#I said I knew the song and could give an idea of the tune (no idea what possessed me)

[isfjmel-phleg]

. . .

[ninii-winchester]

One of The Girls

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.5k

Warnings : sexual content, age gap, implied smut. MDNI

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Hunting is fun, sometimes it gets overwhelming but Y/n liked hunting with the Winchesters. Mostly because she a has the hots for the older Winchester. He, however, never made a move, even though his eyes seem to follow her body everywhere she went, hinting he felt the same. She knew he feels he's too old for her. For her, being twenty seven and him being thirty six was not a big deal. He was only nine years older than her yet he made it seem like he was old enough to be her father.

It was a gruesome ghoul hunt but they weren't as tired. After getting cleaned up, the trio decided to hit the bar. Dean had his classic rock music blasting from the speakers of the Impala and she rolled her eyes at his old man antics. She plugged in her earphones to listen to her pop music. She had only been on her second song when the car came to a halt and the bar came into view. The three of them made their way into the bar and ordered three beers to ease into the night.

"Man I hate ghouls." Dean rasped gripping his bottle. Her gaze lingered on his fingers that wrapped around the bottle, oh what could those fingers do to me. Her eyes flickered to his lips as he took a swig from it. I wonder how they would feel wrapped around my nipples.

"Me too, They’re gross." Sam commented pulling her out her lewd thoughts.

Y/n chose not to add a comment letting her eyes wander around the bar. She noticed a small set up for karaoke where a guy was slurring the words of a song she didn't recognise. She watched the lot of women present around the place knowing one of them would be lucky enough to end up in Dean's bed tonight. A soft sigh left her lips at the thought.

"You okay there, sweetheart?" Dean asked and she felt as if his green eyes were piercing her soul.

"Peachy." She replied. She motioned the bartender over and ordered three shots of whiskey for herself. She downed them as soon as they were poured.

"Woah slow down." Sam said watching her gulp down the amber liquid.

"Loosen up Sammy." She felt buzzed, the alcohol in her allowed her to let loose. The taller man just shook his head and watched in amusement as she made her way towards the karaoke set up.

"You think she'll regret this in the morning?" Sam asked his older brother. Dean smirked at his little brother before answering.

"Depends on how bad of a singer she is." His eyes never leaving her figure. He watched as she selected a song the she was going to sing and an unfamiliar tune began to play through the speakers. He watched as she sang and swayed to the beat of the song. She was good. If he didn't know better he'd think she's a pop-star.

"She's good." Sam commented and his brother nodded in acknowledgment. One song rolled into four and the patrons were thankful that she replaced the tone deaf drunk.

She was having the time of her life dancing and singing, she could feel Dean's eyes on her and she got an idea. She knew she might come to regret it but she couldn't care less at the moment and made her way towards the boys.

"Aren't you on a roll today." Sam teased looking at her with a grin.

"It's called having fun." She pouted at her tall friend which made him laugh.

"So..." Dean drawled, poking his lips with his tongue that she wanted at places she couldn't say out loud. "Are you done having fun?" He asked to which she shook her head.

"Nope, I'm just getting started." She took Dean's glass from his hold and made her way back to the makeshift stage. He watched as she downed whatever it was that he was drinking, looking him straight in the eyes. He sucked in a sharp breath at the action. The music began and started singing,

Lock me up and throw away the key

He knows how to get the best out of me

I'm no force for the world to see

Trade my whole life just to be

She sways her hips sensually to the beat and misses the next few lyrics as she's too engrossed in the music but then she continued,

Give me tough love

Leave me with nothin' when I come down

My kinda love

Push me and choke me 'til I pass out

She looks directly at Dean, as if she's telling him to do it to her. At that moment she thanked herself that decided to forego her usual T-shirts and settling on a crop top.

We don't gotta be in love, no

I don't gotta be the one, no

I just wanna be one of your girls

Tonight (tonight)

She closed her eyes and let her hands wander all over her body. Dean looked around the bar and noticed he's not the only one enjoying the show. His fists clenched on the table and his glare darkened at her on the stage.

We don't gotta be in love, no

I don't gotta be the one, no

I just wanna be one of your girls

Tonight (tonight), oh

She watched his green eyes turn dark. She knew he had him exactly where she wanted him. She smirked playfully before continuing her ministrations.

Push me down, hold me down

Spit in my mouth while you turn me on

I wanna take your light inside

Dim me down, snuff me out

Hands on my neck while you push it out

And I'm screamin' out

Just the thought of manhandling her, pushing her around, choking her while thrusting into her sweet little cunt. Imagining her moans and screams when he brings closer to edge and deny her release. Stuffing her tight pussy with his seed. Dean felt himself shudder the mere thought. She's playing with fire here. He always kept telling himself she's too young for him, that he'd corrupt her if he ever got his hands on her. But by the looks of it, it seems she wants to be corrupted.

Top of the world but I'm still not free

It's such a secret that I keep

Until it's gone, I can never find peace

Brace my whole life just to be

We don't gotta be in love, no

I don't gotta be the one, no

I just wanna be one of your girls

Tonight (tonight)

As the song came to an end Y/n felt like her skin was on fire, her body felt too hot after watching Dean's reaction to her. This one of her best and worst ideas. She got down from the stage and it clicked that she basically seduced Dean in a bar full of strangers with his brother sitting beside him. But can she go back? No. She's going to be a big girl and deal with the consequences of her actions.

Her thoughts were broken by a blond man blocking her way. She looked at his face, he had blue eyes and wasn't bad looking but he wasn't Dean.

"That was quite a performance, sweetheart." He said, the nickname didn't have the same effect on her the way it did when Dean called her 'sweetheart'.

"Thanks I guess?..." it came out more like a question.

"So, would you like to be one of my girls tonight?" He asked his hand trailing down her arm.

"I'll give you ten seconds to get your hand off MY girl and get lost." A deep voice said from behind the stranger. The stranger turned around and Y/n saw Dean standing there with a killer look on his face.

"Surely you can have a turn, man. But after I'm done." The stranger replied smugly. Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed before throwing a punch to his jaw. The man fell to the ground and was knocked out cold.

Dean eyes trained on her with a glare, his jaw tensed. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the bar. He slammed her against the wall, she let out a gasp at the impact. The sound made Dean's blood rush to all the right places.

"Dean." She whimpered as he gripped her hips tightly.

"Shh, not a word sweetheart. You've been a bad girl." Dean slammed his hips against hers making her choke out a moan. "Aren't you a desperate one, baby." He cooed tauntingly, lips hovering above hers but not touching. She nodded her head in agreement.

"Look at you, trying to be a good girl now huh?" She nodded again. "Speak, baby. Tell me what you want."

"I want you to do all those things to me."

"Oh I'll do much worse." He chuckled darkly. He turned her around, her chest against the wall, his chest pressed against her back. He leaned over her to whisper in her ear. "I'll make you my only girl tonight."

Y/n shuddered at his words knowing it was going to be a long night.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

WORD COUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Fluff, mentions of death, being hunted, vulgar language, price in a tunic (yes this is a warning by itself), awkwardness, nakedness, suggestive (?), implied age gap, etc.

A/N: I'm feral over this AU, ong. A million kisses to the Anon that brought this to my attention-btw this is definitely becoming a mini-series.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your family told you to never go beyond the deep waterways of the cove, never to brave the open sea. Times were changing. The Harpies, when they weren't as shrewd about their feathers getting wet, would fly down from their tall mountain spires and tell stories—ones about the hunting ships. 

They’d seen them, they said as your family listened on in horror from the rocks, dragging all manner of Merfolk up from the waters in large nets made of iron and hard steel. Spears that tore scales to take for profit. In other instances, the unlucky individuals were even sold to royalty to become showpieces in displays of high wealth and standing. 

But it wasn’t just Merfolk. It was all manner of mystical beast and being. Hunted. Sold. Humans, your parents had told you, were not friends. They were greedy and selfish; more than often cruel. 

And so they started to do the same unto them. Your family would lure them with their voices to the ends of the great ships that were brought close to your cove—watch as they hurled themselves from the sides into the grasp of the ruthless waves. They did it for you, they explained. To try and keep you safe. 

For years they did this until they were gone too. 

Suddenly the cove seemed more like a prison than a safe spot, and the Harpies no longer came to converse or tell news. Killed or taken you had no idea, but it was becoming fairly obvious that even interactions with your own people were impossible. Were you the only mermaid left? It was a good question to ask and one that you could never answer. All that you knew was that you had been alone for a very long time. 

That was, before you first laid eyes on the fisherman. 

You watch him now, yet again, from behind the sharp jutting body of the rocks; the water delicately bobs you up and down as your vibrant tail hangs limp in its otherworldly throes. Eyes softly wide and mouth parted in wonder. 

He’s walking along the deck of a small ship—not the large and intimidating ones of the other men that sail the seas—with a strong form. A hat on top of his head of brown hair and a well-trimmed beard of the same color made him look gruff in appearance. 

Your hands shift over the sharp black stone, and the nakedness of your top is covered by the long strands of your wet, uncut, hair. This man wore a plain white tunic and brown pants stuffed into large boots. Even as far as you were, you heard the soft whistled tune dancing in the shell of your ears. Delicate eyes watch, head slowly peeking out more and more. 

He was tending to the nets he had on the bow and as you studied him you were mystified. 

“Fascinating,” you whisper, unknown emotions swirling in you. 

His muscles strain, large and expansive shoulders lead down to a tapered waist; legs that you blink at before glancing at your tail under the rippling water. There’s a large grunt before the fisherman’s net is thrown in a beautiful arc, hitting the water with a slap and a spray of liquid as it begins to sink. Startled, you flinch back, gasping loudly.

With a racing heart, you quietly scold yourself for the childish reaction, flicking your tail in annoyance. Slowly but surely, your head peaks back out with water dripping down the flesh of your shoulders. 

But when you shift back into the open, you find a deep set of stormy blue eyes digging into your field of view. You freeze, seeing his lids go back in surprise and shock as your jaw slackens. A cold fear enters your veins at the new attention brought to you but you find yourself unable to look away. 

The Fisherman is the picture of utter stillness, just as you are, like twin mountains of ancient stone. Your nervousness only seems to grow as he doesn’t do anything—teachings and lessons about those who walk on two legs and sail in ships poking holes into your mind. 

Gawking and spying were one thing…but being seen meant death. You swallow stiffly and go tense, shifting to half-hide behind your rock. 

“Oh, no,” your mouth murmurs, self-hatred and fear lining the tone. “Oh, no, no, no.”

And yet the Fisherman had not moved, nor made any attempt to pull his sinking net back into his boat. Fish panic in the rope grave they’ve been ensnared in. His eyes….why are they so curiously locked on you?

You spare one last glance before shoving away from the rock and disappearing under the water with a violent splash; making off for the deep underwater caves that offer salvation. 

When you’re down there—in the darkness with only silent ripples of light to guide your eyes—you find it hard to stop thinking about the Fisherman and his strong jaw. His genuine awe at the sight of you. 

Had he not heard the stories of the Merfolk of this region? Or…or were you truly the last of your kind? 

The thought troubles you, and, riddled with anxiety, you go over to your store of shiny trinkets that you’d collected over the years; grabbing them in your hands and fiddling with them to try to put your mind at ease. The walls of the caves bare down on you and you hope you’d not just signed over your own death warrant. 

Maybe he’ll go away, you offer yourself, face tight and tail curled close, maybe he’ll be afraid and won’t come back. 

It was a pointless belief. They always come back—driven by greed or a righteous authority. Humans were cruel. 

But your brain goes back to stormy blue eyes like pebbles and softly parted lips. Orbs glinting with wonder and shock. No attempt to shout or grab for the large knife you’d seen strapped to his belt. 

A fisherman, you told yourself, who hesitated to go after the biggest fish of them all. 

You didn’t quite know if that made you more afraid or more intrigued. 

—

It was only after you’d spent three weeks in the underwater caves of the cove that you’d finally decided the coast was clear. You’d cautiously gone back through the winding seaweed and schools of marine life to hide in your little rock fort; afraid but brave. From under the waves in the calm of the water you’d scanned the surface for the shadows of a boat, anything to indicate that the man had returned. 

Nothing. 

Tension leaves your shoulders and you travel upwards, vibrant scales shimmering like jewels. You were quite close to the mainland, you would say, back to the shore to look out over the open entrance to your home. At the first sign of danger, the rocks would be your first point of shelter if you wished to remain hidden but continue to watch.

Ears popping as your head surfaces, you only look out with the water swaying below your eyes; nose and chin hidden. Sand from behind you shifts.

“Knew I’d seen something, then, eh?” Your heart lurches—brain flashing to hooks and nets; you shove yourself back under the water with a garbled gasp.

Fish around your form dash away as you frantically look back at the surface, your scales shining as the light hits them. Fingers tense in the water, you shift your body so that your form has its back to the floor of the cove and breathe quickly in your own mermadian way with shaking fins. 

On the very edge of the shore, you see the shadow of a sitting body in the sand. He hadn’t moved, this Fisherman. Was waiting as inanimate as an empty shell.

What had he said? You ask yourself, hair disturbed by the flow of the waves above your head. A gentle back and forth. After a moment of contemplation, the large muscle in your breast slows itself and a nervous curiosity grows.

Yet still, the shadow stays completely motionless beside the occasional itch and brush as facial hair. Waiting. 

Waiting to attack, your hand twitches in the water and you flutter your tail to take you closer to the open air, or waiting to see me?

Taking what you can describe as a deep breath, the top of your head once more breaks the top of the water; lashes dripping salty tear-drops as you blink away the sting. Every part of you is ready to disappear once more if things go south. 

And then you lock eyes once more. 

The Fisherman sits in the sand with his boots pushing up the granules—his right hand rests over his bent knee while the other keeps him up in a relaxed position from behind his back. You stare, the sun reflected in your eyes with a small glinting and hair in your vision. A foreign heat builds in your face when the man’s head tilts; tiny eyes narrowing as if he’d just proven a point to himself. 

Why doesn’t he seem surprised?

There’s a moment of a smirk that slashes his hidden lips but it’s gone in a fraction of a second. His mustache moves as he speaks and your face slightly bobs lower instinctually. The Fisherman doesn't seem hostile—he has a kind of stern comfort to him. 

Stubborn gruffness. And his accent only amplifies that fact.

 “Well, wasn’t expecting to find you here,” his chest rumbles with his words. You find you quite like the sound of it. Shells grinding against each other and pearls that clatter in palms. Your eyes widen with innocence. The Fisherman clears his throat, still watching carefully as the water sloshes over his boots. “Else I would have stayed clear when I still could.” 

Your hands tread water around you, tail flickering in small movements. 

The man's gaze darts down to stare as well as he could through the ripples. 

“Bloody Christ,” he murmurs to himself, returning your eyes once more, “thought you were all mostly extinct. Fuckin’ hell.”

“Extinct?” Your lips flinch, chin caressing the waves as brows pull up. The Fisherman blinks as if surprised to hear you speak. To be honest, you were half afraid you couldn’t either—how long had it been since you’d had a conversation above water? You spent most of your time passing comments to rare traveling Hippocampus and Sea Serpents.

Not that they could respond, of course.

By now your face had entirely left the water, that word startling you. Your chest tightens.

“What do you mean,” you ask the older man, this strange Fisherman who was shifting his weight in the sand, “extinct?” 

Dark brows furrow and his back slightly straightens itself. 

“You aren't exactly what I’d be calling common, Love. No one’s seen one of your kind in years.” Your face stills. 

“Years?” Head angling itself down, you stare at your reflection in growing fear. 

The Fisherman makes a move to stand, and you dart back swiftly. A pale hand is held in the air as if to sedate you.

“Easy, now.” It’s said softly, a grunt stuck at the beginning. A small moment passes before the man fully stands up, dressed similarly to when you’d seen him before. 

Top, pants, hat. There’s also a flash of metal around his neck, some piece of jewelry hidden on the chain under the layer of his thin, flowy, tunic. Hands go to cross over his chest in a display of muscle gained from a long time of hard work.

You nervously plead for an explanation, “B-but that…that doesn’t make any sense! I’m not the only one left!”

“No,” the Fisherman slowly states, taking off the hat from his head and delicately placing it on the ground. “No, you’re not the last.” 

His eyes dart along your visible body, trying to catch a glimpse of that tail that was in all stories about your kind. 

“Your name, Ma’am,” he asks, blue returning to your own sights, “what is it.”

“Well, what’s yours?” You counter, getting snappy in your anxiousness. “You come into my home and expect me to answer to you? And where’s your fishing boat anyways—unless a male Selkie has suddenly managed to brave the deep sea?” 

Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but you had sworn the Fisherman had smiled at you; it was a swift slash of something that pulled his mustache back and wrinkled his face. An amused thing it was. A sort of tiny tease, in its own right.

Your heart beats steadily at the sight, eyes watching. 

“Well, I suppose you’re right, then.” He scratches at his beard with one hand, still studying you with a tilt of his head. As if weighing what he should tell you. There was an air of intrigue but that did nothing to hide the hesitance. “I docked my boat in the sea cave, thought it would do more harm than good to leave it in the open. If you’d seen it, you wouldn’t have shown, eh?” The Fisherman points and you look to the deep indent in the mountainside, the tiny ship visible as it stays stationary. You blink at it slowly. 

“And you can call me whatever it is you like, I don’t bloody care, but I’m not inclined to tell one of the Merfolk my name—I may have come ‘ere, but I’m not fuckin’ daft, now.”

It was true, what he spoke of. Names to your people have a stark and violent purpose. To know one's name is to own a piece of that person’s soul. Songs gain more power, words grow into orders followed without thought. Not that it was your intention.

You glower, brows pulling in. 

“A simple fisherman does well to know that it’s rude to speak ill like such in another’s home.” The man smirks, cheeks rising. 

“Simple, am I?” The already expansive build of his shoulders widens as he leans back on his heels, water sloshing at his boots. His eyes glimmer like lighting with humor. The look makes your cheeks burn with warmth, throat swallowing saliva.

“Why are you here?” You avoid the question, treading water and letting your tail drift. Willing the water to cool your senses. It was obvious that this man wasn’t a hunter—foolish, perhaps, but no hunter.

Or maybe just confidently brave. 

The Fisherman hums under his breath, grunting in the way you’d already come to associate with him. Rugged fellow, really. Weathered like a pile of old rope but still handsome, the sinews under the stain of dirt pure of color. You found yourself, however apprehensive, enjoying the squareness of his face; how the brunette’s hair would sweep in the warm breeze. 

He was attractive.

“Fishing, Ma’am.” A broad sweep of one of his hands, “You have a proper cove. Plenty of places to cast.” 

Your tight arms somewhat loosen. 

“Just fishing?” Your voice darkens. “Then why is it you’re here on shore and not doing just that.” Tail flickering, it lightly brings you back from him, eyes always darting away to stare into the background of his form—at the dark shadows of trees behind the dark rocks. At the open mouth of the cove in case of extra ships. 

If what he told you earlier was true, you were in danger just by living. 

Extinct? Not seen in years? No, that can’t be right. A deep knot forms in your stomach.

“I may be human, Ma’am, but I believe myself to be above intrusion.” The Fisherman splays his hands by his waist and shifts his thighs. He seems serious again, like a wave going forward and back he seemed to always revert to a crafted visage of firm resolve. “This is your home, and I’m asking to ferry my boat here when able. Nothing else.” 

You blink in surprise, brows pulling back. 

He was…asking you? 

“I…own the cove no more than the Manticore owns the desert,” your voice stutters, oddly touched by his sincerity. You pause and push yourself farther above a wave. This large man didn’t seem cruel to you. “I have no claim on the waters—they have been here longer than I. Do as you wish.” 

While that should have been the end of it, you found his blue eyes continuing to watch you, head tilted like a shaggy dog. Thinking deeply with a slight parting of his lips and rising to his lids. 

At the intensity of his silent wonder, your head goes light. Had you said something strange? No, it was just the truth. Then…why was this man’s face going to a modest pink shade? Why were his eyes darting away from yours and his feet shifting? 

You narrow at him before he speaks, clearing his throat and crossing his arms.

“Alright,” the Fisherman mutters, chest rumbling. 

A silence falls where your ears twitch to the lapping of the sea-foam and the feeling of blood in your veins which mirrors such movements. As you saw him do to you, your vision falls to the man’s body; looking across the tapering of his waist and the rolled sleeves of his tunic—showing off years of muscle 

“I don’t suppose…” Your tail flinches from the sudden noise from the brunette, expecting him to swim over to his boat and get to his business. You stare and listen, and for the first time, you believe a mermaid has been entranced by another's voice. “That I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you again?”

The Fisherman speaks slowly, hands shifting on his biceps; thighs tense and settle. You allow the waves to connect and slide around your body and a feeling reminiscent of warm rocks in the sun grows in your heart. 

Strange, this man. This serious-faced Fisherman who asks one of the Merfolk for permission over the waters we don’t control. You tilt your head to teasingly mirror the brunettes. He humphs in his throat at your action. I enjoy him. 

At the first sign of danger you’d leave—but for now…talking felt good.

“Perhaps,” you say, lips twitching into a smile. “Would this nameless Fisherman enjoy the company of a mermaid? Not many would say yes.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not like those many, then, yeah?” He smiles, a small twitch of his lips. You begin backing up, getting to deeper water while maintaining eye contact. “I don’t care what you are, just that we have an agreement.”

“Very well,” your neck dips under the waves, tail momentarily peaking above the surface. Blue flickers to it, shoulders lowering in hidden awe. The Fisherman’s lungs still. 

He hears your giggle before you dive under, disappearing swiftly down to your caves with a splash. 

It’s a long while before the brunette picks up his hat and begins walking the length of the shore—strong steps taking him back to his ship with a tiny smile brightening his ruggedly handsome face. 

He runs a hand over his chin and chuckles.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

—

You perch on the side of the Fisherman’s boat, golden comb in your grip as you run it over and over through your locks. Tangles and knots are rendered useless to the fine and beautiful make of the object, the handle covered in small barnacles and seaweed. A nice breeze wafts in the air, and behind you, the padding of feet goes across the deck. With the sliding of nets and a small whistling from the Fisherman, you feel your tail gently sway from side to side; the bottom under the water whose waves rise and lower the vessel. 

It had been a week since your first meeting and you had become more relaxed about this man’s presence. He had been truthful—every day he would come and fish. 

At first, you’d watch from the black rocks, sitting atop them and studying. More than once you’d see the brunette raise a hand in greeting when his boat had entered the cove; an acknowledgment that you were there and nothing more. No expectation for you to come over or speak to him. 

Day after day you’d see the net being thrown from the side only to be reeled back by large arms, legs apart and firm to the deck. 

On day four, you swam over and grappled onto the side of the ship, curious. Before you could even realize he instantly knew you were there—despite his back being to you—the Fisherman spoke in a cheeky tone.

“Come up, then, if you’re that interested. No use watching from the water.” So you had, with a bit more fire to your cheeks than you thought mermaids could handle.

Now it was routine. The human man would pull into the cove and you would sit on the side of his fishing boat, doing whatever you wished as he worked. 

You pull your comb through the ends of your hair, placing it down after and closing your eyes before your hands grab the shiny strands, twisting them. Under your breath, you hum in tune with the Fisherman’s whistled song; the notes like a growing symphony in your head. 

Song to Merfolk is sacred and revered—everything sings, in its own right, and deserves careful crafting to fully understand. 

“You seem to enjoy that,” you startle to a stop, eyes popping open. Sharply looking over your shoulder, you pause your hands. Staring, the man has completely stopped his work; nets at his feet with slapping fish of all colors stuck in the rope’s limp weavings. 

He squints at your confused face.

“Rhythm.” 

“Oh,” you offer a smile and watch him look away only to kneel down and begin separating his quarry. “If you’re worried I’ll sing around you, think nothing of it—I know what that could cause.” 

The Fisherman hums, amused at you, “I’m not. I was complimenting you,” the knife at his belt glints in the light. “You have a pretty voice, Love.” 

You shyly watch him, hair partly covering your visage, and catch a glimpse once more at the necklace he seems to always wear. Silver and shiny but still hidden. 

“If you knew about my species, you wouldn’t be saying that.” Explaining lowly, the man grunts, sending a look your way as he tosses a Cod farther up the deck—you watch it flop around for a moment. 

“Well,” the Fisherman explains, hands pausing and body leaning closer as one of his knees connects to the wood. It’s a teasing whisper that slides into your drum, and you find yourself nearly shivering from it. Blue eyes twinkle with mischief. “I did. No worries, I’ll never tell.”

A deep chuckle joins a lighter one, and your tail shimmers in the open light; scales vibrant and rich-looking. From what the brunette can see on the deck—the smaller plates that extend all the way up your navel to stop at your belly button—you know he stares at them. 

Not a greedy, evil, stare…just one of hidden admiration. It was of no surprise to you that he found it beautifully uncanny.

You have no idea how to read this Fisherman; have no idea what he wants. You think he doesn’t want anything. On your face, a strange calm settles. 

“Tell me, Fisherman,” his gaze snaps from your scales to your face, momentarily stopping at the dip of your neck as you turn as fully to him as you’re able from your perch. Your hand rests at your side; spine twisted halfway. “Who are you? No, I don’t mean your name. I want your person. You don’t act afraid of me—of what I am.” He stays kneeling and lets the net rest for now, his heart beating steadily in his breast. “There is more to you than a human at sea, surely.” 

Your words are not accusatory, they lacked any sort of confrontation. Curiosity, though, like enclosed treasure, was stuck behind your tongue. He surprises you by standing and beginning to walk over, boots thumping. 

As he nears, he sits down with a huff on the edge, right next to you. 

There’s a moment when you both stare into each other's eyes as you feel the world shift. Blinking up at him, at the closer range you take into account the ancientness of his eyes and how it seemed, for such an alone man, it was making him look far older than he was. Still older than you, yes, but the sentiment still stands.

With his hat having been retired not five minutes earlier onto one of the many ship’s barren tops, you saw the streaks of sun-bleached strands in his brown hair. You unconsciously reach for your comb but stay your fingers as they flinch over the gold.

Storm-blue carefully glances away before coming back to you. 

“Not much to know, Love,” the Fisherman’s brow raises, “you understand?” 

“No,” you say, honestly, head tilting at him. He looks surprised, breath hitching. 

“It’s just…there’s not much to tell, Sweetheart.”

Humans are strange creatures.

Not knowing this word game, you take your hand away from the comb and bring it to his chest, slipping under the neck of his tunic to grasp at the necklace he always wears. A hand snaps to your wrist almost immediately—a startling speed that makes you flinch. 

Above your heads, seagulls squawk at you, but all you can gaze into are those pure blue orbs. They trap you, drag you down far faster than a whirlpool into the briny depths of hypnotic appeasement. 

Perhaps you were naive to the magical whims of males that walk on two feet.

The Fisherman’s jaw clenches, eyes tightly narrowed at you in hesitance and veiled threat. You blink at him softly, not doing anything besides twitching your fingers and widening your sight. Before long, his hold loosens but doesn’t leave, allowing you on whatever it was you were doing yet still touching your damp flesh.

Lips parting, you don’t make a fuss. Instead, you hum under your breath and allow his calluses to scrape you. The toughness becomes a stark contrast to your own make-up. 

Feels nice.  

Your digits peel out the article of jewelry and you shift closer to look; bare chest brushing against his. You can feel his pulse through the brunette’s tunic, the way his throat shifts in a tense swallow of nothing. 

The necklace held two pieces of small, round, silver and said the following. 

“Jonathan Price, Captain, 141st company under the King.”

As you read, your tail gradually begins brushing his leg in its swaying. Through it all, the large Fisherman only slants his chin down and watches, breathing half through his mouth and half through his nose. You hear his throat clear; feel his grip squeeze your wrist. 

It is a small and taken-aback kind of noise. He doesn’t move his hand.

You are happy he doesn’t. 

“You’re a…Captain?” Asking, you look up shocked and aren’t taken aback by how close your face was to his. Even if your cheeks begin to burn at the beard bristles itching your nose. 

“...Yes,” breathe puffs over the lower half of your face. Your fingers detangle from the Fisherman’s necklace and let it thump to his chest. “I was. Left.” 

Blinking, you whisper, steadily, “What’s a…Captain…?” 

A small sound is made in the back of his throat and he releases your wrist and pulls back before a loud bark of a laugh jerks his chest. You stare in innocent confusion, hair falling over your shoulders.

“What?” Gripping his mouth, Jonathan Price grounds himself by gripping his thigh as he chuckles.

“No, no,” he takes a deep breath and releases his face, smoothing down his beard quickly with amusement stuck in his smile. “Bloody hell, it’s nothing. Nothing at all, Love.”

He sends you a warm side glance and you huff, moving back and picking up your comb, getting back to brushing your locks again. You are acutely aware that you now know the Fisherman’s name, but refrain from saying anything until he does. Now you know why he reacted in such a way.

Your tail twitches in the water as fish brush past it and the brunette begins with a soft look. 

“I was in charge of a small group of men—we had a ship. Far larger than this old girl,” he pats the deck, and you slow your motion to show that you are listening, intrigued. “We did what was needed of us, but there was a thin line that needed to be drawn to keep every bastard sane.” 

Blue meets your eyes and the man’s expression darkens. Your fingers twitch as the breeze ravages his hair, chest tightening. 

“And yours?” You ask softly, entranced and open, “What was your line, Captain Price?” 

He hums after a small silence, sighing deeply. Along the hull of the boat, the waves rock the vessel gently side to side, and your mythical attention seems to entrap him far better than your voice could. His face loses that dark edge, well-trimmed beard relaxes as his jaw does. 

The past it seems, looms over him like a tsunami.

Reaching up a slow hand, his fingers brush the tendrils of hair that had slipped out of your hold and were dangling in front of your face; the Fisherman blinks and pushes them back behind your ear. By now your brush had long stopped and your breath was held in your chest. For the first time in your life, you think you feel yourself shiver at the delicate scrape of his skin on yours.

“John,” he mutters, and you suck down a shallow breath as he watches you like you were an idol of the Gods, “Just John.” 

Your smile leaves his fingers pressing deeper into your scalp and, perhaps a bit naively, you welcome him to you like a bird to the sky. You liked his gruffness—his beard and his face. The lines on his forehead that you could imagine tracing as if they belonged on a map instead of the squareness of this Fisherman’s profile. Tiny sockets that hold sapphire stones.

“Maybe I left because I couldn’t stand seeing such beautiful creatures being put to the hook, eh?” Your eyes widen, tiny gasp leaving your lips. 

Merfolk swooned with flattery, truth be told. They enjoy being doted on and praised; given gifts of both words and objects. You were no different. 

Oh…did he call me beautiful?

John smirks at your reaction, taking his hand off of you and standing with a low chuckle. Your tail flutters at the sudden absence, head following after him as he walks back to his net with a sway in his step. You blink in astonishment. 

“You’re a strange human, John,” calling to him, you grimace at the blatant disappointment in your bones at the lack of his skin on yours. At his humored hum, you sense your growing attraction to the grind of his vocal cords. His voice. “I don’t know what to think of you.”

“Then think nothing of me,” he explains easily, casually, re-gathering his nets in his toned arms. You try not to let your jaw slacken at the bulge under his tunic when he carries them. “I’m not offended by it, Love.” A sly look, “Do as you wish.” 

Your tail twitches so violently you’re afraid you might break the side of the ship. 

And so this strange dance between the two of you continued well into the longer months—John would come in his ship nearly every day and you would join him on the side of the deck. Sometimes you would hum for him and he would whistle a tune back, others there were long bouts of conversation about the ways of humans and beasts. John told you that the King had ordered the total extinction of all manner of ‘strange and unordinary’ creatures to secure his line safely to the throne. 

When he had explained it, the mad had gone red with anger.

“Fuckin’ muppet,” he’d spit, fiddling with his knife as you watched a small distance away, playing with his silver necklace in your hands. You twiddled it around and liked how it shimmered like your scales did in the light. “Bloody thought I would just go along with the deaths of innocent beings. He had no facts—no proof to back up his claim. I’ve done things. Horrible things,” John explained to you, sending you a stiff look, “but I’ve not forsaken my damn mind to reality. Takin’ the piss.” 

Muttering the last sentence to himself, you had felt your lips curve into a smile. “You have a proper conscience, John, done bad or not.” 

“Yeah, well, Sweetheart, I’ll be done in soon enough.” You only stared with care-drowned eyes and caressed his necklace. When he had seen this, his body had deflated with an exasperated grunt. 

You shared a chuckle and he got back to work; feeling his melting gaze drawn back to you every so often. 

Later, yet again, you found your form on his boat, this time with his hands across the small of your back as you studied the blade of his knife.

“Careful, now. Don’t run your finger along the edge.” His free grip points to the sharp side—breath fanning your ear. You feel your throat tighten and nod, caressing a thumb on the leather handle. 

John’s hand is hard on your bare skin and you sense his heat drilling past your veins into the very marrow of your bones. You unconsciously sigh when his fingers slide slightly higher, traveling the length of your spine; his scars catching on every knob of bone. Your exploration stills and your pupils widen. 

His breath is on your neck, nose tilting as his jaw does just above the meat of your shoulder. 

“Why’d you stop?” You stare off into the metal, lashes fluttering when his fingers finally curve at the swell of your neck. Lips drag on your flesh before a deep grumble of affection stems from John’s chest as he kisses your rapid pulse. “Distracted? Hm.” 

“It’s,” you breathe out, scales reflecting light as your lower body shifts on the wood. His opposite hand circles your waist, drawing your back to his chest. Skin burns and thoughts go to liquid as you feel his roving muscle. “It’s g-good. Pretty—” 

Words fail you as his lips continue to slowly travel.

“Could say the same,” John grunts; beard scraping down your flesh. 

Your eyes flutter, head tilting to give more room at the same time you whisper out, violently shivering at the compliment, “John…” 

“What is it?” The grip moves to run over your scales, right where your upper hips would be; the sensation of him caressing you with gentle, deep, rubs of his thumb was all it took for you to give in completely to him. “Go on, Love, speak.” 

You take a breath and feel his heart beating steady along your back—the texture of his tunic. “What…are you doing?” 

John moves your hair and places open-mouthed kisses on the back of your neck. He breathes in your scent and you turn your light head to stare unabashedly at his flushed face. Your tail sways, limp, over the side of the boat. 

Blown pupils hide that sea-storm blue like a lock and key to dangerous thoughts and attraction. 

In answer, his eyes flicker down to your lips hungrily and your gaze widens; a small sound in the base of your throat. 

“You’re somethin’ beautiful, y’know that?” He says and you let him lean in closer to your face, eyes threatening to close when you take in the musk of human flesh and sweat. Rope and wood oil. John’s words make you shiver again, hairs standing on end—responding to that deep growl with a roaring in your ears. 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. Shouldn’t be enjoying his lips or his tight grip; his…his rough, large, hands that encapsulate your body and drown you. It terrifies you, this heart-stopping magnetism. You can’t get enough of him.

John presses his firm lips to yours, groaning into the connection as you sigh and part your mouth. Fingers shaking, you twist and place your hands on his chest, gasping mutely as his teeth nip into your lower lip and pull back before pushing back forward. Sparks of subdued pain mix with pleasurable agony at the scrape of his beard hair.

 “Every inch of you…” John’s grip captures you closer, hands ensnaring you against his chest like deeply intertwined strands of fabric, squeezing as he licks his upper lip. He catches his breath shallowly. Blue eyes burn through you. “...is fucking perfection.”  

You grab at his necklace and drag him back in, feeling him not waste a single moment to grip the back of your head and keep you trapped to him, tongues slipping out of mouths to tangle together like seaweed. Perhaps it was foolish, but a part of you knew that this Captain, this strange Fisherman—this Johnathan Price—was the only man or being on this planet, land or sea, who could make you feel like you could walk and fly all at once. 

When he lifts you in his arms and drops you in his lap as if your body weighed as much as a pebble, you knew you’d brave the open ocean for this man in an instant. His arm drips with water as it slips under the joint of your tail; where your knees would be if you had them, and you whine into his mouth at the slip of his fingers. 

Intoxicated, drunk off of his scent and his pressure. 

A dangerous mix of two different lives. 

It couldn’t last.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Prepare to meet my plot device lol

Chapter Three - Third wheel

You're sitting at your piano in the empty theater mindlessly playing notes. The melody is new, something no one had ever heard before. You had taken the opportunity of no one being here to come to your familiar friend and play the tune in your heart.

You were so lost in the melody that you hadn't heard the door open and close. Nor did you hear the footsteps coming down the aisle of chairs.

The call of your name as your music ending shortly, unfinished. You sigh and look up to see the manager of the theater waiting for your attention.

“Yes?”

“I hadn't heard that one before,” he says, smiling at you.

You sigh again. “Of course not. It's new. That's not why you came in here is it?” You ask.

He laughs. “No. It isn't. I want to introduce you to someone.”

You can feel yourself wanting to groan. He knew how much you hated actually talking to people, but you wanted to keep him happy. He was, after all, your only chance to perform.

You stand from the piano and hop down from the stage. Jack, the manager, rolls his eyes at you. He often tells you off for doing that during rehearsals.

You now take notice of the man behind Jack. He's about your age, sandy brown hair, green eyes. You look from him to Jack.

“This is Noah. He's a singer.” Jack states.

You nod and look between them both wondering why he wanted you to meet this man. Plenty of people come and go from this theater, you don't usually meet them all personally.

“Noah has a request and I think it's a fabulous idea,” Jack goes on. “How would you feel about playing for him while he sings? You could be a duo!”

You stare at Jack. Noah is smiling softly from behind him. He takes a step forward and you turn your attention to him.

“I adore your talent. I have seen you perform several times and every time I hear you play I feel like all my worries melt away. I want you to play while I sing. I think we could go quite far together, perhaps even be good enough to see the world.”

Those were some strong words.

“I play solo,” you say.

“Hey now, give him a chance,” Jack says. “Look, you're our best performer here. Most of our audience come to see you play your piano. I think it's time to switch things up and try something new.”

“I don't want to try something new. I want to do what makes me happy,” you tell him.

He says your name with a smile, but you don't hang about to listen. You flee the theater and seek refuge in your dressing room.

You're alone in your dressing room for a good few minutes before you hear a knock on your door. You expect it to be Amelie perhaps seeing if you're in here, but usually she just comes in. You don't say anything for a while, preferring to stay alone if it isn't her. However, the door opens and someone comes in. You turn and find yourself face to face with Noah.

You frown.

“I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave knowing I'd offended you. Please just hear me out.”

You sigh softly and turn around in your stool. Noah takes a seat on the table behind him. “I know music is your passion. I've seen you perform many times. To be able to sing while you play… that would be a dream.”

“I play solo.”

“I know… you said that. I just… I think we could be good together. Imagine what magic we could create together. How many people would come to see us?” He smiles wide, excited by the thought.

It is clear popularity is important to him.

“I don't care. Music is all I care about.” And making Lestat happy with your music, of course. After that evening with him, he has been on your mind a lot.

“You can still play your music, just allow me to sing over it. Let me voice meld with your melody.” He speaks sweetly. Almost too sweetly.

“No.”

Noah sighs and then nods. “I understand. I'm sorry I disturbed you.”

Noah takes his leave. You sigh and slump down at your dressing table.

That following Friday you're waiting to get onto the stage to play your beloved piano, especially knowing Lestat would be watching. Perhaps he would permit you to go to his house again to play a duet with him. You certainly hoped so.

While waiting for your name to be called Noah comes up beside you. He adjusts his cufflinks mindlessly in the corner of your eye. You do not spare him a glance, keeping your eyes focused on your favorite instrument ahead of you.

“Good luck tonight,” he says.

You didn't need luck. You just needed your music.

“I'm sure you'll amaze the crowd tonight.”

You once again don't respond to him. Noah chuckles. You hear your name being called and you take a deep breath before walking out onto the stage.

Upon reaching the piano you turn to the crowd, but you're not really looking at them. You're only looking for one face. You spot him up in the boxes. You smile softly when your eyes land on him. He must notice your smile because he smiles too. Knowing Lestat was there was a comfort to you.

Lestat appreciated your music. He understood it. He understood you.

You take a seat at the bench and take another deep breath. Your fingers hover the keys. You imagine for just a moment that Lestat is beside you on the bench. You think about that night in his house when you made music together and how happy you felt in that moment.

Lestat knows.

You begin to play, a smile on your face. You're so ready to give a performance to be proud of, to make this a night to remember, not only for yourself, but for your admirer too. You wanted Lestat to enjoy your gift.

However, this would be a night to remember for all the wrong reasons. As you get into it, you're interrupted by a deep voice singing behind you. Not once missing a note you glance behind you to see Noah enter the stage. He walks to the center and sings with all his might. You stare at him with pure confusion. You did not agree to this.

Catching Jack’s eye off to the left side of the stage you can see him shaking his head at you. He doesn't look the least bit sorry. You turn your eyes back to the piano and try and focus on the music. However, that attention grabbing voice is making it difficult for you to enjoy your music.

Noah was owning the stage. People weren't listening to your music any more. They all had their eyes on Noah. Now, a crowd watching you wasn't your desire, but it was the thought that they were paying mkre attention to him than your magic that irritated you.

When you finished the piece you expected him to leave, but he didn't. He accepted the applause and then looked at you, urging you to keep on playing.

You stared at him with a frown.

“Play,” he says quietly.

You grit your teeth and begin playing the next piece. He smiled back at the crowd and then began to sing. For the next half house he sang though every piece of magic you played. He had taken your moment for his own and you hated it.

Up in his box, Lestat glared at the man. He gripped his arm rest so hard it began to splinter. Who was this fool who dared take away from your beautiful melody?

Lestat could read your thoughts. This was not something you wanted. You were upset that this man had taken it upon himself to perform with you without your consent.

That would not do.

The half hour of your performance felt so much longer to Lestat. He was eager to leave his box and go down to your dressing room, however, you were still playing and he didn't want to miss a moment to lay his eyes upon you, no matter how grating that voice was. Could this even be considered singing?

As soon as the show was over Lestat left his box quickly.

You hurried down to your dressing room as soon as you were free from the stage. You began to pace around the space of the room quickly. Amelie was first to enter. She was quickly to start chatting.

“I had no idea he was going to do that. I know you said no to his request, so I knew you had no intention of that happening. I am so sorry I didn't stop him, but it was too late. When I realised what he was doing I couldn't stop him, not without making a scene.”

You don't reply, just continue pacing.

The next one to enter is Noah, followed by Jack. You glare at Jack. “What was that?”

“That was me showing you how good we could be together,” Noah says.

“I wasn't asking you!” You glare at him and turn back to Jack. “I play solo.”

“I know, but surely it wasn't so bad to give it a chance.”

“You humiliated me!”

“You two work so well together,” Jack argues.

“No. No we don't.”

Jack calla your name softly, but it's Noah who speaks up. “Look, sweetheart, do you have any idea how adored we were? We had then on the edge of their seat.”

“They were on the edge of their seat because they were straining to hear the piano!” You bite back.

Noah laughs.

Amelie steps forward and rubs your arms with comfort. You lean into her embrace and let her soothe you.

“We could go global,” Noah comments.

“No. No, I refuse to let you spoil my moment. It's my music.”

“Look, that was the most popular you had been since you started performing here,” Jack tells you. “You need to let Noah worl with you. Surely you don't want to be stuck here all your life.”

“I like it here…”

Silence fills the room as they all look at you. Amelie is still trying to comfort you. Noah and Jack are staring you down. They want you to cave in.

There's a knock at your door and then a familiar voice. “If I may interrupt.”

You feel relief when you see Lestat slink into the room. He instantly makes his way over to you, pushing past Noah to reach you. You smile as he comes over. Lestat stands in front of you and uses his finger to tilt your chin up. He smiles.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

You nod your head slightly.

Lestat smiles and drops his hand. He joins you at your side. Amelie is shocked to see him here but doesn't say anything. You feel Lestat place his hand on your lower back.

“Who are you?” Jack asks.

“Ah, I apologise.” Lestat grins. “Lestat De Lioncourt. The sponsor for this pure talent in the room.”

“I've never met you,” Noah says, looking him up and down with a deep frown.

“I said for the talent,” Lestat retorts. He then turns to you with a smile. “Shall we go, mon chéri?”

You simply nod your head which makes him smile. Just as you're both about to make your exit, Noah steps forward. “I'm sorry, but who are you? Where are you going?”

“I don't think that's your business. Come, dear, let us go.” Lestat guides you out of the room.

As you leave the theater he puts his coat over your shoulders and walks with you down the street. There's silence between you for a little while, but then Lestat breaks it.

“Who was that man?”

“I don't really know. Jack, the manager, introduced him to me earlier in the week. He's called Noah. Claims he's a fan of my music and wants to sing to it. I tried to tell Jack I play solo… but Noah took it upon himself to join the performance tonight.”

Lestat looks displeased.

“Are you alright?” You ask softly.

He turns to you and smiles. “Yes. Do not fret. I shall not let that man take away your sparkle.”

“You told Jack you were my sponsor. I don't have a sponsor.”

He grins again. “You do now.”

You look at him in wonder. “Why?”

He chuckles. “Is it not obvious?” You shake your head. He chuckles again. “I want you to bloom.”

A warmth floods your chest as the thought that this man you have only known a short while cared so much about your passion. The smile on his face almost made you believe he knew just how happy hearing those words had made you.

“Thank you.”

“There is no need to thank me,” he tells you. “This is my gift to you.”

Lestat walked you home and did not leave until he was certain you were safe inside. Even then, he took his time heading back. He was not about to let some pathetic human man ruin your beauty.

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop @sitkafay @bigbaddie45 @bluscryn

@secretisme4

[huihui29]

Heart Rhythm

Member - Woozi

Genre - Romance

Synopsis: Woozi is hard at work on his synthesizer, trying to compose the perfect song, but he is frustrated because he can't seem to get it right. Just when he is about to give up, his girlfriend appears and helps him calm down, suggesting a walk to clear his mind.

Warning: None

Woozi was sitting in front of his synthesizer, his finger pressing and releasing the rewind button repeatedly. His head was full of songs, but for some reason, he just couldn't put them in order. Every sound that came out of the speakers sounded out of tune, out of sync.

Woozi began to sigh and rubbed his eyes. He knew that stress wouldn't help him, but he couldn't help it. "Why can't I make this work?" he asked aloud, frustrated.

Suddenly, a hand rested on his shoulder.

Woozi sighed and leaned back in his chair. He knew she was right. Stress wouldn't help him.

"Okay," he said. "Let's get some fresh air. And then, maybe we can come back and try to make this work again. Together!"

Woozi stood up and took his girlfriend's hand.

As they left the studio and walked through the lush gardens, Woozi felt better. The fresh air helped clear his mind.

His girlfriend looked at him and smiled.

"How are you feeling now? Do you feel like you can get back to work? I can stay with you and help if you need."

Woozi looked at her lovingly and smiled. "I feel like I can go back. And yes, I would like you to stay and help me. Maybe with another pair of ears and another perspective we can make this sound amazing."

They walked back to his studio, but this time Woozi felt relaxed and optimistic.

He opened the door and let his girlfriend in.

The studio had a soft and cozy light. Woozi sat in front of the synthesizer and invited his girlfriend to sit next to him.

"Do you have any ideas on what we could change?" he asked, showing his song on the monitor.

His girlfriend took a look at the music and started making some suggestions. "What if we change this melody to make it a bit more predictable? That could help it sound more harmonious."

Woozi nodded and began to modify the song according to the suggestion.

The music started to take shape. Every note fit better now that they were both working on it. Woozi could feel how his frustration evaporated with each new change.

"This sounds so much better!" he exclaimed. "I love what you're doing. Do you have any other ideas?"

His girlfriend sat a little closer and their eyes met for a moment. Woozi could feel the warmth of her presence.

"Why don't we try adding some white noise?" she suggested. "It could help create a more relaxed atmosphere."

Woozi felt his heart beat faster seeing her so close. But he knew they were working, so he focused on the task at hand.

"What a great idea!" said Woozi, adjusting the music to add the white noise.

He looked back at her, and she returned his gaze with a slight smile.

"It's beautiful," she said, closing her eyes and listening as the song transformed. "I think this makes it sound more relaxed, more melancholic. Maybe it would even be a good song to listen to before sleeping."

Woozi relaxed and leaned back in his chair.

"You're right."

By incorporating white noise into the music, the atmosphere became more relaxed and melancholic. Woozi and his girlfriend were satisfied with their work and stayed listening to the song together. She moved closer to him, and the look they exchanged was all Woozi needed to realize how lucky he felt.

[bangtaninborderland]

MYG - Music To My Heart.

Part 2.

You knocked on his studio door, once, twice and then when he didn’t answer you knocked a much firmer third.

The door swung open, the older man grunting about not wanting to be disturbed, that is until he sees you. His frown evened out as his lips turned into a subtle smile.

“You came? Is everything okay?” He stepped aside, giving you the go-ahead to enter the room.

You sat down in his chair, which had been pushed into the far corner almost as if he wanted to distance himself from the computer. “I’m okay, you are not.”

He rolled his eyes closing the door, taking a seat on the couch opposite you. “I am, if Jimin called you then you should have ignored it.”

“He said you swore at him.” You raise your eyebrows, Yoongi was never one to raise his voice, he wouldn’t be afraid to use an insult or two but no one ever took it personally.

“I’m just stuck okay? You know what I get like whenever I have a block.” His gaze falls to his fingers as he picks the skin around the nail, something your recognised a long time ago as being something he did because of his anxiety.

You sighed walking over to him, sitting yourself in his lap. His hands ceased their silent attack on one another in favour of resting on your hips. “We talked about this yoon. You have to rest otherwise you’ll get burnt out.”

“It’s not like that this time, I nearly have it. I can feel it there I just don’t know how to bring those thoughts forward. I even tried meditating.” He defends himself, his voice cutely raising a pitch.

You but your lip in hopes of hiding your smile. “You tried meditating.”

“Jimin caught me and told me he would post it on Weverse if I didn’t go home.” He scowled.

You remember how jimin had been vague earlier on the details that prompted Yoongis' outburst. “That explains why he was so shady when he called me.”

“You have got to stop listening to any member in the maknae line, I swear they only exist to make you babysit me.” He laughs resting his head against your shoulder.

You let him sit there for as long as he needs, his breathing grows quiet as does everything else in the room. You relax alongside him, your own head resting against his as you run your hand through his long black hair. After a while, you begin to hum, something you often did to occupy the space between you and him.

You almost fall off his lap as he sits up, pushing you off his lap. “What the fuck Yoongi?!” You shout throwing his shooky pillow at him.

“That hum.” He sits in his chair his fingers rushing across the keyboard as if his thought was going to escape him any minute. “What was that hum?”

You lean forward, a little confused. “I don’t know it was just something I made up as I went along.”

“Could you do it again but into the mic?”

“Min Yoongi if you want me to feature on your song that will be 5 million.”

“Won?” He asks, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Dollars.” You giggle, tiptoeing over to him.

“Never gonna happen but I’ll let you braid my hair.” He extends a hand to which you shake playfully.

You shake your head in disbelief as you walk over to the microphone, waiting for him to signal the okay before humming the same tune. He had you do it a few more times before asking you to hum another one but this time quieter.

“I think I have an idea for some lyrics.” He explains to you, extending a hand to call you back to him.

You could see the earlier tension in his shoulders were no more. “I hope I helped.”

“You did Sweetheart. How about you go and get us some dinner and meet me at home in say an hour? I’ll get some lyrics recorded and meet you at home.”

You knew this was him gently explaining he needed his space to work and you were more than happy to give him that, he went to hand you his card as you slipped on your shoes but you declined. As much as you would both joke about it you always were equal. Of course, there were things he could afford to do that you couldn’t but you always did your best to contribute fairly.

On days like today when your Boyfriend was stressed and overwhelmed you liked to treat him the same way he, did you. You requested that the driver he had arranged to take you home stop at Yoojung Sikdang.

Yoongi had talked about wanting food there for months, it was always way too busy and it was an attraction that army would frequently visit, it being the restaurant bangtan had used during their debut days.

You had met the owner a few times, she knew who you were but no one else did which allowed you the ability to pick up yoongis favourite dish from the restaurant.

You got home pretty fast which is why you were surprised to see Yoongis shoes by the door. The sound of the refrigerator opening alerts you to his location.

You managed to slide off your shoes and carry the many boxes safely into the kitchen without dropping anything.

“Hey baby do you wa- you did not.” His eyes widen in disbelief as he focuses on the box’s logo.

“I thought you deserve an old comfort.”

“What did you get?” He practically throws the box open in excitement.

“black pork and stone pot bibimbap and grilled black pork belly.”

He swings around faster than you could comprehend, his lips colliding with yours as his hands grip into your hair. He traces your jaw with kisses, leaving a mark just below your ear.

“If I knew you’d react like that I would have gone months ago.” You laugh, feeding him a piece of pork.

“Aish don’t be a brat.” He accepts the food, mumbling about how good it tastes.

You both laughed before taking another bite of food. You watched the man silently, his face seemingly happy. “How did it sound in the end?”

“Like music to my heart.”

You can’t help but blush as he winks at you, a hand squeezing your thigh before turning back to his meal. His own shyness laid out as he laughed into his bony hands.

Yoongi wasn’t the easiest person, it took you a long time to understand him but you were thankful that you took the time to, you couldn’t imagine your life without the man. His random spurts of energy, his focus and dedication, his passion, the way he loves and the way he wants to be loved are all things you never thought you’d love about a person, funnily enough, they are all the things you love about him.

[yan-lorkai]

Imagine yandere Lucifer punishing his darling but instead of spells or line writing he goes for the silent treatment or just leaving them in a dark and enclosed space so and now there darling is getting flashbacks on how they were punished as a child and is begging him not to leave them

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, guilt tripping, child abuse, panic attack + comfort for the said panic attack, toxic relationship, probly some typos (❁´◡`❁)

You can still hear them, your parents screaming, their voices reverberating off the walls until everything goes silent. It is common for fights of this type to occur now; your father tries to protect you from your mother's extreme punishments, but he can never convince her to tell him where the basement keys are hidden.

Your father, blessed be his heart. He's was not good at defusing tension, throwing insults and punching things, and using a tone of voice so angry that it makes you shake and hold back crying.

Your childhood was like this, silent, ignored and sad, you often observed the world from behind the door lock. You could hear very faintly the news on television, you heard songs that your mother sang in an arithmic and out of tune tone, she gossiping with her friends, and above all you imagined a different life. A different world, with someone who loved you, with someone who protected you.

Things got even worse after your father's death, but you never told Lucifer these details. It wasn't a pleasant conversation to have, even though you trusted him a lot and you knew he would calmly comfort you and ease your fears, there was still distrust and pain present in your heart. You used to imagine a pink, pretty and glamorous love, and really Lucifer was all of that. But he had an additional danger lurking in the darkness of his heart, in his sharp-toothed smile and in his hands with huge claws that encircled your waist.

He was a demon and like all demons, the Morningstar loved possessively, a love so suffocating that it stole your entire essence. But you didn't care, you didn't know better and you let him take whatever he wanted from you without thinking twice. Lucifer was an extremely sweet and soft boyfriend most of the time, but he also was incredibly methodical.

Stopping to think now you don't know if he ever really loved you or the idea of ​​you. The idea of ​​a human lover who was strong and survived the seven lords of hell, the idea of ​​a lover who was kind and funny and so fragile he could rip you in half with a single punch. Maybe that was why Lucifer loved having you on his lap so much, resting his face on your neck while he worked, he needed something weak to feel strong.

Just like your mother needed you to blackmail your father. The strong overcoming the weak, hunter and prey. And once again there was nowhere for you to run or anyone to help you.

The problem with ideas is that they are fragile, they break easily. Today instead of you coming to spend your time with Lucifer like you always did, you preferred to spend time with Simeon and Luke. They were your friends, it was only natural. But apparently it wasn't something that pleased Lucifer, he didn't like it one bit and he let you know this with the severe expression attached on his face.

"I will give you a chance to redeem yourself," ruby ​​eyes staring into yours as if he withheld all the truth in the world and you were the most lying human he had ever seen. As if you were a flower that he needed to cleanse of the weeds that corrupted you. "Apologize if you will."

There was something different about him as soon as you found him. The soft sound of piano coming from his record player as the open windows let the air in and the dark atmosphere sink into your bones, a shiver went down your spine just like it did when you witnessed Lucifer punishing one of his brothers.

A bitter taste spreading in your mouth as you watched him cross his arms and smile. But it wasn't the same smile he gave you as soon as you got a good grade on your test or right after you two woke up. That smile was one of fascination every time he whipped Mammon or killed a demon, dark, sly smile that made a knot curl in your throat and tears of fear come to your eyes. A dark smile.

You remembered your father's voice. You remembered the slaps you received from your mother and your little world in the basement. You trembled, not knowing how to respond or act, only being able to count how many times Lucifer sighed or the number of times his feet made contact with the floor. The silence stretched until it seemed obscene. And the Morning Star had reached the end of his patience, disappointed in your silence and angry at being your second choice.

He crossed his office with slow steps, his expression now more neutral, Lucifer held your face between his hands tightly, his nails bruising your skin. You waited for anything, screams, attacks, except Lucifer touching his forehead to yours and looking into your eyes as if you were a dumb little thing. There was tenderness and there was fear, and there was a little of everything, your heart beating confusedly inside your chest as you drown on your own feelings.

"My sweet, naive summer child, you don't know what you did, do you?" He uses that condescending tone that almost makes you roll your eyes, but you don't, realizing that you're already in trouble and you don't want to irritate him even more. "Lovers are always each other's first priority, MC. Ever."

Your eyes widened as Lucifer freed your face from his hands and turned onto his back. "Wasn't I good enough for you, Mc? Have I not cared for and loved you always, as a good lover would? So why am I not your first priority like you are mine?"

Oh. You had hurt him. Oh my, you had hurt him.

You denied, pulling his arm so he turned to face you again. "No, no, I love you very much, Luci, I don't have eyes for anyone but you and I'm sorry if I made you doubt my feelings."

But he remained standing with his back to you, thinking, Lucifer was unpredictable when he was hurt, he was angry in his actions and vengeful in his words, and when he was quiet like this you always felt a little apprehensive. He walked away without saying anything in return, back to his paperwork, as if you weren't even there.

Was he ignoring you? You decided to move closer to him, guilt pounding in your chest as you sat down in the chair he always kept next to his. The same chair you left empty today while you were having fun with the angels, not thinking about how lonely he must be feeling being alone all day.

Were you really so wrong about spending time with your friends? Several minutes passed in silence, broken only by the sound of a pen dragging over paper and your breathing. It was so uncomfortable, the silence, you turned to see the closed expression that had closed on Morningstar's beautiful face, eyebrows twisted, lips set, he wasn't happy at all.

"Lucifer, can we talk?" You asked.

Lucifer, however, remained silent, not giving in to your words. He hummed his favorite song as he read and signed documents, smoothing his bangs as they fell in his eyes. In other times he would be reading to you out loud as you had confided in him that you loved listening to him speak, you would pull your chair closer and lay your head on his shoulder. You hated the silence.

In the silence you remembered the days spent in the basement, the sleepless nights and the shadows that crept from the walls to you, close to touching you before disappearing. And then the cycle repeated itself, your parents screamed, you listened the news and the gossips, night came and the shadows return, tauting you, mocking you.

You looked down, feeling the depth of the wound you had caused. The silence persisted, heavy, as you remained distant from each other, trapped in a moment of disagreement and hurt. The tightness in your heart became unbearable, suddenly you were back in your small basement room, the light fading, the cold crackling over your skin.

You looked down, your feet chained to the walls again while roachs and rats runned past you. And Lucifer... Lucifer had abandoned you because you ruined everything. Your body tightened, you took one, two breaths until you realized that the oxygen was not able to reach your lungs.

'He hates you.' An annoying voice screamed in your mind, making you flinch on your seat. 'He's going to break with you. He's going to leave you alone again.'

'If even your parents couldn't love, why he should?"

'Undeserving and ungrateful, good for nothing human.'

Too much noise. Too much silence. Too much everything. Invisible hands started to climb up your body, leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

Everything is crashing down on your already overwhelmed mind. You were stumbling in the darkness, without a light in sight, no end in the horizon. No switch to flick the light on, no Bringer of light in sight. Trapped forever here, alone. You clutched onto your chest with weak fingers. Your lungs were rising and falling at a far rapid pace, one you couldn’t gain control of. Everything was burning. What was this?

A panic attack? A heart attack? 

A pair of hands found their place on your shoulders, nails digging straight into your skin, burning, scratching. You felt lightheaded, a thin line of sweat bathing starting to run down your neck as you tried to breath. Your eyes were open but you saw only darkness in front of you, you could breath only darkess, for it was only you and darkness that existed right here and right now.

The only good thing on your life was your relationship and you destroyed it so easily, so mindlessly.

There, in the darkness you could see your mom's face wearing a twisted smile. You struggled against your shackles backing away from her at every step she took on your direction, red painted nails trying to reach you, trying to harm you again as she always did.

“Breathe in, darling.” Lucifer’s voice cut through the panic, voice sounding too angelic for a demon like him. “Look at me, darling, I'II help you.”

You still looked at her, smile on her lips, eyes wild with angry. You whimpered, trying to put some more distance between you two.

She disapperead as soon as Lucifer placed your hand on his chest, freeing you from her mirage. “Slowly breath in!” You followed your lover's instructions, breathing through the nose at the same time as him. If anyone could save you from the darkness and the pain now, it was him. “And out- keeping going, darling, just like that.”

There was urgency in his voice you realized. But why? Why would he care when he hated you? The voices on your head had lied to you? But he also had leaved you alone - though you did the same to him just earlier, it's true.

“Breath in-” Light. It was you how would describe him, black as coal hair being lightned by a broken halo. He held onto you so softly, wiping the thick tears that you haven't even realized that were falling. You could see that he was confuse, scared even, since not even Mammon behaved like this after or during a punishment. "Everything's ok?"

The cat seemed to have caught your tongue, your head lolling forward as your entire body collapsed into his chest. Tired, that's how you felt, tired of the pain, tired of the darkness and having to remember that person.

That person who should love and protect you. That person that made your life a living hell just because she could, because it was fun, the same person whose house you would return after the exchange program.

Sobs erupted from your chest, trembling again in Lucifer's arms but from a different reason now. From exhaustion, from fear. Your arms circling his torso with enought stregth to knock him up if he was a puny and weak human. But he was not. He was not, if he was cruel like her then he would be laughing now, he would bellitle you.

He was not cruel. And he couldn't know that ignoring you would trigger such reaction. It was all your fault.

You looked at him, brows furrowed, apprehension on his eyes as he hold you, hands rubbing your sides and back. Lucifer was nothing like her, would never be like her even in a million years.

"I'm sorry." You whispered unable to formulate a better apologize. "Don't hate me, please."

Please, don't leave me. Please don't take the light away. Just please stay, you wanted to scream, want to let him know what happened. But couldn't, eyes blurry with fresh new tears, lips trembling, and Lucifer held you gently. He knew you couldn't talk right now, could see in your eyes that you were unable right now with panic and fear swimming in them - any and all reasons for your sudden outburst forgotten while he comforted you so gently.

The awful silence was replaced by your lover's loud little kisses that he peppered your face with. "It's ok, love, I've got you."

IBut you were right, he was nothing like your mother. In fact, he was worse and he recorded this entire event on his mind, replaying it, trying to find a reason why you reacted that way.

With time he could use this to shape you, could train you to never leave him, to never look at anyone else, to not even thinking any dumb throughts. He smiled, bringing you much closer than before, there on the floor, for you have fallen without realizing, hugging him, you felt safe again, felt loved, if only you realized that his love was toxic and suffocating... But it's too late now.

[riality-check]

more daisy jones-adjacent things. this time, they're finally starting to hate each other a little less.

parts 1, 2, and 3, for your reading pleasure. less drugs this time around, but way more talk about steve's ptsd. part 5. part 6. part 7.

ao3

Steve has never co-written anything before. All of his songs are his, from start to finish. Every note, every chord, every syllable is his invention, and he takes them all very seriously.

That's not to say that he doesn't accept help. He wouldn't be himself if he wasn't constantly bouncing ideas off of Robin and Dustin and Lucas, and he always has other people look it over and offer suggestions.

But the initial creation? That's all him. Steve likes that kind of control.

Writing with a band is very different. Eddie declares it, the song Steve pissed him off enough into writing, done after they've got lyrics and a lead guitar part.

"They'll write the rest," he says, like it's that simple.

Steve can't imagine letting go that much. In all honesty, he's scared shitless. He's never been good at being nice. Charming, yes. Nice, no. And he doesn't know how he'll be nice if the drum, bass, and rhythm guitar parts suck.

It's his song. Well, his and Eddie's, which is weird to think about, but still.

Steve has never co-written anything before.

And, to make matters worse, he fell asleep last night.

He knew it was coming. He's never made it past seventy-two hours, no matter how hard he tries or how high he gets. He knew it was coming, and he prepped as best as he could.

That didn't stop him from sleeping in three hour bursts, at max. Torn between the nightmares and the exhaustion and the crash, he freaked out, passed out, and repeated the cycle until he had to get up and go to the studio.

At least this time, last night, he was back in the Byers house. Scary as shit, with the initial confusion never fading, but it's the best of the nightmares he gets. Between the dogs and the torture, Steve's brain has plenty of worse things to torment him with.

Maybe he should be grateful, but he's never been good at dealing with what he's given.

This morning, he doesn't need to take anything. He's tired, but not that tired, and he's trying to give himself breaks when he can.

He doesn't want to die. He just wants to stay awake.

He has a coffee, though. That's mostly for the taste. His tolerance is shot to hell, so it's not like caffeine makes a real difference.

Steve walks into the studio, coffee in hand, and sees the band setting up and tuning their instruments. Jeff gives him a little wave, Gareth nods absently as he tightens his snare, and Archie positively beams.

"Steve, you're a saint," he says, a little mischief in his eyes. "Different chords, finally. I could kiss you."

Steve laughs and promptly cuts himself off when he sees Eddie staring at him.

"Do I have something on my face?" he asks once the silence has stretched on for too long.

"Why are you here?" Eddie asks bluntly.

Steve, notably, doesn't flinch back. He doesn't snap. He doesn't do anything that he would regret later.

He just says, steadily, "I can go if you don't want me."

He stands there, and he swallows back his hurt. He thought Eddie was finally warming up to him. He took Eddie's fighting words as an improvement from being ignored. And, as usual, Steve thought wrong.

"Hang on a sec," Jeff says. He sets his guitar down and stands between Steve and Eddie. "I said I wanted Steve on backing vocals for this."

"Is Steve not on backing vocals?" Gareth asks from the other side of the room.

"Far as I know, he is," Archie says with a pointed look at Eddie.

Eddie turns to look at Jeff instead. Steve watches their intense staring match and thinks about just walking out.

Before he can take the first step, Eddie says, "Fine."

"Fine what?" Steve can't help but ask.

"Stay."

Steve nods, but he turns to Jeff. "Are you sure? It's fine if-"

"I'm sure," Jeff says. "I think you wrote this song more for your register than mine."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," Jeff says. "I changed everything I can't hit, but I just want a little more support, you know?"

Steve looks around the little studio space, around at all the cables and amps and mics and instruments, and he counts. Then counts again.

"There's only four mics," he says.

Jeff picks his guitar back up and gives it a little strum. "Share with Eddie."

"What?" Eddie says, looking like he would rather walk out than do that.

"Nothing against you, Steve," Jeff explains, ignoring Eddie. "I'm just a big personal space guy. Can't focus otherwise."

Steve looks over at Eddie, still sitting, still scowling.

"Fine," he says, because he'll be professional, even if Eddie won't.

"You guys are fucking killing me," Chrissy says, and Argyle, the audio engineer next to her, nods in agreement. "Can we get this show on the road?"

Gareth gives them a little salute, one that Chrissy rolls her eyes at. "We all ready?"

"As we'll ever be," the rest of the band choruses.

Steve shrugs. "Yeah."

"You warm up?" Eddie asks, walking toward his mic.

Steve follows. "Never do."

Eddie rolls his eyes, but then Chrissy gives them the all-clear, Gareth counts them off, and they start.

And something switches.

Steve knew this would be higher energy. Different genre, different sound, whatever. But there's something fucking electric about playing with a band instead of being by himself in an iso booth, drilling vocals until he has a take he's happy with.

Recording with a band brings a different sort of energy. It creates a feedback loop, getting them higher, playing faster, sounding better.

Steve tells himself to back off. He's not the star of this show. He's been invited, and a quarter of the people in this room don't want him here.

But filling in the gaps has always come easy to him, and he gives the backing vocals his all.

And somewhere between the guitar solo and the end of the song, Eddie smiles at him for the first time.

It's quick, but it's blinding. Steve didn't think Eddie could smile until he does. It's quick as a flash and wide and feral and a little mean, but it's there, and it's directed at him.

But just like that, the first take is over. It was messy and imperfect, and as soon as it ends, Eddie is back to scowling at him.

But it's not as harsh. And that's how Steve knows that he wasn't imagining that little bit of something.

"Holy shit," Archie says, as soon as they're done. "This is gonna be a good song."

"It's gonna be a great song," Jeff says.

"I want more from Steve," Gareth adds, and the rest of the guys agree.

Even Eddie, however begrudgingly.

"Alright, boys," Chrissy says. "You've got the fun out of your systems. Let's focus and make some music."

Steve looks over at Eddie, who nods, however slightly. And he thinks, because he has never been able to kill hope a day in his life, that they could make a good team if Eddie could stop hating his guts.

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 3: “Make it stop” (solitary confinement)

Was busy all morning but here it is! Wild having a pretty awful time of it, and fun with magic songs and instruments.

No specific warnings, apart from its whumptober, so expect pain.

Read on ao3

————————————————————

“WILD!”

Time’s eyes snapped open at the shout, and he bolted upright from where he’d been sleeping.

He looked immediately over at where Twilight’s cry had come from, and saw him shouting in Wild’s face, shaking him none too gently. Time quickly got to his feet and dragged him back, giving the young man in front of him a disbelieving look.

“Rancher, what on earth are you doing?” he demanded, and Twilight looked at him, eyes frantic.

“He’s still out Time, he’s not— I fell asleep last night at some point, I don’t know when, but I woke up a bit ago and he’s still in it,” Twilight said, looking on the verge of panic, “I tried waking him up more gently but he’s not even twitching, something’s wrong with him!”

Time looked immediately at Wild, and felt a deep concern rise in his chest.

Wild had fallen into one of his memories last evening, right as they’d been preparing to make camp for the night anyway. Nobody had been too worried, since they were now quite used to the champion regaining memories at odd moments, and they’d set up camp and eaten dinner without much fuss.

They’d all grown a little more concerned when it had been over an hour and Wild still hadn’t awoken, but even Twilight had figured it must have just been a longer memory to regain. They’d all gone to bed, apart from Twilight who insisted on waiting up, and Time had fully expected to wake up in the morning and see Wild making breakfast as usual.

He should have known better.

Nothing was ever that simple for them.

Time let go of Twilight, and looked again at Wild, studying the champion in concern. Wild still had the exact same blank expression and faded look in his eyes from the night before, his position only changed slightly from Twilight’s attempts at waking him.

It had been more than eleven hours since he’d fallen into the memory.

The others had been woken up by Twilight’s shouts, and it didn’t take long for them all to cluster around Wild, eyes widening as one by one they realized he still wasn’t responding to anything.

They began attempting everything they could think of to rouse him, shouting his name, dousing him, lightly tickling the back of his neck. Hyrule even pulled out a strong-smelling plant of some kind he had in his bag, but Wild didn’t move for any of it, still staring, still blank.

“Let me try something,” Legend said finally, after countless unsuccessful attempts, and took out a pale ocarina.

He had an unreadable look on his eye as he began to play a soft tune, the notes somehow both sad and heartwarming. The others all listened in silence, and as the last note faded, they all looked intently at Wild, hope bright on their faces.

The champion still hadn’t moved.

“...That should have worked,” Legend said in a quiet voice, and Sky patted him on the back, telling him it was a good try.

The others began to talk about what to do next, but Time ignored them, studying Wild in silence. Something about Legend’s attempt was stirring an idea in his head, an inkling that deep down he knew what was wrong with the champion, but he wasn’t sure yet.

He watched Wild for a long time while the others talked, noting the deep breaths he took, and pale film over his eyes. His appearance hadn’t changed a bit the entire time, but Time continued to study him, a hand on his chin.

And suddenly he knew what was wrong.

“Rancher, you said he normally experiences the whole memory, then comes back?” Time said, and the others paused in their discussion, looking at him.

“That’s what he says happens,” Twilight said, still looking incredibly worried. “He watches it happen, doesn’t quite experience it exactly in... himself, though, if that makes any sense. And once it’s over, he wakes up.”

Time nodded, then turned from Wild, looking over the rest of the worried group.

“I believe he’s repeating the memory,” he said plainly.

They all looked at him in confusion at the statement, not even Twilight catching on. “What do you mean repeating it?” Hyrule asked hesitantly, and Time looked back at Wild.

“Every four minutes and thirty-two seconds, on the dot, his eyes shift to the left,” Time said. “And one minute and nine seconds after that, he takes in a noticeably deeper breath. I’ve been watching him, it’s the exact same increment of time, every time. I believe he’s trapped in a loop. Continually repeating the memory he’s recovered.”

The words felt sour on his tongue as he spoke them, masks and moons stirring in his memory as he explained.

What a terrible fate.

“But how did that happen?” Twilight asked in dismay, pulling him out of his darkening thoughts. He placed a careful hand on Wild’s head and looked into his eyes. “That’s never happened before, how could—”

“Wait, remember that weird guy we saw in that last town we were at?” Wind suddenly piped up.

Everyone stared at him.

“Oh... I guess that was just me and Wild,” the sailor said a little awkwardly. “Well he was real kooky, had these big robes on and looked all insulted when we tried to walk by his stall without stopping. He tried to get us to buy stuff and was being really rude and up in our faces, and Wild finally told him off and showed him his weapons and stuff so he knew he meant it. But he was still acting strange when we left, waving his arms and all weirdly smug, even though we didn’t buy anything.”

“You didn’t think to mention this before now?” Twilight asked with an edge to his voice, and Wind raised his hands defensively.

“We meet all sorts of weirdos, I didn’t think anything was wrong at the time!”

Twilight opened his mouth to say more, but Time put his hand on his arm, stopping him. It wasn’t the time to argue about it.

“Well that explains the who, but not the how,” Warriors said thoughtfully as he looked at Wild again.

“It’s got to be a delayed curse of some kind,” Legend muttered, tapping his chin. “He cast it when Wild was in front of him, and it only began affecting him when the memory hit for some reason.”

“But how do we get him out?” Sky asked in dismay, and Time pulled out his ocarina, quieting the group.

“I believe I can retrieve him. I’ve had experiences a little like this.”

“But how?” Hyrule asked, and Time smiled grimly, the purplish-blue of his ocarina shining bright in the morning sunshine.

“I believe I’ll need our sailor’s help for that.”

After explaining himself and going through a short lesson and period of preparation after (Twilight pacing with agitation the entire time), Wind and Time sat down in front of Wild, each with their respective instruments. The other Links hovered nearby, Twilight especially looking concerned, and Time held back a sigh as he watched him continue to pace.

Wild had been out for close to fourteen hours now.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” Twilight asked for the third time in a row, and Time shook his head.

“I’m sorry Rancher, but no. You’re inexperienced in magic like this, and we don’t want to cause Wild any harm.” Seeing Twilight’s frustrated look, Time caught his eye, and gave his arm a bracing squeeze. “We’ll get him out, Twilight. But he’ll need someone out here when he wakes up, and better you then anyone.”

Twilight closed his eyes, struggle clear on his face. But he nodded, and drew back after a moment.

“Be careful.”

“We will.”

Time looked over at Wind, fidgeting with the Wind Waker. “Are you ready, Sailor?”

“Yep! But I still think I could do it by myself,” Wind said as he stretched his arms above his head, and Time smiled a little grimly.

“I’m certain you could. But we don’t know the strength of the curse, and the Wind Waker may need a boost. Hopefully the ocarina will be enough.” Time sighed, watching as Twilight sat next to Wild, still completely unresponsive. “And we don’t know what state Wild is in at the moment, no less what it’ll be like in his memory. Better you have backup in case something happens.”

Wind suddenly looked much more nervous then before, but he nodded determinedly.

Then Time raised his ocarina to his lips, pausing a moment as he took a deep breath, and Wind raised his baton in preparation.

Time began playing the Command Melody that Wind had told him about once before, and had taught him now, the sailor conducting him as he went. A breeze brushed his cheek as he blew, the wind increasing as he played through the song, and Wind’s eyes squeezed shut in concentration, his tongue slightly sticking out.

Time focused on the heavy magic that they were weaving with the music, directing it towards Wild. It seemed to flow reasonably well, but as the song swelled, Time found himself suddenly wondering what they would do if this didn’t work.

It will work. It has to.

A faint chorus seemed to join them, weaving seamlessly in with both the wind and the playing from his ocarina. The last note faded from his lips, and the chorus stilled, the world seeming to hold its breath.

And then Time’s vision suddenly tunneled, his senses going dark.

(...)

A scream woke him.

Time’s eye snapped open into an expanse of shimmering grass, wide and endless. The familiarly of the location made his heart beat unpleasantly, but at another glance, it was clear it wasn’t the same as what he was remembering. There was a faint mist blowing through the field, tinged blue and gently swirling, but the only noise was that of the grass swaying, no other sounds or screams that he could make out.

He doubted he had imagined the cry, though.

A rustle caught his attention and he turned to see Wind sitting up next to him, looking around at the fog with an expression of wonder. He didn’t appear nearly as uneasy as Time felt, and ran a hand through the grass, blinking at the unusual noise it made.

“Is this Wild’s... head?” he asked as he got to his feet, and Time hummed, doing the same.

“In some respect, yes, I believe so.”

“It isn’t usually like this when I use the command melody,” Wind said after a minute, face curious. “...though I’ve never tried it on anyone asleep. It’s a lot calmer than I thought it would be too. I guess I sort of assumed...”

A distant sob was carried to them by the wind, and Wind went silent, both of them exchanging looks before quickly heading in the direction it came from.

A few trees were faintly visible through the fog, but Time barely noticed them, intent on listening for any more noises to follow. The grass rustled slightly as they walked, the sound unnatural and strange, and the blades were almost silky-feeling when Time touched them.

They’d been going for an indeterminable amount of time when Wind suddenly tugged his arm and motioned for him to stop, ears pricked. Time froze, and strained his ears, heart jumping when he heard a familiar voice.

“Let me out, let me out let me out please Hylia, make it stop—”

The last word choked off into a sob, and Wind bolted, Time quickly wading after him. He soon caught up to the sailor, and they made their way through the long grass and fog, following the distant cries.

They finally reached an area where the mist thinned, blue swirling silently away, and Wind gasped as they both saw a figure collapsed in the grass.

Wild was curled into a ball, his hands clutching at his scalp so hard there was blood in his nails. His face was pressed to his knees, hair falling over his eyes, and Time quickly went to his side and crouched next to him.

“Champion,” Time said urgently, but Wild didn’t reply, mumbling rapidly under his breath.

Time and Wind exchanged looks, and Time extended a hand, touching Wild’s shoulder as gently as possible.

Wild gasped and opened his eyes, looking around with a terrified expression. His eyes flickered like he was looking at something only he could see, and his breath hitched as he stared right through Wind and Time, no recognition on his tearstained face.

“Wild?” Wind asked in a small voice, and Wild’s head jerked, his breath coming in thin gasps as he looked around.

The same faint scream Time had heard earlier echoed through the air, and Wild’s breath caught on a sob, the Champion pressing his head back against his knees.

“Please, please, not again, don’t show me again!” he gasped, voice hitching.

“Link,” Time said forcefully, and squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it’s not real. We’re here to get you out.”

Wild’s next breath cut off into a wail, and he slammed his hands over his ears, so tightly Time was afraid he would hurt himself. Time reached forward to put his hand back on his arm, but Wild fell abruptly limp, whimpering as he took a deeper breath.

He opened his eyes again, bloodshot and haunted, but filled now with gut-wrenching acceptance.

“Again,” he whispered, and his breath shuddered on a sob.

It must have restarted, Time thought with an ache in his chest, and Wind moved forward, gently taking Wild’s hand.

“Champion? It’s us, remember?” Wind asked in a surprisingly steady voice, looking down at him. Wild stilled a little, but he continued to look around, ears flicking in all directions, tears still leaking from his eyes. “Link?”

Wild flinched at the name, but it seemed to help, his eyes focusing a bit more, and not darting around as much. Wind repeated his name in that same gentle voice, and Wild’s eyes slowly trailed up and focused on Wind. A sudden clarity shone in the blues as he stared at him for several long moments, and he leaned forward, eyes wide.

“Sailor?” Wild breathed eventually, and Time nodded, giving him an encouraging look. “Old— old man?”

“That’s right. We’re here to get you out,” he said with no small relief, and Wind helped Wild slowly sit up. He pulled him into a side hug, and the shivers wracking through Wild eased a bit, the champion looking relieved at the touch.

“Do you know what happened?” Time continued, carefully studying his face.

Wild swallowed.

“Something went wrong,” he stammered, looking more shaken than Time had ever seen him. He stared to the left for several moments before continuing, letting out a violent shudder. “With the— the memory. Don’t know what, the first time was just a normal one, but it— it changed. And now it keeps r-repeating and it won’t stop, no matter what I do I can’t make it stop—”

His head suddenly snapped to the side, and he choked on a breath, appearing to force himself to look back at Time and Wind.

“...How many times has it been?” Time asked quietly as he rubbed Wild’s shoulder. Please goddesses, let it not be as many as I suspect.

“Don’t know,” Wild croaked, haunted look in his eyes somehow brightened by the fog. “I lost track close to a hundred.”

Time felt the blood drain from his face as Wind gasped, and the voice suddenly screamed again.

Wild violently flinched at the sound, his trembling begun again, and Wind moved so he was more hugging the champion. The sailor’s face was pale, and Time kept his hand on Wild’s shoulder, steadying the teenager in front of him when another shudder ran up his spine.

More than a hundred times...

“Can you make it stop?” Wild whispered, looking off at something Time couldn’t see again. Wind nodded rapidly, and Time took both of Wild’s shoulders in his hands and gave them a bracing squeeze.

“We can. Just hold tight. We’re going to pull you out with us when we break the connection,” he reassured, and Wild looked utterly relieved, even with tears still trickling down his cheeks.

Wild clung tightly to him as Time began to help him up, shaking like a leaf. Time rubbed his shoulder again, concern laying heavy in his chest, and Wind gave him an uncertain look. The sailor was doubtless thinking along the same lines as he was.

They didn’t know what Wild was seeing, but it was obviously affecting him deeply, and he’d already been forced to go through it so many times, and for so long...

Wild was strong, Time knew. Stronger then he gave himself credit for. But everyone had their limits.

Had Wild already been pushed past his?

“Let’s get out of here,” Time said as Wild flinched again, and Wind nodded, looking around at the field again.

“I’ve never done this before,” the sailor admitted with a worried look between Time and Wild, “breaking the song’s magic like this. I don’t know if... What if we can’t..?”

“Then we will come back and try again,” Time said confidently, and put an arm around Wild’s shoulder to more solidly hold him up. “As many times as it takes. Now let’s get out of here.”

He wrapped Wild in his arms, the teenager still violently shaking, and Wind put his arms around Wild’s back as well. Time closed his eye, and focused on the magic allowing him and Wind to be here, and began tugging it away, neatly snipping them from Wild’s mind.

But he made sure to bring Wild too, tearing at the sticky threads of curse he could feel surrounding him, not letting them pull him back into his mind, trapping him there forever like they wanted. It was hard magic, gumming up the works and spreading its grimy reach into every corner it could get to. But Time still fought against it, cutting it apart, ripping it away where it clung.

He’d had plenty of practice with magic that refused to let go. This was no different.

He could feel Wind tugging as hard as he could, and Wild weakly pulling as well, and as all three of them went after the last thread, the magic suddenly snapped, throwing Time back into his own body with a horrible lurch.

It took him a long moment to readjust, settling back into his own mind rather disorienting. But he managed to open his eye after a moment, and saw Legend looking at him in concern. His hand was on his arm, stopping him from falling over, and Time gave him a small smile as he regained the rest of his senses.

Then immediately looked over at Wild.

The champion hadn’t moved.

Time’s heart fell as Warriors helped Wind sit up, the sailor shaking his head and looking dizzy. Wind looked over at him, then turned towards Wild, and a quiet oh escaped his lips, face falling.

Twilight was still seated next to Wild, the hopeful look on his face soured as Time and Wind looked between each other. Time met his eyes, and the rancher swallowed, looking away from Wild and down at his hands.

Wild breathed in sharply.

Twilight’s head snapped up, and they all watched with bated breath as Wild seemed to freeze, even more still than before. Time carefully moved over to him, and he and Twilight watched in silence, waiting for movement... a sign...

“Come on Champion, come back to us...” Time murmured.

Wild didn’t move.

And then his eyes snapped open, and he collapsed forward onto Twilight’s waiting arms with a gasp, Twilight letting out a tense laugh of relief as he caught him.

“It worked!” Wind cheered, and the others let out varying sounds of joy and relief, clapping Time and Wind on the back, trying to see how Wild was doing. Time smiled and endured the happy clamor, but his smile stiffened as he looked at Wild.

He was buried in Twilight’s hold, still faintly trembling, and Time could see him getting more and more tense as the noise around him increased. Someone nudged him on the arm, and he stiffened so abruptly Twilight jumped a little.

“Give him space,” Time said quietly, catching the others’ attention with his tone of voice. “He’s been through a lot, and will need rest. I think perhaps, he could also use some breakfast... could you all help with that?”

The heroes exchanged looks, but they took the hint and nodded, and everyone except for Wind went off in the direction of the cooking pot. They cast glances back at where Wild still lay, but didn’t comment further. Wind joined Time and Twilight’s sides, and he looked down at Wild with a hesitant expression.

“Is he okay?” he asked softly.

A noise came from Twilight’s arms, and they all looked at Wild, still trembling, and curled in Twilight’s hold with a surprising amount of vulnerability. Wild breathed out slowly, and despite how he was still clutching at Twilight’s wolf pelt with hands that shook more than ever, he raised his head, and met Time’s eye.

The gratitude and relief in his gaze was nearly overwhelming, and Time leaned down to take his hand in his, Wild clutching at it like a lifeline.

“Wild?” Twilight asked carefully, and Wild flicked an ear in recognition that he’d heard. “How are you doing cub?”

Wild closed his eyes again, and didn’t immediately reply.

Then a noise between a laugh and a sob escaped his lips, his shaking increasing again as tears started to fall down his cheeks. Time drew the arm Wild was still clasping closer to him, holding it to his chest, and Wild let out another laughing sob.

Wind squashed himself between Time and Twilight as well, and all three of them held Wild as he cried with relief, overwhelmed at finally being freed from his own mind.

“You’re okay,” Twilight whispered, running a hand through Wild’s hair. “You’re out, Link. You’re safe.”

“And we’re gonna make sure it never happens again,” Wind said fiercely, a thread of guilt in his voice as Wild shuddered. “Never again.”

Time didn’t say anything, but Wild gripped at his hand again, and he squeezed it silently in return.

Never again.

[traumxrei-archive]

【 v. plated perfection 】

summary: now that yuu was better, they still had nothing to do. that is, until they heard the cheerful tune of a certain white haired maid floating down the halls… maybe they should go see what kalim is up to.

word count: 1.3k

author’s note: kalim’s part !! i really wanted to do the whole shoujo manga cliche w/ this one so i hope you enjoy ^^

[ the perfect debutante series | or read on ao3 (coming soon) ]

There wasn't much left to do for Yuu when they finally got permission to start working again. (That was an arduous process on its own.) It appeared that Azul, Jade, Riddle, and even Jamil had pitched in to take care of any last-minute preparations.

Now that everything was decided, the previously fast-approaching ball seemed to approach at a snail's pace. On top of that, Yuu had even more free time than usual because the Duke had taken over their work to "give them more time to plan". They did come up with an idea for something special at the Debutante, but it was undergoing some final review from the head butler, so it was a waiting game.

That was why they were strolling the halls, looking for something that they could do. A cheerful tune floated down the halls catching Yuu's ear. They instantly recognized the singer's voice, approaching the open door carefully.

Inside the grand room was Kalim, silverware and dishes spread out in front of him. The silver haired maid looked more put together than usual, his short skirt fluttering over stockinged legs as he spun. A white and gold bandana laid over his silvery hair, ribbons trailing down his neck.

"A whole new– Master?!"

Yuu suppressed a laugh when Kalim finally noticed them, "Hello Kalim, that was a nice song you were singing."

"Oh, I think so too! It's a classical ballad from Scalding Sands. But, Master," The maid blinked, his earrings clinking when he tilted his head. "What brings you here?"

"I was bored." And wasn't that the truth? It was easy to be a little more unfiltered with Kalim. Red eyes sparkled knowingly at their words.

"Hmm, then Master," Kalim very gently grabbed a plate. "What do you think about this plate?"

The plate was...shiny. So shiny, in fact, that Yuu felt a bit dazed, "Er, why did you pick that one out?"

"Well," Kalim set the plate aside. "Jamil and Azul told me to pick something perfect. It's Master's debutante after all!

Kalim started listing on his fingers, "They said, 'pick something that shows off the dukedom's opulence, elegance,' and..."

"Humility?" If it was those two that gave Kalim advice, they would know a thing or two about not going overboard on the flair. 

"Yes! Something like that," Kalim pouted. "But it seems that this set isn't to Master's liking." They could see the metaphorical puppy ears droop as he picked up the plate, going back to the display cases.

"It's only a little bit too shiny," Yuu said quickly, trying to soothe Kalim's mood. "There are plenty of other options."

"Theb how about this one?" Kalim picked up a dish with flowery vines adorning its rim. The gold tipped edge made it look all that elegant. "I think it's very pretty."

"Hmm, but I don't think it would fit with the interior decor of the ball," Yuu offered. "It would be very nice to use for the gardens area, but the plates should be uniform."

A thoughtful look crossed Kalim's face, "How about using it as serving plates? It would also make it easier for the chefs if they knew which plates would go to the hall and which will go to the garden."

"That's very thoughtful of you," Yuu said, and Kalim all but beamed at the compliment.

"I heard Jamil complaining about it before," Kalim said, taking out some serving plates. "One of the times that he was helping out at a party my Baba held, the servants weren't given clear instructions on which food was for which hall and it was a mess."

"Okay, now we have some flowery serving plates and trays!" Kalim dusted off his skirts. "Do you have any suggestions, Master?"

"How about choosing something with Night Raven colors?" Yuu took a seat on the bench beside the tray of plates.

Kalim perked up at that, "That's a great idea! The grey plates are somewhere on this shelf..." The silver-haired maid crouched, reaching for another plate, "This one seems very Night Raven colors." The plates had a grey base, and symmetric white lines crisscrossing to create an intricate pattern.

It was certainly an elegant choice, "That's a bit..."

"...too serious," Kalim concluded, sliding the plate back to its spot. "I guess I'll look at the top shelves."

They watched as Kalim dragged a rolling wooden ladder toward the shelf, "Don't forget, to lock the wheels." Yuu stood up, approaching the shelf as Kalim started climbing the ladder. He made it to the platform, opening the doors to the cabinet.

"It's alright Master, I've been doing this all morning," Kalim called out, as Yuu braced an arm against the ladder. Suddenly, Kalim shouted, "Oh! I found the perfect one!"

Kalim spun in his excitement and that was when it happened. Yuu could do nothing but watch as Kalim's body tilted unnaturally to the right, and—

Yuu lunged forward.

It was instinct, and they could barely think before their back was hitting the ground. A burst of pain hit their shoulder as they rolled before finally coming to a stop.

Their chest rose and fell, the blood rushing in their ears. Kalim's weight was keenly on top of them. That much they could figure out. Yuu pried open their eyes, their chest feeling stifled when—

Oh. Kalim's eyes were such a startling shade of red. Yuu had never seen his eyes that close before. The maid's head jerked back, his earrings chimed at the action. His ribbon brushed against their neck. The sensation was strange. A little ticklish, making them huff out a short breath.

Kalim blinked, his mouth falling open. He reeled backward with a shout and they winced as they heard another thump. Yuu sat up, gingerly touching their shoulder. Kalim was still lying on the ground, his skirts in disarray, still seemingly shocked.

And then Kalim shot up, hands clasping their own, "Master! This– I'm so– this maid apologizes for such a blunder, the ladder was— I-I should've been more careful, but— Oh, the others will kill me if they—"

“The others won't find out," Yuu reassured, glancing at the spotless floor. "None of the plates are broken, and we are both fine, save for our clothes."

"But—" Kalim seemed to sputter, hands gesturing wildly. "But Master, you—"

"Instead of arguing, why don't you show me the plate you found?" Yuu stood, dragging Kalim with them.

Kalim looked conflicted, his stare swinging between the cabinet and them, "Still, you... Master shouldn't do anything dangerous like that again. Promise?”

“I promise,” Yuu nodded toward the shelf. “Let’s see the plate that made you so excited.”

Kalim climbed up the ladder— but not before double-checking all of the wheels to the ladder— before returning with a white plate, with grey flowers and gold patterns lining the border, “Isn’t it perfect?”

“It is,” Yuu agreed, taking the plate into their hands. “You found the perfect plate.” Kalim pumped his fists in the air, before going back to grab the rest of the set. They grinned at Kalim’s quite antics, nodding along to the happy tune he was humming as he placed the plates onto the cart. 

“Should we go have a treat to celebrate?” Yuu suggested, and Kalim’s eyes grew even more shinier than before, his previous mood forgotten.

“Oh! Jamil was cooking up some tester desserts last night!” Kalim gushed, grabbing their hand. “Let’s go and ask him for the rest!” Yuu laughed as they were hurriedly led down the hallway. They had all but abandoned the plates there, but oh well. Maybe having fun and letting loose with Kalim was exactly what they needed before the debutante. (And sweets. Sweets made everyone’s days feel better, right?)

thank you for reading ^^ if you’d like to read more, check out my masterlist ! like the art ? look at more of dumple's works on insta !

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[damiansgoodgirll]

can you do damian priest x reader where they traveling to another state by car to smackdown and he gives her the passenger princess treatment and takes her to Dunkin for breakfast

this is me everytime my best friend is driving

for those who don’t know (you all should know this but) lemonade and renaissance are beyoncé’s album, i’m telling you this for the plot lol.

damian priest x reader

renaissance

“oh no, no, no not renaissance again y/n…” damian told you before you could let the first song of the album start “we just finished lemonade and if i hear beyoncé’s voice once again i’m gonna explode” he joked but there was a little bit of seriousness in his voice.

when you first started tagging along with damian you two were just friends so you never said anything about his music taste, you two would just simple listen to his music and have a normal conversation while driving towards your next destination.

you weren’t a car fan, the opposite, you hated long hours, sat in a seat where you couldn’t even move but damian helped you make car rides a little bit easy but he also knew how impatient you would get if you were sat in the same spot for more than two hours.

so sometimes he would just turn off the music to have a deeper conversation with you, in order to distract you.

not now though, the two of you were dating and he just grew used to your car routine.

he knew you weren’t a huge fan of his music so, from time to time, he would let you pick some of your favorite artists so you wouldn’t feel left out.

but it became more of your music than his own and he had no idea how to stop it. you wouldn’t let him change music, whether it was beyoncé or rihanna, he wasn’t a pop fan but you pretended you didn’t know so you could just sing to your fav tunes.

“pretty please?” you asked him.

“no…three more hours and i won’t be spending them listening to beyoncé…” he said.

“but it’s renaissance…” you said.

“just a little bit of rock and metal…i need them. i need my energy back” he said, his eyes not leaving the road.

it was raining outside and the music helped you cheering you up. you were sat in the passenger seat for already two hours and you knew you wouldn’t be arriving soon, you couldn’t handle it if you didn’t have your music.

“renaissance would give you so much energy if you only give it a chance!” you said hoping he would let you pick the music, again.

“no, it just give me headaches…” he said.

now you were mad.

“fine…i’ll be sleeping if you need me so don’t bother to call me” you said before lowering the hood of your hoodie over your eyes and nose so you wouldn’t be watching the road, and damian.

he simply laughed at your reaction.

before you could close your eyes you heard beyoncé’s voice and you immediately jumped on your seat.

“you were acting like a baby…” he teased you.

“but you love it” you teased him back.

“no i don’t but i rather see you happy than all pouty and mad like a toddler” he said and you smiled, knowing that in one way or another, you would get what you want.

“don’t act like you don’t like renaissance…i see you singing the songs too!” you caught him by surprise.

“i really don’t know what you’re talking about…” he whispered.

you simply laughed at him, trying to adjust yourself in your seat. you were really uncomfortable and damian noticed it too. his hand went to slowly massage your thigh in a calm way, trying to ease you down.

“my ass is becoming flat…” you said and he laughed.

“i doubt it…we’re gonna stop in a few minutes, you need to eat something since you were too tired complaining this morning and you skipped breakfast…” he teased you once again.

“i wasn’t complaining, i was just tired….” you whispered back. his bombastic side eye made you laugh “don’t look at me like that, i’m not lying…”

“sure…anyway, there’s a dunkin in twenty minutes, we’re gonna stop so your majesty could talk a walk and drink all the caffeine she needs” he made you laugh.

once you’ve arrived at your favorite place, you jumped out of the car and went straight into the shop, ordering probably too many sweets and coffee.

“who’s gonna eat all of that?” damian teased you once you received your order. his hands moving to your hips, almost teasing you.

“me because i can’t believe we still have three hours, i’m gonna get so bored even if we go through the whole beyoncé’s discography”

“yup, you better eat because i’m not listening to lemonade once again” he joked before you two moved to the car.

he gently opened the door for you and went back into the driver seat. his hand was back on your thigh and that made you smile even more.

in the end, driving with damian wasn’t that bad, if you were the one deciding tho.

[serqphites]

LOTTIENAT X READER HEADCANONS | how you sleep together

summary: just how i think sleeping with lottie and nat would go if you were dating them both! this is set after what happened with javi, nat is the antler queen and she’s dealing with the guilt of javis death being because he tried to save her

pairing: lottie x nat x reader

format: headcanons

warnings: mentions of death, nightmare?

lowercase intended! not proofread!

- okay so you definitely have the attic to yourselves

- lottie is always the first to be ready for bed

- she’d just be sat there like ‘🙂’ waiting for you and nat to join her

- when it was just you and lottie you’d sit with your head on her shoulder, her arm would be wrapped around you and she’d be softly humming a song to you

- you never knew what the song was, majority of the time you think she just made them up, but it was adorable so you never said anything about it

- when nat finishes up with her antler queen stuff, checking on everyone etc, she joins you both

- she would come up as quietly as possible, stopping halfway up the ladder to listen to lottie humming a completely made up tune to you

- at the sign of nat you’d both perk up and she’d get so nervous fr

- she’d blush sooooo bad

- nat sleeps on your left while lottie sleeps on your right, you obviously being sandwiched in between them

- when you just want to cuddle lottie stretches her arm out and you lean your head back on it, shuffling as close to her as possible

- nat snuggles into your side and lays her head on your chest

- she loves listening to your heartbeat it makes her feel so safe

- you usually just talk for a while before eventually going to sleep

- when you sleep nat lays on her back and you snuggle into her side this time

- lottie being the giant she is she spoons you and wraps her arm around you, just about being able to reach over to nat too

- lottie is so warm, who needs a fireplace when you have a portable radiator??

- nat almost every night has a nightmare of the day of her hunt, she can’t let go of what happened to javi because of her

- whenever she jolts awake in a panic, you and lottie immediately spring into action

- you join her in sitting up and keep a protective arm around her, reassuring her that she’s okay and that she’s safe

- lottie tries her hand on the heart method, sometimes it’s able to ground nat but majority of the time it does nothing so she gives up and just holds you both as close to her as possible

- you just sit with her and let her cry, let her sob about how unfair the hunt was, about how it should have been her

- it’s so sad :(

- once nat is settled again you swap positions with her, allowing her to sleep in between you and lottie instead

- lottie usually hums until you both fall back to sleep, always putting you both before herself

- eventually when you’ve all drifted back to sleep you all move around a lot

- lottie usually ends up out of her blanket somehow

- nat almost always ends up stretched out on top of you

- you can’t complain though considering it’s winter and she’s keeping you warm

- if you did ever get annoyed at her she would get SO defensive

- “i’m just trying to keep you warm” with an eye roll

- lottie still utterly stunned by how she never fails to wake up out of her blanket

a/n: hello!! god i love these silly lesbians, lottienat fics are lacking in this fandom and it makes me so sad! also if someone could help me, i have no idea how to set up one of those request post thingys? help would be very much appreciated 🙏🤍

[sweetbbyshion]

Eros' song

-> Shinichiro Sano x Reader (no pronouns or descriptions)

characters: Shinichiro Sano

genre: fluff

summary: you write a poem as a way to confess to your best friend

warnings: childhood friends to lovers, i wrote the poem so please don't be too mean or i'll cry, also DON'T STEAL THE POEM FOR THE LOVE OF GOD it will be my last reason, the reader is into books, first quote is from Kafka's Letters to Milena and the second is Edgar Allan Poe's Annabel Lee

network: @eveningatthemoviesnetwork

Shinichiro has been your best friend since your first memory surfaced. From the moment you could process thoughts and emotions, the man has been close to you. Truly, it was a matter of time until one of you fell in love and you happened to be the (un)lucky one.

You were no older than thirteen when the infamous incident happened. Shinichiro (also thirteen and with a really, really ugly hairstyle) looked at you and gave you a big toothy smile, like he always does whenever a cool bike passes by you. Suddenly, flowers exploded behind him, angels sang, the sun shone brighter than it had all day and you found yourself almost squinting and on the verge of throwing up because of the butterflies in your stomach. Metaphorically, obviously.

It was a shame, really. You nearly yelled at the universe for not giving this evil curse to Shinichiro instead but, apparently, the entities above also doomed Shinichiro to a life of rejection. So, you suffered because your best friend didn’t look at you and the man suffered because no girl wanted him.

At thirteen you turned into poetry and all kinds of literature, finding pieces that you related to a bit too much and, eventually, writing things yourself. Shinichiro didn’t understand most of the stuff you read, always questioning what words meant and what was so special about those poems that had you tear up so often. You shared that part of your life with him as well, showing the poems, drabbles, verses you came up with that were messily written in your journal. Fortunately for you and your weak heart, Shinichiro didn’t really understand that most of the things you wrote were about him.

It stayed that way until you were twenty three. You were less naive, more in tune with the feelings that made you want to throw up years ago and definitely in love with your best friend (who kept getting rejected even after changing the horrible hairstyle; the Gods really hated you both). Shinichiro had his own bike shop, a gang that supported him through everything and you. He still happily reads whatever you wrote in your journal and he still doesn't understand half of the stuff you have there but the honest praise and support makes your heartbeat a little bit faster. Shinichiro is there when you publish your very own poetry book, his name deservedly on the first page. To Shinichiro, who was always there for me. As Franz Kafka said “In a way, you are poetry material; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out.”

So, maybe, you were a bit too obvious with the whole ‘I love you’ deal but Shinichiro didn't seem to understand all the hints you dropped. Everyone around you seemed to find out about your little secret and some of his friends even went out of their way to let you know he felt the same but you weren't so sure.

“What you writing over there?” the smooth voice of Shinichiro pulls you back to reality, the noise in the shop coming back in an instant. It was almost dinner time and you came into the shop hoping to have a meal with your best friend before going home. Deciding to entertain yourself, you pulled out your notebook and a pen from your bag and wrote some ideas that popped in your head as you stared with heart eyes to the object of your affection.

“Nothing important.” A lie. The words that stared back at you formed, yet again, another finished love poem that you dreamed of showing to Shinichiro in hopes that he would read it and return your feelings. Shinichiro knew you were lying. Somehow he always knew. You refuse to return eye contact when he grabs your pen and doodles mindlessly next to the verses, a routine he acquired when you whined about the pages of your journal being too boring with just words in it. You look at his hands gently drawing small hearts (Shinichiro couldn't draw a heart even if it was to save his family but you grew to love the blob shapes) and a random dog with stars surrounding it.

“Can I read it?” You meet his eyes, tender and sweet, which were already looking at you. Your heart flips, turns and does cartwheels when Shinichiro gives you that toothy smile that makes him close his eyes and you can only let out a small “Sure.” before closing your mouth so you don't accidentally confess.

My soul holds a secret that my pen

Now wishes to share.

In ink-stained lines, my feelings find a home:

Untold to anyone but the Gods from above,

As I convoke Eros to help me compose a piece

That will reach your heart.

But do I dare?

Do I dare trouble the deities with a greedy tone

When I can’t gather the courage

To whisper confessions when we’re alone;

The only witness to my love

Being the moon shining high up

And the paper getting stained with passion.

So sure of my affection yet,

I hesitate.

Do you dare reciprocate these heavy feelings

That only keep me awake at night or

Am I merely a friend that consoles your ego

When things fall apart?

But it’s okay,

For I have accepted the possibility

The harsh, unwanted probability

That I’m doomed to an existence of unrequited love

And a lifeless life

Without the muse who inspires me

To write the most loveful poems and

The most sorrowful verses.

You nervously glance at Shinichiro while he is reading, noticing how his eyes squint and his nose scrunches from time to time (he does it when he doesn't understand something that is written). You pay close attention to his face, the poet in you wishing to remember Shinichiro until your last day if the worst was to happen. A part of you hopes the man will finally understand all of the things you wished to say but weren’t strong enough to. You pray that your poem reaches his heart and soul, that he sees you not only as a longtime friend but a life partner. “Wow.” He sighs, lifting his eyes from the paper to settle on you again. “I’ll never get tired of saying you’re really good.” Shinichiro stands back at his full height, murmuring about back pain after leaning down for so long. You look up at the man who has your world spinning around him, waiting to see if he says something more. He doesn't.

“Is that all?” You ask, playing with the bracelet on your wrist (a gift from Shinichiro when you turned 18). He looks at you confused. His eyes scan the paper again, rereading the verses to figure out if he missed anything. He still looks lost so you grab the pen and, in a moment of courage, you write a few words at the bottom of the poem. For Shinichiro, who I “loved with a love that was more than love”. The handwriting is shaky, giving away the anxiety exuding out of you. Shinichiro reads the additional words, then stops, then looks at you. You get up, not being able to have his body towering you that way. He is standing next to you and, for the first time, you’re not sure about the emotions revealed by his eyes. You wonder if you made a mistake confessing out of nowhere, in his shop, while his siblings and friends are hanging out and the last customers exit. You should have eased your way into the subject but what’s done is done and all you have left is to wait.

“I know I’m not the smartest person…” Shinichiro’s eyes are on you, reading your every move. “But does this mean what I think it means?” You nod, not trusting your voice. His eyes widen and, in a sudden movement, Shinichiro is even closer to you. His hands are on each side of your face, forcing you to look at him. “You wrote a poem for me. A love poem.” You nod again, your movements a bit restricted by the big hands holding your face in place. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Shinichiro gives you five seconds to step back before his lips are crashing against yours. You don't think any poem, book, word could describe what you felt the moment your lips met. It’s fast and a bit clumsy but you couldn't be more happy this happened, unable to control the smile when Shinichiro stops the kiss to look at you. You want to giggle like a young teenager when Shinichiro gives you that smile you love more than anything. “Does this mean you feel the same?”

“Yeah. Have for a while. Couldn't stand the thought of getting rejected by you though.” His thumb caresses your cheek and you find yourself leaning to the touch.

“I would never reject you.” You murmur, embarrassed at such revelation. “You know there’s a quote from Emily Brontë-”

“Tell me about her in a bit.” Shinichiro interrupts you. “I want to kiss you again.”

The next time you write a poem isn't about Shinichiro, your best friend. Instead, you dumped all of the new (reciprocated) feelings about Shinichiro, your boyfriend, and the experiences you get from living with him by your side. Most of your poems were and will probably always be about Shinichiro Sano, no matter the status he holds in your life. You get to love your muse and your boyfriend gets a lifetime supply of romantic poetry dedicated to him (as well as quotes that fit each situation).

[parkerslatte]

Songbird || TWELVE

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mention of blood

Word Count: 3.7k

Part Summary: The band records songs for Aurora and Y/N attends a party with Daisy.

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•••

TRACK TWELVE;

MANEATER

...

DAISY JONES: We must’ve written eight or nine songs the first couple weeks. I would have an idea, and then he’d flesh it out, or he would come up with a riff, and I’d come up with a melody line.

BILLY DUNNE: When you’re making an album, any album, it’s an intimate thing. I mean, it has to be.

DAISY JONES: Which isn’t to say we didn’t fight.

BILLY DUNNE: Oh we were fighting constantly.

WARREN ROJAS: For a month it was like that. We’d be in the studio, you know, recording all the arrangements, and they’d be who knows where doing god knows what.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Everyday they’d come in with something new.

KAREN SIRKO: I mean great fucking songs.

Y/N L/N: Even though I didn’t want to be in the band, I can’t fault the songs, they were great, amazing even.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: And every night, they’d come in giggling like two little schoolgirls. 

INTERVIEWER: Did it concern you?

GRAHAM DUNNE: Not really. Not yet, anyway. I mean…like whatever they were doing…it was working.

INTERVIEWER: How was Y/N adjusting to being in a band?

KAREN SIRKO: She adjusted well, it was only the arguments that was a concern.

…

“I did everything you told me to do, Billy!” Y/N yelled into the microphone. 

“But it’s not good enough,” Billy says from the booth, “Try again.”

Y/N sighed, and began to play again but as soon as she started playing, Billy cut her off again.

“In what possible way was that wrong,” Y/N exclaimed, “I played one note.”

“It was the wrong note.” Billy says, trying to remain calm.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “You need to get your hearing checked.”

Billy turns to Teddy, “It was the right note, Billy.”

A smirk appeared on Y/N’s face at Billy’s annoyed expression. 

“Again.” Billy ordered. 

Once again as soon as Y/N began to play Billy interrupted her. 

“Right,” Y/N says, “This is bullshit.”

Y/N lifted the guitar and placed it back on its stand. With one final glare at Billy, she left the room, joining the rest of the band. 

“You finished?” Karen questioned. 

“Nope,” Y/N said, flopping down on the couch next to Eddie, “Apparently Billy needs to get his hearing checked because everything I’m doing is wrong.”

Billy came storming out of the booth, his eyes focussed on Y/N, “Get back in the studio now, Y/N, you’re wasting time.”

“Why?” Y/N questioned, “So you can stop me every two seconds, I’d say you’re the one who’s wasting time.”

“Billy, just give her a break,” Karen says, “She’s been in the studio all day.”

“And so have the rest of us.” Billy says.

“Yeah, but we haven’t been yelled at for the past two hours.” Eddie muttered. 

Billy sent a glare Eddie’s way before his gaze landed back on Y/N, “Y/N, get back in the studio.”

…

KAREN SIRKO: Billy didn’t know when to stop when he argued with Y/N. 

WARREN ROJAS: Y/N never let her emotions show much, but I could tell that she was getting to her breaking point.

CAMILA DUNNE: I knew how Billy was treating Y/N and I wasn’t standing for it. She was my best friend and he was treating her awfully. I knew they didn’t like each other but that was no excuse.

BILLY DUNNE: Y/N got on my last nerve. She always wanted things her way. 

Y/N L/N: Billy was a controlling prick.

DAISY JONES: I knew that Y/N didn’t want to be in the band, and I didn’t understand why she was in the band. Her talent shouldn’t have been pushed to the side like it was. 

…

The band sat around in the studio waiting for Billy and Y/N to come back with their new song. Y/N sat with her guitar, carelessly strumming a tune she had come up with, humming along to lyrics she had written months ago that was meant to be for her album. 

“I like that melody.” Graham says. 

“Thanks,” Y/N smiled, “I was working on it for my album.”

Graham began to listen to the song as Y/N continued to strum her guitar. As he began to play her own guitar, working with what Y/N had already created, she turned to him and smiled. One by one each member of the band began to play along with Y/N and Graham. It didn’t sound fantastic but to Y/N it sounded like the most amazing thing in the world. 

“Sing the song.” Graham says.

“I wrote the song as a duet,” Y/N says, “Eddie, would you be able to sing the other part.”

“Me?” Eddie questioned.

Y/N smiled and reached down to her bag and pulled out her notebook, turning to the correct page and held it out to Eddie.

“The green ink is what you’re meant to sing. You’ll pick up the melody.”

Everyone began to play what they were before, slowly getting a good balance. Y/N began to sing everything melted away, the only thing she concentrated on was the music. Y/N signalled that Eddie should start singing. As he began he was out on timing which caused Y/N to smile but he soon got into a rhythm. 

Their voices complimented each other perfectly. Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Every member of the band got into the rhythm of the song, fully enjoying themselves for not being told what to do, they all got to freely play what they wanted. 

The door to the studio opened and in walked Billy and Daisy. Daisy slowed down her walk as she listened to the song, meanwhile Billy let out an annoyed sigh. Y/N was the first to notice and she stopped singing and playing, everyone followed her actions. 

“What’s going on here?” Billy questioned.

“Y/N wrote a song and we were playing around with it,” Graham answered, “It’s a great song.”

“It’s not going on the album.” Billy says.

“Come on,” Warren says, “It’s a great fucking song.”

“It’s not going on the album.” Billy repeated. 

“I think it should go on the album.” Daisy intervened.

“Thank you Daisy.” Y/N says and Billy rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not going on the album,” Billy says, “And that’s final.”

“Okay,” Daisy challenged, “Then I want Y/N to sing The River with me.”

The room fell silent. 

“It’s one or the other Billy,” Daisy says, “Her song goes on the album or she sings The River with me.”

…

Y/N L/N: Originally I never wanted my song to go on the album, but the look on Billy’s face when Daisy gave him that ultimatum was what made me want to have my song on the album. 

DAISY JONES: We recorded Y/N’s song that day. 

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Y/N’s song was my favourite on the album, still is. 

WARREN ROJAS: I think that was the most laid back recording we did. Y/N took the reins on it and let us fuck around with it. It was a good day.

…

“Camila!” Y/N says, entering the house through the front door.

“Y/N,” Camila says, coming around the corner, “I didn’t know you were coming around today.”

“It wasn’t originally,” Y/N admitted, “But figured that since Billy isn’t here, I would come around. I haven’t seen Julia in ages. How are you by the way? We haven’t had the chance to sit and talk in a while.”

“I’ve been okay,” Camila says, sitting down on the couch next to Y/N, “I’ve been busy with Julia, she’s getting to the point where I can’t leave her unattended for too long or they’ll be another broken glass on the floor.”

“Billy hasn’t helped at all?” Y/N questioned.

“He has barely been here,” Camila says, an edge to her voice, “And when he is here, he’s always on the phone with Daisy.”

“I would say that I would have a talk with him, but we all know how that would go, so…”

Camila laughed, “It’s fine, you don’t need to talk to him, I’ll try to when he gets home, whenever that will be.”

“Hey, if you ever need help with anything, you can call me and I’ll answer and be here as quick as I can.” Y/N says, talking ahold of Camila’s hand, “If you need any help with Julia or even a break from her, I’ll babysit her and you can go and take as many photos until you literally can’t anymore.”

“Oh,” Camila says, getting to her feet, “That reminds me.”

Camila walked to the other side of the room and opened a drawer, “I forgot I developed these photos ages ago and I thought you would want them.”

Walking back over to Y/N, Camila handed her three photos and Y/N’s heart sank. The photos were of her and Eddie from the Christmas her first single was released. The first photo was just after Y/N handed Eddie his gift. The two were looking intently into each other’s eyes, a look of adoration on their faces. 

Flipping to the next photo, Y/N’s heart sank even more when she saw it. In the photo, she was staring at the camera with a smile while Eddie looked at her. The look on his face couldn’t have been mistaken for anything other than love. 

The final photo ripped Y/N’s heart out and threw it on the ground. The photo was taken when neither of them were aware. The two were cuddled up on the couch. Y/N’s arms were wrapped around Eddie’s torso while his arm was wrapped around her waist and the other held onto her arm. Her head rested on his chest while his head was dipped, his lips brushing her forehead. 

“When did you take this photo?” Y/N questioned.

“The same day,” Camila says, “It was a cute photo, I took it when you both weren’t looking.”

“Stalker.” Y/N jokes. 

Y/N placed the photos back in a stack and handed them back to Camila.

“Don’t you want them?” Camila questioned, furrowing her eyebrows. 

“I just-I just don’t think I need them.” Y/N says.

Camila saw right through Y/N’s lie, “What else is going on? Because months ago, you would have been excited to have these.”

Y/N sighed, “Nothing’s going on-”

“Is anything going on between you and Eddie?” Camila questioned.

“What?” Y/N says, “No, there’s nothing going on.”

“Are you sure because the two of you have been acting like strangers for months now.” Camila points out.

Y/N shrugged, “We just grew apart. I was busy working on my non-existent album and he was working with the band, we just haven’t had the time to talk and hang out.” Y/N hated how easily the lie rolled off her tongue. 

“Are you sure nothing’s going on?” Camila asks.

“I’m sure,” Y/N says, “There is nothing going on between me and Eddie.”

…

Y/N L/N: All of these lies were eating me alive. Of course there was something going on, but at the time I couldn’t figure out exactly what it was, I had never felt that way before so it was all new for me.

…

The next day, Y/N was sitting in the studio, bored out of her mind. They were meant to be recording vocals for Aurora but Daisy never showed up. With her notebook in hand, Y/N was just colouring in the page out of pure boredom. They had all been sitting there for hours. 

“Did you try her room?” Teddy asked.

“Yeah, couple times,” Billy says, “I’m worried something’s happened.”

“She’s probably just off somewhere.” Teddy suggested.

“No,, no this is her record as much as it’s mine. Something’s not right,” Billy says, “I got to go.”

“I’ll go with you.” Teddy offered.

“No, it’s worse if the principal comes.”

“Well, take Warren.” Teddy says.

“I can handle it.” Billy says, walking out of the studio.

Y/N looks to where he had disappeared before throwing her notebook down and followed after him. Just as he started up his car, Y/N climbed into the passenger seat. 

“What are you doing Y/N?” Billy sighed.

“Look, we don’t like each other, cool,” Y/N says, “But I care about Daisy too, so let’s just go.”

Surprisingly, Billy didn’t argue. He simply nodded and pulled away from the studio. 

As the two arrived at the hotel, music was blaring out and shouting was heard for every direction. Y/N and Billy slowly walked closer to the pool where they found Daisy. 

“Y/N,” Billy says, “Can you give us a minute?”

“What? Why? I want to see-”

“Y/N, just go.” Billy says. 

Sighing, Y/N sat down on a chair, watching the interaction between Daisy and Billy. Y/N had never been one to pry into people’s relationships but she didn’t quite understand what was going on between Daisy and Billy. One moment, they were acting like the best friends in the world and then the next they were acting like they detested each other. Y/N couldn’t work it out. 

As Daisy climbed out of the pool, Y/N watched as the glass dug into her feet, causing them to bleed. Y/N winced, standing to her feet. 

“Say, hi to Camila for me!” Daisy called to Billy as he stormed off. 

“Billy, wait!” Y/N says as he leaves the hotel grounds. Y/N contemplated following him as he was her only way home but she decided against it, opting to check on Daisy. 

“Let me guess,” Daisy says, “You’re here to yell at me as well.”

Y/N says, “No, not at all, unlike Billy I know what a fun time looks like.” Y/N lied, she had been annoyed with how late Daisy was but she wasn’t going to outright be angry about it like Billy was.

Y/N looked down at Daisy’s feet, “Can I clean that up?”

Daisy looked down at her feet and watched as the blood mixed with the water, “I’m fine.” As she tried to walk away, Daisy limped, in obvious pain. 

“Look, I’ll make a promise,” Y/N says, “You let me clean that up and I’ll happily leave you alone to do whatever you want.”

“Why don’t you join me?” Daisy says. 

Y/N sighs, “As long as I can clean that up.”

Daisy rolled her eyes and sat down and Y/N rushed to find a bandage and some alcohol, the latter being much easier to find. After getting some bandages, Y/N went back to Daisy who was miraculously in the same place. 

Bending down, Y/N inspected her foot, luckily there wasn’t any glass embedded into her foot so it would be rather easy to clean up. 

“Okay,” Y/N says, unscrewing the bottle of alcohol, “This will probably sting a little bit.”

Daisy nods before Y/N pours the alcohol onto the cuts. Daisy winced but Y/N continued to wipe away the blood, disinfecting the cuts. As Y/N wrapped her foot in the bandage, Daisy watched her intently. 

“There,” Y/N says, “Just please don’t put your foot in the pool again, I don’t think I can find any more bandages.”

Daisy put her foot down on the floor and looked at Y/N. She didn’t say anything before reaching down and picking up the bottle of alcohol, “No your end of the deal.”

Y/N smirked and took the bottle of alcohol from Daisy and took a long swig. 

***

“Where’s Y/N?” Warren asked as Billy entered the studio alone. 

Billy looked around, like he was surprised that Y/N wasn’t with him, “I think she’s still with Daisy.”

“You think?” Eddie says, “You just left her?”

“Yes Eddie I did,” Billy says, “I had more important things on my mind.”

“Look,” Karen spoke up, already sensing the tension, “She’s probably fine, she’ll either stay with Daisy or she’ll find her own way home, she always does, there’s no point in worrying.”

No one said anything as Billy picked up his guitar case and left swiftly without a word to anyone.

Back at the house, Eddie was finding it difficult to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt fully awake. Every time he tried to get comfortable, it would only turn into the most uncomfortable position only moments later. 

As Eddie closed his eyes for hopefully the final time that night, the phone began to ring in the living room. Due to having the room closest to the living room, Eddie flipped the covers off and got out of bed. As he passed the clock on the wall he took notice of the time. Four in the morning. 

Picking up the phone, Eddie answered it. 

“Hello?” Eddie says.

There was a long pause before there was an answer, “Eddie?”

“Y/N?” Eddie says, “Are you okay?”

“I-I don’t know where I am.” Y/N says. 

“What do you mean?” Eddie questions. 

“I lost Daisy,” Y/N says, her words barely legible, “So I continued to drink without her and this guy gave me some pills and I took them.”

“Y/N, are you okay?” Eddie asked, suddenly fully alert. 

“I’m-I’m fine,” Y/N says, “I went to walk home but I think I took a wrong turn.”

“Can you describe what’s around you?” Eddie questions. 

There was a pause before Y/N answered, “It’s too dark. I don’t think I’m that far away from the hotel.”

“Okay, Y/N, stay where you are, I’m coming to get you.” Eddie says and hangs up the phone. 

Only picking up a jacket before he left the house, Eddie got into the van and pulled out of the driveway. His heart was beating fast as he drove, the only thing he thought about was Y/N. As he neared the hotel, he slowed down and kept an eye out for her. There wasn’t much around at all, simply a road and trees with a few houses scattered down it.

As Eddie drove further down the road, he spotted a payphone box and a person sat down next to it. Immediately Eddie got out of the van and ran the small distance. 

“Y/N.” Eddie says softly. 

Y/N looked up and she smiled, “Eddie…”

Y/N was shivering and goose bumps covered her skin. Pulling off his jacket, Eddie placed it around her and helped her to her feet. 

“I’m sorry.” Y/N says as his arm wrapped around her waist as he helped her to the van.

“For what?” Eddie questioned.

“For dragging you out here in the middle of the night.” Y/N says, clutching onto Eddie. 

“Don’t apologise.” Eddie says, helping her into the van. 

Y/N pulled his jacket tighter around her body as she sat safely in the passenger seat of the car. Eddie got in and began to drive back to the house. Y/N didn’t say anything the entire way there, she simply looked out of the window at the world passing by. She was fully aware of Eddie continuously sneaking glances at her. 

As they arrived back at the house, Eddie tried to help Y/N out of the van but she pushed him away, “I’m fine, Eddie.”

“You sure don’t look fine,” Eddie says, “You don’t normally get this bad, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Y/N questioned, “Well I have all the reason to be.”

Y/N sniffled, trying to fight back the tears she had been keeping at bay for months. 

“I’ve had everything I’ve ever been working towards taken from me,” Y/N says, “My album was the one thing I’ve always wanted to do and now that opportunity is gone. I never wanted to join the band and now I have and I haven’t been more miserable in my whole life. Billy never lets me have any creative freedom, and everything I do is wrong. I can’t do anything right in his eyes. I am a singer and a songwriter and it’s been taken away from me.  ”

“You have one song on the album.” Eddie says, trying to look at the positives. 

“A song that I wrote for my album.” Y/N says, finally letting the tears fall, “I wrote that song with the idea of you singing it with me. I wrote it for us.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, he didn’t know what to say. Y/N looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. Reaching up, Eddie cupped her cheeks and gently wiped them away. He stepped closer to her, decreasing the distance between them. 

Y/N continued to stand there, not knowing how to react. Her thoughts weren’t clear and she didn’t know what to say. 

Looking down at Y/N, Eddie began to lean forward, his lips inched towards hers like it was a magnetic pull driving them together. Eddie couldn’t help himself, the feeling of Y/N’s lips on his was a feeling he craved, it was as if it were his own personal high and he needed a constant fix. Y/N, noticing this, pushed him away harshly. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Y/N whispered.

“I-I-” Eddie cut himself off because he didn’t really have an answer. 

“No, Eddie,” Y/N mumbled, “You’re being mean.”

“I’m not,” Eddie begs, “I’m not, I’m sorry.”

Y/N shook her head, “You are, you don’t do that to someone. You can’t do that to someone. You don’t mess with someone’s feelings like that. Don’t talk to me again.”

With that, Y/N walked back into the house leaving Eddie outside on his own. Eddie remained there in silence for a moment, processing everything. He wished he could rewind time and never did what he did. Angrily, Eddie turned around and punched the wall. Almost immediately he brought his hand to his chest, cradling it. There were cuts on his knuckles and bruises would certainly form, but Eddie didn’t care. 

The pain made him aware of what he did. The pain on the outside reflected the pain he was feeling on the inside. 

…

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Everything I did that night, I regretted. I ruined what was left of my friendship with Y/N. I loved her, but I ruined that. And I only made everything more complicated from there.

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[exhaustedrebel05]

Whatever the weather

Arcane Viktor x Fem! Reader

a/n: Hi, so this is the first time I post something that I wrote, I hope you like it.

I do not own anything here except the product of my creativity.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: mentioned feelings of despair, chronic illness, fluff, new fanfic writer who wrote this on a whim, and possible bad punctuation.

Tell me if I forgot something pls

Summary: You bring food to Viktor in the lab and end up having a moment.

Definitions: Zaya means "little bunny" in Russian. At least, that is what Google told me.

And here we go...

The hallways of the Academy echoed with your footsteps as you made your way to Viktor and Jayce's lab. Well, more Viktor's than Joyce's now that he was more involved in the political side of progress.

Viktor tried to act like the absence of his friend and fellow Hex tech founder didn't bother him, but you knew that deep down it did. You could see it in the way he was returning to old habits of believing he had to do everything on his own.

Even though he did not, and was not on his own. Especially with his declining health. It is not the best idea to leave him alone for hours on end.

You all understood that it was better if they had a say in the decisions regarding Hex tech's future. In order to ensure that it is safe from ending up in the wrong hands. Hands that would use it to destroy lives instead of improving them.

Nonetheless, it left much of the work for Viktor to go through alone, but he never complained. Your beloved is a man racing against time and fate.

Trying to complete and discover as much as his delicate body allows him to. Powering through all of the equations and push backs that came his way.

However, he could only do so much running on maybe four hours of sleep and the academy's cafeteria food. Which is why you were here, at his lab's door, fully expecting to see him hunched over his current project. Fully focused. Tuning out all of the world in order to improve it.

Knowing this, you don't even bother knocking on the large ancient doors; entering the lab filled with papers and project pieces scattered in a sort of organized chaos throughout the room. And in the back of said chaos is Viktor, sitting at his desk exactly as you imagined.

As you walk towards him, you decide to stand beside him and attempt to make your presence known without giving him a heart attack.

Like you had nearly done that one time.

You swear that man nearly jumped six feet from his chair when you placed a kiss on his cheek. Thinking that he had heard you come in.

No response...

With a gentle sigh, you lean down towards him and call his name in a sing-song voice. Hoping to bring him back to your plane of existence.

You reach out slowly, twinkling your fingers in front of him. He takes notice, chuckling as your fingers gently tap on the side of his face - then his nose.

"Hello love," He says, looking up to you with those golden orbs that make your knees weak. He sets down his work and kisses your hand.

"Hi, care for a break?" You ask, showing him the container of home cooked food you had brought him. He turns his chair to face you completely. His focus filled expression turned into delight.

"Hmmm, I suppose I could indulge." He answers, raising a mischievous eyebrow reaching out to take the food.

You move the container slightly out of his reach. Eyes trained on his expression of confusion that turns into acceptance of your challenge.

"Oh, that's how it is?" He asks, amusement apparent in his voice and expression.

"How what is?" You reply nonchalantly as possible, trying to keep a smile from spreading across your face.

The amusement filled amber eyes became daring as a beat of energy filled silence passed between you both. You were not protected from what came next.

Slender hands find their way to your waist and tickle you with no mercy. You squeal and try to move away, but you are held in place.

"Nah ah ah! Zaya, you are not getting away from me that easily!" He states as he attacks you with another wave of tickles.

"I surrender…I surrender!" You gasp, breathless from your laughter.

He hums satisfied with his victory and pulls you close, looking up into your eyes from his seated position.

Your cheeks are flushed from his little attack, and your eyes are bright from your laughter. The moment eases his mind and body. He wishes the two of you could stay here, like this, forever.

His life is not easy. At times, the pain is too much for his body, and he wants nothing more than for it to stop. To find peace and freedom from his all too delicate state.

But then who will finish all the work?

Understand all of his notes and research?

Progress doesn't happen on its own, and Jayce has his hands full with his new role.

Then there was you…

He never expected anyone to have a romantic interest in him, much less knowing that his time may no- would be limited. That in the end, you would be left all alone...

That is what troubled him the most.

You told him you would cross that bridge when you get there. That you understood what it meant to love him; and he was loved nonetheless.

It wasn't always easy, but that is what it means to love someone. It is standing beside them when times are at their worst. When they are at their worst.

Being there to help them back on their feet and facing the challenge together. He also knew how fortunate he was to have what so many others only dreamed about.

You place a hand on his cheek and brush the wild tousled hair out of his face with the other. Bringing him back from his thoughts, grounding him to the present.

"Hey, come back to me." Your voice is as soft as your expression. Eyes gazing lovingly into his own, which were equally enamored.

He gently tugs your arms, signaling for you to come closer.

"I am here."

His eyes never leave yours as he brings you in for a passionate kiss. He doesn't know what the future holds, but he knows you both will cross that bridge when you get there.

[pursuedbyamemoryy]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ christmas lights🎄

about : prompt from this post!!! charlie taking you out to see christmas lights <33

author’s note : loooong overdue charlie fic!! forgive me dps enjoyers, i know it’s been so long 😭😭 i have a couple christmasy/winter drabble ideas in mind though, so stay tuned ;)!!

you were caught off guard as your phone started buzzing on your nightstand. you weren’t expecting to hear from anyone tonight, but picked up your phone nonetheless. and once you saw that the call was from your boyfriend you smiled, and answered immediately.

“hello?” you said, closing your trigonometry book that you were studying from as you turned your attention to charlie.

“hi pretty.” you could hear the smile in his voice. “you doing anything tonight?”

“just studying. why?”

“studying? on a friday night?” he tsked. “get your coat and put on your shoes, i’ll be at your house in a few minutes.”

“what?” you asked, clearly confused.

“just trust me. it’ll be fun.” he said before hanging up. so much for an explanation.

you put your shoes on and then grabbed your coat and your keys. as mysterious as charlie was being, you trusted him. you called out to your parents to let them know you were going out for a bit, just as you heard a honk come from outside.

you made your way outside and into charlie’s car, it was a beautiful one that his parents got him for his 17th birthday. it was cold out, the middle of december was never known for its good weather. a thin layer of snow covered the ground, left over from last week’s small storm. you got into the car and turned to charlie, he was holding out a warm drink and had his signature smile on his face as you sat down and buckled up.

“what’s this?” you asked, taking the drink anyways. he leaned in for a kiss, it was simple and sweet and you could taste chocolate on his lips.

“hot chocolate” he said after you both pulled away. he turned the key in the ignition and started slowly down the street. he still have no clue as to where he was taking you or what you guys were going to do. “thought it was quite fitting, considering what i have planned” his smile never left his lips.

you took small sips of the hot chocolate that charlie had brought you, and it was warm and smooth against your lips. christmas songs played softly on the radio, and charlie gently grabbed your hand from across the center console and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “we’re almost there” he said after a few minutes, glancing over at you with a smile before turning his attention back to the road.

he turned a corner and drove for another minute before you started to see colorful lights in the near distance. soon they came into view, houses, an entire neighborhood at that, was fully decorated for christmas. colorful and white lights hung up on houses and trees, inflatable characters from beloved holiday movies swaying gently in the brisk winter wind.

“wow” you said, letting out a breath as you stared in awe. “it’s so pretty, look at the reindeer!” you said as you pointed to one of the displays in one of the house’s lawns.

“you like them?” he asked, driving much slower to give you a chance to see all the lights.

“it beats studying, that’s for sure” you let out a small laugh before turning to him with a smile.

charlie pulls into an empty space next to the side walk, and puts the car in park. “wanna walk around? we can see the lights better. plus i can kiss you easier” he smirked. “don’t have to worry about crashing into the pretty lights that way, you know, you’re soooo much more interesting than some silly decorations” he teased.

you knew you didn’t have much of a choice, not that you minded. you stepped out of the car and met with charlie on the sidewalk. he was finally able to get a good look at you, and he planted his hands firmly on your waist. he pulled you in for a kiss, one that was much more passionate than the previous one in the car. you smiled against his lips, his breath warm against your face.

“you got your kiss, let’s look at the lights now” you mumbled against his lips, not being able to fully pull away from him. you went in for a couple more quick kisses before finally pulling away.

“fine” he smiled, pulling you close to his side and slipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans as you slowly made your way down the sidewalk. you pointed out decorations you liked as you walked, not that charlie was paying any attention. his focus was on you, and he was very intent on pressing kisses all across your face. you were much prettier to him than christmas lights, but you were happy and so was he.