around nothing. That is soon remedied; A surprised turned pleasurable cry slips out from between my lips as Gray effortlessly slides into me.

This position is a first for me, and experiencing it with this god like man...Said position has quickly become a “10 out of 10, must do again”. He holds my body so closely against his, and somehow those skilled fingers are still roaming up and down my sides. Occasionally pausing their ministrations to ghost across my chest or rub tantalizing circles Into my clit. The angle in which he thrusts into me puts the head of his cock in the perfect position to hit my G-spot each and every time he bottoms out.

The whole “I’m finished talking now” line was absolute bullshit! As soon the smug Ice mage was balls deep inside me, did the sinful whispers begin. Dear God! That deep husky voice alternating between uttering the most endearing things, having my eyes growing wet with tears. Only to make a flawless transition into speaking the most obscene and sensual promises (or threats), have my face continuing to burn red.

I was an absolute wreck.

“You should see yourself right now...Completely fucked out of your mind, slobbering all over, and tear stains coating your cheeks...yet still so breathtaking”. My enthralled lover may no longer be whispering, but the chill of his breath on my neck is still ever present. I don’t speak, I knew my ability of coherent speech had vanished long ago.

Gray doesn’t need my words to go off of now, not when my breath hitches and my body jerks involuntarily. “This one will be....number four right?” He sounds so proud. That wasn’t really a question, and I wouldn’t of answered it even if I could have.

As much as I craved release, my pride urged me to deny it. A small voice inside my head is saying; “Ignore the relentless tingling of your clit, the tight wound knot in your stomach, the pressure from that magnificent cock sinking itself into your deepest depths...”.

Dammit ___________, get it together!

You are a proud Fairy Tail mage; A living embodiment of strength, determination, and destroyer of adversity! You’ve let this man turn you into putty within his hands, he thinks he owns you! Now it’s time for you to reclaim your pride and turn the tables on him!

Who am I kidding?

🌬Grays POV

“Holding back now are we?”

I can’t help but tease her when she’s trying so hard to hide the fact that I have her teetering on the edge of bliss. She lets out and annoyed huff and I poke one of her inflated cheeks, making sure my cock is buried inside of her as far as it can go.

“You take my cock so well baby, you’re already starting to shape to me on the inside...you’ll be my perfect little cock sleeve in no time” I murmured before giving her another nice dark love bite to match the one on the other side of her neck. “I know you want to drench my cock some more” my ice coated finger flicks against her clit before circling over it.

“Hah!” she shrieks at the frozen contact to her bundle of nerves, involuntarily jerking and in turn slamming her hips backwards, burying my dick inside her once more. The tip of my head just barely makes contact with her cervix, and then her walls suddenly contract, clamping down around me. I have to give every effort to not paint them white as not only her ecstatic wail reaches my ears, but I look down just in time to see her lightly spritz the hand id been using to play with her clit.

For a moment my brain begins to short circuit, and then it just shuts down completely.

✨ Your POV

That was....incredible.

Several minutes pass with my mind reeling from the intense orgasm I’d just experienced. It’s like I’m drunk, but not from the alcohol I’d consumed earlier. Drunk from the dopamine flooding my brain, and my heart swelling with overwhelming feelings of love. Love....love for the man currently sharing my bed.  Before I can turn to Gray and embarrass myself with a bunch of post orgasm love drunk rambling, I remember something....oh my god.

I sober up and am slammed back into reality almost instantly. My face begins to burn and I Stifle a cry of humiliation as I realize; I’d just squirted all over his hand! That’s never happened to me before! Gray hasn’t said one word...he’s been silent since it happened! He probably has a look of disgust on his face, I can’t bring myself to look and see.

I try to move,, intent on getting away to take refuge on the other side of the bed. His arms immediately constrict around me, “Oh no you don’t, you aren’t going anywhere!”.  Suddenly he’s flat on his back keeping a firm grip on my hips as I’m forced to straddle him. Glancing over my shoulder I see the proud smirk he’s wearing, then he speaks; “Never had a girl do that before...I like it” giving me a wink afterwards. “Sh-Shut u-up” I mumble as I return my gaze to the wall in front of me, breathing deeply in attempt to calm my palpitating heart.

“Y’know normally I’d give you a little break but... I can’t...not after seeing you do that” he pauses, and I can’t see his eyes roaming over my back side, but I feel his hands slide down from my hips. Then a sharp SMACK resounds around the room, followed by my startled gasp. “Ride me...now!” a fierce growl preludes another sharp smack to my other ass cheek.

I don’t even bother to stop the excited shake that over takes my body, the sudden change into this demanding demeanor is thrilling! Keeping my back to him, I’m quick to position myself over his length and begin to sink down on it. The soft mewl I emit is drowned out by a hiss as the tip of his dick slips between my lips. “That’s it...good girl” he praises as he begins to rub out the red marks on my ass.

Eager to please I get straight to work.

Albeit a bit awkward at first, but Im able to get a steady rhythm going in no time. “So much better than in my dreams...fuckin’ hell __________ your ass is perfect! Yeah that’s it babe, bounce it just like that” Gray mumbles appreciatively, completely enamored with the sight in front of him. “Dream about me often do you?” I tease, throwing him a smug glance over my shoulder. “More often than I’d ever care to admit, now turn around and face me would you?.

I do as he asked, rotating my body to face him. He gently pulls me down towards him and I stop short, my face now inches above his own. My stomach feels like it’s filled with butterflies at the sudden closeness. Unsure of what to do I quietly whisper an awkward sounding “Hi”. A wide grin appears on his face as he responds; “Hi” followed quickly by a chuckle at my sudden awkwardness.

Now we’re both smiling at each other like complete dorks, and I’m compelled to lean forward and kiss him. I resume my ride as his tongue curls around mine, quickly losing myself in the passion of this moment. Gray is quick to pick up the slack, thrusting his hips upward each time mine sink down. The atmosphere in the bedroom has changed, we both feel it. When I say his name again it comes out in a breathy whine.

His eyes reflect an emotion I’ve never seen in them before and his tone is gentle when he says “I know baby, hold on just a little longer for me”. Strong arms wind themselves tighter around me, drawing my body in as close as possible as he speeds up the pace of his thrusts. “I want to feel you gush all over my cock when I finally get to cum inside you” his lips are on mine again, kissing me passionately while bouncing me up and down on his cock.“That okay with you baby? Do you want me to fill up this tight little cunt?”

My confession comes out quick and shameless; “Yes! God there’s nothing I want more right now, I’ve wanted that for ages!”.

“Tell me, who do you belong to now snowflake?”

“YOU! I belong to you now Gray”

“Tell me you need me”

“I need you, I never want to be without you, so please just-“

“Tell me...” he pauses, placing a hand on my cheek and staring into my eyes.

“Tell me you love me”.

[sukifans]

zuko + 7. ( a kiss on the eye lid ) pls? thank you <33

campcampie said: hey! i’d like to request a kinda modern day zuko x reader where they’re going on their first date and they’ve been friends for like ever using prompt 24 from the 50 types of kisses? if you don’t have time that’s completely fine

LAST FIRST DATE // zuko

WC: 2.4k

PROMPT: “a kiss on the eyelid” & “deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer”

WARNINGS: say goodbye to ur teeth

A/N: hi loves! i hope you don’t mind, but i combined these two requests bc i thought they’d just be super cute together :^) i made it extra long since it’s two requests in one. thank you for sending them in!! we love tooth-rotting fluff here

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

It was the only time you had ever felt like this before a first date. You didn’t look him up to check if he had an arrest record, or turn on location sharing with your friends, or repeat conversation starters like a mantra in your head. You didn’t schedule an “emergency phone call” as a graceful way to bow out. You didn’t do any of these things, because you knew you didn’t need to. Your pulse didn’t race in your neck out of nerves, but excitement.

You tried on all your clothes in every possible combination, all of which he’d seen you in before. You fixed your hair one way, then changed your mind, then put it back again. It all either felt like too little for such a blind leap or too much for such a natural step. How was it possible that everything and yet nothing might change today?

Okay, so maybe you were a little nervous. You tried not to focus on how wobbly you felt when you went to answer the knock on your door, but it all melted away at the sight of your best friend standing on your porch with a half-wilted bouquet of your favorite flowers. When he caught sight of you his lips turned up into a sheepish grin, his cheeks already going pink.

“Hi,” you said, much quieter than you’d intended.

“Hey,” he exhaled. “You look... beautiful.”

Now your face was starting to feel hot. “Zuko, you’ve seen me wear this before.”

“So?” He crossed the threshold into your home when you stepped aside to let him in. “You always looking amazing. You could make a burlap sack look designer.”

“Oh, hush.” You accepted the fleeting peck he placed on your lips. It was something you’d done a million times before in greeting or goodbye—yeah, you’d been more than friends without being “more than friends” for some time now—but there was a new electric anticipation to the familiar gesture and it made your heart palpitate. Trying to calm yourself, you fixed your eyes on the flowers he held in an almost white-knuckle grip. “Are those for me?”

He looked down at his hand as if surprised he was carrying a bouquet. “Oh, yeah.” You took it when he thrusted it out at you. “I, uh, saw them at the store and they reminded me of you. They’re your favorite, you know.”

“I know,” you giggled, moving to rustle through your cabinets to find something to put them in. Redness crept up his neck from under the collar of his shirt and he grimaced.

“Right, of course you do.” He looked at you apologetically. “I’m sorry they’re not as pretty anymore. I... got a little excited when I saw them and bought them on the spot a few days ago. I probably should’ve waited.”

“I think they’re beautiful,” you said, filling a jar with water and setting them in place. “Thank you; you didn’t have to.”

“I know. And I knew you’d say that,” he chuckled. He took your hand when you stood in front of him once again. “I just want to make sure I do this right. You deserve to be... wooed, or whatever.”

“Well, consider me wooed.” You squeezed his hand. “I’m happy no matter what, as long as I’m with you.”

The soft, sweet look he fixed you with made you want to melt into a puddle. God, you were head over heels for this man. It was unbelievable how long it took for you to realize and actually do something about it. Everything felt so obvious now—the years of feelings you’d swallowed back like bitter medicine despite how he’d clearly been doing the exact same thing; the ache of yearning in your chest and the burning jealousy that rose like bile in your throat every time you saw him with someone else.

But none of that mattered anymore, because you were here now, with him, sitting in his passenger seat with the windows down and trying to goad him into singing along to the stereo with you. You held his free hand that wasn’t on the wheel in yours, forcing his arm to dance along with you. He watched your antics out of the corner of his eye with a smitten half-smile. You were satisfied when he tapped his fingers against the wheel along with the rhythm pumping from the speakers and bobbed his head. You swore you could even hear him humming when you leaned in close enough while swaying in your seat.

The date had been your idea, because of course it was—you knew him better than just about anybody else, especially himself and maybe even his Uncle Iroh. Your sharp perceptiveness and ability to read him like a book had unnerved him at first, early in your friendship as awkward, angsty teens. He didn’t like the concept of being known and analyzed; uncomfortable with the idea of existing in other people’s minds in a form beyond his control. That always led to expectations, and expectations led to disappointment.

Learning how to be okay with his own vulnerability and personhood was one of many things you had helped him with over the years of your relationship. Because of you—for you—he was a better person, a better friend, a better man. It was something he wished he knew how to thank you for. Even if he could find the words (and the nerve), it would never be enough. He had settled long ago on just trying to show you, every day and in every way he could.

As the two of you traipsed across the park grass and you searched for the perfect spot, he couldn’t help but marvel at the fact his hands seemed to be designed to hold yours. The way your fingers fitted perfectly between his, the warmth of every contact point between your palms; it felt as natural as the tides or the winds or anything else that had always been and always would be. He’d experienced the feeling of your hand in his hundreds if not thousands of times before, but it all felt so much more... poignant, somehow, in this time and place.

“You’ve been really quiet,” you observed as you laid out the blanket once you’d deemed the area suitable. He sat on it next to you, dropping down the backpack of snacks he’d been carrying. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“No, definitely not,” he quickly reassured you, wanting the worried crease between your eyebrows to smooth away. “I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking.”

You nodded, not pressing him. That was just one more of a million things he adored about you: you never forced him to tell you things he didn’t want to say. This, however, was something he wanted to share with you.

“I’ve been thinking about how important you are to me, and how lucky I am to have you in my life. And how... easy this feels.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Easy?”

“Yeah. In a really, really good way. I feel like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. Even if this doesn’t really work out the way we want it to, you still mean everything to me. I can’t even imagine who or where I would be if I hadn’t met you.” He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. Taking in a deep breath, he continued. “I think about it a lot, actually, but I guess I’m just... thinking about it more, now.”

Your lips curved up into that gentle smile that made his heart skip a few beats and you squeezed his hand. “I know exactly what you mean, Zuko. I feel the same way and I couldn’t’ve said it better myself.” The tips of his ears burned when you leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. He mumbled something incoherent under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck, and you giggled at his sudden shyness. He cleared his throat and looked over at the raised stage a little ways away.

“Um, I think the show is starting.” You followed his gaze up to where stagehands were setting up props for the play. The crowd of people hushed as the lights illuminated the stage and orchestral music flowed from the speakers. His stomach flipped when you shifted closer to him and turned your head so your lips brushed his earlobe.

“I’ve heard this troupe is better than the Ember Island Players, but if they’re not I packed some tomatoes to throw,” you whispered before burying your face in his shoulder to stifle your laugh at his scoff in response.

“If they’re worse than the Ember Island Players then consider this our first and last date. I don’t think any relationship could recover from that,” he mumbled and you rolled your eyes with a grin.

“Harsh, but understandable,” you sighed. You rooted around in the bag and pulled out the bottle of cheap wine you’d slipped in. You passed it to him after taking a swig, a devilish smirk on your face that made goosebumps rise on his skin. He took a sip just as the first actors entered the stage.

They were much better than the Ember Island Players, though that was a pretty low bar to set. As much of a theater snob he could be, he had to admit they did Love Amongst the Dragons justice (and even brought some tears to his eyes that he hastily blinked away in hopes you wouldn’t notice). The sun had set long before you both rose with the rest of the crowd to give the troupe a standing ovation. He could feel his heart swell with adoration as you clapped and whistled enthusiastically, the lights on the crowd making the tear tracks on your face glisten.

“That was amazing!” You turned to him breathlessly, eyes sparkling. The wine you’d shared was making him feel bold (and a little wobbly) and the way you looked at him was making the blood rush in his ears. Without thinking he slid his palms under your jaw and leaned in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. After your initial moment of surprise you closed your eyes and twisted your hands into the front of his shirt, pulling him against your body as you kissed him back insistently. A jolt shot up your spine when his tongue prodded at your mouth and you parted your lips, humming as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss.

“Zuko,” you breathed against his lips, pulling away just far enough to gasp for air.

“(Y/N).” Your name rolled off his tongue like a reverent prayer. His hands slipped down to your waist where he dug his fingertips into your skin, as if afraid you’d dematerialize if he didn’t hold you in place.

“Are we spinning? It feels like we’re spinning.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I think we had too much wine.”

“It’s not the wine.” You opened your eyes to see his were still squeezed shut. He was afraid that he’d open them and wake up and it would all have been a dream.

“I’m pretty sure it is.”

“No—“ you cupped his face and tilted it so you could press a kiss to his forehead, and another to each cheek, and then one brushed over the rough skin on his scarred eyelid that made his breathe catch in his throat “—you always make me feel like that.”

He opened his eyes now, cheeks flushed a blazing red. He drank in the sight of your wide eyes and kiss-swollen lips and felt his heart leap into his throat. You felt captivated by his hungry gaze; he was staring at you like a man starved. “Sorry,” he mumbled breathlessly.

You weren’t expecting that. “Sorry? For what?”

“Making you feel... spinny.”

You giggled and pulled him in for another kiss, threading your fingers of one hand through his shaggy black locks while the thumb of your other skimmed across his scar. He raised his own to tangle in your hair, tugging you impossibly closer. Your foot caught on the blanket and you stumbled, bringing you both crashing to the ground as your faces smacked together. Surely you two were a sight to see for the people filtering out of the park now that the play was over.

“Fuck,” you groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose where his chin had slammed against it. He grunted and propped himself up so he wasn’t laying on top of you anymore.

“That was definitely the wine,” he said and you nodded in agreement. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You dropped your head back into the grass and scrunched up your face. “Your chin hurt my nose.”

He leaned over you with a grin. “Well, your nose hurt my chin.”

“Oh, my apologies. Didn’t even consider how your bony chin could be injured after smashing into my soft cartilage.” You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore how his huff of laughter made your stomach feel fluttery.

“Just try to keep it in mind next time. This time, though—“ he gently kissed between your eyes, then the bridge of your nose, then the tip “—I’ll kiss it better for you.” He reveled in how you visibly flustered, opening your mouth and then closing it again quickly.

“Dork,” you muttered and he laughed again. “The hell do you mean, ‘next time?’”

“Well, y’know, if we keep falling for each other, then—“ You cut him off with an exasperated groan.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think Sokka gave you the idea to purposefully fall, just to drop that stupid line.”

“I mean, he did offer to help since I always seem to trip over my words around you.” You made a disgusted face in response to his cheeky smile and shoved him off you. He rolled onto his back next to you as you sat up.

“I should’ve seen that coming,” you grumbled.

“Yeah,” he sighed, obviously pleased with himself. You looked down at him when he tugged on your sleeve. “Hey, Sokka’s tips didn’t ruin my chance at a second date, right?”

You took his hand in yours and laced your fingers together. “As if I’d let Sokka’s stupid ass fuck up the years of pining I’ve put in. You’ll have to try harder than that to get rid of me, Zuko.”

You could feel his smile against your skin when he brought your knuckles to his lips. “That’s what I like to hear.”

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @simpinforsukka @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula @wooscottoncandyhair @chewymoustachio

ZUKO TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @hypercakeiii @sher-lockedmarvel @sunflowerr-mami @emeraldpotato @september-ctd @duh-dobrik

[ah-yes-paris]

beatles harmonies that cured my depression.

It is important that i discuss this. Well, not really important I just really wanted to share. This is in no particular order either it's just the ones that come to the top of my head lol. Feel free to reblog and share your own 😎

1. The "Woahoooah AHHHHH" from When I Get Home.

Not even words can describe the battery power that starts coursing through my veins when I hear this harmony. I cant even,....LIKE HELLO??? i have never heard such a blessing... Such a well-fitting triplet of voices singing a vowel thats made me feel like i can run 10 miles straight. They aren't real. The Beatles, of course. To this day I don't understand how this harmony exists in this universe. My ears melt everytime. One of my favorites, in case you couldn't tell.

2. The obvious.. "yeah yeah yeah YEAHH" from She Loves You :)

LET ME TELL YOU. oh my god let me tell yo u .. Way back when, when I was a new fan... Good lord. I was literally ascending. ASCENDING. i felt every inch of my body start to lift off the ground. Im sure im not the only one who's experienced this. I remember thinking 'how the wiggle wubble do 3 men sound so GOOD TOGETHER' IT DOES NOT ADD UP PEOPLE THE BEATLES HAVE TO BE SOME SORT OF ROBOTIC BOY BAND GROWN IN A LAB THIS ISNT POSSIBLE how do we live on the same dimensional plane that this harmony lives on..

3. "The magical mystery tour, is coming to take you away, Coming to take you away!" from Magical Mystery Tour.

...

guys. Guys you dont understand. This one line, adds, YEARS. LITERAL YEARS TO MY LIFE SPAN. At this point I am fully immortal. The "coming to take you awayyy" makes my heart POUND. i love this song so much... And this line especially... It makes me go insane. Basically the beatles are manic melody genuises that have successfully spread one of the biggest diseases in musical history. Personally, I think this line was a clear example of why.

4. "Last night I said these words to my girl", "Please pleaase me, oh yeah, like i please you...", "...With you! Oh yeah, why do you make me blue" from Please Please Me.

do i even have to say anything. Well, i dont but i will for the sake of the post. There is so much. So much. About this song that I. I cant even,,. I would choose this song over SO MANY BEATLES SONGS DUDE. not that its cause i think its better than all the others but it just holds such a special place in my heart. Its the only song thats Ever made me feel some intense wave of nostalgia for a decade i wasnt even born in. Its one of the songs that continue to make me question the beatles existance. How could something like this ever come to reality. My brain has never been so pleased in its life.

5. "Carve your number on my wall and maybe you will get a call from me" from If I Needed Someone.

The way that this song was added into my Liked playlist SO QUICKLY...... God. I love george. Hes my favorite after all. Rubber Soul as a whole makes me feel warm inside but this song and this one line just hits so much more intensely for some reason... Their voices just flow insanely well and I just DONT UNDERSTAND HOW. its like an angel choir making its way through the clouds as you see the gate to heaven start to appear. Wonderful song and mind-blowing harmony... The beat is so good too and i just explode.

6. The "ahhhhh Ahhhhh AHhhhh *inhale* AHHHhhhh AHHHHH *inhale* AHHHHHH" from Day Tripper.

HOLY JESUS CHIRST THIS SONG HAS SO MUCH TO UNPACK... There are undeniably A BUNCH of other flawless harmonies in this song but my god the beatles knew what they were doing. Thats all I'm going to say really.... But once again. Power. In my veins. A few listens to this song and you'll find yourself having the strength of 1,000 men.

7. "Oh, now", "All I want is you" from Dig a Pony.

FIRST LYRIC... ITS LITERALLY 2 WORDS AND YET IT CONTINUES TO BLOW MY MIND. Something about the "Oh" ...... Its like an arrow passing through my heart I dont even know guys. Im not lying when I say it makes me feel like im floating. It makes me feel like i can quite literally grow wings and fling myself towards the sun. Dont even get me started on "All I want is you".......it literally triples the effect. It makes me go ballistic. The song is just mindless lyrics but the harmonieeesss.....

8. "Ah girlll.... *inhaeahelrlsseeesh* Girrll...." from Girl.

no words. Like. No words. I cant even. I seriously dont need to explain this one. Im just going to drop the isolated vocals version because if you havent listened to it you are MISSING OUT... you thought the originally recorded song was the greatest cause of your heart palpitations? Well you thought WRONG.

THIS IS.

9. "I love youwoowooowoowoooo...", "ask me WHYY..", "I can't believe.. Its happened to MEeee", "i cant concieve *doo doo doo do doo* of anymore *dun dun dun* MISERY" from Ask Me Why.

GOD OK LISTEN im just gonna say this now i absolutely adore and favor the please please me album so much i dont care what anyone says ok im such a sucker for their early sappy love songs ITS SO MANY GOOD HARMONIES ESPECIALLY FROM THIS ONE. MY GOD i listen to this and i feel like im with a lover late at night and we're like at one or the others house keeping each other warm and being all romantic and happy. Specifically the part that goes "ask me whyy I say i love you.. (OOOOHHHOOOO) and im always thinking of youuhoohohoo..." LIKE COME ON PLEAEE IT MAKES ME FEEL SO WARM INSIDE AND I SMILE IN AN INSTANT GOD I LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH. Whenever i think im sad i go "no im not because Please Please Me." And its like all the sudden everything im sad about just poof disappears!

10. "If theres anything that you want.. IF THERES ANYTHING I CAN DOOOO" from From Me To You.

I am so in love with this song you guys i have no idea I LOVE IT SO MUCH. IT HAS THIS LITTLE SWING TO IT SPECIFICALLY BETWEEN THESE 2 LINES THAT MY BRAIN SEEKS FOR NEARLY EVERY DAY. the amount of blessing i get from this song is more than i can comprehend its literally insane i cant even. How does someone do this how did the beatles make music guys I am seriously so dumbfounded like they just sat there and wrote banger after banger like WHAT. this song makes me believe that life isnt as horrible as it seems and if im lucky enough i can just sing and dance to this song for all of eternity. There are also so many other good harmonies in this one as well...

---

In conclusion the beatles have had a chokehold on me for 3 years but I mean their stupid groundbreaking songs keep drawing me back in so.... This has also made me come to the conclusion that the Beatles simply arent real because I still dont believe a band can not only write consistent hits, but also harmonize in a way that causes me to spin around while doing backflips.

Thank you for your time.

[sinisterlyhan]

01. bang chan / 1338 words

slight fluff, cockwarming, dom!chan, female reader / tw: mentions of panic attacks

a/n: this is my first attempt at smut so i apologize if my writing is a little rigid with it and it feels like i’m being a little dodgy. perhaps i will get better as time goes, that is if i choose to write more...

it was embarrassing enough as it is to have a sudden panic attack out in public. it has been a rough day for you, and the fact that you had dropped your cup of coffee and spilled it all over the floor seemed to be your last straw of the day. the unnecessary five dollars went to waste and the pastel carpet floor was stained with the browns of the hot coffee that was once in your hand.

damn it, your day could not get worse and you just felt like crying. and you did cry, tears spilling out of your eyes as your breathing quickened upon the anxiety. it was bad, so you had found yourself a trusty little corner where you knelt down and focused on your own breathing.

"(name)...?"

oh god, this day could not get worse, you thought? why did you gave to jinx yourself!

chan appeared in front of you when he saw that you were leaving out huffs of heavy breathes. he got concerned, very concerned, as he would with anybody he sees having what seemed to be a panic attack. dropping his bag, he knelt in front of you and grabbed onto your shoulders gently, trying to get your attention.

you perked up at his touch and your eyes widened slightly. boy oh boy, he got your attention, alright. not just through the magical ability of sight but also through the frustrating knot of desire building up in your lower abdomen as well.

his face had minimal makeup, like he wiped most of it off decided to quite half-way and let those glittery eyes linger for a while. his hair was styled up, adding more flare of his facial features as if his face alone wasn't enough to drench you up completely. and his arms—fuck, his muscler arms were on full display because of his sleeveless shirt, the arm-band fitted tightly around his arm and only accentuating his muscles.

you let out a choked moan. you thought you would be fine but seeing chan like this, at such a vulnerable moment, the heat that has been burning at your core suddenly got a bucket of fuel thrown towards it.

"hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and laced with concern as he watched the tears fall from your eyes.

you pursed your lips, your heart palpitating at your need to be filled to the brim with something and to be whispered soothing words to in order to keep calm. and even though you felt absolutely ashamed and embarrassed to ask him for help, you clutched onto his hand and looked at him directly into his eyes.

"chan i–" you sucked in a breath, feeling a blush at your cheeks. "i need..."

your dick? you couldn't possibly say that. and it wasn't like it had to be his dick in order to sooth you down from this hell hole, anything with a good amount of girth and length would do the job. you just needed to be whole, that was all. but chan—oh, you definitely wanted him.

"i–i need... something..."

admidst your lack of steady breathes, chan was able to catch the smallest movement of your hand running down your stomach to where you needed him the most. but it was brief, too brief that if he wasn't paying enough attention, he would not have caught it. realization clicked in his head then, and he leaned back a little to clear out his mind.

giving the situation another thought, he looked around him before quickly helping you up. discarding his bag that was left neglected at the floor, he brought you into the closest studio room and shut the door behind him, locking it with a fumble of his fingers. after he turned on the lights, his main focus averted to focusing on you entirely.

"come here," he commanded softly, making sure to guide you anyway.

he pulled at your elbow, bringing you to the vinyl couch before he sat down. he looked up at you as he fumbled with his belt, the shyness in the way you stood sending him a surge of pride as his dominant side took over. when he was done with his belt, he sat back up and brought you closer to him by the hip.

"can i?" he asked, looking up at you and raising a brow.

you gasped at him. you should have when he locked the door and started to take off the belt on his pants, but somehow hearing him declare that he would help you despite you not verbally asking him to come as quite a shocker. giving chan a double take, it was his firm gaze that told you he was okay with this.

with that in mind, you nodded at him. he smiled, lifting the hem of your skirt and carefully pulling your safety shorts and your panties down. he was so gentle in all his movements, completely contrasting the fire you felt inside your chest as the cold air hit your core.

your skirt dropped over when he was done, hiding your skin from him  in the most graceful, seductive way possible, in a way that only made him want you more.

chan pulled you onto his lap. your legs bending as you straddled him, a shaky breath leaking through your lips when you felt a bulge against your heat. and when he finally let himself free from his boxers, his tip brushing against your slit in preparation, he eased you through it all.

it was slow but sensual—you could feel every inch of him filling you up as seconds ticked by until his entirety was swollowed by you. and the lewd whimpers you kept letting out drowned chan's ears unlike any melodies he had ever heard. it felt so unreal, this fulfilling feeling, it was the blessing both of you had been waiting for.

"gosh, you are doing so great, baby girl," chan praised softly, his thumb running across the tear trail on your face while the other arm held onto your waist. "look at how good you're taking me."

he was relishing in the euphoric feeling of those tiny clenches you made everytime he said anything. you felt so warm around him, making him feel engulfed in ways he had never experienced before. and it took everything in him not to thrust against you, to fuck you hard the way he had fantasized about once or twice during the night.

this was about you. this was about making sure you felt better about whatever it was that happened. and he did not plan on escalating this unless you asked specifically.

you sniffed a little and leaned in to cuddle against him, wrapping your arms around his neck. chan instinctively hugged you tight to his chest, letting out a deep groan when you adjusted yourself on his length.

"thank you," you whispered. "i'm sorry you had to catch me at such a bad time."

"no, no, i want this–uhh," chan rolled his eyes up in thoughts before he cleared his throat and spoke again. "not you feeling down, of course. i meant this... like... my dick inside of you."

you laughed. "jeez, when you say it like that."

"yeah, sorry, i will shut up now." chan chuckled under his breath, his arms hugging you tighter unconsciously. “do you feel better, though?”

you breathed with his chest—one, two, one, two. and just to feel a sense of satisfaction, not that him alone wasn’t a strong enough reminder that your sensitive spot was being nudged every once in a moment, you clenched around him and earned a short hiss from him.

“hey, don’t do that, baby girl,” he said. “i am trying really hard.”

you giggled, leaning your cheek against his shoulder. "ahh, so you aren’t a cockwarming type of guy."

"hey–maybe i am!" chan retorted defensively, his voice coming out as a type of screech. 

he totally is. if he wasn't before, he will be after this.