#I’m been getting so little sleep lately so this is like divine inspiration or just gibberish | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

everythingthemoontouches · 3 years

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💙Hi there! , First of all i want to tell you that i love your blog! And i love how your posts are so accurate!💙 If its okay with you could you please do me a favor by describing how others see me,my appearance or more specifically the vibe I radiate to others! It would mean alot to me if you you do that💙I'm a cancer sun,leo rising,Lilith sextile asc, Pluto trine asc, Uranus opposition asc, Moon opposition asc, mars sextile venus, mars opposition neptune, asteroid lilith conjunct mc and jupiter in the 1st house!💙

Hola!

Thank you that's really kind of you 💛💕

You know that quote that says Cinderella never asked for a prince. All she wanted was a night out and a dress. You kind of exude a similar vibe but with respect to leadership positions. 'I never asked to be Queen/King, but the people have spoken' kind of an energy. You would be equally happy to be by yourself, learning about the subconscious mind, higher realms and other esoteric science.

For more on Jupiter in LEO I'd recommend watching Astrofinesse.

For jupiter in the first there's KRS.

🌻As a Leo rising you come across as someone outgoing, with a playful energy but you're also somehow someone people would expect to see in a position of authority. You're drawn to people who stimulate you intellectually and love to exchange ideas.

😬If you have an Aquarius saturn you could be having some challenges in your relationships since December 2020 as saturn transits your 7th house. I'd suggest practicing discernment in this area as well as signing contracts with people until it passes( early 2023) ..

😇12th house sun could take on other people's energy. I feel like you need some time away, by yourself, preferably at the beach / pool/ shower to declutter, clear your head and replenish your sense of Self. You could be highly intuitive. If this resonates, I'd urge you to look up empath drain and how to protect yourself from energy vampires.

Ruler of the ascendant in the 12th :

spirituality could be a huge part of your life. For some people this could show a father (figure) who was convicted or worked in a prison / asylum. They could also have a really remote job. Since the sun is also your own personal identity, you could profit off these themes. Working in a mental health facility, overseas, in esoteric crafts.

🌛With your moon in the 7th house, you probably attract a lot of older women, (queen of swords) nurturing energies . Your mom could have a major influence on any business partnerships that you enter.

In relationships you could have a here today gone tomorrow kind of a presence. This is because as the moon waxes and wanes so does your attraction / attachment to specific people?

♒Aquarius moon : it could be really hard for you to express your feelings. So Instead of asking for a hug there could be a tendency to say something like ' ew imagine asking for one?' you leave a place better than you found it. If you watch hindi movies, 3 Idiots could be a movie you really resonate with. ( I pretty much spent the day looking up the lead actor, who has major aquarius placements and his films have always been disruptive with a really nice social message that left people talking for years after they were released. I tell you this because he shares 2 of your big 3 - aquarius and cancer.)

Going off on this tangent you could be a well respected teacher / writer / entertainer. Jupiter in LEO could help with this.

I do feel like you need a certain amount of inventiveness in your relationships. The people you're with are people who introduce you to new hobbies / ideas / technologies. You need to feel like you guys learn something new or create something that matters together. This is enhanced by uranus in the 7th house. You could come across really cold because you always give people the naked honest truth when asked. You do this from a place of love. I'm reminded of the Queen of Swords card in the rider Waite tarot. Not everyone has the maturity to take it. Or maybe they've just had a bad day. It is what it is. Perhaps try to not be so incisive if this is something you struggle with.

In the same vein, if I asked you to write down how you were feeling how long would it take for you to identify the right emotion. How honest are you with yourself?

Moon and Uranus being in the same house could show that stagnation could really hurt your mental health / happiness / satisfaction levels.

With a saturn ruled moon I feel like I need to remind you to not be so hard on yourself. Like. The world won't crumble to dust if you allow yourself to take care of you once in a while.there's only so much you can do.

All those coffee mugs will catch up. There's no such thing as extra hours in the day. A lack of sleep manifests as early signs of aging. No hate for the elderly but arthritis is not a fun ailment to have. Do you wanna be 60 with 80 year old nervous system problems? I rest my case.

Uranus and moon aspect your ascendant so you could have a slightly plump look?

Jupiter in the first house people usually have prominent thighs. I had a friend with this placement and when we were growing up she used to complain of chafed thighs a lot?

Mars sextile venus you could be your own type? The way you act and the way you want your future partners to express love could be quite similar which is good for healthy relationships.

There could be a tendency to spend impulsively.

With Mars sextiling venus you could be someone who earns more the more active their lifestyle is? Like, you may need to be an agile learner to keep money flowing in .

Jupiter in LEO in a woman's chart usually shows they'd have a financially well off spouse so money may not be a huge concern. He could be a sailor or earn via exports/ navy. It's hard to say without knowing where your Saturn is.

The image you project to the world could be a lot more outgoing than how you actually feel. You're more private than people think.

With a fire rising, water sun and air moon you could either be a really balanced person or just have a number of clashing ideas on who to be, what to do and achieve.

Descendant : The people that hate on you could attack your need to stand out /try to dim your time in the spotlight. Think aquarius themes of standing out to improve community clashing with Leo's need to stand out solely because it helps their ego. Like your confidence could trigger the part if them that felt judged negatively for expressing their individuality.

Do you feel like you thrive in chaos? I'm guessing you're atleast in your late 20s if not older, so you might have gotten better at dealing with people acting unexpectedly. Your mom could have been unpredictable. Really intelligent, but forgets to eat ..

🥤🦀As a cancer sun, you could be the friend your friends come to for advice. There could be a tendency to be a little too selfless. I think your aqua moon really serves as a shield to those who try to take advantage of your caring nature. Have you considered a career in psychic medium ship? Or any spiritual art/ past life regression / you get the drift..

Is there a family craft or hobby that you could monetize? Jupiter in LEO could signify ancestral gains.

Lilith and Pluto aspects to ascendant can make you come across really sexy / a bit unapproachable because people feel like you have some kind of power that places you above them?

Due to this, people with Pluto / Lilith aspects can feel some kind of hurt around people clearing up the path around them if that makes sense.

Jupiter opposite moon : there could be a clash between you want to do VS what you feel you should be doing.

Jupiter in the first house : you could have been born rich? Or people just perceive you that way. They also see you as someone wordly wise and lucky in general. You could know a lot about a wide variety of things. Specially on topics related to appearance, personal development, image consciousness etc. Since the ruler of the first is in the 12th I feel like some of your wisdom comes from a divine source. Like you're tapping into some kind of a collective reservoir of knowledge. In starseed terminology we would refer to this as downloads.

Jupiter rules the 8th house and 5th house.

So love, romance, games, early education may have been a bit of a breeze for you.

Jupiter is usually a bit of a celibate spiritual person. So, while it may make you really wise with respect to things like the occult / tarot / other 8th house themes, I'm not sure how it would impact your sex life with a spouse. Sex could be either a deeply spiritual experience for you or take on more neptunian traits. Addiction / alcoholism / drug use the works. Jupiter expands the themes of the house it rules so a word of caution there.

Travelling could bring you luck. Or even love.

Did I hear Mars opposite Neptune?

This could be a literal battlefield. You could feel like you need to work for love.if Neptune is unconditional love and Mars is your drive, then you could literally match to get to taht elusive unconditional sense of belonging /love / acceptance. But what are you marching towards really? A mirage? With this aspect I'd really be on the guard against addiction of any kind. Neptune is enticing, alluring, mocking Mars for its need to conquer. It could lend a really nice swagger to your walk. A runway model could benefit from thus placement. At uts best this aspect imbues you with creativity, inspiration, otherworldly imagination and the energy required to turn your abstract ideas of art into something tangible.

Here's a source for more on this placement. Sometimes I find that the comments really help me make sense of my own placements

Toodles

Before I sign off, I just have to say this :please try to restrict asks to 2-3 placements. You can send in multiple asks if you'd like, but answering them all in one ask can get a bit cluttered and I'd hate to miss out on something 😊

Hope this helped 💕as always, I'd really appreciate your feedback on this take on how these placements affect you.

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bktaro · 3 years

Text

seven-three (part 1)

pairing: nanami x f!reader

themes/rating: explicit, 18+, clubs, bars, masquerade parties

tw: (eventual) rough sex, drinking, sex clubs (will be updated when part 2 is released)

wc: 2.5k

ao3 | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Nanami Kento had a hardened shell surrounding his personal life. Clocking out at five ‘o’clock on the dot every day, he left little to no room for others to get to know him better— leaving him as an unsolvable mystery amongst the office.

Likewise, you too aimed to clock out at five ‘o’ clock. You preferred routine during the workday, finding comfort in maintaining equilibrium and peace and wanting to do nothing more or nothing less than what was required of you.

Little did you know the two of you shared an interesting weekend hobby.

Your daily routine generally consisted of four simple tasks: waking up, working, eating/drinking and sleeping.

Truthfully, you didn’t mind what others might argue as the mundaneness of life under your routine. You preferred it, simply finding life under a routine like yours leading too little to no troubles. There would be no surprises and no shocks under this routine— you would simply just do what was expected of you, collect a paycheck, and go home, living each workday in a balanced equilibrium of serenity and peace.

However, of course there were inevitable bumps in the path you wanted to be nothing but flat and straightforward. Every once in a while there would be something that came up, disrupting the equilibrium and wreaking havoc into your preferred routine way of life.

Lately, the disruption had a name— Nanami Kento.

—

It wasn’t as if Nanami forced and wedged himself to disrupt your routine. Instead, it was almost as if some higher divine figure was controlling and planning it all, fate landing him like a roadblock in your path.

You wouldn’t classify Nanami as a complete stranger in your life. Yet you wouldn’t say you had any sort of relationship with him other than being work colleagues. You more or less merely just knew of him— the dubbed ‘enigma’ of your office.

Your knowledge of Nanami was limited to the understanding he was a rather timid, quiet and reserved man. Despite his popularity in the office for his handsome looks accompanied by his cool and calm demeanour, he kept to himself for the most part, choosing to opt out of things like office politics, gossip and drama, never attending optional after work events such as dinners or drinks.

In a way, he reminded you much of yourself. Work was strictly just a place to remain polished and professional, not to be mixed with pleasure or fun.

For you, pleasure and fun existed every Saturday night, in an underground yet upscale club tucked away in the heart of the city. Shedding your usual sleek and polished weekday appearance, for an evening every week you indulged yourself in what others may argue to be activities ridden with sin.

On the exterior, the club seemed to be no different than any other nightclub. Bars, booths, dance floors were all present— it was what was behind a certain doorway that made this space different from others.

To promote anonymity, the club required its patrons to wear masquerade masks throughout the entire time in the vicinity, and all attendees had to refer to one another through their aliases, forbidding the exchange of any detailed personal information. The club was exclusive through invitation only and had just one main purpose: engaging in whatever kind of sex you wanted with any other consenting partner(s) for the night— no strings attached, and parting ways before sunrise.

For as long as you began your weekend hobby, you have never encountered the situation you were currently in. The situation should have been considered one of the worst possible outcomes given the scenario— yet a part of you felt enticed, a rush of adrenaline washing over you signified through the increased beating of your heart pounding in your chest.

After all, what could be more dreadful yet alluring than seeing the sexiest man in your office at your weekly sex club?

It wasn’t Nanami’s fault at all you instantly recognized him. His mask, half black and half white parting down the middle concealed his face well enough, leaving openings at only the areas of his mouth and eyes. If you hadn’t studied those features eight hours a day for forty hours a week at the office, you probably wouldn’t have been able to connect the dots that those features belonged to one of your many colleagues.

But you knew it was him. There was no doubt in your mind it wasn’t. He was incredibly easy on the eyes in the office, your eyes darting towards his desk almost by instinct whenever you had the chance. You wouldn’t necessarily say you suppressed any harbouring feelings of romance for him or anything like that, it was more that you would let your mind wonder, wondering how his plush lips would feel, how his clearly toned body looked under his clothes, and even how he tasted.

Yet now that the opportunity to find an answer to all your questions was so close you could quite literally almost taste him, you stood frozen. All you could do was lean against the bar and watch his figure head over to the free bartender beside you momentarily, before shifting gazes and eyeing the familiar man that had accompanied him approach you.

“There she is— the sexiest girl in the whole world.”

Tall, toned, and ridiculously confident yet sexy, a familiar figure waves your way. He had let his name slip to you before in a drunken request to call him ‘Gojo Sensei’ in a previous rendezvous, but you still opted to call him by his alias in the club most other times, Sensei.

He was most notably known to wear a black blindfold wrapped around the upper part of his entire face instead of a mask. A peculiar and uncommon choice to the view of most, yet to the surprise of all not hindering his abilities in the slightest, mentioning previously his senses to his surroundings were extremely sharp and developed as a result of whatever his line of work was. And one night with him was more than enough for you to believe it— Gojo was more than skilled with pleasuring your body despite not even having a clear view of it in front of him.

“You always know how to flatter me, don’t you Sensei?” Your voice comes out more confident than you expect, and you think it’s the aid of the alcohol courage creeping in, or the smooth and soothing voice belonging to Gojo that indirectly pets down your nerves.

He places a hand just on the side of your hip, gently moving past you to call the attention of the bartender with his other free hand. The bartender simply nods his head in acknowledgement, no further explanation required for the regular drink Gojo ordered every weekend. His drink of choice is not a difficult request, merely a glass of ice topped with a swig of patron and is in his hands in no time, focusing his attention back on you.

“You’re a hard one not to flatter. It just comes so easily for my favourite baby girl that always treats me so well.”

“Favourite baby girl, hm?” You raise an eyebrow under your mask, the corner of your lips curving into a small grin. “You don’t have to beat around the bush, Sensei. Just ask and we’ll waste no more time— you know you’re a hard one to say no to for me.”

He lets out a deep chuckle, the whites of his teeth peeking momentarily as a result. The touch of his hand on your hip turns into the gentle tracing of fingertips up the side of your body, sending a small tingle down your spine.

“Such tempting words… and body.” His gaze follows his fingers, tracing the curves of your body with his eyes momentarily before he shuts them close, pulling his hands away and taking a deep breath of composure to shake his imagination off. “But I’m here to ask you, Fairy, for a particular wish tonight instead.”

“A wish?”

You’re intrigued. He’s definitely asked favours or wishes as the fellow club goers would call it when it came to you, going under the name ‘Fairy’ inspired by the pastel-colored wing shaped mask you wore. Yet, they were usually sexual wishes behind closed doors— this was the first time he was requesting something fully clothed.

And you suspect it has something to do with the blond man, joining your party once more with a drink now in hand.

“As you know, I’m quite the selfless man.” He begins, propping his elbow up on the blond man's shoulder. “Tonight, I’m helping a good friend instead. Fairy, this is Seven-Three, and Seven-Three, this is Fairy.”

You hesitate for a split second, questioning your next course of action. You had definitely taken notice of so called Seven-Three’s true identity in no time at all— but has he noticed yours? You feel an instant rush of sudden internal panic at the thought of being exposed, your scandalous weekend hobby tainting and bleeding into your normal, daily life.

However, the panic vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared, Nanami extending his hand out towards you with a tiny smile curved upon his lips.

“Pleasure is mine to finally meet you, Fairy. Sensei had so much to say about you.”

Mimicking his movement, you grab onto his hand with yours, expecting him to shake your hand with his. Instead, he shifts his hands to grip the tips of your fingers, bringing them towards his lips and leaving a soft kiss against your knuckles.

Your eyes widen, briefly frozen in shock at the scene in front of you. By no means was the action itself shocking enough to throw you off guard, it was who was doing the action. You would have never suspected in a lifetime you would see the same Nanami Kento, normally slumped back on his chair with the same nonchalant expression on his face to be behaving the way he was in front of you— confident, flirty and sexy.

But you had no complaints. You were loving this version of him, something riling and bubbling up inside of you the more you got to know of this Nanami.

“Good things, I hope.” You shoot him a small wink when his eyes flicker upwards to meet yours.

“Baby girl, when it comes to you I only have good things to say.” Gojo cuts in, causing Nanami to release your hand and stand back upright. “It’s partially why I’m here to request something specifically from you.”

“And what would that be?”

“You see, my dear friend here has been just so stressed out lately. And as the selfless friend I am, I couldn’t just bear to see my friend suffer like this.”

He brings a finger up to his chin, tapping against it physically expressing his train of thought.

“So, I thought about it long and hard— how could I help my dearest friend out to alleviate some of his troubles? Then boom… the best idea came to me.”

He snaps his fingers in the air, before turning his finger towards you.

“You, sweetheart. The perfect stress relief.”

You can’t help but let out a scoff, forcing yourself to hold back your laughter at his exaggerated explanation.

“Me, huh?”

“Precisely.”

“And this relates to this wish of yours?” You take a sip of the drink in your hand, the flavour sweet yet potent in the taste of alcohol. “What, you boys want to have a threesome or something tonight?”

Gojo lets out a whistle at the thought, and both men feel the constriction in their pants tighten just the slightest at your suggestive words. Gojo makes a mental note to take up your offer next time; he would be a crazy man to let such an opportunity slip through his fingers.

“That’s definitely now one of my life wishes. Rain check on that.” Gojo gives you his notorious cheeky grin, before turning his back towards you and resting his hands on top of Nanami’s shoulder. “I got to get going, but I’ll let this guy explain the rest.”

Gojo leaves the two of you, giving you one last single wave before disappearing into the crowd.

“Aright.” You cross your arms around your chest, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Now enlighten me, will you?”

“Let me ask you a question first.” Nanami gives you a small, impish grin. “What do you think my nickname means?”

His nickname? Truthfully when you heard the words Seven-Three, there was one instant thought that popped up into your head. A certain measurement for a certain body part that would be highly relevant in the current circumstances.

“...your dick size? Seven inches tall and three inches in girth?”

Nanami chuckles, his voice deep and rich ringing throughout your ears despite the loud music of the club behind you. He leans his body forward, trapping your body in between his two arms and your back leaning against the bar.

“Sensei was right, you’re so cute. If that was the reason behind my nickname, then my nickname would be Eleven-Six instead.”

Eleven? Eleven. You gulp, your mouth watering and licking your lips subconsciously at the thought.

“Let me explain for you then, cutie.” Nanami leans closer to your face, a hand sliding down the side of your body until it rests just on the bone at your hip. “It’s simple, really. I do want to ease my stress, but I also have a record that Sensei says you’re the perfect person to help me beat it.”

“You think I am?”

“Well, I won’t of course make you do anything you don’t want to do.” His finger finds its way under your chin, tilting your head upwards to look him directly in the eye. “But if you’re up for it, I think you’d be a great fit in making my wish come true to beat my record.”

“I’ll be the judge of that— let’s hear it.”

He tilts your chin to the side, gaining access to whisper into your ear instead. You shiver at the sensation, both in excitement and nervousness for what he’s about to say next.

“The seven in my name is for the record of how many times I’ve made a woman cum in one night. The three is for the three holes I’ll fill up with cum.”

There’s a lingering silence in the air, now thick between the two of you when he pulls back, staring back at your face to see any sort of expression in reaction to his words. It’s difficult to see with the mask on your face, and for a moment he wonders if perhaps he’s gone too far.

But those worries fly out the window nearly instantly. Nanami breaks into a grin when he sees the corner of your lips perk upward into a toothy, mischievous smirk.

You respected him immensely for still being considerate of your boundaries and asking for your consent, but you also thought it was silly for him to even think there would be a possibility of hesitation when it came to a request coming from someone like him. You truthfully weren’t sure what to expect, but you were quite open to a lot of different things when it came to sex. Frankly, the nastier, rougher, lewder the sex was— you thought the better. And his request to essentially make you cum at least eight times and fill you up was just right up your ally.

But really, what other answer did he expect coming from you whose weekend hobby was a sex club anyway?

“Congratulations, Seven-Three.” Your fingers grasp the hem of his shirt, scrunching the fabric and bringing his body closer to yours. “You’ve met your greatest match, and I’ll do my best to grant you this wish.”

#nanami #nanami jjk #nanami fanfic #nanami x you #nanami reader #jjk x reader #nanami kento #nanami smut #nanami x y/n

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writingthingsisdifficult · 3 years

Text

Double booking

Word count: 3934

You just want a night in peace at the hotel, after travelling for hours, but alas, it's not to be. Inspired by a dream I had a while ago, though that was not as coherent or logical by any means.

Obligatory English is not my first language.

Please let me know what you think.

_______________________________________________________________________

The bed is soft as a cloud and you crawl under the blanket with a satisfied sight. The chill of the luxury fabric feels divine against your weary body, and you pull our tee off to get the full experience. Goosebumps erupt over your back, and you wiggle down into the mattress. Letting out another sigh that morphs into a yawn, you close your eyes. After hours on the road, a good night's sleep will do wonders.

You turn for a bit, trying to find the ultimate sleeping position, settling for a half side, half stomach that provide that sweet, sweet relief for your achy back. With your free hand, you pull a corner of the blanket between your thighs, longing for the extra soft pillow you have at home, but that you just couldn't be bothered to bring with you. At least this way you won't chafe.

The linen caresses your bare skin, the cool of the newly made bed pulling you closer to dreamland, and then you're drifting off into the vast nothingness.

What feels like only seconds later, you wake with a start, from the lights turning on. Fumbling for your glasses and feeling your heart in your throat, your brain scrambles to make sense of what's happening. Is the fire alarm ringing? No.

Once the glasses are comfortably on, you glance around, only to notice a man standing in front of the wardrobe, mouth half open and a bag slipping from his shoulder. He's tall and menacing looking, and he's wearing gloves and a leather jacket, and you let out a strangled scream as you tumble off the bed, knocking the book from the nightstand and trying to wrap the thin blanket around yourself with trembling hands.

The fabric feels way too flimsy now, letting the draft from the open door wash over your body. There are goosebumps again, but this time they're not pleasant at all, and they wave back and forth over your scalp, making your ears buzz. You're painfully aware that the blanket is the only thing between your skin and the open air, and you pull it even closer as you back into the window wall and pull your knees up in front of you.

Your heart pounds like a bass drum, and you're pretty sure the stranger can hear it across the room. He still hasn't moved, and without conscious thought, you scan the room for an exit. But this is the fifth floor, and there's only one door that doesn't require you to go past him, and that leads to the neighbouring room. Not that it is, in any way, shape, or form, possible to get that far in your current condition.

Your breathing speeds up, and you crouch, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The coarse curtain prickles against your shoulders.

The stranger looks between you and the white key card on his hand, his mouth trying to speak, but managing no sound. Finally, after what feels like years, he looks away and stammers. "Sorry. Sorry. I must have gone to the wrong door." His neck has turned a deep shade of crimson, and he hunches his shoulders a bit, like he's trying to make himself smaller too. "I… uh, sorry." He picks up his bag and disappears through the door, closing it firmly behind him.

On the floor, you're barely aware that he spoke; the shock has practically paralysed you. It's not until the door smacks shut you manage to move again. Slowly, fighting the galloping heart and breathing, you get up and sit down on the edge of the bed. It's no longer tempting to crawl under the covers, and you don't have the courage to cross the room to put the security chain in place just yet. The encounter has spooked you so much, adrenaline is coursing through your body.

"I need a drink!" you mutter, voice croaking and airy at the same time, and pull on the discarded shirt. There's no chance of sleep for a while. That much is clear! "Idiot!" You berate yourself, mentally slapping the back of your own head for forgetting to fasten the chain, but you had been so busy worrying about the twin door that it completely slipped your mind.

The selection in the mini fridge is limited, but at least there's a couple of bottles of cola, and a small vodka. After mixing them, you down half the glass in one go, and the burn of the alcohol on your tongue makes your face scrunch, but you immediately relax a bit, and your thoughts clear somewhat. What the hell just happened? This is supposed to be a good hotel. Not very fancy, but better than the bug infested dumps you usually have to stay in.

You make a mental note to talk to the management. Tomorrow. Right now you're to riled up. Nothing good will come of it. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and focus on the buzzing in your ears. Slowly it fades until your hearing is back to normal, but there is no getting rid of the uncomfortable sting in your shoulders, or the occasional THUMP-THUMP in your chest.

As you finish your drink – you've almost decided on a second one to keep you company while you read for a bit – there's a sharp knock at the door. That makes you jump and spill the remains of your glass down your front. That doesn't register, though, because the door opens again, without waiting for a reply. You groan at yourself for once again not fastening the safety chain.

A stern looking woman enter, followed by the stranger, who, you notice, looks almost ashamed. "You're in this gentleman's room." It's a statement, but she might as well have yelled why are you here, you creep?

"Um, what?" You desperately try to jump-start your brain; this is definitely enough excitement for one night. After all, it is past midnight, and by all means you should be sleeping now.

"This is not your room," the woman says, in a voice that shows clearly what she thinks of you.

A frown appears on the man's face, and you squint between them. "What, yes it is." Your voice is breathy, and with a sigh through your nose, you grab the folder on the desk and pull out the papers from the check-in. "See, here? This is my name, that's the room number –" Suddenly your stomach plummets. What if you are in the wrong room? But the key card worked… A glance at the still open door – no, right room. You let out a small breath.

The woman grabs the papers and studies them, while holding out her hand to the man, wiggling her fingers when he doesn't respond. He fumbles with his bag and produces a set of identical papers. She compares the two, the furrow between her eyes deepening every second.

Finally she looks up. "My apologies. It appears there's been a misunderstanding," she says, her voice a lot softer than earlier, tired. She turns to the man behind her. "The room has been double booked or something."

That much is obvious. He nods. "Yes. Will you find me another room, please." He speaks softly too, and the panic that threatened to overcome you earlier subsides a little. He is just another weary traveller – of course he isn't here to hurt you. That thought seems quite silly now, or maybe that's the drink talking.

"Sorry," the lady says flatly. "There are no vacancies." She winces slightly, as if she prepares to be yelled at.

His shoulders slump, and he lets out a small groan, looking at you, then at her. "But…"

You smile apologetically and take another sip of your drink. It is empty, and you grimace from the embarrassment.

"However," the woman says after a pause, visibly relieved that neither of you seems to be the shouting types, "since it's so late, and you probably won't find a room anywhere else tonight, what with the festival and everything, I can probably set up something in the lobby. We have a few partition walls and –"

He scrunches his eyes shut and grimaces, and you feel sorry for him. He is a stranger, and you were in the room first, but it's not his fault that the hotel screwed up. Sleeping in the lobby is not an alternative. Your mother raised you better than that.

"Wait," you interrupt her, and they both turn to look at you. This is probably a bad idea, but the man looks nice enough now that the shock has diminished. His eyes are kind and tired and though he holds himself with authority, he keeps a respectable distance from both you and the other woman.

Gesturing to the unused bed next to yours, you try a smile and sigh when you feel it's just a grimace. "If… if it's okay with you, it is with me. You can have that bed tonight. And then we'll sort it out in the morning."

The woman's face relaxes, and you wonder how many rules she offered to break to keep you happy. The man frowns, as if he doesn't quite understand what you're offering. Maybe he doesn't, maybe he doesn't speak English very well. Then he gives you a flat smile. "You sure?"

Are you? "Yes," you answer, not at all sure, but it's too late to change your mind now.

"Well then, I bid you both a good night, and I'll leave a note for the morning staff, Mr Barnes." The woman leaves the room and shuts the door with a soft click.

"Y/N." You nod, hoping you look relatively normal, though you feel everything but, with your glasses askew on your nose, a tattered t-shirt and no bottoms. Awesome. At least the shirt is long enough to cover your butt.

The man remains by the door, looking forlorn and confused. "Bucky." He looks everywhere but directly at you, and for that you're grateful.

"Please," you say with a small nod, gesturing to the bed and the light switch on the wall beside him. "I'm really tired…"

Carefully you get back into bed and tucks the blanket tight around yourself, feeling a bit dizzy from what just happened. But you are really too tired to care at the moment, and the soft pillows are screaming your name.

Turning over on your side, with your back against the windows, you pointedly yawn and close your eyes to give the stranger some privacy. Seconds later you hear the soft thump of a duffel bag hitting the carpet, and a small click. Then the bathroom door opens and the man shuffles in.

As the door shuts, you dare to open your eyes again. He's switched off the light, but there's a small sliver leaking under the door, and you see shadows move over the floor. There is something soothing about the noises of running water and the clacks of his belongings on the marble countertop, and it suddenly occurs to you how much you miss travelling withsomeone.

Once he's done and the bathroom door opens, you close your eyes again. The bed creaks under his weight, and the sheets rustle as he gets in. Something heavy hits the headboard, but not long after, he settles.

You sneak a peek through half-open eyes. The man is handsome. Sharp, but gentle features, a calm face, but he's lying on his back, stiff as if he's unused to the luxuries of a bed. His arms are on top of the blanket, and in your sleepiness you wonder why he's keeping his gloves on when he's sleeping.

"Good night," you offer gently, before sighing and pulling the blanket over your ears. The warmth and muted sounds give you a sense of safety, though it is minimal.

"Good night," he replies. "And thank you."

You wake up earlier than usual. The red numbers on the alarm clock blinks 06.38. Something feels off in the room, and for a fraction on a second you feel panic rise in your chest, but then you remember the night's events. The panic fades into a vague discomfort, and you grab your glasses. The man, his name is Bucky, hadn't he said so, is still sleeping, his gloved hand under the pillow and one foot dangling over the edge of the bed. It's kinda adorable.

As quietly as you can, you get out of bed and tip-toe to the bathroom, collecting your clothes on the way. You quickly change and put on contacts, leaving the glasses by the sink, not really daring to take a shower with the stranger in the room next to you. Instead, you splash water in your face and drag a brush through your hair, and with a short glance in the mirror, you deem yourself presentable.

Careful to bring your wallet and your key card, you exit the room and walk briskly to the elevator. The trip down to the lobby only take half a minute, but it feels like an eternity, and once you step out of the door, you're met with a buzz of voices from the lobby. Oh, yeah, the festival.

Luckily there's not much of a queue. Most people are on their way out, or to breakfast. The staff are too happy and smiling for it to be this early, and they're chatting and laughing with the guests, pointing their way to the restaurant or showing places of interest on the map on the counter.

"Good morning, what can I do for you?" one of the receptionists chirp.

You wince internally and focus on bringing a neutral expression to your face. It's not easy, as you'd rather be back in bed. "Yes, uh, I don't know if the night employee let you know, but there was a mix-up with my room last night."

The receptionist frowns, then smiles apologetically. "Ah, yes. There's a note here. Room 508, right?"

You nod. "Yeah."

He calls over his colleague, and motions for you to wait a moment. They talk silently together, sometimes gesturing to the screen, and then he starts typing and scrolling. "Looks like," he says, interrupting himself. "Yeah. Oh god. Lisa, will you look at this?"

His colleague looks at the screen over his shoulder. "Oh, jeez. Really? She's so gonna get fired, for sure," she mutters, then look up at you. "Yeah, so there's definitely been a mix-up. It looks like housekeeping accidentally marked Mr. Barnes' room as occupied when they had cleaned it. It shouldn't be possible, but to me it looks like… a glitch in the computer system –" She lets out a guttural groan, most likely thinking about the amount of work she now faces.

The one behind the screen clears his throat and gives you what is probably supposed to be a disarming smile, then continues to type. "So, I've updated the database with Mr. Barnes' new room, and yours of course. Would you accept a refund of the night, and a meal in the restaurant, free of charge, of course?"

You nod again, unable to find the words to express how not okay this whole thing has been. "If you offer the same to Mr. Barnes," you say, not sure where that comes from, though when you think about it, he's probably had just as rough a night as you.

"Of course. Here's his new key. Would you mind bringing it to him?" The receptionist's voice trembles ever so slightly, but he keeps the smile plastered on.

"Yeah. I can do that. Thank you for figuring out what happened." You inhale deeply, and rub the back of your neck. Your shoulders are stiff and the beginning of a headache murmurs along your temples.

Now that everything is resolved, you feel weirdly chunky. You drag your feet, your head feels like it's filled with cotton, but there's a lightness to your chest that you hadn't expected.

Back in the room, Bucky is still sleeping, and you decide to let him sleep as long as he needs, feeling almost protective over the man that sleeps so peacefully in the bed that should have been empty. Anyway, you're up now, there's no need to stay in the room. Just then, your stomach growls. Breakfast, then. And after that… Well, you'll see. You hastily scribble an explanation on a piece of paper, leaving it on his bag along with the new key card, then you hang a do not disturb on the door before you hurry down to the restaurant.

When you get back, stomach full and head light, the room is empty. His bag is gone and the only sign someone's been in there is a bed with rumpled sheets and the slightly unfamiliar, sleepy scent. You sit down on your own bed, surprised that you're not sure how you feel about being alone again. It's probably the shock still lingering in your system, you think, and shake the feeling off before picking up your art supplies and heading out into the city to work.

That afternoon, when you return to your room to change and relax before you start sorting through the day's drawings, there's a vase with hydrangeas on the small desk, along with a handwritten note that says thank you for letting me stay. The ball of blue and purple flowers makes you smile. Bucky obviously is a decent man, and you find yourself wishing you could get to know him, regretting not even peeking at the room number on the key.

It doesn't take long going through the drawings – you've been too distracted, really, to get any good ones done, and the project isn't due for another two weeks, so you don't have the pressure on you to finish it now, so you decide to take the hotel's offer and have dinner in the restaurant. It's a nice place, and you try to tidy up a bit, refreshing your make-up and putting on a clean top that feels nice against your skin.

The waiters all but trip over each other trying to please you, and you figure there's a nice note going with your name. You've always felt a bit uncomfortable eating by yourself in a fancy restaurant, but this time you're determined to just enjoy it, but you've brought a book just in case. And you're partly hidden behind a palm tree, so no staring from other guests, hopefully.

You're halfway through the meal when you feel your face tingling, as if someone's watching you. Stopping mid-chew, you look up. There's no one there. You swallow and put your fork down before glancing over your shoulder. Bucky is seated three tables behind you, but when you look at him, he looks away. Your heart speeds up a bit – christ! You'd forgotten how pretty he was.

He looks up again, and you smile before returning to your meal. At least you can let him know there's no hard feelings. Maybe, if you see him again, you'll pick up the courage to talk to him too.

The food is delicious, and the dessert is simply sublime. How the chef has managed to make the chocolate mousse so creamy and light is beyond your comprehension. Cooking has never been a strength, though you have a few signature dishes, but you know how to appreciate it. The red wine is perfectly paired, and when you're full and satisfied, you're almost ready to go talk to Bucky. But he's not there when you turn. Your heart drops for a moment, but then you remind yourself that he's a stranger, and probably has his own life. All you can do to quench the disappointment, is a short detour through the bar, where you pick up a nice gin fizz, before you head back to your room and call it a night.

The room feels too empty now. The bed is just as soft as it were before, the covers slide over your skin like water, but something is missing. You can't sleep. The room is too silent. The air is too still. You toss and turn and can't seem to find a comfortable position. In the end you roll over on your side, facing the empty bed. Hugging the pillow, you sigh and pull your knees up to your chest. It's too cold. The blanket isn't thick enough to give enough comfort tonight.

Suddenly there's a soft knock on the door. Your heart beats hard in your chest as you cross the floor to look through the peephole. The hallway is empty.

There's another knock, and you jump, bumping your head against the door. It's coming from the other one. The twin door. Slowly, you remove the safety chain and unlock it, opening it just an inch or so.

"Sorry," the person on the other side says.

For a moment you forget how to breathe. The person on the other side is Bucky, smiling sheepishy, and looking like a fucking model in his pyjamas.

"Hello," you answer, resisting the urge to smooth down your t-shirt.

"I just, I just wanted to apologise," he stutters, scrunching his eyebrow together. "For, for last night. I didn't mean to… I mean, I didn't mean to scare you, and the lady in the reception jumped to conclusions before I could explain, and…"

You blink and exhale slowly. "Not your fault," you mutter, too drunk on his presence to articulate properly.

"I know, but still. I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven."

"Good. Okay." His voice drags a bit, and it looks like he's turning away. You're just about to close the door when he turns back. "Listen… Uh, it's… Can I ask you a favour?"

Not ready for the conversation to be over yet, you nod. "Of course. What do you need?"

He grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck and hems and ums for a while. "This is gonna sound… You can say no, of course, but…"

"What is it?" The buzzing has returned to your ears, and you have to focus to hear what he's saying.

Bucky mutters under his breath, it looks like a screw it. "Last night was the best night's sleep I've had in, well years. I was wondering, maybe, if… if I could sleep in your room again."

You're a bit taken back by that. "What?" Your voice is squeaky.

"Yeah, no, of course, I understand." He smiles and inhales deeply. "Good night, Y/N."

It takes a second for your brain to unscramble. "Wait. Yes, I don't mind. It's nice with some company," you wheeze, holding the door open, though a small voice in the back of your head tells you that this is crazy. Not crazier than last night, you interrupt yourself, and open the door fully.

There's uncertainty in his steps as he enters your room, invited this time, unsure if he's heard correctly, but your smile makes him warm inside and he quickly crawls under the covers.

You leave the door ajar, and with a giddy smile and a racing heart you return to your own bed, climbing in with more grace than you thought you possessed. This is nice. The room is settled, it feels natural. You exhale and turn over on your side, facing Bucky. He's facing you too, and there's a sleepy smile in his eyes. As you place your glasses on the nightstand, he closes his eyes.

"Thank you," he breathes.

"Sleep tight, Bucky," you answer, but he's already drifted off, soft snores filling the room. You feel oddly at peace.

Part 2

#bucky barnes x reader #marvel #bucky barnes #fluff #sleeping #misunderstandings #hotels #oneshot #fan fiction #fanfic

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seoracle · 4 years

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DRIVERS LICENSE; i

Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol! Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fake Dating! AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies(?), Occasional Pining, Comedy, S for potential smut(??)

Summary: Y/N has become an overnight sensation with ‘Drivers License’, Breaking records left and right...But what if the press gets wind of the ill-matched lovers and their company decide it’s the perfect attention ploy?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Swearing (a lot near the end), Drinking mention

A/N: this was meant to be a drabble... now it’s becoming a series...i’m sorry

“...and the winner of Inkigayo today is...Y/N with ‘Drivers License, Congratulations!”

You step towards the center of the stage and take the trophy and bouquet from a rookie idol, who flashes a bright smile at you, but you can see the envy in his eyes. You once had that same hunger and ambition that he seems to reek of, it’s a reminder of how far you’ve come.

Taking the mic, you begin to sing a more sultry and edgier vibe than usual, which seems to gather more screams from fans than usual. You remember what Seulgi taught you and gaze at the camera lens with a subtle pout, trying to capture the angst of the song in your gaze.

It feels ridiculous, feigning emotions you no longer feel, singing a song you begged the company not to put out in a corset fitted shirt that’ll leave your ribs sore and reddened. It’s pathetic and cliche, you quite literally sold your soul (well, heart) for fame.

“Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street…”

Everyone behind you waves at the camera, signalling the show is ending. You leave last, taking several confetti bits for your scrapbook, which is the only thing keeping you from remembering this is all real.

Backstage, Iris and San are waiting in your dressing room, they greet you with proud grins and slaps on the back.

“Well, if it isn’t miss twelve...no, thirteen wins in two weeks.” San praises, enveloping you in a hug.

“Could be thirteen by tomorrow~” Hums Iris in a sing-song tone.

A groan leaves your lips, while slumping into an uncomfortable chair. You tune out their excited plans for your makeup and hair tomorrow, San says something about an end of year Award show.

All you want is to go home to your empty dormitory and sleep.

When you finally arrive to the ‘comfort’ of your ‘studio apartment’ (box room), it isn’t long before you strip down to your pyjamas and aggressively rub off the layers of makeup that seem to cling to every pore and fine line of your face. The cold air from the fan soothes the aching of your body from your strict workout routine. You stay awake until 4am, reading comments from netizens and replying to fans on your fancafe, it was hard not to become obsessed with checking what people thought; whether they loved or loathed you.

[+184 -93] Y/N is talented, but they look devoid of emotion since last week...maybe singing a song so personal isn’t a good idea….what if the person it’s about hears it…..

User FYL**8 was right, it had become draining trying to convey emotions you’d long let go of. Your debut song was fresh and fun, it didn’t garner much attention but at least you hadn’t had to fake emotions and relive your first heartbreak.

Although the memories of the breakup didn’t hurt as much, the happiest ones were the most painful. The feeling of ignorance, thinking he meant forever and believing him completely...it was all so distant yet felt a fingertip away.

That night you slept with a heavy heart, remembering what it felt like when he’d hold you close and right and kiss you on the head to soothe your worries. Why did it have to end? Why like that? You try to drift into a nice sleep after another exhausting day but to no avail, thoughts of him are flooding every thought. Has he heard it? There was no way he hadn’t, he loved to check out every ranking song for inspiration or for another artist to add to his monthly playlist.

Would he get angry? Sad? Laugh at your pathetic feelings? He was right in the end, when it came down to it you only shared your feelings when it was too late.

Stupid Christopher fucking Bang.

It wasn’t often you’d refer to him as Chan, you had met him when he only saw it as another name for himself that he hardly used. Back when his hair had been fluffed up curls that he couldn’t contain and his light freckles weren’t covered by BB Cream. When he didn’t belong to the world and only loved you.

After months of forcing yourself not to, you hastily search “Stray kids Bang Chan + Y/N”, Then “Stray Kids Y/N” and finally “Skz Y/N”. The results are minimal and far inbetween, mostly tweets from fans wishing for a collab and oddly enough one person making edited photos of you and them, which are so convincing you have to remind yourself you hadn’t met them.

Thoughts drift to his friends, the ones who didn’t know Chris was even seeing someone and had been for over a year. They tried to sugarcoat it, say they forgot, it’s hard to keep track when you’re training and all that.

The sinking feeling you felt when Minho asked how long you’d been together, guessing a month at most. When you did reply, ears burning with embarrassment he coughed and muttered “Oh.’, That had stung.

Everything had seemed so perfect, until you opened your eyes and saw it for what it was.

You don’t end up sleeping much, two hours at most, Then it’s time to get ready and head to the Broadcast Studio for today’s event. All you know is it’s a show about giving advice, the reviews aren’t great but you aren’t allowed to turn anything down because fame is a double-edged sword that you can barely grasp as is.

Iris and San are already waiting for you when you get there, within minutes makeup is being patted into your skin and your outfit is laid out on the chair next to you.

“Sleep more, Y/N-ah, I had to use a double coverage concealer to hide your dark circles.” Iris said in a fretful tone.

“I try, it’s hard being famous.” You reply jokingly, flipping your hair the best you can. Iris smacks your hand away and frantically finds her hairspray.

Within twenty minutes you’re dressed and not one hair is out of place, San pulls you aside with an uncharacteristically stern face.

“The company have specific goals for sending you here, they want you to delve into a story of heartbreak to comfort today’s victim, while keeping anonymity and remaining as vague as you can.”

Of course, even a show about helping others is fictional.

You nod solemnly and prepare to go on air, sitting on a cushion next to a popular comedian who doesn’t bother to even look at you. A well-known Streamer is on your other side and you begin polite small talk, which seems to irritate the host.

“We’re on in 3,2….1!” A sharp click follows the director’s queue and the host bursts right into the introduction.

After you’re introduced it’s easy to tune out, you couldn’t give a shit about that stuck-up comedian and the actress to their right. Instead you think of how the fuck you’re supposed to conjure up an emotional performance with little to no time to prepare.

‘My ex-boyfriend hid me for almost two years’ no, not even worthy of a cheap gossip magazine. ‘I thought my boyfriend loved me, turns out he loved his career more’ Maybe...but you sound too needy.

“Today’s guest is Lee Chaeun of Suwon! Tell us your story, please.”

You turn to look at the guest who walks onto the set and sits at the head of the pillow mats. She’s clearly a young girl, her baby face is covered by face-framing layers of shiny black hair and her eyes are already glassy.

“Last year, I began dating my crush after years of admiring him from afar...Everything seemed so perfect until last week….He dumped me by text message saying he needed space and now he’s with someone new..” Chaeun bursts into tears and the host fakes a sympathetic face and passes her a box of tissues.

“Ah, you’re young...you don’t know anything yet. This is a normal phase for teenagers, men realise themselves and break girls down so they become beautiful women. It’s just a case of a little girl not wanting to grow up!” Chimes in the Comedian, who talks about his falsities as if they’re facts.

The audience erupts into laughter and the heartbroken teenager lowers her head in embarrassment. Which only makes you more enraged, Who told that guy he was funny?

“Chaeun has every right to be upset!” You exclaim, cutting through the laugher like a hot knife. “When a relationship ends when everything seems alright for one person, it's cruel. Being blindsided isn’t a joke. It hurts and she deserves closure, and to move on someday to a better person..What happened to her shouldn’t happen to anyone!” You barely register a gentle hand on top of yours, far too surprised by the fact there are tears dripping down your face. Crying wasn’t an option, so you pull yourself together and apologise to Chaeun and the host you cannot stand.

“Y/N, You seemed personally moved by Chaeun’s story, have you experienced a painful breakup?” The host asks curiously.

“You could say that,” You begin with a wry smile. “I was with someone who lived a double life, they were completely different when they were with other people...Things ended when I was still planning for future dates...it made me realise how fake they were.”

The guests all nod and you squeeze Chaeun’s hand, she smiles at you seeming relieved that she isn’t the only one who has felt this kind of pain.

Everything goes smoothly after that, other guests chime in and the actress that seemed snobby is openly discussing her ex vomiting all over her Valentinos. You can’t help but wonder if the company really suggested this, or if it was divine intervention (Choi San, your manager).

You don’t feel so alone anymore, everyone is guaranteed several things, two being love and heartbreak of some kind.

“Thanks to singer Y/N and actress Sojung, Chaeun was able to feel a little better...Thank you for joining us on ‘Help No Counsellor!’, Join us next week when…’

“Choi San, you sneaky bastard.”

He tries to act surprised but a shit-eating grin soon overtakes his acting, Iris shakes her head and zips her makeup bag closed. It isn’t long until you’re all at The Min’s enjoying red bean bread and warm tea. “What does inept even mean? I’m assuming it’s a good thing because Wooyoung kissed me after saying it.” San mentions, his lips curving upwards at the fond memory.

“I’d have to agree with Woo, it fits you perfectly.” You reply, circling around his question while Iris tries not to choke on her food.

Fits of laughter die down when you spot a familiar face, Lee Mijoo.

Her blonde hair flows down her back in loose curls and her soft eyes seem to enchant everyone, admittedly even you for a short time.Behind her is a slightly taller figure dressed in all black and your stomach drops.They don’t seem to notice your presence, so you decide to use this valuable time to hide behind a menu.

San and Iris try to play along best they can, but it is quite distressing that all of this has happened so suddenly, with no prior warning. But he did bring you here, a lot. So it’s amusing to see his date ideas haven't changed.

As he’s walking past you he pauses, and you want to shrivel into a hole and die, He’s clearly recognised you but can’t be 100% sure due to The Min’s menu covering your entire face.

“Y/N?”

Shit. You cannot hide from this.

Slowly taking the menu away and placing it down on the table you smile at him, maybe a little too forced but it’s the best you can do. His hair is blonde now, his curls are long gone but his smile is as genuine as ever.

Stupid Christopher Bang and his stupid ‘I-totally-didn’t-break-your-heart’ attitude.

“Chan, nice to see you. Still obsessed with their double shots?” You humoured, he seemed grateful for that.

“Oh, absolutely...and I see you’re still not saving any bean bread for anyone else.”

You laugh, it’s a bittersweet one at best but nevertheless it’s a laugh.

'Well it’s great to see you again, I’d love to exchange numbers if that’s alright?”

Without thinking you nod and oblige him, much to your friend’s disappointment which is evident by their glares. Mijoo exchanges smiles with everyone, who could hate her? She was funny, kind hearted and beautiful in every aspect.

When they finally leave to their outside seats you breathe a sigh of relief and sink into the chair.Iris strokes your hair and San grabs more snacks to go, the walk home isn’t peaceful. It’s awkward and silent, which only makes your head spin more. When you drop off Iris you know a lecture is coming, San hates doing it but you know he tells you what you need to hear, even if it hurts.

“Look, I’m happy you were able to brush off all the hurt today but earlier on you were crying about….this. Don’t give him the power to hurt you twice.”

“You’re right, thanks Sannie.” You reply, taking his arm and smiling at the warmth of his (Wooyoung’s) fuzzy coat.

Once San leaves and you get inside, it’s a matter of minutes before you hop in the shower and get rid of all the hairspray and mascara that’s been making you itch all day. The warm water soothes away your nerves and the impending frostbite from being outside in the cold for far too long.

Once you feel clean and somewhat scalded you step out onto warm fluffy towels (cheap warm fluffy towels with holes in them) and get situated for bed.

Just as you exit the bathroom your phone rings and you answer immediately, it’s probably Iris wanting you to play a new Among Us mod with her.

“Iris?”

“Uh, no, Chris.”

“Oh.” is your initial reply, why would he call you at midnight?

“Where you asleep? I’m sorry I’ll call back another ti-”

“No!” You interject, much too eagerly. “No...it’s fine. I’m not even in bed yet.”

“Oh” He sounds relieved, much the opposite of you.

“I just wanted to congratulate you...The song, it’s great. What’s it like actually singing one you wrote?”

“Great,” You admit with a smile he can't see, “It feels...genuine. I Couldn't stand the thought of giving the song away.”

“I can see why.” He replies in an unreadable tone.

“Did it make you uncomfortable? Me singing...about-”

“No, why would it?” He cuts in, he sounds slightly agitated.

“Look, Chan, I’m sorry. I should’ve texted you, well I did but you changed your number. But it’s my story too, okay? I needed to heal somehow.”

Minutes pass with no answer, as if he’s trying to think of exactly what to say without getting more irritated or to spare your feelings.

“When did I become Chan?” His voice comes out wavering,and it hurts you.

“That’s what everyone calls you now, you’re not just Chris the trainee anymore.” You reply in a gentle way, trying to ease the building tension.

“But to you, when did I stop being Chris?”

“Probably when you broke my heart,” You deadpan, before adding a ‘kidding’ and bullshit reason.

“You weren’t kidding, but you broke mine too. Don’t make me the bad guy.”

This had taken you aback, you had been in a perfectly happy relationship for almost two years and then he changed his mind, said he wasn’t happy and it wasn’t your fault. When the fuck did you break his heart?

“When exactly did that happen?” You query, “Before or after Mijoo?”

Chan lets out a dry laugh, “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand.”

“Well what does it matter? You never told me shit anyways.” You snapped.

“That’s because you wouldn’t fucking listen. Maybe to you it was all sunshine and roses but I was struggling, I changed and outgrew us. I didn’t want to but you were stuck in dreamland where we’d debut at the same time and live happily ever after. I realised it wasn’t going to happen and set you free so you wouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” You bark,”Fucking embarrassed of what exaclty? I left that shithole you call your company by choice and worked my way up. I’m not embarrassed, but you should be. You’re a fucking sellout Christopher Bang.”

Before he can reply you end the call and throw your phone at the wall, it would’ve broken only for the forty dollar case the store assistant convinced you to buy. You burst into tears just like you had that night when it all came crashing down. He must’ve loved seeing you in pain, because he keeps doing it even now.

That night, you wish for everything to go back to a time before him and the heartbreak that followed.

It’s early on a Friday when you’re called into a board meeting with the CEO, Director and San, who looks like someone stepped on his clay masterpiece. You still haven’t been told anything and as the minutes pass by you wonder if they found out about you getting drunk at Club Suran several weeks back. What if someone saw San there too? What if–

Suddenly the doors open and in walks JYP’s CEO, followed by several others and finally Chris. He looks as confused as you, but you quickly look away before he spots you. Last night was still fresh in your mind and you didn’t need anymore reminders or conversations with him.

“Dispatch has sent us several photos of you two together, spanning several years.” Your CEO announces, an Executive pulling the photos up on the screen behind her. “Including one from yesterday.”

“That was a coincidence, we broke up a long time ago.” You admit, she seems satisfied with your answer and nods, which makes you remember that damned dating ban you have.

“Usually, we’d shoot down these rumours immediately...but this could be quite beneficial to both Stray Kids and Y/N.” JYP’s CEO adds, “Stock prices have shown a rise for both of your albums, and real time searches are at an all time high.”

“I have a girlfriend.” Chan states, arms folded. “So that’s out of the question if you’re implying we fake a relationship.”

“Look Bang Chan,” Begins one of the Advisors, “It’s all for show, we’ll plan every detail and your girlfriend will keep her mouth shut if she knows what's good for her. Frankly, our sales aren't what they used to be and you need this, if you want complete musical and artistic control.”

Chan takes a while to think, you know this is all he’s wanted. Control over everything he and the boys put out there, with no censorship or edits by anyone else. Your CEO assures you you’ll also benefit from the agreement, including your debt fully cleared and money in your bank account as soon as you sign on the dotted line.

“How long does this last?” You ask, pen in hand.

“Twelve months, then you’re free again.”

Chan looks to you for conformation and you ignore him, signing it and standing up to leave. You only stop to sign more formalities and then you and San head back to your local coffee shop.

“Well, you sure have a funny way of moving on.”

#i'm sorry in advance #however thoughts are welcomed #skz chan #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #stray kids blurbs #stray kids scenarios #bang chan angst #stray kids imagines #skz blurbs #stray kids chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan blurbs #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you

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carnalpleasure · 4 years

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Michael x Angel!Reader 👼

hi!! i’ve had this idea in my head for months and finally felt inspired to start it tonight. i’m still working on my other two fics.. but Michael’s been calling to me lately💕

Summary: The reader assigns herself to be Michael’s guardian angel. This takes place at the beginning of Sojourn, with Michael in the wilderness. But takes a slightly different turn <3

Every human being in the history of humanity had been born with a guardian angel. The precious moment a newborn baby breathes its first breath of life, an angel is assigned to be their lifelong guardian. The angel’s main mission being to protect their human ward from the dark forces that had plagued the earth for all eternity. Ever since the serpent seduced Eve into her first bite of the knowledge of Good and Evil.

But that streak was broken one day in late March of 2012, when Vivian Harmon gave birth to Satan’s only begotten son.

She was the Anti-Mary. Instead of a blessed virgin being touched by an angel, she was a victim of a demonic sexual assault. She died giving birth to the Antichrist.

Michael Langdon was Satan’s very first creation. Because he was not a child of God, he was not born with a guardian angel. His father didn’t bother to assign him a guardian demon either. The spawn of Satan was left in the hands of none other than his grandmother Constance, whom his father felt was perfect for raising the little monster.

When Michael outgrew her, his father introduced him to Anton Lavey, one of his most trusted followers, who would then introduce Michael as the heir to the Church of Satan.

Michael, however, didn’t really take to Anton. He felt much closer to another key member of the church, Miriam Mead. She took a liking to the boy too and lovingly welcomed him into her home, where she taught him all about rituals, prayers, Black Mass, satanic prophecy.. She was preparing him for the apocalypse. His destiny, as they’d all say.

Once Michael began becoming aware of his powers, his father then led him into the hands of the Warlocks. They thought they were training him to be their next Supreme, but he only needed them to show him how to use his powers. They were disposable beyond that.

Michael was a loyal son, never questioning his father’s decisions, until his beloved Ms. Mead was permanently taken from him by the witches. Cordelia was right, why did he let this happen?

In search of answers, Michael fled to the wilderness on a quest. Jesus had spent 40 days out in the desert being tempted by Satan himself before his own Father finally spoke to him. Michael decided he had to do the same.

That’s when he wandered out into the forest on the outskirts of LA and started to trace a pentagram in the dirt, tired and out of options.

“I’m not going any further,” he sulked, dragging the jagged stone across the ground. “Father, tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he pleaded, out of breath as he finished carving his sigil into the soil.

“I’m not leaving this circle until you talk to me,” he pouted stubbornly. “They’re gone.. the warlocks.. my Ms. Mead. Burned alive at the stake by the witches. Until nothing was left but ash and smoke,” his voice was breaking but he was too exhausted to cry.

“You tell me what to do,” he sighed, “or you let me die here.” Then he fell to his knees in the center of the circle and waited for a sign.

He watched the sun set and rise four times before he finally had a vision. But even then, he couldn’t be sure if he was seeing a sign or just suffering from severe dehydration.

He saw a little boy offering a cold grape Fanta, and a little girl holding a basket of red apples, and he thought maybe God was trying to tempt him into the light now. To distract him from his mission and derail him from his destiny.

He refused, “No, I’m on a mission. I have to talk to my father,” he said weakly. “Leave me alone.” Then the visions turned dark. He was taunted by Ms. Mead and then praised by Anton Lavey.

“You’re not real. None of this is.. re-real.” He shook his head and raised his hand to shield his face from the blinding light that was radiating from the High Priest before him.

“You’ve done a great job.” The Satanist proudly smiled. “No..” Michael protested, “I failed. I-I’m lost. I don’t understand my purpose,” he was out of breath and at a loss for words. He was tired of games, all he wanted was his father’s help. Everything was spinning.

The vision of Anton continued reciting to him from the prophecy in Revelation, calling him the Alpha and the Omega. Michael couldn’t take it anymore. He made a lunge for Anton, wrapping a hand around his throat to choke him out. Only seconds later, the vision vanished altogether.

And that’s when he saw you. The last thing he remembered was an impossibly beautiful girl with big white wings and a little white dress. He fell to his knees again, in shock and exhaustion, and collapsed into her arms. He felt the warm, soft embrace of feathers, and then he fell into a much needed sleep.

When he awoke a day later, he was still pretty disoriented from the lack of food, water, and sleep. His mind was a haze. He didn’t realize where he was, he only knew that this bed was softer than anything he’d ever felt.

The blankets felt like fluffed up clouds and the pillows smelled like lavender. A cool breeze caressed his skin, and he noticed the temperature of the room was significantly cooler than anything he’d felt in a long time. That radiating heat that seemed to consume him constantly just wasn’t there.

He reached his hand out to feel along the bed. Empty. He opened his eyes, hoping to see the angel from his dreams sitting there watching over him. But the room was empty too.

He sat up in bed, clutching the sheets and looking around anxiously. The room was nice, but it wasn’t anything extreme. It was kinda charming actually, soft and cozy. It didn’t look like anyone had been living here for very long.

Michael climbed out of bed, stepping foot on the soft, plush carpet and smiling at the touch. He walked towards the bedroom door which was just barely cracked open, and stuck his head out slowly to peak outside.

You were in the kitchen, digging around in the refrigerator when you heard him come out. You twisted around, bumping the fridge door shut with your hip and then dropping everything on the counter.

“You’re up already? Are you feeling okay?” The pained look on his face made you worry. He looked exhausted still, leaning against the doorway just to hold himself up.

You rushed to his side, a little faster than humanly possible, and wrapped an arm around his waist to help him steady himself. He leaned into your embrace but winced a little at your touch. His body was sore everywhere.

He couldn’t stop staring at you. Almost glaring, looking at you like you’d just lied straight to his face. You walked him to the counter, sitting him down across from you and then running back to quickly check the stove. He didn’t take his eyes off you the whole time.

“I’m making you a breakfast feast,” you smiled at him over your shoulder. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days..”

“I’m sorry,” he interjected. “But wh-who are you? How did I get here?”

You smiled gently, passing him a plate of bacon and eggs to get him started while you finished the french toast. “I’m Y/N, I brought you here,” you said happily.

He kept looking you up and down. You looked exactly like he remembered, but you were now missing one unique, defining feature..

“Are you-“ he couldn’t bring himself to say the word out loud. It didn’t seem possible to him. “You had.. wings before,” his brow furrowed in confusion and his glare returned.

You simply nodded, glancing over at him and frying a piece of toast in the pan. “You remembered,” you said with a smile.

His confusion only grew. You poured him a glass of milk and then slid the fork closer to him. “Eat, please. We have plenty of time to talk later. I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” you brushed his blonde curls out of his face and the divine touch of your fingers briefly lingered on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

He hesitated, picking up his fork and taking a bite. It wasn’t just the starvation talking, he genuinely enjoyed your food. He immediately started feeling his strength and energy coming back. He felt revitalized.

It wasn’t just the food. Something about your presence was so satisfying to him. You brought him a kind of merciful peace that was only reserved for the saints. He didn’t need confirmation, he knew in his heart you were something holy. And he only hoped that you didn’t know what he truly was. If you ever fell in love with him, it would be your fall from grace.

“You’re an angel,” he whispered softly. His heart was pounding. He felt like he was committing a crime just by being in your presence. He felt like God would smite him any minute just for laying eyes on you.

You cupped his face in your hands gently, wiping away a stray tear that fell from his eyes. “As of today, I’m officially a guardian angel,” you smiled proudly. Your eyes actually twinkled, it completely captivated him.

“Guardian? Who’s guardian?” his pouty lip quivered and you could see all the new emotions swirling around him like a hurricane. He couldn’t believe any of this was really happening. He thought he must’ve been dreaming. He wasn’t dead, he knew that. He was destined for hell and there’s no one like her down there.

He was so cute. “Yours, duh” you giggled, letting go of his face and playfully tousling his blonde locks. He looked up at you with a small smirk that spread into a big smile. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. “How?-“ he silently mouthed as the words he was looking for escaped him.

“You didn’t have one,” you shrugged. “So I.. guess you could say I volunteered.” You didn’t want to overwhelm him with too many details, but the adorable confused puppy look on his face was begging for answers. “Volunteered?” he repeated, cocking his head to the side curiously. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“I just thought you should have someone looking out for you too.. you know. You didn’t deserve to be abandoned. Not by God or anyone.” You said it with such sincerity, he could see it on your face how strongly you felt about those words.

His eyes started to overflow with tears but he couldn’t help but smile. It was the single kindest thing anyone had ever said to him. That’s when it hit him. You already knew what he was. You knew who he was. And you were willing to go against both God’s will and Satan’s to take over as his protector. You left heaven just for him.

He pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and quietly sobbing into your chest. Tears of pure joy and gratitude. Little “thank yous” whispered on repeat against your skin, so close you can feel his lips brushing across your collarbones with each word.

He snaked his arms around your waist tighter and tighter, pulling you as close to him as physics would allow. It melted your heart how close he wanted to be to you.

“Aw.. you just want to be held,” you giggled, putting your arms around his shoulders and hugging his body closer to yours. “I’m here, Michael. I’ve got you now. You’re safe, you’re mine,” you cooed, your lips brushing against his temple.

His eyes were closed and his face was pressed against your chest, all he heard was a swift whoosh as your wings suddenly appeared, folding around both of your bodies like a soft shield tucking him into you. He’d never felt so safe before, all nestled in your feathers.

He peaked his eyes open to look around at them. “That’s fucking awesome,” he muttered softly, his jaw dropping as his eyes shot up to meet yours. You smiled down at him, kissing his forehead. You couldn’t help but giggle. He made you feel giddy, the way he looked at you. Like you were made of magic.

“My own guardian angel,” he said quietly to himself, still in awe of it all. He refused to let go of you for the rest of the day after that. All he wanted to do was lie in your arms. Feel your embrace. And you were happy to oblige because he needed to rest anyway. The two of you returned to your bed where he spent the rest of the night on your chest, fast asleep in your arms. The safest place he could ever be.

💕taglist: @sexwon131 @jimmason @whatcodysaid @angelicmichael @thewarriorprincessxo

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon au #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon x angel!reader #sojourn!michael #ahs au #michael langdon x female reader #michael x angel!reader

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getitinbusan · 4 years

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Locked -

Taehyung

Smut with Taehyung in Paris what could be better? 19+

Happy Birthday Taehyung! You are my sun my moon and all of my stars.

Part of the The Juis Suis Fou de Toi Universe.

Artist Tae AU. 4213 words.

While convincing his girlfriend he should paint her, things get a little sexually abstract.

Contains sex (M/F), Oral (M) Mutual Masturbation (M/F), Swearing, Slight Dom Tae, OC is insecure. Do not be fooled before the read more, there is no cheating in this fic.

"We're almost home, please don't make me carry you."

Yeontan looked up with big eyes as he defiantly sat in the middle of the sidewalk. Crouching down to his level in defeat you tore a piece of your pastry off and began bargaining.

"It's strawberry your favorite, you can have some if you just stand up."

He let out a little bark seemingly in agreeance with the bribe and stood, tail wagging frantically.

"Tannie," Taehyung scooped the excited dog into his arms while placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Camille, this is my girlfriend Y/N and this," Yeontan wiggled in his arms while licking his face, "is Tannie."

"Oh, Hi."

Shocked you took in the tall gorgeous blonde who accompanied you boyfriend. Why Taehyung was walking around the streets of Paris with her you were unsure, and honestly not very happy.

"It's really nice to meet you Camille."

Suddenly feeling self conscious you pulled your coat tighter around yourself.

Taehyung, noticing the sudden shift in your mood wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Camille is helping me with the gallery opening. We were going to grab some dinner before we started. Do you want to join us?"

Your mind raced, what do you do? He hadn't invited you in the first place so obviously you'd be intruding.

If you stayed he'd be looking at you side by side, comparing Pomme to Pomme De Terre. But, if you left they'd be alone, getting to know one another or worse. Maybe they already knew each other better than they should.

In either scenario your insecurities would be winning.

"Tannie's getting pretty tired and I was going to stop at the Butcher to grab us dinner." Your eyes fell on his searching for guilt and found nothing but adoration. "But I guess you've already got plans so I'll just catch up with you later."

He passed the dog back to you, a new look of concern on his face.

"Okay, I guess I'll just see you at home later," he kissed your cheek.

"Bye Tannie, bye Y/N."

The woman smiled and looped her arm through Taehyung's as they walked towards the cafe.

"That doesn’t mean anything right Tan? It’s just a French thing I’m sure.” You must be going crazy standing in the street talking to your dog. “So, how do you feel about stopping for some wine?"

You frowned at your four legged companion and for once he seemed sympathetic offering a head tilt and a whimper.

"Don't worry, you can have his Steak."

Walking home in a daze you searched your memory, had he told you about this? Taehyung liked to work alone, surely you'd remember him mentioning he'd hired an assistant.

Your feet had suddenly become as tired as your mind. The blue mansard roof of your apartment peeked through the greenery of the blowing trees urging you forward, calling you home.

Rounding the last corner, the Pont Des Arts had been covered in gaudy yellow caution tape. In the hour and a half you'd been out, workers had begun pulling off rail sections of the love locked bridge.

You felt dizzy, was this a sign? The lock that you'd placed on it signifying your commitment was being taken away. Helpless you stood watching thousands of couples promise's to one another being disassembled.

Pulling your phone from your satin lined pocket your first instinct was to text Taehyung.

Y/N: I can't believe it, they're dismantling the bridge and taking away our lock 💔 I'm so sad Taehyung, It really meant so much to me.

Tears rolled down your cheek as you reevaluated the message. Instead of hitting send you deleted and replaced your words

Y/N: The bridge is under construction, maybe take a different way home later.

You hadn't heard him come home and had no idea how late he'd been out. With sadness and worry getting the best of your brain, sleep seemed like the only way to curb your anxiety. It had been quite an effective method until you found yourself wide awake tiptoeing through your house in the wee hours of the morning.

The worn floorboards creaked underneath your slow step, the vintage wood was cold to the touch of your bare feet. The old apartment was drafty on the best of days but 4 am carried its own specific type of chill.

A shiver ran up your spine, perhaps one of Le Marais famous revolutionary ghosts had joined in on the quest to find your boyfriend. Or maybe it was just the ominous feeling in the pit of your stomach that the universe was trying to tell you something.

A faint light glowed yellow under the warped door at the end of the hallway and the sounds of Thelonious Monk's piano drifted through the air the closer you got.

The painted metal door handle gave way opening to a wall of heat from the radiators lining the enormous windows.

"Go figure I'd find you in the warmest room in the house."

He was shirtless and seemingly debating the fate of the canvas before him. With his paintbrush clenched between his teeth he turned, a huge smile warming you instantly.

"Why aren't you in bed?" He set the brush down and walked over to wrap you in his embrace.

"I don't like sleeping without you, you're the only thing that keeps me warm in that freezer of a bedroom."

You stood on your tiptoes to place a peck on his lips.

"What are you working on? Is it for the gallery?"

He sighed heavily, "Just another Lavender Field I guess. I'm so uninspired. Why won't you just let me paint you, hmm?"

His fingers splayed over the lace covered small of your back pulling you in tighter. "What are you so afraid of."

"Tae," you buried your face into the crook of his neck. "Isn't the point of art painting things that people want to look at? You should be painting women like Camille not me."

Pressed to his chest you swear you heard his breath halt. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully before he spoke softly.

"Camille is pretty but there is absolutely nothing unique or inspiring about her."

He kissed the top of your head before tugging on your chin to make you look at him.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, but you are a terribly uncooperative muse."

"I don't want to be Tae, I'm just afraid"

"What is there to be afraid of? It's just you and me, If you don’t like it I'm the only one who will see it."

"That's it though, what if…" a tear slipped from your eye, "What if you don't like what you see, what if painting me makes you see all my flaws. I can't stand looking in the mirror for 5 minutes and you want to immortalize my every imperfection on a canvas."

His face was soft and serious, the lights from the city streaming through the large windows across his honey skin.

"Sweetheart, how do I make you believe me? I never want you to be uncomfortable but I think if I can show you how you look through my eyes you'll understand what my heart sees every time I look at you.”

Stepping back from him you nodded. Sliding the thin straps off your shoulders you stepped out of the white lace puddle that now lay at your feet.

"Okay."

His face lit up like he'd received divine inspiration.

"I have an idea."

He scurried for a palate, squeezing colors on it like a man possessed. Rummaging for the right brushes he returned presenting them to you like a cat who'd dragged home a mouse.

"Trust me?"

You nodded, "I do."

Loading his brush with paint you stood waiting for him to lay the first stroke to the oversize canvas leaning on the wall beside you.

Raising the tool to his mouth he exhaled a warm breath over it as if trying to take the chill off.

"I've never seen this technique before"

"It's because I've only just invented it."

He ran the paintbrush down your torso sending a shiver from head to toe.

You gasped, "You're not just painting me... you're literally painting Me?"

The biggest smile overtook his face, "You said you trusted me."

Trying to remain still and not ask questions you watched him work. Diligently mixing colors and trading brushes his design slowly revealed itself.

"Are you painting me as starry night?"

He stepped back to admire his work. "Like the stars, you guide and inspire me. I think it captures your spirit."

He shifted the canvas so it was flat to the wall.

"Come over here." He reached for your hand, "Are you ready? I want you to press yourself against it."

"Here?"

Sliding in close behind you he raised your arms into position, holding them up.

"Like this, right here."

His breath felt hot on your skin and your nipples hardened with his words. Gently he used his body weight to press you onto the canvas.

"Now step back to me slowly."

Pulling back, the paint had transferred to the canvas. It was stamped with starry breasts, stomach and thighs, it was you and it was beautiful. He dragged his lips down your shoulder as you stood looking at it.

"Now let's do the right side."

You repeated the process but this time you could feel him growing hard against you. His hands trailed down your sides and his lips moved warm against your ear.

"You've never been sexier."

His rumbles of admiration set your insides on fire.

"Taehyung I want you."

All the gentle brush strokes and touching had left you aroused aching for him to fill you.

"Do you need me to take care of you baby?"

He slid his cloth covered cock over your bare ass, grinding, teasing, slowly torturing your needy cunt.

"Fuck you until you're screaming my name?"

Sliding two long fingers deep inside you he held them there motionless.

Leaning over you, dominating, he growled into your ear.

"Show me how you like it, fuck my fingers like you want to fuck my cock."

You clenched immediately around his digits and he laughed, "that's my dirty girl, now use me to make yourself feel good."

Throbbing wet and desperate you used his hand to pleasure yourself. Harder and deeper it felt good but it wasn't him.

"Tae, It's not enough I need your cock."

He snickered again, "why is that, maybe you should tell me."

He reached his free hand around to pinch your nipple.

The truth was, nothing could satisfy you once you'd had him inside you. He was huge and perfect and he knew how insatiable you were for him.

"I need you to stretch me, wanna feel you against my cervix fucking me so hard."

You sounded whiny and it flipped the switch inside him from teasing to wanting instant gratification.

Pulling his hand away from your breast he undid his pants and kicked them away. His erection fell against your ass as he pressed you back to the center of the canvas.

"Right here, arms up for me."

You did as you were told as he took a stance behind you lining himself with your entrance. He could be the most generous gentle lover when needed but right now you both wanted something animalistic and dirty.

Thrusting hard and deep your whole body slid in an upward motion streaking the paint vertically onto the canvas.

"Fuck."

It was pleasure, it was pain and it was satisfying to your core.

"Is that enough for you?" His large hand feel heavy against your ass.

"Harder."

"Such a greedy little girl you are."

Another thrust and you were seeing stars. Splayed across the canvas your cheek dragged through the midnight blue acrylic.

Trying to desperately catch your breath your mouth hung open panting the words fuck me and faster while he pumped furiously into you.

His fingertips traveled from their grip on your hip to the protruding bud engorged with arousal that lay starved for attention between your thighs. He pressed and rolled your clit softly in contradiction to the rough pounding your pussy was taking.

"Tae."

His name moaned out of your mouth and it was the only signal he needed to know he'd done his job. He slowed his hips and pulled you down impaling you onto his cock until your walls convulsed around him. He held you there, still for a minute until your senses had come back and you were able to stand on your own.

His mouth hung open in a grin while his erection still stood hungry for more.

Pulling the canvas from the wall he laid it on the ground.

"I think this painting needs some pretty little knee marks on it."

"Show me where." It was your turn to tease.

He pointed where he wanted you to kneel and shoved his finger into your mouth.

"Right there, and right here," he stroked your tongue with his thumb.

He pulled his finger away and rubbed his tip around your lips.

Opening up wide for him he gently began fucking your mouth. Head was always a challenge given his size so it was never rushed.

Gingerly you wrapped your hands around him stroking the length that didn't fit in your mouth. His head was thrown back, eyes closed as puffs of air heaved from his chest in pleasure.

He was getting close, his now careless thrusts began making you choke around him.

"Fuck, sorry," he pulled back.

You kitten licked and sucked at his tip while he wrapped his hand tightly around himself and began rubbing.

You looked up at him from the position on your knees. His beautiful body was covered in paint splatters everywhere it had connected with yours

"Fuck Tae, I love watching you touch yourself."

"Yeah?" he took a long stroke thumbing the tip.

"Yeah," you could feel yourself getting worked up again.

"Lay back. "He stood over you, "Can you see how beautiful I think you are now?" His hands wandered between his legs and he rubbed his balls with one while he resumed stroking with the other. "How sexy I think you are?"

His words washed over you, arousal peaking you nipples.

"When I can't find inspiration I imagine you just like this and I masturbate thinking about your perfect tits."

Your pussy was pulsing at the thought of him in here clearing his head by milking himself.

"Can you touch yourself for me? Give my imagination something to use next time I'm stuck in here?"

You nodded, breath heavy in anticipation of cumming again for him.

"Stick your fingers in your pussy for me."

You did, moaning instantly. You were sensitive, every nerve was lit like a fuse ready to explode. Pumping your fingers in time with his strokes you were both unravelling quickly.

His exasperated breathing got louder signaling his immanent release. Picking up speed he came in warm droplets that landed on you and over the canvas on which you lay.

So turned on watching him you finished your own orgasm mere seconds after he did.

Opening his eyes looking down at you shocked he smiled, "Did we just do that?" He held out his hand to help you up.

"Yeah, I think we did." you blushed.

Grabbing a clean drop cloth from the shelf he draped it around you as you both stood looking over the painting.

"It's really not bad, I can still make out the important parts. The way the stars smeared looks intentional like their shooting through the sky."

Laughing you shook your head, "It's definitely an abstract."

"As are you," he turned you to the mirror. Painted cheeks, wild hair, dried yellow stars flaking off the skin of your stomach.

"Let's go out!” He abruptly declared. “I want to see you all messy and fucked out with the Eiffel Tower as a backdrop."

"You're crazy Taehyung, What will people think?"

"They'll think they're in Paris and that an artist and his muse just made wild passionate love in the wee hours of the morning because they couldn't stand to keep their hands off of one another."

He grabbed his coat from the corner and tied the belt tightly around your waist.

Placing his hands on your cheeks and cradling your face his lips pressed and lingered against yours.

"They'll think, that must be what true love looks like and they’ll all be jealous."

Taking leisurely steps across the bridge the quiet of dawn was only broken by the water lapping beneath you. The absence of the locks amplified the little wakes and you tried to mentally record them as one of the many new memories you'd made tonight.

Coffee in one hand and Taehyung's in the other. He pulled pieces of chocolatine from the bag tucked under his arm and fed them to you as you walked.

"I don't think I'm ever going to get over the fact you don't like coffee." You took a big sip.

"It's strategic. If I had to hold a coffee and the pastry bag I wouldn't be able to hold your hand."

He stopped abruptly lightly jarring your arm.

"Hey, Did you know that right here, this is the exact spot we first met."

His dark eyes reflected the lamplight just like they did as he looked at you that night.

"You were leaning over the rail," he pointed, "right here, waving to the passengers in the boats."

"Ughh, I was such a tourist." You laughed in retrospect.

He took the coffee from your hand and set it on the base of the lamppost.

"Go pose for me, I want to take your picture so I can paint you from the night we met, I'll even add the locks back in."

"It won't be the same." You sighed, "I'm covered in paint, my hair's a mess and all I have on is your trench coat."

"You're crazy if you think I don't remember everything about the way you looked. How that loose strand of hair fell," he tucked your hair behind your ear, "and still falls over your eye. You had on that green sweater, I remember It was so soft against my fingertips when I reached out to hold your hand.”

He kissed you and whispered, "Let me have that moment again."

"You're such a hopeless romantic my love." You smiled fondly and obliged. Leaning over and looking down you re-enacted the opening scene of your meeting.

After a few minutes of waving to an imaginary boat you turned giggling. "Did you get what you wanted?"

He was kneeling on the ground a few feet away looking pensive.

"Almost."

"Do you want me to do it again?"

His smile grew as his hand reached into his pocket and he held up what appeared to be a padlock.

"No," He paused. "I want you and I to be locked together forever."

Turning back towards the rails you inspected them closely. "I don't think we can Tae, they pretty much made them lock proof." By the time you'd spun back to face him he was standing beside you.

His large hand was wrapped around the lock with only little glimmers of metal peeking out.

"But this is a magic lock. I'm going to give you the key and you're going to have to make a decision, just like when we first met." He pressed the lock's pronged companion piece into your palm while simultaneously unfurling his fingers.

"Marry me?"

Shocked floored, not even an ounce of intuition had told you this was coming. Hooked onto the shackle an enormous pear shaped diamond awaited your answer.

"Tae," your hand shook and tears blurred your vision as you moved to free the ring from it's restraint.

"Of course, Yes." Turning the key Taehyung pulled the lock apart and slid the diamond onto your finger.

Under the lamp, on the bridge in the middle of Paris it was like lightning had struck twice. You stood kissing the man who'd once again changed your life.

"But what are we going to do with the Lock?" The bridge was stark under the first rays of sunrise and heartbreakingly void of the promises it once guarded.

"So superstitious." He put the lock back in his pocket. "You're just going to have to hold on to that key until the time is right."

Fresh paint overwhelmed your senses. Guiding you with his large hands he steered you forward for what felt like forever.

"Is the blindfold necessary?"

"In order to surprise you, yes, yes it is."

He'd been working hard on his new exhibition and it had been kept tightly under wraps. One advantage of sleeping with the artist was the private advanced viewing from the curator himself.

"Are you ready?" he stilled you adjusting your angles. "Hold out your hand."

"Oh, it's an interactive piece?" you chided him. "I agree to do one painting and suddenly we're Marina and Ulay."

Placing something that felt like cool metal into your palm he slipped the blindfold off.

Before your eyes stood a huge section of railing, thousands of padlocks adorning it. Behind the rail, a life size painting, a girl in a green sweater. Leaning forward she waved, looking happy, as her hair blew softly. Her eyes naïve, not knowing she was about to fall in love.

The words on the wall named the piece, "Locked"

"Tae," a tear fell in awe at his recreation. "You made me look beautiful."

"No mon petite, you make you look beautiful. Do you have your key?"

Lifting the chain from around your neck you held it up for him.

"Let's find our lock. It was closer to the top if I recall correctly."

"There's no way? This isn't a recreation? This is the real bridge?"

He laughed, "I know what it meant to you. They were selling pieces for charity. That's what I was really doing with Camille that day. She's a broker for the auction house."

The memory of your insecurities came back in a flash and your cheeks blushed pink at how foolish the notion of him straying seemed now.

"Here it is!" He crouched down holding it in his hand, your inked initials a little worn but still visible.

Slipping your key into the new lock you popped it open and knelt down beside him. Hooking it through the original it stood out higher than the rest and you both smiled.

"You're stuck with me now, triple locked." He fiddled with your ring suddenly shy.

"I don't need metaphors to know we'll be together forever Taehyung." You kissed his soft lips. "but I really like them."

The gallery had been taken over by a hum of excitement, the air hanging heavy, was full of compliments and bids. Everyone was clamoring for the chance to own a Kim Taehyung original.

You hadn't seen the man of the hour in a while. You'd been kept dutifully in one spot regaling everyone with the romantic story behind the girl waving on the bridge.

Finally breaking away you grabbed a glass of champagne from the nearest waiters tray and made your way to the back of the gallery. He stood by a painting you'd yet to see with an eclectic looking woman in large red framed glasses. Her bangle bracelets chimed together as she theatrically asked him questions about his work.

Noticing you moving towards him, his face pleaded silently with you to come to his social rescue.

"Ah, the girl in the Green Sweater!" She pulled you into her side grabbing and holding your hand. "Are you also The Reluctant Muse?" she pointed to the secretly cum splatterd piece.

Taehyung held back his smile, biting his lip.

"Yes, I guess I am."

"The abstract way he displayed your body, it's very sexy. You know I used to be someone's muse." She patted the back of your hand. "From the size of this ring I'm guessing you're not nearly as reluctant anymore."

Knocking back your champagne you reached for another, "I'm currently working on lowering my inhibitions."

Focusing back on Taehyung she continued, "I simply have to have this painting, it reminds me so much of my younger days."

He shook his head to reinforce what he was about to say. "Unfortunately this one has already been curated to a private collection." He winked nodding discreetly in your direction.

"Don't be silly, I'll give you $20,000."

You choked on your drink surprised while he reiterated his statement.

"I'm sorry, It's just a very special painting to me."

You had to interject, "Let's not make any hasty decisions."

Taehyung raised a scolding eyebrow, "The piece is simply priceless, I've put too much of myself in it to sell."

You smirked at his secret admission. "What if," feeling emboldened with confidence you put forth the suggestion, "we make it a series?"

Taehyung's eyes lit up as you explained.

"It'll be one of a kind, just for you madam."

Her bangles declared her excitement as she clapped. "Yes, I love that! But I have two conditions."

Leaning forward you both eagerly waited.

“I want extra splatters, I really like the way they look. And I'm going to need it finished in time for my party next week.”

Taehyung shook the woman's hand and grinned proudly at you.

"No problem, we'll start working on it tonight."

#taehyung smut #tae #bts smut #bts #Tae #V #JSFDT series #This is part 2 to an unwritten part 1 because my brain sucks

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fromthehellmouth · 4 years

Text

One for Sorrow, Two for Mirth

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Maledictus! Femme! Gryffindor! oc. Regrettably, there is so much angst... Part One!

Maledictus prompt requested by @hyacinthsandbooks I had so much fun creating this character, thanks for the prompt! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Drawing by me and inspired by scenes from the story. I hope you enjoy!

Overview:

Tom Riddle befriends an unlikely victim of a powerful blood curse

I had increasingly found myself in a perpetual state of insomnia and dread. There was almost nothing I could occupy my mind with that would take it from my lingering anxiety and melancholia surrounding my condition. My nights were long and restless, and I had to become endlessly creative in order to find ways that would keep me out of trouble as well as keeping me occupied during the long dark nights in the Gryffindor common room alone past curfew. Often, it would result in me exploring the castle grounds in my other form, or writing down my thoughts to pass the time. Perhaps it was the concept of literature that I would gravitate to because of its mysterious qualities of immortality. It was chilling but also somewhat comforting to know that my works would remain with me far after I had irreversibly changed. It was not something I liked to dwell on, but it was something that I knew I could not escape from--it was always there, nagging, prodding, looming over my decisions, my psyche--it was a horribly cruel curse.

Over a century ago my family had gotten involved with a group of vengeful wizards who were known for their adaptations of some of the darkest corners of the dark arts. They fled the country but the curse went with them. Once a curse of that strength had penetrated its way into your bloodline, it would permanently dwell there, feeding off you, like a tumor, like a degenerative disease, like a leech, essentially, it declared its power with its name; it was a blood curse. It was only a matter of years before there would be nothing more I could do, and I would have to accept my change and my fate with it. At least there was no need to study for N.E.W.Ts. My parents had begged me for years not to accept such a pessimistic attitude, to care about my studies, my dreams, and my aspirations. Over the past few months, through our owl correspondence, I felt they had lost the motivation to keep pestering me about a life that had been taken from me the moment my grandmother told me what I was: a maledictus.

Fortunately, at this point in my development, my transformations were still voluntary. When I was very young, I remember having frequent visits to the Ministry of Magic with my parents. They would have me seen by famous dark wizard catchers, legendary curse-breakers, healers, and talented seers. From the beginning we knew there was no known cure for this type of blood curse, but I think the little security the aurors offered was necessary for my parents to hold onto. They needed expert opinions, that unfortunately would continue to tell them there was nothing to be done. Of course, my childhood self had virtually no knowledge of the severity of my condition, and thought it was simply enchanting to see mommy and daddy’s workplace.

Since my first year at Hogwarts, I had told no one about my condition except headmaster Dippet, professor Stump—my head of house, and professor Merrythought who was an expert in the dark arts because after all, she was the DADA teacher. I liked professor Merrythought quite a bit. She was an older woman with grey-blonde hair pinned back in a loose braided bun which she always had hairs escaping from. She was one of the few people who did not immediately resort to pity and fear when I told her what my bloodline had been cursed with. She was calm and interested, she told me how special I was and got me involved into studying more about blood disorders involving dark magic. Unfortunately, there had been rumors of her leaving Hogwarts and retiring—yet another thing I would be attempting to repress. My mind had become an expert at most coping mechanisms, my methods of choice being denial, repression, and sublimation--primarily writing.

In a sense, knowing my future was carved into stone was somewhat freeing. It allowed me to live fully and completely in the moment, and not have to plan or study for my future. In another sense, the looming dread was very real, and seemed to be working its way into the grooves of my personality--settling in the fine lines of my psyche. My dull despair had become a part of me. I never doubted my purposelessness until I met Tom Riddle.

***

It was nearly 1:45am when I noticed his figure contrasted against the shamrock-green hills. In a defeated attempt to become more comfortable with my animal form, I had begun to fly over the castle grounds more recently during the night when I felt my insomnia had become too much for me to ignore by lounging in the Gryffindor common room long after the other students had taken leave. I was never in the mind of being rebellious or secretive, and I was almost positive that if I had told professor Merrythought, she would have kept the sensitivity of my travels safe. Spotting a dark-clothed figure, I circled closer, still keeping my distance. Edging in tiny fractions closer to the tops of the forbidden forest’s trees, I made my way closer to the figure. I was presently slightly concerned for encountering the kind of person who would be coming from the forbidden forest at nearly 2 o’clock in the morning, but my growing curiosity controlled me, and I eyed the figure from above, still slowly cruising lower and lower. When I had reached the grass, the figure had entered the covered corridor leading to the clock tower, and I decided to present myself to the figure who couldn’t have been more than 6 feet away from me. It was always fun to play out a little scare. I let out a shrill, stuttering call. The figure froze, spinning swiftly with a hand to his mouth. I could see his shoulders quivering as he stared at me.

“...it’s just a magpie, Tom...” he whispered to himself as if he needed convincing. As he turned to face me, I immediately recognized him as a popular Slytherin boy from... history of magic...? divination...?

“Unless...”

Defense against the dark arts. That was it.

“Are you... an animagus?”

I froze. How could he have known? There was no way he could have known... Silently and immediately I flew back outside the covered corridor back into the open air, and faster than I had ever flew before, I found my way back to the Gryffindor tower, perching on the windowsill I had left open, dropping inside, and in the darkness transforming back into a student and swiftly slipping under the thick covers, I fell asleep suprisingly effortlessly.

***

In the morning I awoke earlier than usual. It was as if my mind knew I had been gifted with a long sleep and didn’t want me to get comfortable. I had become accustomed to falling asleep late and waking up early—both situations leaving me awake while the rest of the castle lay unconscious. I put on my uniform and brushed out my hair. I found that the more I transformed, the silkier my hair had become, it was as if the strands were becoming more feather-like, and tended to reflect the light more. I had gotten nearly a dozen requests for the enchantment I had used, always leaving me with an awkward and less than satisfactory “it must just be oily.” I descended the stairs to the common room where I read the clock.

5:30.

Defeatedly, I gathered all my schoolbooks and began to review the material for my first class of the day. Herbology.

***

I decided to take a walk to the kitchens to pick up a cup of tea before breakfast, which begun at 9am each morning. I still had a few hours before breakfast, so after I made myself a cup I circled back to the clock tower courtyard near where I had departed from the boy I had followed last night. I sat on the ledge of the fountain and began to re-read the textbook required for this upcoming unit in herbology on uses and cautions of aquatic plants. We would be taking a guided field trip to the Black Lake for research, which I was quite excited for. While my eyes danced across the finely-scripted writing in the yellowing book, my mind wandered to last night. I found myself retracing my steps, and visualizing the boy’s face above me, shocked and intrigued. What did he know?

***

After herbology class, which had been held at the Black Lake, I followed the mass of students back to the main castle grounds. My days at school were mostly spent alone either studying or hopelessly wandering in my mind to places where I no longer had to abandon my future. I recognized very few people as friends, and I stood out from my fun-loving, reckless, and colorful housemates. It was as if my natural personality I remembered glimpses of from childhood had been veiled with a layer of plaque, tarnished and dusty. I didn't mind the aloneness. I often felt most secure when I didn’t need to reveal my secret to anyone, and was able to choose my schedule the way I saw fit. Back in the castle, I followed my normal crowd of Gryffindors who I shared my first two classes with. These were the students who I sat with at meals, went to study parties with, sat in the common room after hours with, but never ended up knowing very well. It was a polite relationship. They asked me what I thought about our next class’ lesson.

“Can’t say I’m excited.” I rolled my eyes, my hands rested deep in the pockets of my skirt.

“Don’t want people to know what you’re scared of?”

“Must be it.”

Defense against the dark arts with professor Merrythought was next, and the notorious lesson on boggarts had been expected by most students for months. Undoubtedly there was excitement for exposure to mysterious and dark creatures as well as teasing material for students with childish fears. I couldn’t help think of the boy I had encountered by the clock tower who I would inevitably see again this upcoming class. I hoped my nervous habits would not give me away as suspicious. For some reason, I felt the need to be wary of him.

***

The classroom had been completely rearranged for the upcoming lesson, with the chairs and desks pushed to either side of the long room, and professor Merrythought’s figure standing in the back near a large ornate chest. As the students trickled in, the rumblings of the crowd grew louder as giggles and anticipation filled the cold air. My hands wrapped around my arms as I attempted to retain my warmth.

Am I the only one who notices that draft?

Merrythought calmed us down and begun her lecture on the history of the discovery and initial magical responses to the boggart. It takes the image of what you most fear... Its true form has never been seen... It withers at the sound of laughter... The students got called up one at a time as she showed us the counter-curse Riddikulus! which would obstruct the boggart’s form and intercept its visual manipulation. Riddikulus! the steep chasm of a split cliff lets out a nasty fart and the room explodes in laughter. Riddikulus! a swarm of wasps turn into winged lemons and drop to the floor, rolling around and colliding with each other, and the class cackles.

Godric, would she just close that bloody window?!

“Lucia!” the room’s roaring died down and I felt my face turn red hot. My stomach twisted and contorted within me and my walk was feeble as I approached the large chest.

“And when the boggart is released, remember the incantation!” I swallowed hard and in a second, the lid of the chest flew open and a swirling silvery mass flew toward me and shifted into a bird, its head, beak, and breast were black mimicking a raven, but its belly was white and the under-feathers of the wings and long elegant tail that caught the light shimmered hints of deep phthalo green and royal Prussian blue. The bird began to lunge toward me and in a panic I shouted the incantation much louder than I expected.

“Riddikulus!!” The bird’s feathers erupt in every direction, leaving the creature completely bald and resembling an uncooked chicken, struggling to stay suspended in the air. The class giggled and Merrythought propelled the creature back into the chest and called forward the next student as I slipped back into the crowd.

“Tom!” The boy approached the chest in a single fluid moment. He wore his school robes to every class unlike the majority of students who only wore the required minimum of a blouse, sweater and trousers or skirt. He stood out not only because of his height but because his ebony-black hair glistened under the lantern-lit room. His robes seemed to be an extension of his broad square shoulders, and as he readied his wand I felt the room muffle in an unnatural stillness. The boggart shifted into the body of a young boy, with the same black hair as Tom, the same pale skin and full, pink lips, but the boy’s eyes were closed, his face was hollowed and gaunt, and he was lying on the floor, seemingly lifeless. The class seemed to collectively hold its breath as the dead body of a young boy nearly identical to the older Tom lay before us. Tom lifted his wand and smoothly uttered,

“Riddikulus.” The black robes along with the body of the boy melted into a thick black bubbling slime that seemed to shake and bounce slightly. This time there was no laughter. There was no reaction. Professor Merrythought quickly swooped up the transformed boggart with her wand and tossed it with a graceful flick back into the large chest.

“Well done class! Quite the show. That’s the end of the lesson for today, we’ll continue where we left off tomorrow!” The students murmured with the abrupt dismissal and I couldn’t help myself from straying my gaze to look at Tom. To my instant shock his piercing aquamarine eyes shot right back at me and I almost let out an audible gasp at the sudden intensity of his stare. I felt my heart-rate race and I nearly ran from the classroom.

***

Later that night my mind was racing, I had to know what he knew, why he had stared at me back in class, did he know I was the bird who had followed him last night? I sat by the crackling fireplace of the Gryffindor common room. The clock read “12:10,” and there was only one girl left in my company. She sat at the other corner of the room and I could hear the shuffling of books which meant I would soon be alone and she would be going to sleep. I caught myself staring into the flames, the fire dancing and glittering into smoke and stray glowing embers.

“Goodnight!” the girl called out as she ascended the stairs to the dorms.

“Goodnight.” I replied, my voice was tired but my mind was wide awake. My eyes lazily flew over the spread of books before me.

There was no way I would be able to study with Tom on my mind.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his bright eyes flashed in that cold room. It was as if the only thing my head could focus on were those piercing eyes and the image of that magpie lunging right toward me.

If you’d like to read Part Two, click here

Tags: @tmr-simp-pride

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fic #Harry Potter #Harry Potter fic #harry potter imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine

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ichorizaki · 4 years

Text

monsters — i.h.

꒰ ❛ genre ❜ ꒱ — fluff ; college!au

꒰ ❛ pairing ❜ ꒱ — senior!iwaizumi hajime x senior!gn!reader

꒰ ❛ warnings ❜ ꒱ — teeth-rotting fluff, curse words

꒰ ❛ word count ❜ ꒱ — 2.6k

˚ ༘ˀˀ ꒰‧⁺ a text from sol — ✎ˀ i got inspired upon reading a text post reposted onto pinterest, so enjoy some domestic iwa-chan! i’m considering opening up a taglist too but i’m not too confident.... huhu

-`,✎ synopsis! ; ♡ throughout his entire life, iwaizumi hajime has been fighting all sorts of monsters. he’s just thankful that you were there by his side the whole time with your unwavering support and uplifting words of kindness. this time however, you defeated the biggest monster that he’s faced yet with just one word.

Iwaizumi Hajime could remember one of the first few times he felt fear. It was one of the hottest days of summer with the sun high and mighty in the sky, sometime about two decades ago when he was still young and the world seemed so huge compared to him. He and Oikawa were playing in his yard, a volleyball that fit snugly into a child’s hands being thrown back and forth. He remembered Oikawa being terrible enough to serve the ball too far and it went into the small nest of trees just beyond the brick fence barricading his house.

It was stark as day—the heavy, accelerated thump, thump, thumping of his unsteady heart, the tremor of his tiny hands, the quiver of his bottom lip, and the clear tears turning his vision into a terrifying blend of summer colours. He remembered how the fear slithered from his feet to his shoulders, taunting and whispering untrue threats and poisonous anxieties into his ears as he tried to help an equally distressed Oikawa stand. The first fear; the first monster that took form in his small body.

He had abrasions on his knees and elbows, dirt and emerald leaves stuck in his messy brown locks as tears streamed down his face. Oikawa had fallen down from the tree he climbed to inspect a long forgotten kite while trying to get the volleyball that he served into a tree.

“You’re lucky that you didn’t suffer too badly, Toorū,” his mother chided gently. She had always been patient and gentle with them, fixing any wounds be it physical or emotional. “Now, now, Hajime, Toorū will be okay.” The smile that blossomed on her face was like a healing flower, spreading warmth through his body like sunshine as she kissed them both on their temples slick with summer sweat.

For a while, it was just him and Oikawa, fighting their onslaught of tiny gremlins of fears as they grew. The gremlins grew with every fear they overcame, and eventually developed into a monster that lurked in the background wherever they went. Creeping, waiting, watching in the shadows. Iwaizumi remembered his first monster like it was just yesterday: the dark.

It was his first sleepover that wasn’t just him and Oikawa. The new person was you, L/N Y/N, their shy second grade classmate. Oikawa was eager to have you join them, wanting you to be comfortable and never left out. That was your first mini monster—the shyness of a lurking child who was too afraid to show the world who they were—and thanks to Oikawa’s lovely hospitality and friendliness, you managed to defeat it without lifting a finger.

Iwaizumi never forgot the monster he faced that night, because you were there with your stunning smile.

Everything in the Oikawa household was still, tendrils darkness slithering their way from the deepest, darkest corners and trapping the house under its nighttime curse. Iwaizumi didn’t know what time it was, but everyone was asleep. He wanted to go to the toilet, but his childhood was peacefully sleeping as he held on to his bunny plushie.

That was when you had stirred awake. You were bleary-eyed, half-awoken from his broken whimpers of frustration. You rose from the futon you were given, curious as to why your new friend was awake in the middle of the night.

“Iwaizumi-kun?” Your voice was soft and gentle; a blanket of comfort wrapping around his shoulders as he looked over at you. “What’s wrong? You can tell me.” Maybe it was the way you phrased your words, how they eloquently became mini candlelights in his heart, or maybe it was the way you had immediately gotten up from your futon and waddled over to sit in front of him, clutching onto your comfort teddy bear, because he found himself spilling his concerns to you.

“I . . . I want to go to the toilet but it’s dark and scary outside.”

Oh, but the smile that you gave him was blinding.

“My grandma taught me this trick: if you’re scared of monsters in the dark, make louder, weirder noises to scare them off!” His mossy eyes glimmered in the pale moonlight with excitement of this newfound knowledge. “I can hold your hand and follow you. I need to go to the toilet, too.” The sheepish grin on your face was one he would always keep close to his heart, and he was glad that it never changed even when you grew.

As you held onto his hand, you held onto the vow that you made. You could tell how scared he was with the heavy, hesitant steps that he took and how sweaty his palms had grown. You were also scared, but you couldn’t show that to your new friend! You had to be brave, and brave you were as you took the lead in screaming high-pitched, garbled nonsense into the dark corridors. Eventually, he joined in as you both raced down the stairs, giggles bubbling from your lips as you made your way to the toilet near the kitchen.

You heard footsteps when you were finishing up in the toilet. You didn’t want Iwaizumi to be scared so you quickly washed your hands and threw open the door to find Oikawa’s parents looking incredibly concerned. With a proud grin, you told them what you did and they looked at each other with a smile you could never quite describe before bending down to your heights.

“Well, that’s brave of you, L/N-chan,” his mother praised. You sported a grin that boasted pride. “C’mon, let’s get you two back to bed, shall we?” Iwaizumi took your hand in his as he held Oikawa’s dad’s in the other.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore, Iwaizumi-kun,” you promised. “I’m here and I’ll always be here for you.”

Not once had you let go of that promise. Not even when the both of you got into fights that threatened the life of your friendship, or when someone’s heart broke little by little as the other held hands with someone else with a smile that they wished they could be the cause of. You were stubborn and so was he, and sometimes it felt like both of your obstinacy was the saving line. Rain or shine, come hell or high water, you were there for him and he was there for you.

The fears—these monsters that came in all forms and sizes—kept coming at him. Not only did they hurt him, but they had also hurt you and Oikawa, and he had always placed the blame on himself even when the both of you told him not to.

University life is hard. He had to juggle part time work and studies, and he barely had time to himself, let alone with you. The rare days that he gets to press pause on everything and lay in bed with you, his significant other of two years, he cherishes them.

“Y/N,” his gruff voice called out for you. You turned around and his bulking tanned arms trapped your figure in his warm embrace. His face was inches away from your as you lay there chest-to-chest. He could never get tired of staring at your face. From the dips and curves of your facial structure to the way your stunning eyes glow no matter what, he could never get enough.

The pillows of your soft lips pressed against his and he found himself chasing your lips for a longer kiss as you pulled away with a gentle chuckle. It pulled him out of his reverie, a small smile playing on his lips as his fingers reached up to push your hair away from your face. The late afternoon sun was warm against his skin and yours but the air conditioning soothed the warmth like a gulp of freshly iced water.

“Remember when I asked you to be my significant other?”

“How could I ever forget, Hajime?” Your laugh—god, your laugh was so divine—filled his ears and made the purple lilacs in his heart bloom. “It was our final year in Seijōh and you were so nervous that you practically bawled your eyes out after you confessed.” Your beautiful eyes creased into lovely half-crescents, your cheeks so soft as he pinched them gently for teasing him. He, too, eventually found himself laughing along.

It was one hell of a big monster that he fought. It grew and grew until it ate him up alive—he absolutely had to tell you how he felt or he would probably feel himself die a little bit inside if he didn’t tell you.

The both of you remembered the spring when you received your high school graduation certificates. The breeze was cool and sweet against your skin where it was exposed. It was the final day that you would be wearing the Seijōh uniform, and never had you thought that you would be so attached to it. You stared at the school as the bell tolls, signalling that another hour had gone by.

You could hear the chirping of birds in the distance, overlapping laughter and chatter as the graduating cohort loiters in the school yard that you were all gathered at. Everyone was taking pictures with their friends and family with tearful goodbyes and promises floating into the air like helium balloons. Your final year was over.

“Y/N-chan!” Toorū’s voice managed to reach you from among the crowd. You were surprised to find Iwaizumi by his side instead of the same flock of female admirers. You walked towards them, butterflies getting restless in your stomach from the way Iwaizumi was looking at you as the three of you met halfway. “So this is it, huh?”

“Stop being so negative, Idiotkawa!” Iwaizumi smacked the back of his head.

“You’re not some shōjō manga hero,” you grumbled at the same time.

“You’re both so mean! Mean!” Toorū whined as he rubbed the sore spot, his shoulders drooping ever so slightly as his lower lip jutted out into a pout. You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics.

“Let’s go back to my place. My parents decided to cook up a whole feast for the three of us with,” Iwaizumi offered. You parents weren’t necessarily the celebratory type, so you were just glad that you had your best friends to celebrate the end of your secondary education. You eagerly accepted the invitation with a bright smile, ready to walk with them when he blocked your path. “But before that . . .” He looked over at his childhood friend expectantly. A knowing smile broke upon his face.

“I’ll wait for you two at the entrance, then.” Oikawa didn’t say another word and left the both of you alone. Part of you kind of knew what he wanted to say, but there was this small twisted voice that told you no, that it wasn’t possible for someone as perfect as Iwaizumi would ever reciprocate your feelings for him.

“L/N Y/N.”

“Y-Yes?” Your eyes snapped back to meet his alluring moss green eyes, speckled with the golden rays of sunlight as he looked straight at you. His gaze was unwavering until his eyes left your face, betraying his confident front. You could tell that he was nervous. He was wiping the sweat from the palms of his hands on the sides of his uniform pants. His eyes kept darting between you and the floor, and his lips were parted, trying their best to form words but nothing seemed to come out. “Iwa-chan?” You softly prompted.

“I like you.” That was more than enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Your heart was soaring higher than it had ever gone, wings fluttering in absolute ecstasy as the butterflies in your stomach wreaked havoc out of pure joy. “Fuck, that probably didn’t cut it. Um– shit. I, uh. L/N Y/N, I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you, okay? Ever since we were kids, you’ve been there for me. You helped me and that dumbass whenever we were in need. Even when we fought, we made up, and not once had you held a grudge against me even when I’ve hurt you. You’re the best person that I have in my life ten years ago, today, and ten years from today, and probably forever. If you’d let me, I want to hold your hand and kiss your tears away and be your boyfriend.”

You were left speechless. You stared back at him, jaw slacked and eyes wide in shock. At your lack of response, he began to panic. He began to ramble at how you didn’t need to give him an answer that instant or how he needed to get his feelings known and acknowledged by you. It was so silly of him.

“Iwaizumi Hajime, stop that,” you laughed, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. He fell silent as he watched you take both of his large, calloused hands in your much smaller ones. “I thought I was the only one who felt that way. I’m in love with you too, Iwa-chan.”

Just like that, the biggest grin that you had ever seen on him broke out. You found yourself in tears, and he, too, was so overwhelmed with feelings that he was physically fighting to keep the tears at bay. This euphoric feeling was one that the both of you kept close to your hearts, even when you felt it almost every day.

“Y’know,” his voice was gentle against your bare skin, nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck as the both of you reminisced the good times. You hummed in response to prompt him forward. “I’ve been thinking . . .”

“What is it, baby?” The palm of your hands were two soft cushions cupping his jawline as you made him look into your eyes. He had always had a problem with eye contact when it came to speaking from his heart. You found it deeply endearing.

“I know we’re still young and all that, but I’m so fucking sure that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you so fucking much, Y/N. You mean the universe to me and I want to grow old with you.” You could feel the unsteady thump, thump, thumping of his unsteady heart as he slowly poured his heart out to you; the slightest tremble in his calloused, volleyball-worn hands as they nervously held on to your frame, the pads of his thumbs rubbing gentle circles as if to calm himself down for what he’s about to say. You weren’t dumb—you kind of knew what he was getting at. He wasn’t exactly subtle when he pointed out rings at the jewelry store downtown when the both of you went out on a date last week. “L/N Y/N, I love you with every single fibre of my being. Will you marry me?”

You knew he was scared. You knew he was nervous. You knew he was trying his hardest to keep his cool. He knew that you knew all these; why wouldn’t you? You knew him just like the back of your hand, as he did you. This monster was one hell of a headache. He had practiced the speech over and over again, even going so far as to ask Hanamaki or Matsukawa to roleplay, albeit terribly, as you. But you—oh, you—managed to slay this monster with just a single word.

The corners of your lips curled into a delectable smile. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his in a kiss that was way too quick for his liking, but it was full of love and adoration nonetheless. His stunning eyes were still fixed on your face as his unsteady heart waited for your answer. The pink of your lips parted, saying the one word that doubled the euphoria that he had felt the day that they had graduated: “Yes!”

.°🍓! | tags; ❞

@samuthots

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lady-of-glass-and-bone · 3 years

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Songs & Characters Pedro Pascal

How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful / Florence + The Machine

I listened to the whole album and each song, sometimes specific lyrics, made me think of certain Pedro characters. I have no explanation, I just felt like doing this. I plan on doing the rest of Florence + The Machine’s albums with the Pedro boys. Maybe after that with different artists/albums and characters, maybe some Marvel or slashers? Send in your thoughts and some requests?

Lyrics and their characters below the cut because I have no self control.

Ship To Wreck / Javier Pena

And, ah, my love remind me, what was it that I said? I can't help but pull the earth around me to make my bed And, ah, my love remind me, what was it that I did? Did I drink too much? Am I losing touch? Did I build a ship to wreck?

What Kind Of Man / Dave York

And with one kiss / You inspired a fire of devotion that lasts for twenty years / What kind of man loves like this?

To let me dangle at a cruel angle / Oh, my feet don't touch the floor / Sometimes you're half in and then you're half out / But you never close the door

How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful / Ezra

Between a crucifix and the Hollywood sign, we decided to get hurt Now there's a few things we have to burn Set our hearts ablaze, and every city was a gift And every skyline was like a kiss upon the lips And I was making you a wish In every skyline

So much time on the other side Waiting for you to wake up So much time on the other side Waiting for you to wake up Maybe I'll see you in another life If this one wasn't enough So much time on the other side

Queen of Peace / Din Djarin

His only son Cut down, but the battle won Oh, what is it worth When all that's left is hurt

Like the stars chase the sun Over the glowing hill, I will conquer Blood is running deep Some things never sleep

And my love is no good Against the fortress that it made of you Blood is running deep Sorrow that you keep

Various Storms & Saints / Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels and Maxwell Lord

You don't need no edge to cling from / Your heart is there, it's in your hands / I know it seems like forever / I know it seems like an age / But one day this will be over / I swear it's not so far away

Whiskey / But still you stumble, feet give way Outside the world seems a violent place But you had to have him, and so you did Some things you let go in order to live While all around you the buildings sway You sing it out loud, who made us this way I know you're bleeding, but you'll be okay Hold on to your heart, you'll keep it safe Hold on to your heart, don't give it away

Maxwell Lord / And the air was full Of various storms and saints Praying in the street As the banks began to break And I'm in the throes of it Somewhere in the belly of the beast But you took your toll on me So I gave myself over willingly Oh, you got a hold on me I don't know how I don't just stand outside and scream I am teaching myself how to be free

Delilah / Marcus Pike and Frankie Morales

'Cause I'm gonna be free and I'm gonna be fine (Holding on for your call) / 'Cause I'm gonna be free and I'm gonna be fine(Maybe not tonight)

Marcus Pike / Strung up, strung out for your love Hang in, hung up, it's so rough I'm wrung and ringing out Why can't you let me know?

Strung up, strung out for your love Hang in, hung up, it's so rough I'm wrung and ringing out Why can't you let me know?

Frankie Morales / Too fast for freedom Sometimes it all falls down These chains never leave me I keep dragging them around

Now I'm dancing with Delilah and her vision is mine (Holding on for your call) A different kind of danger in the daylight (I can never let go) Took anything to cut you, I can find (Holding on for your call) A different kind of a danger in the daylight (Can't you let me know?)

Long & Lost / Dave York and Javier Pena

Dave York / Lost in the fog, these hollow hills Blood running hot, night chills Without your love I'll be So long and lost, are you missing me

Is it too late to come on home Are all those bridges now old stone Is it too late to come on home Can the city forgive, I hear its sad song

Javier Pena / I need the clouds to cover me Pull in the dark, surround me Without your love I'll be So long and lost, are you missing me

It's been so long between the words we spoke Will you be there up on the shore, I hope You wonder why it is that I came home I figured out where I belong

Caught / Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels and Max Phillips

Whiskey / As if the dream of you, it sleeps too But it never slips away It just gains its strength and digs its hooks To drag me through the day

And I'm caught I forget all that I've been taught I can't keep calm, I can't keep still Pulled apart against my will

Max Phillips / Then you leave my head and crawl out of bed You subconscious solipsist And for those hours deep in the dark Perhaps you don't exist

And I was thrashing on the line Somewhere between Desperate and divine I can't keep calm, I can't keep still Persephone will have her fill

Third Eye / Frankie Morales, Pero Tovar, Javier Pena, Maxwell Lord

Frankie Morales / Don't make a shadow of yourself,always shutting out the light Caught in your own creation Look up, look up! It tore you open And oh, how much

'Cause there's a hole where your heart lies And I can see it with my third eye And though my touch, it magnifies You pull away, you don't know why

Maxwell Lord / You don't have to be a ghost here amongst the living You are flesh and blood And you deserve to be loved and you deserve what you are given

'Cause your pain is a tribute The only thing you let hold you Wear it now like a mantle Always there to remind you

St. Jude / Ezra, Dave York, Din Djarin, Marcus Moreno

Ezra / Another conversation with no destination Another battle never won Each side is a loser So who cares who fired the gun

And I'm learning so I'm leaving And even though I'm grieving I'm trying to find a meaning Let loss reveal it Let loss reveal it

Din Djarin / St Jude, the patron saint of the lost causes St Jude, we were lost before she started St Jude, we lay in bed as she whipped around us St Jude, maybe I've always been more comfortable in chaos

Marcus Moreno / And I was on the island and you were there too But somehow through the storm I couldn't get to you, Oh St Jude, somehow she knew And she came to give her blessing while causing devastation And I couldn't keep my mouth shut, I just had to mention Grabbing your attention

Mother / Javier Pena, Ezra, Pero Tovar

Javier Pena / I put my feet into the fountain The statues all asleep No use wishing on the water It grants you no relief

Mother, make me Make me a bird of prey So I can rise above this, let it fall away Mother, make me Make me a song so sweet Heaven trembles, fallen at our feet

Ezra / Oh lord, won't you leave me Leave me on my knees Cause I belong to the ground now And it belongs to thee

And oh lord, won't you leave me Leave me just like this Cause I belong to the ground now I want no more than this

How I long for the older The sun keeps burning deep Every stone in this city keeps reminding me Can you protect me from what I want? The love I let in, it left me so lost

Pero Tovar / Mother, make me Make me a big tall tree So I can shed my leaves and let it blow through me Mother, make me Make me a big grey cloud So I can rain on you things I can't say out loud

All these couples are kissing And I can't stand the heat I lost my shoes and left the party I wander in the street

Hiding / Frankie Morales, Marcus Moreno, Din Djarin, Maxwell Lord, Javier Pena

Frankie Morales / I know that you're hiding I know there's a part of you that I just cannot reach You don't have to let me in Just know that I'm still here I'm ready for you whenever Whenever you need Whenever you want to begin

Din Djarin / I know you've tried But something stops you every time You cry a little So do I So do I And it's your price That's keeping us still so far apart But if you give a little So will I So will I

Maxwell Lord / I know I seem shaky This hand's not fit for holding But if you let me, oh I will see you're wrong

Tell me I will be released Not sure I can deal with this Up all night again this week Breaking things that I should keep

Javier Pena / I think you hide When all the world's asleep and tired You cry a little So do I So do I I think you hide And you don't have to tell me why You cry a little So do I So do I

Tell me I will be released Not sure I can deal with this Up all night again this week Breaking things that I should keep

Make Up Your Mind / Pero Tovar, Max Phillips, Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels, Dave York

Max Phillips / I never thought that I'd be facing A sea that's bluer than the tide Now my knees are shaking And I can't look in your eyes

But if you're gonna make me do it How'd you want it done Is it best to sip it slowly Or drink it down in one

Make up your mind Let me live or let me love you While you've been saving your neck I've been breaking mine for you The power is on, the guillotine hums My back's to the wall, go on, let it fall, oh Make up your mind Before I make it up for you

Whiskey / I never thought I'd be a killer Cause there's so much to lose But if I can't drink the water What else can I do

And although the axe is heavy It just sits in my hands While you're changing like the current Not a shore on land

Every time I try to bring it down You always turn my head around

Pero Tovar / The executioner's within me And he comes blindfold ready Sword in hand And arms so steady Every time I try to bring it down You always turn my head around But every time I try to bring it down You always turn my head around

Which Witch / Dave York

And it's my whole heart Weighted and measured inside And it's an old scar Trying to bleach it out

And it's my whole heart Deemed and delivered a crime I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out

Who's a heretic now? Am I making sense? How can you make it stick? Waiting 'til the beat comes out

#javier peña #marcus pike #ezra (prospect)#din djarin #the mandalorian #agent whiskey #agent jack whiskey daniels #maxwell lord #zach wellison #frankie catfish morales #dave york #max phillips #pero tovar #marcus moreno #pedro pascal characters #song inspo #pedro pascal

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jojo-fantasy-aus · 4 years

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Fantasy Au!

Josuke x F! Reader - ch 7

It Takes Two.

This chapter is a but shorter than usual, but I hope Ya'll enjoy!

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Your eyes fluttered open as you lay in the comfy, warm, bed. This was useless. You had been trying to fall asleep for hours, it felt like, but all you could do was twist and turn and flip your pillow over and over again.

With a sigh, you sat up in bed, reaching over to the side table with a blind hand. The square matchbox was easy to find, and with a flick of your wrist you lit the candle next to you. The room filled with a soft warm light.

It felt impossible to quiet the thoughts in your head. You thought that you'd gotten over the guilt from the fight this morning, but you couldn't stop thinking about it. You were so angry, but why? After years of serving at the palace you thought you had learned to hold your temper, but everything had just felt so out of control.

And then there was Josuke. How had he remained so… so calm? He wasn't angry, just shocked. Or was he angry? Was he just hiding it? The more you thought about it the more your head hurt. You needed a break.

The cold floors slightly creaked under you as you stood and picked up the candlestick, gingerly opening the door to your room.

You tiptoed down the stairs as silent as you could in such an old house, and the sound of a fire going was loud and clear in the quiet night. That was curious, who else could be up at this hour? A split second thought of the person being Josuke made your stomach flutter, and you pressed a cold hand to your hot face. Were you…?

No. You decided that you would analyze your own thoughts later, it was much too late for this.

Finally reaching the last step, you headed towards the living room where the main fireplace was.

Warm light leaked through a small crack in the door, and for a moment you hesitated before opening it further. The cold doorknob pressed into your palm as you pulled the squeaky door open to peer into the room.

The man half-asleep on the couch caught you by surprise, and your heart sunk when you realized it wasn't Josuke, staying up a little later, wandering the house with those fitted sleepshirts he wears…

You physically shook the thought from your head, stepping into the room fully. Okuyasu's eyes were open, but it looked like he hadn't noticed you. In fact, you were pretty sure he was snoring. A notebook and quill had been abandoned in his lap.

"Okuyasu?" The man snorted violently, and then choked on the breath, doubling over in a cough. You covered your mouth to keep yourself from laughing as he tried to regain his composure.

"Keeping vigilant watch over the fire I see?" You mused, blowing out the candle in your hand. Okuyasu gasped dramatically and ran to the fireplace in front of him, peering at the dying embers. He settled back on the couch once he was confident that the fire wasn't an immediate threat.

"Thanks for waking me up, Shigetchi would'a killed me if I burned down this house." You smiled brightly, settling down on a rocking chair yourself.

"Not if Josuke got to you first." He let out a goofy chuckle before stretching his arms with a big yawn, stiff joints popping all at once. The silence settled for just a moment.

" 'Mind if I ask why you're up so late, Miss?" Okuyasu said a little too loudly. You shush him, reminding him that there was, in fact, another person in the house. Once he nervously apologized you answered him.

"I haven't been able to sleep. I guess I've just been thinking too much." You subconsciously rocked back and forth on the chair as you spoke. Okuyasu nodded, leaning comfortably back on the couch.

"We all seem to have that in common, huh?"

"All?"

Okuyasu smiled in a goofy way, shaking his head before speaking up in his gruff, sleep deprived voice.

"Josuke wouldn't go to bed until you got back, all he did was wait out in the stables the whole time. And even then he didn't fall asleep until a few hours ago." He laughed. Instantly your face flushed, a strange feeling blooming in your chest when you thought about it. Josuke worries too much.

" I fell asleep right after you left for the dinner thing. Had a dream- No! A divination about a new pumpkin bread recipe. Woke up 'bout an hour or two later with an itch to write it down, but…" Okuyasu glanced at the papers in his lap, some scrawled over and scratched out with the ink. He frowned, just slightly.

"I just can't seem to get it right." You hummed, brows furrowing. That was quite a predicament. The one thing you had learned about Okuyasu was the sweet man had quite the gift for baking, so much so that you'd much rather call it an art, and him an artist. Even then, he still hit walls in inspiration. Your face lit up when an idea flashed in your head

"We could go to the market tomorrow? I heard from Shigetchi that they harvested the last of the fall crop recently, so they should have some good pumpkins ready. -mabye we can ask to borrow some of his spices too! I'm sure you'll have it figured out by then." Okuyasu's face lit up immediately, looking at you with stars in his eyes.

"Whoah!! That's such a great idea- I didn't even think about adding spices!!" Okuyasu cheered, snatching the quill back into his hand. You must have given him some kind of idea already, because he was already aggressively writing things down. He quietly rambled off the things he would need to get from the market under his breath. The small action ignited a smile, it was nice to see him so happy. It was no wonder that this goofball and Josuke were best friends, they were both filled with passion and excitement for even the littlest of things.

You didn't realize you had spaced out until Okuyasu spoke up again.

"You're so smart! It's no wonder Josuke likes you so much!" Your face heated up in a split second. Did he really just say that?

"He what?" Okuyasu looked up at you, a face of confusion turning into panic. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could the door creaked open.

"What're you guys doing?" You jumped at the sound of Josuke's voice. Turning around in your chair to face him.

He looked dead tired, almost half awake as he stood there. He was still in his pajamas, (weren't you all,) which were just some baggy pants and a green shirt with a neckline that maybe dipped a bit too low… But even still he looked so handsome.

The flush of blood in your face was hopefully still hidden by the looming night, as it had become even worse when you realized you were staring.

"I- well I couldn't sleep, so I came downstairs and found Okuyasu…" He sent you a pleading look. Right, maybe you shouldn't tell Josuke that he could've burnt the house down.

"-Trying to write down a recipe all night." Josuke's face shifted a bit, but he nodded. He sent a disappointed glare in Okuyasu's direction, and the mercenary panicked, frantically waving his hands back and forth in surrender.

"Look- I know you told me to stop staying up so late- but bro- this recipe!" You giggled a bit as Okuyasu struggled out the excuses. Josuke sighed, shaking his head at his friend. He was so caring. You could tell that from the moment you met him. You looked at him fondly, but he didn't turn to see.

Maybe having a little bit of a crush on Josuke wasn't such a bad idea after all.

When the three of you eventually dispersed and went to bed, it was almost difficult to remove yourself from Josuke's side. An exchange of a soft Goodnight made your stomach flutter all over again, and the moment you closed your door you slid down the surface and onto the floor.

This was definitely not just "a bit of a crush" anymore.

Shit.

Josuke sighed heavily as he closed his door, heart wrenching as he pried himself away from you. You and Okuyasu had just been talking, that was all. Right? He shouldn't be jealous of his friend. There wasn't even a reason to be jealous. But then he thought of your giggle as Oku rambled, and the short moment you hesitated while explaining why you had been up so late, and his chest felt like it started to squeeze in on itself.

He was overthinking this. Okuyasu would never try to court her when it was so obvious that he was trying to himself. He's a good friend, always will be too.

He couldn't stop thinking about what Okuyasu said after he came home from Shigetchi's. Sure, he didn't know that Josuke had been watching over you instead of taking care of the horses all night, but his words still hit in all the fuzzy places.

"She's worried about you too, Ya'know that? Barely got a foot in the door before asking where you'd gone off too. 'Didn't get to answer before you walked back in to say hi,"

He had only been standing there for a moment before you changed the subject and started telling the two of them about your lead. He remembered how you couldn't look him in the eye. He had no doubt that it was because you felt terribly guilty for slapping him.

Josuke pulled back the covers and crawled into the bed that had long gone cold. You had never meant to harm anyone, not for the short amount of time he knew you however. You certainly never meant to harm him in the way you did. It was the first time in a while that someone had gotten physical with him, and he didn't get mad. He supposed that it was simply because it was you. You, looking so… so scared. He would've been offended that you thought he was one of those men from back at the camp, but he out of all people definitely knew the toll that trauma can take on people.

"Love is fickle like that sometimes…"

The sentence had been burning into his mind for a while, and so had you.

He fell asleep with the thought of you on his mind.

#josuke imagine #josuke x reader #josuke headcanons #jjba josuke #josuke 4 #josuke higashikata #diamond is unbreakable #jjba x reader #jjba reader insert #it takes two fic

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baby-witch-eli · 3 years

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Quantifying my Craft

I found this lovely post by @breelandwalker, who I totally recommend checking out, and it inspired me. My cards and horoscopes have been pushing me to reflect on my goals lately so this is exactly what I needed right now! I decided I'd give it a go.

Broad Concepts

I like to follow western traditions; Celtic traditions in particular are near and dear to my heart. This is why I chose to focus my worship in the Celtic Pantheon, and I'm currently working on building a relationship with Brigid. I would consider myself an eclectic, although divination and nature magic are my two main areas of focus. While I like to ask others for advice while I learn, magic is something I prefer to practice on my own. I've only been practicing since late January, interestingly enough I started around Imbolc. So far I've found intentions are the most important aspect of witchcraft and it has helped me greatly to practice intention in all aspects of my life.

Working Space

I began constructing an altar to Brigid yesterday. Frustratingly enough, my mother is going to have me put away all my small little items and decorations tomorrow as we're trying to sell our house. We won't be moving for a few more months though. I'm hoping I'll be able to keep the altar up but I'll look into online altar options if needed. I already keep an online altar to myself on an app called #SelfCare that I would highly recommended.

Right now my altar to Brigid has a white candle in a green holder; a sailor's knot I wore around my wrist until it started to come undone; a silver bell for music and creativity; the first piece of pottery I ever painted; a picture book of the traveling I did around Michigan a few years ago; an empty journal I hope to fill with art and poems dedicated to her; and a beaker (cauldron stand-in) I dedicated by burning a sigil in that holds nineteen white rose petals and a whisker my cat lost. I'm charging a carnelian and working on a piece of fox, the spirit guide she sent me, embroidery to add to the altar. It's positioned on top of an organizer I have on my desk, which is pushed up against a window.

There's a spot under my porch I wanted to use for meditation but I discovered I'm too jumpy and distractible to meditate outdoors. I don't like having my eyes closed when out of the open and I have an exaggerated startle response. Instead, I find it better for me to meditate in the bath. Sitting in water at least ankle deep with the lights off, after everybody else has gone to sleep and when the moon can shine through the window, is the ideal place for me to sit and follow a guided meditation. I find meditations that take me on a journey through my astral space are the most effective.

Ideally, I'd like to be able to have my own space where I can freely spread my altars and workspaces throughout the house. I want to be able to fill it with plants and books and cards and candles. While I'm at home trying to avoid suspicion from my Christian family, I just have to make the most of what I have.

Tools

My first deck is on the #SelfCare app. I call it my "Familiar Deck" as that's the one I'm most connected with. It's brutally honest, which I love. My second favorite deck is the "blue-eyed" deck I use for my Daily Draw. Another brutally honest deck and one I find to be very accurate. When asking Brigid questions, I prefer to use the Yes/No deck. It gives you your answer and is also good at accurately conveying "secondary," not yes/no, messages. You'll notice all of them are online and that's because, once again, I live with my Christian family and must be covert.

I have a quite a few crystals as I, thankfully, was interested in collecting them when I was younger. The tumbled crystals I have are small and few; most of my crystals are raw. I keep forgetting to charge them when there's a full moon out. I'll have to set a reminder or something to that effect. At the very least, I'm happy that I don't have to bother with trying to obtain any without my parents becoming suspicious. One of these days, I'd love to start collecting rings and wear several. It's also silly little dream of mine to get an onyx pendulum someday.

As far as books go, I bought a beautiful journal I've dedicated as my grimoire. It's dark blue with shiny, gold space decals. I would love to collect witchy books but I don't have money and I couldn't get away with it while living at home. I hear there's an excellent discord that stores witchy books and I think it's something I'll look into. For now, my information comes from my internet research. Thankfully, I did debate for several years, so I know how to find sources from accurate cites, but it certainly takes a lot of work to find good information that way.

The Year

I’m interested in learning more about the Wheel of the Year and incorporating it into my practice. Imbolc is especially important to me, as I worship the goddess Brighid. I missed it this year but I hope to celebrate it in the future. I have yet to study the important of dates outside of astrology so I’ll have to make sure I study it more.

History of My Magic

Honestly, I’ve always felt a very strong pull towards magic. I was raised in a very religious family though so I was always afraid that answering the call would condemn me. I grew up reading as many fantasy stories as I could, connecting with any animal I was able to, and spending as much time in the woods or by water as I could. The woods and the water have always felt full of magic to me and inspired me to want to practice witchcraft. Ever since I was little, I’ve had a great fondness and affection for the moon and stars. I’ve also always felt very drawn to Celtic folklore, magic, and Irish culture. I have distant family ties to Ireland and even though it’s a relatively minor aspect of my heritage, it’s always felt the most important to me. Movies like Song of the Sea and Brendan and the Secret of Kells helped tighten my bond with it. I even started learning as much as I could about the Fae after some books I read piqued my interest. I’ve always been the kid who kept a firm belief in magic even after all my friends “outgrew” it.

It took me a long time to finally answer the call to magic. Like I said, I was raised in a religious household. My grandparents even accused me of being a witch when I went through my Harry Potter phase! It actually made me rather pleased. There were a few times I came very close to beginning practicing witchcraft but I shied away for fear of Hell. It wasn’t until I finally was able to distance myself from the church earlier this year that I decided to start practicing magic behind my parents’ back. I’m very glad I did.

Progress

I’ve only been practicing for a few months. I’ve been very busy with college so it’s been pretty lax so far. I’m trying to build some sort of consistency. The end of the semester is a bad time for that, for sure. I’ve really connected with astrology and tarot-reading. Learning about the symbolism of different bugs and animals has also been something I’ve honestly also done, so it’s nice to be able to incorporate that into my practice. Dragonflies have always been signs of good luck for me (or bad omens, as the one time I saw one dead was one my Grammy found in her garage; she showed it to me a month or so before she passed away from cancer).

Recently, I began meditation. I met my spirit animal, a brown-eyed fox, who I ended up learning was sent by the goddess Brighid to guide me. I contacted Brighid about twice and set up an altar for her. The first time I heard her speak to me was when she was telling me I don’t drink enough water (I haven’t met with her since I pulled an all-nighter for college and I’m sure she’s not particularly pleased with that). I’m hoping to get back into my meditative practice soon. I’ve also needed to meditate to ask about a crow or raven that my sister and I kept crossing paths with while going out to lunch together. I’m not sure if it’s a sign of something or if the Morrigan wants to contact me. I’ve also heard the name Cernunnos repeated in my head lately so I’ve wanted to look into him too. I didn’t think I’d have anything to do with deities after my experiences with Christianity but Brighid quickly changed my mind.

Final Notes

I actually started writing this post a week or so ago but life got crazy. I’m in the last few weeks of my Freshman year of college, so it’s hectic. Right now I’m staying at a cabin in the mountains over the weekend, so I’m hoping this will give me the chance I need to wind down and reconnect with Brighid and my higher self. I’m hoping to get a daily routine going for my practice over the next few weeks.

#green witch #baby witch #witch tarot #witch notes #witch life #witch journey

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frodos-bizarre-adventure · 3 years

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@gingerreggg thanks for the appreciation! TnT

Heads Up- Part 14 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

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"Is that necessary?" Suzi complained, as Joseph placed a motion sensor on the table next to Caesar. "And where did you get that, even?"

Joseph grinned his characteristic smirk. "It's to keep the neighborhood kids from messing with my bike. I have to leave it outside cause I don't have a garage..."

"You sure are prepared for everything, Jojo!" she giggled.

Joseph always had the knack for expecting the unexpected, ever since they were kids. Perhaps that could partly explain why Joseph got used to having a talking art project so quickly. How he made it look so normal.

"Okay, Caesar. We're gonna have to get you to not move, not one twitch!" Joseph instructed him. "If you move even the slightest bit, this alarm goes off."

Caesar blinked, and the sensor immediately began to beep.

"Sorry bout that," Caesar apologized.

"You don't need to blink, don't you?" Joseph asked as he reset the sensor.

"It's a force of habit!" Caesar said defensively. "I know I don't even have any tear ducts but it's a reflex! Maybe Anthonio used to blink!"

"Of course he did, he was human," Suzi said.

It struck Joseph as odd that Caesar referred to Anthonio as someone else.

Did he not consider himself Anthonio? Or at least, not anymore? Suzi did, after all, say Caesar was less of a ghost, and more of a reincarnation. Maybe he'd found a new identity.

Maybe he'd found a new purpose.

The entire situation intrigued Joseph. "Say, Suzi, about those Mesoamerican lore of yours..." he asked, "How exactly do those 'spirit guardians' work?"

Suzi laughed. "You're really curious about all this, aren't you?"

Joseph shrugged. "I suppose."

"Hmm. Well, it says here in these old texts, that most spirit guardians were ancestors that returned to the mortal plane, when summoned by those in need, to act as a guardian angel of sorts."

"Heh! Guardian angel you say?" scoffed Caesar. "I'm just a goddamn head."

Suzi shot him an annoyed look and continued on. "Anyway, it's said that these new beings were usually a 'predescessor' of some way. Not necessarily by blood, per se, but by legacy-- say, a warrior could summon a spirit of a warrior before them, or a scientist that of an old philosopher..."

"...and I suppose Anthonio was a sculptor who sought to carry on his legacy in you."

"Then why don't I remember being Anthonio, then?" Caesar retorted.

"Because, Caesar," Suzi said, "the wisdom of the past is tainted with the memories, the identities of those who experience them. I can never be too sure, of course," she shrugged, "but I feel it's made that way to pass on their wisdom to a new worthy successor to their legacy-- yet from a whole new perspective unclouded by their own beliefs. So that Joseph's art would be inspired by Anthonio's, but still be Joseph's own."

Joseph laughed at the irony. "Like how I copied...er, based, Caesar's face off on the statue Anthonio made...which he'd actually based on his own face."

Destiny sometimes did strange twists to absurd results.

"Alright, let's do this one more time!" Joseph said, replacing the motion sensor.

--------

Day by day Caesar practiced standing still. Trying to look like a perfectly ordinary, non-living sculpture. Trying not to blink, or move reflexively, just staring vacantly into nothingness like the lifeless figure he originally was.

It helped that Caesar's eyes never felt dry, even without blinking, they were clay, after all. It didn't hurt, or feel very uncomfortable, but it did make him nervous.

But he fought said feelings, because he knew it was all for Joseph.

He was doing it for the person he loved the most. After all the things Joseph had done to make his life a happy one, this was the best way for Caesar to pay him back.

By serving his original purpose as Joseph's grand masterpiece.

And it was enough to motivate him to try his damned hardest.

"And that's eight hours!" Joseph exclaimed, checking his stopwatch. Caesar had managed to keep still without triggering the beeping of the motion sensor for a record period of time.

"You can relax now, Caesar. Eight hours is all we need."

Caesar blinked and sighed.

"See, you could do it!" Joseph encouraged. "Eight hours each day for two days. Enough for the gallery to hold you on exhibit, and have the judges grade you. And then, hopefully, I graduate and get to have you back."

"You promise?" Caesar asked, in almost a pleading tone.

"I'll try my hardest to get you back," Joseph told him, his mind lingering on the faint possibility that Caesar might be selected for permanent display.

Joseph used to want to make a sculpture so exquisitely defined that it would be put up there in the gallery, alongside those of the greatest artists, forever. How strange that he now wanted the opposite.

He'd made Caesar far too beautiful, and because of this he risked losing him.

"Say, about that thing you said earlier?" Suzi told Joseph. "You based him off an old sculpture by Anthonio, didn't you?"

"I mean, it wasn't a painted statue, so I doubt they'd see the similarities with Caesar all colored and all." Joseph added with his usual mischievous grin.

"Still, he does look a little plain," Suzi pondered, as she looked at the bust from different angles. "We ought to spice him up a little!"

"Oh great," Caesar complained. "More dress-ups."

Suzi pulled out a handful of ribbons, scarves and other accessories and began trying out a bunch of styles to make Caesar look more striking-- and hopefully disguise him from anyone who would suspect Joseph stole the design.

A bowler hat, necktie and a monocle. "This is stupid," Caesar grumbled.

A masquerade feather headdress and a colorful bead necklace. "Hell no," complained Caesar again.

A magenta beanie hat, heart sunglasses and a short shawl. "Are you kidding me?" Caesar cried irately.

But there was one set of gear that made an impact on Caesar, when Suzi put them on.

A headband, designed with a zigzagged line between orange and violet, with a pair of prominent white feathers on each of the temples, and a soft, pink scarf to complete the look.

Caesar opened his mouth to complain, and quickly shut it again as soon as he saw his reflection.

He...actually kind of liked this one.

"Say, that actually suits you well," Joseph said.

"I think so too," Caesar smiled, pivoting slightly on his neck base to see his reflection from another angle.

"So it's settled then?" Joseph asked. "You'll be wearing that to the exhibit?"

"Sure," Caesar agreed. "Anything that won't make you look like a ripoff."

Joseph smiled. He admired Caesar's getup: with the scarf and the headband, he looked positively divine. He looked lovelier than he'd ever had.

He knew that the judges would absolutely like him.

He just hoped they wouldn't like him enough to take him away.

-------

It wasn't long before the day of the exhibit, of Joseph's graduation, was close at hand.

Sleep came little to the troubled artist, as he lay on his bed, his eyes blankly fixed onto the ceiling. The room's only light came from a harsh, white table lamp.

It was three days, before he had to prove himself to the world.

To his mother, Professor Lisa, that he was worthy of her respect.

And to the legacy of his late grandfather, Jonathan, who had been his inspiration, as a child, to become an artist in the first place.

Joseph imagined his grandfather watching him from the stars, invisible but ever present. If only he could see him now. If only he could tell what he'd have thought of him.

His mind drifted back to Suzi's quote, about the spirit guardians being the souls of those who came before. To pass on their legacy.

He couldn't help but imagine. What if Grandpa Jonathan himself had possessed his project bust? He giggled at the thought of his beloved grandpa as a talking, bouncing clay sculpture.

But yet fate seemed to have chose Anthonio Zeppeli to be his guide.

There must have been something special about him that he needed to pass on.

Or maybe, it was just Anthonio himself being perfect for him. Strange that they had to meet in such an improbable way.

He was different now, reborn as another person entirely. Another person that Joseph adored the way he was. Body or no body.

Thinking about Caesar made Joseph's heart thump hard within his chest. Why did he feel this way? To a figure he created? Was it weird? Was it wrong?

And yet as he listened to the steady drum of his own heartbeat, he decided that no, it seemed like nothing felt more right. Caesar was his.

It was then Joseph realized that the steady thumps were getting louder. He first feared there was, perhaps, something wrong with his cardiac rhythm. But then he felt there was another source, that seemed to be coming from outside.

And as Joseph turned his head to look, right on cue, Caesar came bouncing into his room.

In the dim light, Joseph marveled at his bizarre, surreal beauty as he hopped across the floor, still clad in the headband and the scarf that he'd come to enjoy wearing.

Somehow, as ridiculous, slow and clumsy as his only mode of transportation was, Caesar looked oddly majestic.

The vigor and strength with which he pushed his neck against the floor with each hop. The gracefulness as his head turned upward at the highest point of each jump, his headband's feathers fluttering almost like tiny wings. The way his torso stump flexed as it barely cleared the floor with each little forward bounce. And of course, the sheer look of focused determination displayed on Caesar's face as he made his way toward the bed.

He was scarcely even half a man, but his spirit had the strength of many.

To even move his clay form along the distance from kitchen to bedroom took considerable effort, without the aid of arms and legs. And yet Caesar made it work. Caesar made the impossible possible. In spite of his tremendous handicap, he learned to persevere, to overcome.

And maybe Joseph realized why he admired Caesar so much.

Not just with his gorgeous, colorful clay exterior, but with the soul within, burning so bright with passion and determination, despite all odds that barred his way.

Perhaps this was why they were fated to meet.

"Jojo, you awake?" Caesar said, snapping Joseph out of his admiring stupor.

"Huh, yeah, I am now," Joseph mumbled. "What's the matter?"

Caesar looked downward, sadly. "I just feel lonely."

"And next you'll say, 'Can I sleep on your bed tonight, Jojo?' huh?" Joseph smirked.

"Can I sleep on your bed tonight, Jo--" Caesar began to say, before realizing it. "Huh? How did you know--?"

Joseph laughed warmly. "You don't even need to say it, Cae. You're always welcome with me. Anytime."

Gently, he lifted the bust up from the floor. By now, his heavy weight now felt familiar and no longer burdensome. He gently laid Caesar onto the pillow next to him, and, removing his scarf and headband and placing them onto his bedside table, lovingly laid a blanket over Caesar's stubby torso.

With his body, or lack thereof, covered by a quilt, Caesar looked less like a sculpture and more like Joseph's very own, perfectly typical roommate.

Joseph laid back down onto the bed, gently embracing what little body Caesar had, warmly and tenderly underneath the covers.

"Goodnight, Caesar," he said, resting his head against Caesar's soft, warm clay body.

"Goodnight too, Jojo," he responded, as he closed his eyes for the night.

Artist and artwork fondly embraced, within the dimly lit room without anyone else to witness. Suzi was at her home today. It was just him and Caesar, together alone, gently feeling each other's gentle warmth in a fleeting yet sincere moment, as rest soon enveloped their tired minds.

A fleeting yet sincere moment that Joseph wasn't sure he'd get to have again.

--------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

#jjba #hands of life au #gingerregg #jojo's bizarre adventure #caejose #caesar x joseph #bust!caesar #sculptor!joseph #heads up #battle tendency

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fabulouspotatosister · 4 years

Text

Reset - Part One: Darling

a/n: Whoa, Eleven x Reader fanfiction in the year of our Lord 2020? More likely than you think.

I meant to finish the original version of this fic years ago, and then the Thirteenth Doctor came along and... well, we all know what happened. I was also just going to update the fic with a whole new chapter, but I decided to rewrite the whole thing since I wrote the first draft in 2015. Then I posted it in 2018 on AO3 to see if anyone would read it, and then proceeded to abandon it for two years.

This fic is inspired by the episode "Amy's Choice", and, of course, "What's In a Dream?" by midnighteclipses. It's still one of my favorite DW reader-insert fics out there, and the first one I read a long long time ago. I hope you enjoy this!

Also if this read-more doesn’t work, I’m going to cry.

Word count: 3529

[Part One: You are here!] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five]

“Darling, wake up.”

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, clumsy fingers grabbing at your blanket to pull the fuzzy thing over your eyes. The blankets smell good today. You’ve always used the same detergent, and it’s never failed you. Your brain is protesting, but your mouth hasn’t quite caught up yet, so all you do is mumble into your blanket, your mumbling roughly translating to “Five more minutes, please?”

“Love. Sweetie. Dear. Don’t make me pull out ‘sweetheart’, I know how much you hate it.” You hear a long, dramatic sigh, and you feel a weight sink into the mattress. The weight shifts, and you feel hands splayed out on top of the blanket, threatening to pull it away and rob you of some good, extra sleep. “Please wake up.”

“No,” you whine, vainly hoping that you’ll sink into the blankets and fall asleep before the idea of waking up becomes too tempting. It is getting a little hot... “Leave me alone.”

Another sigh. “You asked for it.”

“No, no -!”

Suddenly, the blanket’s yanked away - you wince at the bright light that filters through the room, and when your vision clears, you see your husband, John.

He smiles at you, and it’s brilliant. His hair is sticking out at ridiculous angles and yet he is still stunning, big beautiful green eyes shining in the light of the rising sun. “Hi,” he breathes out, and all you can think is that you have never felt so lucky in your entire life.

“Hi.” You smile back, and his smile grows wider. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you too,” he says softly, reaching out to brush your hair from your forehead. “I was starting to wonder if you would ever wake up.”

“Sleep is good.” You raise your eyebrows and push yourself up into a sitting position - John moves to sit closer to you, his hand falling from your temple and into your lap. He wraps his hand around yours. “It’s an escape.”

“What, an escape from me? Am I that insufferable?” John lifts your hand to his mouth, laughing slightly. He presses his lips lightly to the inside of your palm, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He slowly lifts his eyes to meet yours, mischief behind them, and suddenly you’re a schoolgirl with a crush, your heart racing at a simple kiss. “Well?”

Well, that wasn’t fair. “Are you trying something?”

John doesn’t move, but you know he’s hidden his smirk behind your hand - “Is it working?”

“Do you want me to tell you the truth?”

Oh, he’s definitely smirking now. “Of course.”

“You are a big flirt.” You pull your hand away with a laugh. John had always been mischievous, his affection expressed in teasing touches and words. “Is something up? What’s the occasion?”

“The occasion? There’s no occasion,” John says, and then his smile falls. You can see the gears in his head turning as he lifts his gaze to the sky, his lips open slightly in thought - and then, like nothing, he smiles again. “Although something is up. Close your eyes.”

“What, now?” You giggle, doing as you’re told.

“Yes, now,” John says. You feel him cup your face in his hands, and feel his lips on your forehead, and you catch the faint smell of pancake mix and blueberries amongst his distinctive smell. “I had to hurry before you got grumpy, and so there’s a bit of a mess in the kitchen, I’m really sorry -”

"I don't get grumpy!"

"Right, right…"

You feel him get off the bed and leave the room, his footsteps growing softer as he walks away. Distantly, there’s the clinking of plates and utensils, something being poured into a glass, and something muttered that you’re sure is a swear -

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

You do, and you can barely keep your jaw from falling open - laid out in front of you is a breakfast feast. Pancakes, perfectly stacked pancakes drizzled with just the right amount of syrup, dotted with the color of blueberries, and a steaming cup of coffee right beside it. The room smells amazing now, and you feel amazing. All you can do is stare incredulously at the meal laid out in front of you.

“Surprise!”

You look up at John, your mouth still wide open - he hands you a fork and smiles sheepishly, placing his hands behind his back. Standing in front of you, you finally notice the flour stains on his arms, and the bits of batter on his shirt. Shaking your head, you blink away tears.

“Oh no, don’t cry,” John says, quickly reaching forward to take your face in his hands again. He strokes your cheek with his thumb and you bask in the warmth of his touch - you are so lucky to have someone like him in your life. Forever. “I just wanted to make you breakfast.”

“Yeah, but - this is so nice, I can’t -” You reach up and hold his wrists. “Why?”

“Well, you deserve to have nice things.” John exhales, looking up at the ceiling before pressing his forehead to yours. “Someone as beautiful as you deserves to have nice things.”

“Oh, don’t start,” you complain, but John just laughs and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. You, with your bedhead and your chapped lips and your sleepy face, beautiful. You weren’t really complaining at all. There’s a buzzing noise from the nightstand on the other side of the bed - “Hey, I think that’s your phone.”

“I don’t have a phone,” John says innocently.

“You have a phone, and you have work,” you counter. You realize you’re winning when he lets go of your face and rolls onto the other side of the bed to check his phone.

“I’m going to be late!” you hear him gasp, and you bark out a laugh - John turns to face you, scandalized, his face pale. “This is no time to be laughing at my misery!”

“It’s the perfect time to be laughing at your misery.”

“I’m sorry, I got carried away making breakfast -” John scrambles off the bed, rushing to the closet and pulling out a coat. He switches between the closet and the full-length mirror propped up beside it, running his hands through his hair and adjusting his coat. “Bon appetit! Enjoy your pancakes, sweetheart, I’ve got to -”

“Wait!” you cry out, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait. C’mere, I’m not letting you leave without a hug from me.”

“But of course,” he says, quickly walking to you and leaning down so he can wrap your arms around you. You press kisses to his neck, his jaw, and finally his lips, attacking him with affection as a small “thank you” for the breakfast. It’s the least you can do for your lovely husband, the perfect man that you’ve somehow managed to snag from everyone else. How did you even manage that?

“I won’t keep you,” you whisper, and he pulls away. “Go, you clever boy!”

John beams at you and rushes out of the room - you hear the front door slam not long after. You settle into your pillows and pick at your pancakes; they taste divine, of course, and you sit on your bed silently eating your pancakes while enjoying the sound of distant birdsong. Chewing on a particularly syrupy piece of fluffy pancake you remember that you’ll have to clean up the “mess” John mentioned earlier, and you smile, having a plan already set for the day.

You spring to your feet with a renewed sense of vigor, gathering up your empty plate and mug, and carrying them into the kitchen. You smooth your gloved hands over your apron and get to work washing all the plates left in the sink - and then you frown. You don’t remember when you got dressed, or when you put those gloves on, and what you ate last night. The thought passes quickly before you shake your head and continue scrubbing at an already spotless plate.

You dry off the last of the plates, placing it neatly onto a metal rack before grabbing a broom and sweeping the floor - you’d narrowly avoided choosing carpet as your flooring when you were renovating, before John had swooped in and saved the day by picking out some classic floorboards.

The dust and lint gathers into a pile in the corner, and you lean on your broom, admiring your home.

You were lucky to have bought such a nice house. It wasn’t too big, but had enough space for you to be able to decorate and plan for the future. Very lucky indeed...

There’s a “photo wall” near the kitchen that you like to look at. It’s sparse, but there are a lot of mementos there to remind you of the important things. Among the usual decorative pictures of forests and gardens there are pictures of you and John - pictures of the two of you at your wedding, posing and laughing and drinking with friends. Wasn’t your dress frilly that day? Or was it loose? Wasn’t your hair in a bun? John didn’t wear a bowtie, you think...

You squint at the photos. Your gaze is drawn to one of the wedding pictures, one from the reception where you’re standing with all your bridesmaids. You’re drinking and laughing, holding a champagne flute in your hand, but you can’t make out the bridesmaids faces. They’re fuzzy, and where are their mouths? Their eyes? The photo blurs like the photographer taking it had moved his hand while trying to take the shot.

Your grip on your broom tightens. It feels like years and years ago, and the details escape you now.

You shouldn’t focus on those things. You’re happy here, with John - but maybe you should go find your bridesmaids, it’s been so long since you’ve last seen them. What were their names again? You’re sure Jenny was one... but you don’t know a “Jenny”.

You can feel your nails digging into the broom’s wooden handle now, threatening to leave crescent-shaped marks into its surface. The details escape you, now.

And the details don’t matter.

You sweep quickly, the pile of lint and dust and pieces of wood growing steadily bigger. Soon enough the house will be spotless again, and John will come back from work and you’ll kiss him until you have to clean the house again.

That’s my life, whispers the voice in the back of your head, and you believe it. I am happy. I am content.

“I am happy,” you mutter as you place the broom down, letting in lean against the side of one of the kitchen counters. The pile of dust is gone, you swept it out of the door. You walk towards the living room, the soft surface of the sofa beckoning you to lay on it and just take a nap. Forget about all the racing thoughts in your mind. You said sleep was an escape, and you have to escape now. "I am content."

But your feet take you somewhere else. You lead yourself down the hallways, away from the living room, and now you’re standing in front of a beautifully painted blue door.

You don’t recognize the door, but it’s familiar. Your brain helpfully supplies it as the laundry room, which is always clean and doesn’t need cleaning ever, but you’re drawn to how faded it is. You lift your hand and drag your fingers across its surfaces. You feel old paint and memories behind this door, and you don’t have to open it.

Your fingers inch closer and closer to the doorknob and you don’t need to open it -

The door swings open slowly with a soft creak. It’s pitch-black in there. You feel a soft breeze against your face - you take a small step inside, clinging to the doorway, squinting through the darkness. The darkness almost feels solid, like a barrier, keeping you out.

Or, you think as you spot a flickering flashlight on the floor, it’s keeping something in.

You pick up the flashlight, tapping it a few times until its flickering stops. Your fingers curl around its sleek metal handle. You wave it around, watching it cut through the darkness to reveal -

The flashlight clatters to the ground. Writing. Words, scrawled all over the walls in your handwriting, frenzied rambling trailing from the walls to the ceiling. Don’t forget, try not to forget. Among the crazed writing are drawings, messy sketches of you and John together in places you don’t recognize. Arrows pointing to John labeled “Doctor, Doctor”.

“No, no, no...” You feel weak, you feel wrong. This can’t be real. It’s not real. Where am I? Who am I?

And etched into the wall right in front of you, surrounded by your name: Remember who you are.

You blink, breathing heavily, and you’re outside. The door was never open. The door was never there. You trace your fingers against the wall, and it just feels like a wall. It’s just a wall. A wall with some really nice wallpaper, wallpaper that you picked out not long before the wedding. You agreed on flowers, because they were nice to look at - didn’t you agree on stripes?

You keep blinking. You can still see its silhouette in the split second where your eyes haven’t fully closed yet, and when they’re not fully open.

But there was a door. You could have sworn there was a door there, it led to the laundry room - you feel all over the wall and find the place where the doorknob should be, and you feel something solid but see nothing. What the hell is going on –

…

“Darling, I’m home!”

John’s voice rings out from behind you and you suck in a breath, whipping around to see him come in through the front door. The sun’s already set. Darling. He’s never really called you darling, hasn’t he? You take in a shaky breath, and call back - “Yes, honey?”

John lifts his arms for a hug, grinning brightly and dressed in completely different clothes from when he left. “Where’s my lovely wife?”

My lovely wife, I was never your lovely wife, but you rush into his arms anyway. He stumbles back at the force of your embrace, slowly wrapping his arms around you and patting your hair. This is comfort you’re used to, but not in this context. And now all the things he did this morning seem so different - “Hey - what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m-” Not sure about who I am. John’s hold loosens on you slightly, and he leans away from you to look into your eyes. “I think something’s wrong.”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong, nothing’s ever been wrong,” John says. But everything is wrong - how is he not getting it? “But tell me.”

“The laundry room,” you mumble, even though that place was definitely not the laundry room. John’s eyebrows furrow slightly.

“We’ve never had a laundry room.” He looks over your shoulder at the place that’s just a wall, and frowns. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“But - there was a door there,” you say, wrenching yourself away from John’s arms and walking to the wall. The wallpaper flickers between flowers and stripes. You feel against the wall until you hit something solid, something round. “There’s a door here right now.”

John squints. “I don’t see it.”

“Look,” you stress. You grab his hand and place it on the doorknob, and when you look up the door is back, beautiful and blue and now you know what it reminds you of. “Open the door.”

“Darling, I don’t -”

“Stop calling me darling and open the door, Doctor!” you snap, and John pulls his hand away from the doorknob, his mouth hanging open in shock.

“That’s not my name,” he insists. “You’re not feeling well.”

“I’m feeling very well, thank you very much,” you grumble. Remember who you are. “Please, just open the door. For me.”

John - but also not John - stares at you, his mouth set in a hard line. You recognize that look and you recognize him, who he really is, and he’s not your husband. After a moment, he sighs, places his hand on the doorknob, and twists it, flinging the door open.

The room is illuminated now, all of the scratched writing clear to see - Remember, you have to remember who you are. There are so many more sketches now, and they blur and shift right in front of your eyes. You’re all in places you recognize - Starship UK, ancient Egypt, the planet of the Gargotins. You grab John’s hand and lead him to one of the sketches on the wall.

“I remember this,” John mumbles. He presses his hands to the wall. “This was a dream I had. You and me together at the end of the world.”

“When?” you ask.

“L-last night,” he replies. You grab the front of his shirt and he gasps.

“Then what did we do last night?”

“I don’t remember.”

The whole dream shatters when you find one, tiny, hairline crack in the illusion. There was never a “last night”. “You don’t remember or you don’t know?!”

John opens his mouth to say something, but then he closes it, deep in thought. You can see the gears turning in his head - just like the morning, when nothing was wrong and everything was perfect and he was your husband - but they’re turning too slowly, which isn’t like who he really is. The room starts to darken, the writing that’s brought you back fading away. You’re running out of time.

You grip his shirt tighter and shake him. “You need to remember! Who you really are - it’s got to be locked in your big brain somewhere! You’re not John Smith, you’re not my husband, you’re The Doctor!”

“The - the Doctor…” he stammers, raising his hands to his head, his eyes widening in realization.

“Yes, that’s you! Two thousand years old! An alien! Come on!”

“The Doctor - I am the Doctor!” Suddenly, the Doctor grins and grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you into a tight hug. He laughs, his arms wrapped around you, squeezing you slightly before he lets go. “Oh, it feels good to be me again. Hair - good. Eyes - still got ‘em. Bowtie -” His hand shoots up to his collar. He frowns when he doesn’t feel anything there - “Could be worse.”

“Doctor, where are we?”

“Dunno. I can’t tell if it’s a simulation or an actual set. If it’s a simulation, then it’s not a good one.” The Doctor whirls around, examining the walls. He lifts his hand to place it in his jacket, looking for his sonic - then he groans when he realizes he was never wearing a jacket. “Empty pockets!”

“Oh, again?”

The entire room shakes and you stumble - the voice sounds like it’s coming from everywhere without a clear source, and it also sounds vaguely annoyed. The Doctor quickly grabs your hand and squeezes it tight in silent comfort, and now you wish he hadn’t done all of those things in the morning. You glance at his serious face and silently thank whatever gods are out there that he hasn’t mentioned any of it, at all.

“Marlene. Marlene!”

There’s another voice, timid and shy. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Subjects 11A and 11B have escaped immersion. Again. For the fifth time this cycle. Did you forget to intensify their wipes?”

“No, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”

“They’re awake now, so they’re no use to us. Reset them and -”

“WAIT!” Your plea comes out louder than expected. The Doctor glances at you, and when you meet his gaze, confusion and concern swim in his eyes. “At least tell us what’s going on!”

“Sorry, 11B, but that’s classified information. You should know, you’ve asked me this before.”

“Well, it would do us a world of good if we knew!” the Doctor says loudly. “Who are you?”

“I’ll say it again. Classified information.” There’s a spitting sound, and then another laugh. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Well then make time!” you shout, and the Doctor pulls you closer to him.

“Oh, 11A, or should I say the Doctor. Not so ‘Oncoming Storm’ now, are you? Do you want me to tell you what happens to your poor little companion if you keep going like this? Or do you want a demonstration?”

“What it’s talking about?” You look up at the Doctor. His eyes are trained on the ceiling, and they’re burning with anger.

“I don’t know. Keep quiet,” he mutters. Then, raising his voice again, “We’ll keep trying! We’ll keep trying to get out!”

You hear a deep chuckle. “Then good luck. Reset them.”

A wave of exhaustion passes over you, and through your haze you reach out for the Doctor - you still have to keep him safe -

You’re out before you even hit the floor, the Doctor’s hand still wrapped in yours.

#i havent even really finished it yet #but here it is!!#i hope you guys like it #i had a blast writing this 2015 me is thriving #doctor who #doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor #11th doctor x reader #doctor who fanfiction #jess writes

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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years

Text

Smoke&Mirrors - playlist

You can find it on Spotify here.

Let’s start from the beginning:

Imagine Dragons - Smoke and Mirrors

Okay, so with Stuck in reverse series everything started with one song that inspired me to write something, and you know what happened later.

With this new series, the idea came first (prompted by @vaneilla’s wonderful brain, and you know what? I actually went back to check that bit of convo, and it was all because @gallifreyan-uprising did what she did to TP, so I guess thank you both, ladies!), and then I was looking for THE song, that could serve as an inspiration and as a title.

And because all my best ideas come to me while driving, and I had Imagine Dragons in my car’s CD player… BOOM.

//I'm starting to cave

I'm losing my flame

I wanted your truth

But I wanted the pain

To disappear

Dream maker, life taker

Open up my mind

All I believe

Is it a dream

That comes crashing down on me?

All that I hope

Is it just smoke and mirrors?

I want to believe

But all that I know

Is it just smoke and mirrors?//

This just felt so fitting for Reader and her struggle a little later in the series, and smoke and mirrors alone seemed like just what I needed to capture the essence of the main conflict between Neil and R.

Chapter 1: Imagine Dragons - Natural

I had the title, I knew what I wanted to do in the first chapter, but I still had doubts if I could switch to this new dynamic. -Neil being mean? I mean how even-- I needed a good playlist to get myself in the right mood to set the tone for the whole series, and even when I found a few songs that were good enough, I knew that none of them was the one. And then again, on my way to work, this time from my Spotify playlist - Natural. I literally started screaming when I realized that it was exactly what I’d been looking for. Not only because of its badass vibe, but those lyrics, holy shit -

//That's the price you pay

Leave behind your heart and cast away

Just another product of today

Rather be the hunter than the prey

And you're standing on the edge face up

'Cause you're a natural

A beating heart of stone

You gotta be so cold

To make it in this world

Yeah, you're a natural

Living your life cutthroat

You gotta be so cold

Yeah, you're a natural//

This is R. “A beating heart of stone / You gotta be so cold / To make it in this world”. Because she might be all spiky and angry on the outside, but why is she that way? Because she has to. Because nothing ever came easy in her life.

And this is Neil, too. A true natural, as TP calls him. But he also plays a role, because he was put in a position he didn’t want. And not only by TP, but also by R. That scene in the bar? He really hopes to clear the air between them, but she is not ready to listen, and keeps antagonizing him. *sigh* We know how it ends up. Anyway -

bonus: Willyecho - Welcome to the fire

Found this one when I was looking for the vibe, and then those lyrics--:

//I'm focused

I've been watching for the omens

I've been listening to everything you've said

Its been running through my head

Locked and loaded

I've got the feeling that you've noticed

Yeah I've only just begun

I won't stop until it's done

'Til you're broken

So welcome to the fire

I'm the one who lit the night up//

-- because yes, R’s that mad at him, TP, the whole world at this point, really.

Chapter 2: Florence + the Machine - What kind of man

So you know, one of the challenges I’d set for myself for this series was to finally write a proper smut. God, was I stressed out (shoutout to my lovely friends who had to listen to my self-doubting whines for quite some time). And as I knew it was supposed to happen in this chapter, and I already had an appropriate build-up in mind, I needed a song. And it wasn’t this one, although it made its way to the chapter’s playlist. But as I actually wrote the whole thing down… I felt it had that vibe.

//You were on the other side, like always

You could never make you mine//

Oh R, my sweet summer child.

//To let me dangle at a cruel angle

Oh, my feet don't touch the floor

Sometimes you're half in and then you're half out

But you never close the door

What kind of man loves like this?//

And that part is just so fitting with the whole confusion.

bonus: Graffiti Ghosts - Last man standing

The one behind the shooting range sequence:

//Your trigger finger better think about your future

You’re getting twisted thinking I don’t want to shoot ya

I’ve been waiting for a long time

and I’m coming back to get what’s mine

Sick of living with your little double faces

I’m getting itchy and so livid I can taste it

I’ve been waiting for a long time

and I’m swinging til I get what’s mine

but I’m not going down

I’m not going down//

Can’t say that R isn’t fantasizing about shooting Neil at some point, it’s all I’m saying. And the vibe was all right, and worked for the sparring scene as well.

bonus: Zayde Wolf - New Blood

I needed decent background music to write that sparring scene, you know - to hype myself up. And then found this song. Look at the lyrics:

//I spent my whole life chained to the wall

Hunger for more, not afraid to fall

Had to cut a man down to get where I am

But someone had to tumble, and someone had to stand

Don't try to fight, nothin' you can do

I'm gonna run all over you

It's too late to try, there's nothin' you can do

I'm gonna run all over you//

and

//Most of my life was heavy and hard, yeah

So many days, so many scars

But it was all of those years who make who I am, yeah

But I broke through, and here I stand, yeah//

Added to the playlist instantly. You can see it too, right?

bonus: Nothing But Thieves - Itch

I love this band and I’m eternally grateful that my dear friend @connie-nikas itroduced me to their music. Spotify suggested that it fit the mood for the playlist I already had for that part, so I checked the lyrics and YES:

//There's a hunger in my heart

It's full of promise, promise

There's an itch under my skin

It's under my skin, under my skin//

...

//There's a blood red on my shirt

And it's shining, shining

There's a sharp pain from my face

I kinda like it, I like it//

...

//I just wanna love

I just wanna touch

I just wanna see

'Cause I, I just wanna feel something real

Wanna feel something//

It fits more than one moment in the series, but that blood part seemed accurate for sparring, so it stayed in this chapter.

bonus: Dorothy - Wicked ones

Another Spotify suggestion, and it works pretty well for these dumbasses, although this part:

//This night ain't for the faint of heart

For the faint of heart, for the faint of heart

This night ain't for the faint of heart

'Cause the faint of heart gonna fall apart//

--this got me going while I was having heart palpitations as I was getting closer to the locker scene lol.

And then:

//Ain't no sleep when the wicked play

All we do is get laid, uuh uh uuh uuh

Ain't no love when the wicked run

All we do is try to lay off, lay off, lay off

We're the wicked ones, wicked ones//

Fits, right?

bonus: Muse - Undisclosed desires

I -blame- have to thank M for this one, and it was my initial title song for this part. Just see for yourselves:

//I know you've suffered

But I don't want you to hide

It's cold and loveless

I won't let you be denied

Soothing, I'll make you feel pure

Trust me, you can be sure

I want to reconcile the violence in your heart

I want to recognize your beauty's not just a mask

I want to exorcise the demons from your past

I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

You trick your lovers

That you're wicked and divine

You may be a sinner

But your innocence is mine

Please me, show me how it's done

Tease me, you are the one//

It just -- it’s not only about that one scene. Maybe it would be even better for part 3? Anyway, could be sung to R almost word for word, right?

Chapter 3: Nothing But Thieves - You know me too well

One of my favourites from this band, and I knew it had to be a title of some part of the story. Because:

//I gave you a call

Baby, I could come by, help forget it all

'Cause in this sticky weather, oh, it's really hard to sleep

As you know all too well

And when we dig together, oh, you make me feel so cheap

But I can't help myself

Filthy impetuous soul

I wanna give it to you

Oh, just to see what you do

'Cause I'm so drunk on you

Baby, you're all that I want

I want you all to myself

Oh, but you know me too well//

So yeah, filthy impetuous soul was only fair to use for that bathroom, right?

//And maybe you're right

We don't get on so well, when we lose the high//

That’s them at this point, all right.

//'Cause every love story always end in tragedy

If you wait long enough//

Oh hello, R’s beliefs here, clear as night.

//Renew me 'cause sometimes I forget

Got my own two hands clenched around my neck//

Could be said by both of them at this point, tbh.

bonus: Leann Rimes - Can’t fight the moonlight

So let me be frank - I knew I wanted to put that bathroom scene somewhere for quite some time, so it’s written purely for self-indulgence. I just needed to find an opportunity. And during one of the brainstorming sessions with A (because she was so kind to help me out with figuring things out when I stumbled over certain plot points, and I can’t thank her enough), the idea of karaoke night came to life and she gave me this song and fuck yes! That was it!

One of my favourite Neil headcanons is that he likes cheesy songs, and Coyote Ugly movie has a special place in my heart, so I just knew it was the one for him! Especially because:

//Under the lovers sky

Gonna be with you

And no one's gonna be around

If you think that you won't fall

Well just wait until

'Til the sun goes down//

it’s just perfect if you wanna kinda seduce/kinda embarrass someone, right? And also:

//You can try to resist

Try to hide from my kiss

Don't you know, don't you know

That you, can't fight the moonlight

Deep in the dark, you'll surrender your heart//

Because yes, he wanted to kiss her in that locker room, that’s a thing you do when you’re attracted to someone, right? He thought it was just because of this whole angry sex thing, but was aware of that all the time, that’s why R’s reaction in the bathroom alarms him. I mean it would make him stop anyway, but still.

bonus: Ruelle - Until we go down

The mood progression in this song fried my brain, absolutely amazing!

The lyrics, too:

//And I feel it running through my veins

And I need that fire just to know that I'm awake

Erased, I missed till the break of day

And I need that fire just to know that I'm awake

Until we go down//

bonus: Bishop Briggs - Wild horses

Another song that captures the spirit of what’s going on in R’s head.

//You hold me down in the best way

No quarter from these chains that I've

Slept on my heart for a feeling

Why can't I let my demons out?

Keep screaming into the pillow

Cause your taste still gets me stupid high

Oh glory, I'm a believer

Oh glory, I'm a troubler//

At this point, she’s well aware of the effect Neil has on her, and the internal conflict is strong in this one.

//You call my truth in the worst way

Through the dirty lands of a broken smile

And I swear I'm not a pretender

Sometimes it's love who's the baby's cry

So, I keep on damning the devil

And you keep on saying it's alright

Oh glory, I'm a believer

Oh Lord, I'm holding tight, but//

And the whole vibe of this song, it’s like fuck I’m losing my mind, but I want you and I want you now. Just makes my breath hitch.

bonus: Transviolet - Bloodstream

And as I needed a certain mood, -(ended up actually writing with TENDER in the background because apparently I need a complete opposite mood seeping through my headphones to write any smut at all but anyway...)-, and this song is just...wow.

//Fingertips drip down my spine

Cruel desire, danger in our consequence

You look my way and I lose my…

Hey, you wanna rule the world?

Outlaw love, make you lose control

Hey, hey, boy you got me like whoa

White hot, adrenaline baby

In my veins, you got me praying

Whoa, whoa, whoaaaa

My pretty blue lips begging

Take me, I need you in my bloodstream

Hold me, break me

My breath is for holding, overdose me

I need you in my bloodstream

Hold me, break me, break me//

Hot. I won’t be taking any notes.

Chapter 4: Aimee Mann - Save me

You remember that part 4 was supposed to be the last one? Don’t ask me, I don’t know how I would manage to get that emotional progression from these dumbasses by the end of that part, so I’m glad y’all voted on splitting it into 2 (and then another 2) parts. But I already had a playlist for the finale, and then had to make a new one, and then had too many possible title songs.

Why did this one win? Because in my brain it’s directly connected to my OTP and also fits this part of the story. I battled myself if it was a spoiler or not (and also had trouble getting to terms with R ever admitting that she needs to be saved), but then thought - eh, what the hell, it has the right lyrics and a proper mood, and here it is.

//You look like a perfect fit

For a girl in need of a tourniquet

But can you save me

Come on and save me

If you could save me

From the ranks of the freaks

Who suspect they could never love anyone//

and that shift to this part, oh my heart:

//Except the freaks

Who suspect they could never love anyone

Except the freaks who could never love anyone.//

bonus: Jamie O'Neal - All by myself

Okay, so the car scene was in my mind for a little while, and in the initial outline, aka part 4 is the finale I couldn't find a place for it and thought I might end up making a one shot out of it, so when I actually had enough time to write it into the story, I was so excited!

I was looking for a song, and the first one that came to my mind was Air Supply - All out of love, but I could never beat what Jensen Ackles did in the outtakes of that one Supernatural episode, so I had to abandon that song, sadly. And then I thought about the one with basically the same vibe and *ding ding ding*. And of course Neil would know it. And would know what movie this is from (just look at him and try telling me he doesn’t like British rom-coms, I dare you). And would tease R about it. (and that’s why I used that cover of this song).

//Hard to be sure

Sometimes I feel so insecure

And loves so distant and obscure

Remains the cure

All by myself

Don't wanna be

All by myself

Anymore//

bonus: Meg Myers - Motel

I’ve discovered Meg’s music just because of Spotify’s recommendations, and oh my god, it’s amazing! And this song just felt right for their talk during the stakeout, just look at the lyrics:

//You're weak, broken in a motel

You blink, tears are falling down, down, down

And you're free, free inside your own hell

You speak, someone let me out, out, out

And I can't stop this pain, it only grows

Tell me why I always feel alone

And I can't fight this feeling anymore

Show me what I'm really living for

I wanna love, wanna live, wanna breath, wanna give

But it's hard and it's dark and we're doomed from the start

I wanna love, wanna live, wanna breathe, wanna give

But it's hard and it's dark and I'm falling apart//

ahh, nothing like a good old angst, am I right? Perfect for writing about the more vulnerable sides of them.

bonus: Fear Of Men - Sane

There is just something in this song that resonates deeply, you know?

//I see you drowning

Half flesh half stone

With ambitions that drain your health

You hear me

(Secrets)

You run from me

You hear me

(You hear me)

I know

You hear me

(Secrets)

You run from me

You hear me

(You hear me)

You know, you know, you know

It’s in your eyes when you’re perfectly sane

It’s in your blood when you can’t bear these heavy thoughts again

It’s in your eyes when you’re perfectly sane

It’s in your blood when you can’t bear these heavy thoughts again//

bonus: Laura Doggett - Beautiful undone

That track almost ended up as the title. When I stumbled upon this song, I was completely blown away, as in I-had-it-on-repeat-for-4h-straight blown away.

//I took you walking

Through the murmurations of my mind//

that line just strikes me right through the heart, and it gets even better later:

//I'm looking down and my heart's connected

I'm feeling love from a different view

We learn the most when we least expect it

We learn the most when we break in two//

I don’t think that any of them expects to learn more about each other during that one mission. I mean sure, Neil counts on it, but doesn’t know what it's gonna be. And if she lets him into his head at all.

//You know you're beautiful undone

(Shine on)

So beautiful undone

You look beautiful undone

(Hearts connected)

My boy of blue.//

My boy of blue. I don’t know why it screamed Neil to me, but it did.

//It's the cracks that let the light shine

It's the cracks that let the light shine through.//

And that’s exactly it.

Chapter 5: LAUREL - Blue blood

Okay, THIS song, as soon as I heard it, I was like - this is it, this is her.

//You woke me up for your blue blood

Made me come undone

Can't believe you've been here the whole time

Too nice to pass you by and I can't believe

You've been here the whole time

You made me feel again

Made me dance circles 'round the pieces of your heart

You made me feel again

After the last time, didn't think that I could love//

That “was he always so gorgeous” moment, right? When she just sees him for the first time this way. And is slowly coming to terms with her feelings.

bonus: Prep School - Come as you are

So this one… We all know the original song (or this is my old ass talking), but only when I heard this cover, I really felt it, you know?

//Come as you are, as you were

As I want you to be

As a friend, as a friend

As an old enemy//

Just made me think about R being ready to get to know Neil better. About the shift in their dynamic.

//When I swear that I don't have a gun

No I don't have a gun//

She lets her guard down, and is ready to trust him.

Also - how great is the mood of this song? That crescendo just takes my breath away, and that calmer moment at the end? Good god. Utter perfection.

bonus: Ray LaMontagne - Such a simple thing

I’ve been sitting on this song for quite some time, and just had to find a suitable moment for it. And this was it.

//Tell me what you're feeling

I can take the pain

Tell me that you mean it

That you won't leave again

Tell me what your heart wants

Such a simple thing

My heart is like paper

Yours is like a flame

I can't make you see

If you don't by now

I'll get through these chains

Some how, some how

Take it if you want it

I'm so tired I just don't care

Can't you see how much you hurt me?

It's like I wasn't there//

My heart just aches while I listen to this song. It’s so tender, and yet so heartbreaking.

bonus: Keane - Hamburg sing

When A sent me this song, god, the way I screamed. Because this is so Neil.

//I don't wanna be adored

Don't wanna be first in line

Or make myself heard

I'd like to bring a little light

To shine a light on your life

To make you feel loved

No, I don't wanna be the only one you know

I want to be the place you call home

I lay myself down to make it so

But you don't want to know

I give much more than I'd ever ask for

Will you see me in the end

Or is it just a waste of time?

Trying to be your friend?

Just shine, shine, shine

Shine a little light

Shine a light on my life

And warm me up again//

At this point in the story, he already fell for her hard. And can just hope that she sees him at one point, too.

You know, writing that first really intimate moment between them-- I know I was supposed to be on R’s side, but I knew what was going on in Neil’s head at that point (that’s why I was so happy when Chels asked that one question that made me write Come as you are) and... I don’t know, I’m so soft for this idiot, I just want to hug him.

//Fool, I wonder if you know yourself at all

You know that it could be so simple//

My dumbasses.

Chapter 6: Phantogram - You’re mine

We’re gonna save this one for the very end, just mentioning it here as we move to the next chapter.

bonus: Adna - Night

You know that sad music montage thing that the movies do after a breakup scene or something? This song has that exact vibe.

//Silence grows and you're all i know

Eyes are closed, I'll see your smile, your love

Thinking

This is what

It could be

Knowing

It is all

It would be

In the night

When you see

What i see

In the night when you feel

What i mean

You're my knight

And my dream

And my only sight

Oh you

Stay true//

For me, it’s the beginning of chapter 6. R is almost heartbroken, and that almost comes from the part of her that still thinks that still fights the idea that she might have any feelings for that blonde idiot. Conceal, don't feel, or something. But she’s being haunted by random memories from their time together.

bonus: Snow Patrol - Make this go on forever

This song makes my heart ache and clench and oh my god--

//Please don't let this turn into something it's not

I can only give you everything I've got

I can't be as sorry as you think I should

But I still love you more than anyone else could

All that I keep thinking throughout this whole flight

Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right

This splintered mast I'm holding on won't save me long

Because I know fine well that what I did was wrong//

This works for the sad montage thing I’ve mentioned, but it was all about this line:

//First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything//

I was listening to it on my way home one day and my eyes welled up. Because that’s what I wanted both of them to feel right then.

//And I don't know where to look

My words just break and melt

Please just save me from this darkness//

and these lines just brought the image of Neil stumbling over his words and, well, that was it. I knew it had to be done like that.

bonus: Walking On Cars - Speeding Cars

This song is about something different, but there is one part that resonated with the story:

//Even the half smile would have slowed down the time

If I could call you half mine

Maybe this is the safest way to go//

Just fits. Had to be there.

bonus: Etham - Before I lose my mind - Stripped

I think I found this one a while ago, and then it came on when I had Spotify on shuffle, and oh myyyy goooood. That heart-wrenching yearning? So, so on point.

//Look at the state I'm in

I couldn’t say where I've been

Lord knows that it ain't felt like home//

This is as much R’s song, as it is Neil’s.

//I don't know what

I've been running from, running from

Or what I thought I would find

All I know is

You're the only one, only one

I need you tonight

Before I lose my mind//

and this part:

//Don't tell me that I’m too late this time

So much I couldn’t see

With words that I didn't speak

What do I have to do to make you mine?//

This part of the playlist is just utter heartbreak and yearning, but it was only fitting. Just moments before the confession.

bonus: Nick Wilson - Let me hold you

On repeat for the whole part with Neil’s confession. This song is so goddamn beautiful, I can’t--.

//We've been there before

Reaching the end but forgetting the reason we started this for

In all of our flaws

Laid out beneath us, there's no need to keep building up these walls

(Oh we can't go on)

Just let me hold you

I'll run my fingers through your hair

Let our ghost loose

Let me know that you're still there//

bonus: Liz Longley - Rescue my heart

This, on the other hand, started playing right after, and I partially blame it for R’s breakdown. I was just staring at that line about her being afraid to lose him and I was like “where the hell this came from, girl?” and then, as I was trying to push them both further into the plot, but they kinda refused to let each other go, so I was sitting there like “you guys really needed that, huh?”

I know what it sounds like. But when I spend so much time with my characters, really fleshing them out in every possible way, they kinda develop minds of their own, and later they guide me through the dialogue parts, and even sometimes ruin my initial plans. Because they know best how they would behave right then. So all I have to do is just follow them. Or try reasoning with them. (Had a moment like that at the end of the first scene in chapter 6, like had this feeling that R just wanted to dwell on the nature of her relationship with Ives, but I didn’t want to put it there so openly, I was happy with leaving a line here and there, so I had to put my foot down pff - and it switched into that bit about friendships in general)

Right, back to the song:

//Lying to myself I can make it on my own

Making it alone is lonely

Twisting and I'm turning

Oh I'm crashing and I'm burning

So reach out your hand to me

Come down

Rescue my heart I'll drown

Without you//

This is it.

bonus: Madonna - I want you

You know, one of my favourite parts of the writing process is just bumping the ideas around, and I have been blessed to have a wonderful friend such as M, who’s always there when I need to discuss different ideas or just got a bit of dialogue I really want to share. And knowing what I was writing, she sent me this song.

And I’ve been listening to it a lot ever since, and when Neil started his confession, and struggled with words, I wrote: "I want…you.” He moved closer. “The right way.”

I stopped, staring at that line, like really, Neil? This is it? Then the next song from the playlist started playing and:

//I want you the right way

I want you, but I want you to want me too//

So I just sighed and moved on, dropping a short message to M on the way.

bonus: Welshly Arms - Need you tonight

Spotify recommends the best covers, hands down. I love the original song, but this right here? It’s everything.

//How do you feel

I'm lonely

What do you think

Can't take it all

What ya gonna do

Gonna live my life

So slide over here

And give me a moment

Your moves are so raw

I've got to let you know

You're one of my kind

I need you tonight

'Cause I'm not sleeping

There's something about you girl

That makes me sweat//

bonus: TENDER - Afternoon

Every song of theirs is just incredibly sensual, so I thought it was only fair to include one of those for the scene (thank you again A, their music is everything, I swear). And this one was particularly accurate:

//I'm spendin' all of my time tryna open up

Let it breathe, let it breathe

It all comes down

To whether you love me anymore

God, I hope you do

'Cause I can't tell, I can't tell

By the look in your eyes//

bonus: Layla - Weightless

Another one for that moment.

//A silver whisper, take flight and steal into my mouth

An urge to kiss you and let this secret pleasure out

Your touch so tender, a helpless roar of golden play

This youthful slender, hallucinate my woes away

We are weightless

We are invincible

Nothin' like this

Flyin' like cannonballs//

bonus: Rob Simonsen - Soft center

While I was discussing the main plot points with A, we knew there had to be a morning after scene, and she had just a song for it. Utter perfection.

end credits: Phantogram - You’re mine

I know I say it a lot, but when A sent it to me… The way I screamed. I couldn’t believe it. The story was already like 2 parts in, I think? And this song...every line was about them. Every. Goddamn. One. And the overall I just thought to myself “oh, end credits rolling right here.”

//You don't talk to no one

Don't you look at nothing

Focus on me

Look into my eyes

Come a little closer

Let me tell you something

Eat your ego honey

Honey swallow your pride

You don't talk to no one

Don't you look at nothing

Focus on me

Look into my eyes

Come a little closer

Let me tell you something

You ain't going anywhere

'Cause you mine//

And from this part it gets even better:

//I used to be a rifle

Yeah I had my distance,

Whistling like a bullet in the sky//

//I used to be a psycho

Yeah I had my demons,

Crawling like a spider up my spine//

*incoherent screaming*

And the next part took me right back to the very first scene.

//I spotted you the second I walked in the building

I knew that you had let me get you high//

Right? Right???

//I wanna hear the things you say when no-one's listening

But that don't matter anyway...

'Cause you're mine//

And that’s it.

Damn, what a wild ride that was.

Thank you for staying with me until the very end.

#smoke & mirrors #smoke & mirrors playlist #bts smoke & mirrors

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