#another quite versus loud song

[apocalypseornaw]

Love You Better (Pt 2/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

After a successful Djinn hunt Dean starts to pull away from you but you have no idea why and he won't tell you either

Sam had ended up taking the backseat of the impala so you were curled up in the passenger seat, Dean's jacket over you like a blanket as you pretended to sleep so he would continue singing lightly along with the radio. When Dean wasn't being goofy he had an amazing singing voice even if he rarely showed it.

You'd probably been on the road a few hours when you felt the car slow and Dean reached over to tap your leg "Y/N you wanna quit pretending to sleep and walk in the gas station with me?" You opened one eye and grinned "I wasn't pretending" he shook his head but laughed "Next time? Don't smile when I sing along with your favorite songs" you pushed his jacket off then shrugged "Sing more often for me and I wouldn't have to pretend" he rolled his eyes then raised his voice slightly to say "Sammy! Want anything?"

Sam stirred from his sleep and rubbed his eyes "Bottle of water?" You turned to look back at him and laughed, his hair was a little wild "My brush is in the top of my go bag Sam. Feel free to use it"

-----------

Dean watched you as you looked over the water bottles, talking to yourself about the different prices versus the taste of the water. How the hell could you doing something so damn mundane make his heart flip?

He was so damn in love with you but hadn't said those words yet. He hoped you knew, hoped his actions spoke loud enough but knew he needed to tell you he just didn't know how. You stopped mid rant and glanced over at him, a small smile working its way onto your face "Like what ya see Winchester?"

He let his eyes flick across your body appreciatively before smiling himself "Very much sweetheart" you laughed and motioned to the water on the top shelf "Good, so that means you won't pick on me cause I can't reach the top shelf" he laughed and grabbed two of the bottles you pointed to "There ya go beautiful" you smiled "Thank you"

-----------

Once the three of you got back on the road you felt a small knot in your stomach grow. Dean and Jax had always gotten along before so you shouldn't have nothing to worry about but if the roles were reversed and Lisa was a hunter and you were helping her? It'd be awkward as hell.

You shook the nerves off when Sam drew you into talking about a book you'd both read. It would be fine, right?

Normally when the three of you would be meeting another hunter it would be at some cheap motel but instead you were meeting Jax at his garage.

He'd opened the garage a couple years back in Austin and had a small place nearby. He had managed to find a balance not a lot of hunters had, an actual means of income and a normal house while still hunting.

------------

Dean cut his eyes at you as he pulled into the parking lot of the garage. You'd dozed off a few miles back and him nor Sam had wanted to wake you up but now they didn't have a choice. He glanced back at Sam who shrugged so he leaned over and gently shook your arm "Wake up sleeping beauty we're here"

You slowly opened your eyes at smiled at him "How long was I asleep?" He shrugged "An hour or so" you nodded and ran a hand over your hair to smoothe it down. "Ok then. Let's see what Jax has and then get to work"

He watched as you climbed out the impala and stretched. He wasn't jealous, not at all.

----------

Sam walked in first then Dean held the door open for you and walked in behind you. You glanced around at the office area you were in. There was a small desk that had a desktop computer sitting on it and a few filing cabinets. It was a simple area but decorated just enough to make it have personality. It fit Jax well.

You felt Dean's arm slip around your waist about the time you heard Jax's voice. He walked around the corner with his phone to his ear and smiled when he saw the three of you. He was about Dean's height, dark hair that he'd always kept cut short and blue eyes. From the looks of it he hadn't shaved in a few days because the stubble along his jaw was leaning closer to a beard.

He finished the phone call and nodded towards you "Thanks for coming" you smiled "Of course. So what's the case Barlowe?" He motioned towards the door "Let me flip the sign and close for the day then if you want yall can follow me to my place and i can catch ya up" "Sounds good" Dean spoke from behind you and Jax nodded "Give me five"

------------

Dean stood between you and Sam as the three of you looked over the files Jax had on the case at hand. There was about half a dozen missing in Brushy Creek, a town about twenty miles from Austin and Jax had narrowed down the possible locations to about three warehouses.

"Seems simple enough" You spoke glancing from Dean to Jax. Both of them nodded before saying damn near in unison "Yeah but when is hunting ever simple" you cut your eyes at Sam who raised an eyebrow before saying "Should we get the lamb's blood here or there?" Jax tapped a place on the map "Here, there's a Butcher halfway we can get it from"

The plan was that Sam would go with Jax to clear one warehouse, you'd go with Dean then if both proved to be a bust the four of you would check the last one together.

You reached your left hand out to touch Dean's side as the two of you checked the warehouse. So far it had been empty. A part of you had hoped the first two warehouses would be it, kill the damn thing then grab a motel room and rest then head home come morning.

So far Dean hadn't said anything about Jax. You weren't expecting much but a part of you was wondering why. If roles were reversed.. no you couldn't be distracted.

A noise creaked somewhere in the warehouse and you spun towards it only to see a possum run across the floor. You let out a laugh "A freakin possum"

Dean reached out and pulled you closer to him "I think we caught a bust, there's one office left. We'll check it then call Sam and Jax to see how their end is" you nodded, falling in step with him.

---------------

You and Dean had just got there to meet Sam and Jax at the last warehouse. Good news was having four competent hunters, bad news was the last warehouse was absolutely fucking huge. The damn thing had three floors.

You looked over at Dean before getting out of the car. He smiled "Kiss for luck?" You leaned over and when your lips met you damn near melted against him. He always had that damn ability to make you forget your worries. When you pulled back he smiled "Let's get two rooms instead of one" you shook your head with a laugh "Save people first, take me to bed later"

----------

Somehow the four of you had gotten separated. You were on the same floor with Sam while Dean was one floor up and Jax was on the highest floor. Sam cut his eyes at you "You good?" You nodded "Yeah every woman's dream is to be hunting monsters with her boyfriend and her ex" Sam laughed and started to say something but then you heard Jax holler "DEAN LOOK OUT"

You and Sam looked at each other then took off running. By the time you two made it up to the second floor you were met with Dean down with one Djinn touching his face and Jax soon to follow since the other Djinns hand was going towards his face "HEY UGLY!" You hollered and both Djinn looked at you "Fuck, Sam some help?"

------------

Sam ran to stab the Djinn over Jax so you ran towards Dean. The Djinn spun on you and you flipped your knife up "He's mine asshole" You threw the knife and caught him dead in the throat. When he went down you ran over and snatched it out then slammed it down into his heart.

Once he was dead you slid to Dean's side "Come on baby. Please wake up. WAKE UP!" Jax and Sam ran over and Jax handed you a vial "It's smelling salts. It'll bring him around"

You snapped the small vial and held it under Dean's nose. Once he inhaled his eyes flew open. "What the hell?" You let out a sigh of relief and let your head fall over onto his chest "You're ok. Thank God, you're ok" he touched your head gently "They dead?" Jax chuckled behind you "They're dead man"

Sam had gone with Jax to a local bar after the four of you made sure the vics had been taken to the hospital so that left only you and Dean at the motel. You'd been expecting him to want to finish what he started earlier but so far he'd damn near been avoiding touch.

He hadn't gotten in the shower with you and when he got out the shower himself he was awful quiet. You were sitting cross legged in the center of the bed watching him as he messed around in his duffle.

"Dean, are you ok?" You finally asked and he glanced up but his eyes still had that far away look "Yeah sweetheart. I'm just tired" you patted the bed next to you "Come on then"

---------

Dean wanted to talk to you, wanted to tell you the fucking world he'd been thrown into when that Djinn had poisoned him. All in all it was only about twenty minutes real world but with Djinn the timeline was always skewed. The way you looked at him as he climbed into bed next to you, he couldn't start that conversation. He loved you, he really did but fuck did he deserve you?

When you curled up next to him placing a gentle kiss on his chest he smiled despite himself. He wanted you, wanted a future with you but that damn dream world had confirmed what he'd already known. You made a mistake choosing him.

@marimarvelfan @suckitands33 @sushiumex @janineb86 @nix-rose @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @holdingontil-may @freewastelandstrawberry @jackles010378

[dreamiehan]

Yiji’s Relationship with Stray Kids

stray kids addition au: yiji

→ VOCAL RACHA + 2/3 DANCE RACHA (VER.)

[ yi-an jihae masterlist] 🎧

𝙃𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙃𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙟𝙞𝙣

contact name 💬 hyunnie bun ( ◠‿◠ )

⠀↳ the two moons whose gravitational pull towards one another is too strong.. these two share a bond that even the gods envy, yet when they clash the emotions are destructive and lingering.

ʚĭɞ is it envy yiji feels towards hyunjin? or is she simply so adorned by his presence that it suffocates her insecurity? she feels conflicted and often guilty about her inner turmoil towards hyunjin but she truly would do anything for him.

ʚĭɞ unironically, as both hyunjin and yiji are members of the main dance unit, these two complement each others artistry really well. fans describe it as a “performers chemistry” when the two are together on any stage.

ʚĭɞ yiji has always been quite curious of hyunjin’s art hobbies and kinda follows him around the dorms like a lost puppy when he is painting. hyunjin thinks it’s really cute (which he will never admit becuase he know yiji will simply cease cause its cringey)  as it is her way of spending quality time with him.

ʚĭɞ despite their awkward nature, yiji and hyunjin have a lot in common. yiji has always been better with writing her feelings and sometime’s shares her poetry with him, in exchange he attempts to write little poems to share with her about his art.

ʚĭɞ the two of them have this unspoken thing will hyunjin will say he’s going out, usually to a cafe, sometimes an art event, or just on a walk for something he needs and yiji always tags along. he never asks her directly but she’s always there.

ʚĭɞ hyunjin feels deeply when it comes to yiji, meanwhile yiji tries hard to not to feel anything at all.. it’s an unrequited lovers trope; two people yearn deeply for one another yet they were continuously separated in their past lives.

fun fact 💭

it was hyunjin who actually came up with yiji’s producer name HAESUN. truthfully, he thought he was being funny/annoying by calling her sunsun but she secretly adored it. that’s why her producer ephtiet is very dear to her heart.

𝙇𝙚𝙚 𝙁𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙭

contact name 💬 smiley╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

⠀↳ everybody point and sob at the golden duo. “being with felix is like remembering how to breathe again.. you’re so happy that your stomach hurts from laughing”.

ʚĭɞ golden duo, also competitive gaming duo??? literally every decision between yiji and felix is settled with a quick, best of three versus in super smash brothers. who’s cleaning the dishes? 1v1. going back to the store to grab something one of them forgot? 1v1. chicken or steak for dinner? 1v1.

ʚĭɞ yiji likes to think she was naturally drawn to felix’s radiant aura back when the two were just trainee’s. she always felt like she could let down her walls, even for just a second.. he always made her feel safe enough to be herself and that intimacy has never faded.

ʚĭɞ somehow felix is the only one who can manage to get yiji to leave her room when she needs “enrichment in her enclosure time” aka, she has a genshin impact gambling addiction 😭 if there are no schedules, home girl could be couped up in her bed for hours, grinding quests, playing the events, and pulling on the banner.

ʚĭɞ and just when you thought jisung and yiji were loud, felix and yiji are on an entirely different level.. and so toxic HELP???. due to the amount of late night yelling and swears chan has them living apart in the new dorm arrangement specifically for this reason.

ʚĭɞ yiji was never a foodie until she met felix, honestly if it was up to her.. she is content eating the same meal multiple times a week but not on LEE FELIX’S WATCH. he loves dragging her to cafes and bakeries of all kinds, all those aesthetic pictures of felix drinking? yeah, yiji took those.

ʚĭɞ since the release of skz player, yiji has been desperate to co-produce a song with felix. she absolutely loves his voice.

fun fact 💭

when all of the kids and yiji to live in the same dorm, the two of them would often wander into the living room at night to play mario kart and one time the yelling got so out of hand they got a noise complaint 💀

𝙆𝙞𝙢 𝙎𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙢𝙞𝙣

contact name 💬 my prince (//∇//)♡

⠀↳ this girl is 101% whipped for kim seungmin and he doesn’t understand why. “kim seungmin, cuddle me right now”. “ah.. you are stressing me out already.. *gets up and cuddles her anyway*”. yiji loves him so much but unbeknownst to her, seungmin wishes he could always do more to show he cares.. he just struggles at navigating their relationship.

ʚĭɞ when these two first met, their relationship only existed out of forced proximity. it’s not that they necessarily disliked one another but rather neither of them felt inclined to get to know each other beyond schedules.

ʚĭɞ mhmm, kim “i know something is troubling you but i don’t know how to ask you about it” seungmin!! this boy buys yiji flowers constantly and it is the cutest darn thing (it’s like a little peace offering) sometimes he will even pretend like he has no idea who sent them but as soon as they’re alone he always apologizes saying, “i didn’t know which ones were in season so i just bought you all different types” :D

ʚĭɞ no one took seungmin getting his braces off as personally as yiji did, she was absolutely devastated. seungmin was like ??? honestly, in her eyes he just looked a lot more adult, like he was growing up too fast but these days yiji always reminds seungmin how much she loves his smile and he gets all shy about it hehe.

ʚĭɞ hyunminji are the unsuspecting trio of skz! from the outside, it doesn’t seem like yiji, hyunjin, and seungmin would spend as much time together but on their off days seungmin will the two in their dorms and the three of them will binge dramas and order take out. it’s really cute to kinda see them sprawled out on the sofa with open boxes of chicken and jjigae on the table.

ʚĭɞ yiji just has a heart full of love and adoration towards seungmin, he has no idea. despite their differences in age, yiji looks up to seungmin greatly and finds peace in their quality time. yiji finds that being emotionally vulnerable is alot easier when expressing her concerns to seungmin!

fun fact 💭

seungmin loves to pretend fight with yiji and it’s honestly the weirdest funniest thing ever.. he wouldn’t be caught dead showing her outright affection but instead just puts his fists up and starts throwing punches that don’t actually land?? sometimes though yiji is like 10/10 not in the mood for his antics and she will actually square up 💀

𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙅𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣

contact name 💬 lil innie ✌︎('ω'✌︎ )

⠀↳ if innie is stays fashionista boyfriend, then yiji is stays fashionista gf ♡ these two love taking ootds of each other

ʚĭɞ from the outside it may look like jeongin and yiji aren’t close but that is false! these two have such a wonderful bond, yiji just doesn’t baby him as much as the other members hehe

ʚĭɞ when it comes to jeongin, yiji cannot conceal her emotions.. she’s always just so proud of him and when he is extra hard on himself she will scold him!

ʚĭɞ these two are so sassy when they’re together, even chan doesn’t stand a chance (☝︎ ՞ਊ ՞)☝︎ and they are always laughing about something! it will be completely silent, they’ll give each other one look and start cackling

ʚĭɞ they are always on some b.s, unserious duo; for example, it could be 8 a.m and these two will be watching a horror movie, screaming like nobody’s business 😭 it is like they are in their own little world when they’re together

ʚĭɞ when they were trainees, jeongin was a bit intimidated by her (yiji has an insanely vicious resting bitch face) but now jeongin knows she is probably just daydreaming LMAO

fun fact 💭

jeongin is yiji’s croissant dealer?? like actually the plug for every carb she could ever dream of. when their schedules are packed (especially during comeback seasons) jeongin brings a little box of croissants with him in his bag 🥹

[thekidsarentalright]

20 dollar nose bleed analysis: fourteen carats but no clarity

so, i recently received an ask asking me to analyze 20 dollar nose bleed, and in trying to post the ask with the analysis it literally vanished lmao! so, i'm posting it instead like this <3

the song is a very interesting and complex one that was Quite daunting to analyze, so i can only hope i did it justice and that u enjoy reading this! analysis is under the cut:

So, to analyze 20 dollar nose bleed, we’re gonna start off, naturally, with the first verse and break it down lyric by lyric, with said first verse going, “Have you ever wanted to disappear? / And join a monastery, go out and preach on Manic Street? / Who will I be when I wake up next to a stranger / On a passenger plane? (Passenger plane)” 

The interesting thing about these lyrics is that we have direct confirmation from fob/pete (via genius verified annotations) that the first two lines are about Richey Edwards, who was the rhythm guitarist of rock band Manic Street Preachers, who went missing in 1995 and was presumed dead in 2009. Pete says that the first piece, “Have you ever wanted to disappear? / And join a monastery,” is a direct juxtaposition to the “go out and preach on Manic Street.” And that direct juxtaposition is absolutely the most notable thing about these lyrics, with a monastery being a holy place, typically portrayed as very quiet and simple in terms of commodities, etc., versus rockstar life which is literally the exact opposite- being constantly very chaotic and loud and complicated, not to mention not being very holy, typically speaking. What I believe is that the narrator here is questioning, maybe themselves, maybe somebody else, or just in general, if the ‘you’ have ever wanted to disappear from this life to join a monastery, to have this quiet, simple life away from everybody and everything, or if you’ve ever wanted to disappear into being a rockstar, away from yourself and everybody and everything in a completely different way. Either way, you’re losing yourself to one extreme or another. You’re disappearing into it. I could also see this in connecting back to Richey Edwards, saying have you ever wanted to disappear from the rockstar life? As common with fob songs, i honestly feel it could be meaning both things, and overall the meaning is- pick your poison onto how you wanna escape yourself and your life.

To move onto the second portion of the verse, the narrator begins to question, who will they be if they wake up next to a stranger on a passenger plane? Which is continuing this idea of disappearing, i think. i believe this is meant to be playing with the idea that, on a plane, nobody knows who you are, you’re as good as disappeared when you’re on a plane surrounded by people who don’t know you. So, truly, who will you be if you wake up next to a stranger on a passenger plane? When you could be anybody, you could make them believe you’re anybody, you can use this as an opportunity to escape yourself and your life, who will you be? 

Then, the pre-chorus kicks in, with the lyrics going, “Oh, permanent jet lag, please take me back (Please take me back) / Please take me back, I'm a stray dog / Sick, please let me in (Please let me in), the mad key's / Tripping, singing vows before we exchange smoke rings”, which is a series of some real fun, tricky lyrics lmao. The permanent jet lag, in my mind, no doubt connects to the lyric directly before it- perhaps, the narrator is now regretting all the hoping and wishing and trying to be another person, they feel permanently jet lagged now, permanently exhausted and bleary and not fully there and they just want to go back. Back to where is the imperative question and severely up to interpretation, I’ll offer a few options- back to who they were before possible fame, before they started trying to disappear, before they got dependent on drugs (this song is so about drugs), or just… back to a better time for them, in general. The stray dog lyric also has some verified annotations by fob/pete, with him saying that it’s, about that moment where you’re so desperate to come back, you’re like a stray dog, which can either be pathetic or endearing depending on your perspective. To me, this really cooberates what i’m already saying about this pre-chorus- they’re desperate to be let back to where they were before, before things went wrong. Now, the ‘mad key’ reference took a bit of looking into, but apparently a ‘key’ is sometimes used as another term for a drug dealer, which i feel could be very applicable to the themes of this song (drugs), it could also just be a reference to say they don’t have the key to get back to where they long so desperately to be. Either way, the last pre-chorus lyric’s meaning is pretty clear to me, thankfully- they’re making promises, vow-like promises, before exchanging smoke rings, which is almost positively a drug reference. it screams of unseriousness, lack of commitment, the vows are being sung and the rings are made of smoke. they’re doped up on drugs, they’re desperate and yearning and not themselves. these vows are not real and the rings are as flimsy a commitment, to whoever or whatever this specific lyric could be about, as the smoke is.

After that insane pre-chorus, we get into the possibly more insane chorus, saying, “Give me a pen, call me Mr. Benzedrine / But don't let the doctor in, I wanna blow off steam / And call me Mr. Benzedrine (Mr. Benzedrine) / But don't let the doctor, don't let the doctor in”. The first thing we need to establish here, now that we’ve gotten the core of the drug theme, is what benzedrine is- it’s a form of amphetamine used for depression, as well as PTSD and those with sleeping troubles (it’s a stimulant!), with some of the side effects possibly pertinent to the song being drowsiness and nose bleeds (snorting it is a common way of ingestion also). This starting with ‘give me a pen, call me Mr. Benzedrine’ automatically has me thinking it is just an all around drug reference with the narrator alluding to the fact they’re snorting benzedrine to try and aid them with their problems. They’ve already alluded to having depression and permanent jetlag (drowsiness/problems with sleep, perhaps?) through lyrics before this, making it perhaps no surprise that they’re going to the lengths of snorting this medication to try and help them. Help take them back to where they so desperately wanna go back to, maybe? With the second lyric of the chorus, “But don’t let the doctor in, I wanna blow off steam” saying to me that they’re basically taking these drugs, perhaps to a concerning extent, but are then going and saying they don’t want help, they don’t want a doctor, they don’t want people to show concern for them or what they have going on, they just wanna let off steam. They just wanna cope in their own way without intervention, so don’t let the doctor in.

After the chorus, we have the second verse, which states, “It feels like fourteen carats, but no clarity, when I look at the / Man who would be king, the man who would be king / Goes to the desert, the same war his dad rehearsed / Came back with flags on coffins and said, "We won, oh, we won"”. This is an interesting break from the themes we’ve already had in this song, as before we’ve had the narrator talking only of their disillusionment with their own personal life and reality and the troubles they’re going through to cope with those feelings. However, here, it seems they’ve shifted from speaking on their disillusionment with their own life to their disillusionment with the world. The very first line is essentially saying that not everything is as it seems- a diamond can be hyped up as being so big and expensive, but end up being horrible quality. This allusion could be made about anything- what you’re told is not always reality. What you want to be reality isn’t always reality. This almost feels the thesis statement for the song, honestly (there is a reason i titled this analysis with this!). And if not for the whole song, definitely for this verse, as the rest of the verse is a direct commentary on George W. Bush (former President of the United States) and the wars he launched in the Middle East (specifically Iraq and Afghanistan). Many protested the wars as being incredibly destructive and terrorizing on the countries impacted by them, not to mention not being fair fights and being possible fronts for America to enter the Middle East for oil and exploit them. This stance is the one being taken with these lyrics, as the lyrics are essentially saying that the “man who would be king” (Bush), goes to the desert (Middle East) to terrorize the Middle East just like his father (also a former horrible president) did, only to come back claiming he won with thousands of soldiers dead due to his actions, bitingly calling out the celebration of victory when so much life was lost so tragically for virtually no reason.

Before the spoken word piece at the end of the song, there is only two other lines that are deviating from the pre-chorus and chorus we’ve already discussed, with those lines being, “Only one book really matters, the rest / Of the proof is on the television, on the,” I feel as though these lyrics really summarize a lot of what we’ve already talked about in a way, that way being that it really conveys further disillusionment for the state of things and is a biting commentary of that. The narrator is saying, what a lot of people truly believe, that the only book in the world that matters is the Bible, with nothing else being worth reading or trusting, while the rest of the ‘proof’ (proof of what is laid out in the bible, beliefs and morals that people blindly follow) is on the television. People will so often just blindly follow religion or what they see on the news and never dare to look deeper into things, keeping so much of the world cut off (sort of like the lyric is cut off at the end of it) or censored from themselves.

The spoken word part is as follows, and is a lot to unpack so we’re gonna try to do it lyric chunk by lyric chunk, “It's not me, it's you / Actually, it's the taxidermy of you and me / Untie the balloons from around my neck / And ground me / I'm just a racehorse on the track / Send me back to the glue factory / Always thought I'd float away / And never come back / But I've got enough miles on my card / To fly the boys home on my own / But you know me, I like being all alone / And keeping you all alone / And the charts are boring, and the kids are snoring / And my ego's in a sling / You say you're not listening and I said I'm wishing / And I said…I said!”

To start dissecting this, we’ll look at the section, “It’s not me, it’s you / Actually, it’s the taxidermy of you and me / Unite the balloons from around my neck / And ground me / I’m just a racehorse on the track / Send me back to the glue factory / Always thought I’d float away / And never come back”. Though this seems like a lot to look at at once, it’s relatively easy to boil it down to the fact the narrator is back to speaking about their disillusionment with their own life and problems, speaking to a possible romantic partner in saying the classic breakup line of, it’s not you, it’s me, except turned on its head to directly blame the other person instead of taking blame. They’re also saying, though, that the blame isn’t exactly on the other person directly but is more on the fact that the relationship was already dead (taxidermy of you and me). They’re then asking this person, symbolically, to untie balloons from around their neck and let them be grounded. This could be saying their partner was putting them up on a sort of pedestal, putting them above others, but with the line ‘I’d always thought I’d float away / And never come back’ working with this, I definitely believe this position of floating above others was a point of stress for our narrator as they felt they’d never be able to get away from this situation and could never come back from it, perhaps even choking them and being disorienting, causing them to need to be grounded. They then go on to say they’re like a racehorse on the track that needs to be sent to the glue factory, essentially saying they’re past their prime and needs to be killed and turned into something that can be useful again (old horses used to literally be made into glue. This is also referencing that). 

The spoken word continues, with the narrator once again shifting focus from themself to the world/politics and their disillusionment with those things, saying, “But I've got enough miles on my card / To fly the boys home on my own”, where pete, once again verified on genius, said, “the idea that in some capacity that the i could fly the boys in iraq & afghanistan home on my miles if the gov wouldnt fly them back :(“

To end the spoken word section, and the song analysis as a whole, it ends with, “But you know me, I like being all alone / And keeping you all alone / And the charts are boring, and the kids are snoring / And my ego's in a sling / You say you're not listening and I said I'm wishing / And I said…I said!” with our narrator essentially saying that find comfort in loneliness and being alone, and finds satisfaction in making others feel his loneliness as well (I want to keep you as lonely as me so you can get addicted to this vibes, showing this is a sentiment shared in fob songs previously). The line about charts is a bit of a stand out, as being one of the most obvious ones about fame and pop culture, continuing to show the narrator is just generally sharing their displeasure with things of the world, here stating a fact that the charts, the popular songs perhaps made with less heart, with the kids in mind less, are boring and causing ‘the kids’ to snore, to lose interest in music and art and fall out of touch with it, causing the narrator’s ego to hurt because well… i keep saying ‘narrator’ because that’s just how i do these things but this is about pete, and it is no question that kids falling out of love with music would be detrimental to his ego- sorry to get out of my analyzing persona here but it’s the only way i could think to put this part lmao. Anyways! The song ends with the narrator being not listened to, and them then trying to scream how they’re feeling and what they’re saying to be seen and heard like they want to be.

This song is a very very complex, interesting one, detailing all of the troubles and complaints and gripes of a person struggling with mental illness and perhaps even losing their grip on reality some, or at least on the reality they want to be in. it’s a depressing thing to want to be a different person, only to realize you don’t like who you ended up changing into, or realize that no matter how much you change you can never go back to when you were truly happy. And turning to unhealthy coping mechanisms like drugs don’t help either, especially when it feels like the world around you is dashing your spirits and hope constantly as well. Where is there to escape when even your escape is riddled with problems? As the title of this analysis says, and as i stated earlier as well, everything truly can feel like fourteen carats but have no clarity.

[balzabul]

internet co. loid headcanons bc i never rly post/think abt them

gumi - the star of course; she never let it get to her head tho, she's just as happy staying in w/ friends and family as she is performing. she always gets ppl rly kickass gifts for holidays/birthdays despite ppl often thinking she's a little absent. she's just like that! it's not her fault!

gakupo - only performs in small private venues (his own decision) after several years of dealing w/ the stress of having to live up to his human voice provider's legacy. can tell you anything at all about any famous japanese sword from the last 400 years and is thrilled to do so

gachapoid/ryuto - V3 is a child actor/singer and has a contract with a popular kids show as the host; loves his internet co. family and is always thinking of fun day trips they could do together. V2 quit performing the second V3 was released and makes several thousand dollars a month cheating at fortnite and streaming tiktok controversy reaction videos (fsr these are the only two i rly separate by voicebank version?? i dont rly have diff headcanons for gumi/lily/etc v2 versus v3 etc)

lily - an unexpected friend and protégé of miriam! miriam's like a mother to her after she went to the retired loid's cafe and bar to chat and ended up in a whole therapy session abt being a lower quality vocaloid that isnt getting any updates. she still performs acoustic covers in miriam's cafe.

CUL - the cool weed aunt of the group; she gives gachaV2 fortnite v-bucks every time she vists. while lily struggled with irrelevance CUL thrived in it; she only produces songs for a small private label she founded, and otherwise fills her time with crossfit and volunteer work

kokone - gumi's ex; it was completely amicable and they're still good friends. Gacha V2 calls her "gumi's ex" out loud occasionally bc he knows it pisses her off. she's somewhat sensitive about never taking off like some other vocaloids, but it's not like she thinks about it much

Rana - has an unofficial rivalry with gacha v3 (not v2!) but she doesn't even realize it. she's having a blast guest starring on gachaV3's morning show and having duets with powerhouses like gumi, but gachaV3 feels threatened by another childish character voice. v2 absolutely fuels this by suggesting bigger and better opportunities to rana

Galaco (prize version) - kind of like the mysterious celebrity relative? she never got huge but her name is important enough that she still arrives to holidays in a glitter-coated limousine. she has the money to upgrade every vocaloid in the house on her own dime but instead she uses it to gift tchotchkes and ugly apparel (not out of malice she's just out of touch)

chika - originally a constituent of gumi's, she never really wanted to be a singer until gumi started performing for the big leagues; inspired by her friend she joined the same record label and the two have been inseparable since, though she doesn't get as many big shows. she and lily gossip about the entertainment business

otomachi una - a lot of the internet co. household actually didn't like una when she first got signed to their label; even gumi felt somewhat threatened by a newer, higher quality voicebank. luckily everyone realized pretty quickly that she's just a funny silly gal and doesn't want to overshadow anyone. Spicy and Sugar are separate android bodies and play "the parent trap" type tricks on the rest of the household constantly

[betweenthetimeandsound]

Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#58-57)

#58: Friderika Bayer -- Kinek mondjam el vétkeimet? (Hungary 1994)

“Semmi sincs, csak fénytelen éj Csak szótlan bánat, hiú remény Nincsen hûség, nincs szerelem Nincs simitó kéz nekem”

“There is nothing, just the lightless night Just speechless sorrow, just illusive hope There is no loyalty, no love There's no caressing hand for me”

Seven countries debuted in the 1994 contest (including Russia--see #149 about that), and I thought this was the best of all of them. While To nie ja showcased Edyta's vocals and put her on the road to superstardom in Poland, Kinek mondjam el vetkimet does something more than that for me, as it creates a compelling soundscape and actually makes me feel something.

The song puts Friderika in a vulnerable situation, where she seeks somebody to talk to. It gets occasionally interpreted as a teenage pregnancy, because of the line "A meg sem született gyermekemnek"/"In spite of nobody dying and no children being born" and the English version suggesting that the narrator aborted the child. I didn't get that sense while I was listening to it, but I could relate to it a lot, because of the need to relieve oneself of the burdens that haunt them in life. I felt lonely at times, and need someone to talk to about life. (also, the title translates to "To whom I may confess my sins?", and the slight religious hints intrigues me again, haha)

The minimalistic instrumentation highlights that fragility; there's the guitarist playing that melody, the occasional tambourine, and the orchestra in the background. They create a little world for three minutes, filled with longing and the need to cry. It's almost like a prayer for understanding, because of the simplicity and sincerity of it. And it is just pure gold, deservingly getting Hungary’s best entry to date (for now, I hope).

P.S. A shout-out for @eurosong and @white-eyed-girl; both really love this song, but for the former, it's their favorite Eurovision song ever!

Personal ranking: 1st/25 Actual ranking: 4th/25 in Dublin

Final Impressions on:

--1994: It's known for having seven new countries come over (four that missed out on Kvalificacija za Millstreet in Hungary, Slovakia, Romania, and Estonia, along with Poland, Russia, and Lithuania), along with being an especially ballad-heavy year. Several times in the running order, it seemed like all the songs blurred together, though I do think that the song quality was high enough to keep it from being bad. Most notably, Riverdance blew everyone out of the water with its use of Irish dance; it became more popular than the whole starting lineup. Basically, that was epic, along with the crowd in Point Theatre cheering for Ireland when they received multiple 12 points to get their third straight title.

--Hungary: Definitely one of the more unique countries in the contest, in terms of what they send. Looking back, they were more up-and-down in terms of quality, but they never leaned towards something more "basic". When they did deliver, they really did in spades; that helped with maintaining an eight-year qualification streak between 2011 and 2018. Sadly, they withdrew because of their increasingly authoritarian government, which is made even worse because they looked like they were going to win. Hopefully, they come back soon!

#57: Minouche Barelli -- Boum Badaboum (Monaco 1967)

“Avant de faire tout sauter, boum boum Laissez-moi le temps d’aimer, badaboum Laissez-moi encore la vie, boum boum Au moins mille et une nuits, badaboum”

“Before blowing everything up, boom boom Leave me the time to love, badaboom Still leave me my life, boom boom At least a thousand and one nights, badaboom”

Another Serge Gainsbourg-penned song, I find it quite interesting. Whereas Poupée de cire, poupée de son (#179) and White and Black Blues (#74) deal with similar thoughtful issues with well-written lyrics, Boum Badaboum is a lot more straightforward.

Despite the silly title, it has a serious message about trying to enjoy what life is about before she gets killed in a nuclear explosion. The United States and the Soviet Union were just hours away from catalyzing a nuclear war five years ago, and yet amongst the negotiations and proxy wars of the Cold War, tension remains. These pleas are almost drowned out amongst the cacophony of the "bada-boums", which can be an acquired taste to some people.

Mincouche's voice is a bit shouty, which when combined with the instrumentation, makes me waver on whether or not I truly like the song. However, it does gets the message across the poppy soundscape, and she performs it with a bit of mischief amongst the despair. The orchestration for this makes it so cool and groovy, you wouldn't know that she's shouting for a little bit of peace!

Personal ranking: 1st/17 Actual ranking: 5th/17 in Vienna

[daechwitatamic]

Chapter 5: Childish || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: What Was Hidden (Masterpost)

Rating: explicit, minors DNI pls

Genre: college!au, angst, eventual smut, strangers -> friends -> lovers -> idiots -> lovers

Pairings: Taehyung x female reader, MYG x OC

Summary:  This is how it all starts: Taehyung is flunking Western Lit. You’re assigned to tutor him. His paper on Strindberg’s The Ghost Sonata could pass or fail him for the semester. As you and Taehyung slowly become friends, then more, you learn that there’s a lot more to him than you originally assumed. Together, you navigate your own experiences with the play’s themes: one’s “true self” versus one’s “shown self”, darkness behind the facade, and how people can be quite literally haunted - and it has nothing to do with ghosts.

//

In which you and Taehyung address what happened at movie night.

Chapter Warnings: language, kissing, bad rap lyrics… listen i tried my best ok

Word Count: 3.8k

Note: This is a duplicate of Chapter 5. Apologies if you already interacted with the first version - it wasn't showing up in searched tags. The Ghost Post for Chapter 5 is here.

I saw the sun and thought I saw what was hidden The Ghost Sonata | Scene III August Strindberg

Chapter 5: Childish

Sunday, November 18th

In the morning, Kiko’s bed is empty, so you text her, “Good morning???”

Instead of answering you with words, she sends you a Soundcloud link titled, Sirens [DEMO]  - MYG ft K!k0.

[9:02 AM] Kiko✌️: sry for bailing on the movie but we finished this

You scramble for your earpods, eagerly starting the track. The beat starts, fast and angry, and then Yoongi’s rapping starts.

All these months at sea have got me seeing shit I close my eyes and take an even bigger hit Your siren call has got my fucking guard up These last six months I’ve been so fucking hard up Snared by your beauty as you pass by Your siren song is just another goddamn lie I have heard you singing, each to each You’ve always been just outside my reach Part of me wants to let you drag me down Til human voices wake us and we fucking drown I’m powerless to fight it, I refuse to try Your siren song is just another goddamn lie

The chorus starts, and you hear Kiko for the first time. Her voice comes in sweet and steady, definitely her, haunting as it traverses the minor key.

“Holy shit,” you say out loud, pulling out your earpods and scrambling up the ladder to Bridget’s top bunk. She whines in complaint as you scoot in next to her, poking her arm.

“Wake up, you have to hear this,” you tell her. “Look at our baby go!”

[9:10 AM] You: omg omg omg that’s so good i literally woke b up to listen to it too

[9:11 AM] You: she hates me but she loves the track

[9:12 AM] You: your VOICE iasnfoiajefjef 

[9:14 AM] Kiko✌️: thaaaanks 🥺🥺🥺

[9:16 AM] You: if he gets famous w that hes gonna get a cease and desist letter from Eliot’s people lmaooo

[9:19 AM] Kiko✌️: ????

[9:20 AM] You: ts eliot? the poem?

[9:22 AM] You: ‘i have heard them singing, each to each’

[9:23 AM] You: ‘til human voices wake us and we drown’

[9:24 AM] You: they’re from that longass ts eliot poem idr the name of it

[9:25 AM] You: hold on im looking it up

You send her the link to The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock and click your screen off. 

“You think he wrote that about her?” Bridget muses, eyes still closed.

“No way,” you say. “You’d have to have some serious audacity to ask a girl to feature vocals on a track you wrote about trying to resist her charms…”

“Maybe he has a lot of audacity,” she murmurs. 

You kick your way under her blankets - your feet are freezing - and put your earpods back in, turning your screen back on to listen to it again.

Monday, November 19th

Monday brings sunshine, even if it is freezing cold. You’re leaving your final class, your laptop bag heavy on your shoulder, when a phone call comes in from Bianca.

“Hey, Y/N,” she says when you pick up. “I figured this would be easier than emailing back and forth five times. I’m trying to reschedule your session with Taehyung. Are you feeling better?”

“Oh,” you say, stomach dropping. Good, now that you and Taehyung aren’t speaking you can spend an extra hour alone with him! “Yeah, I’m all better. Thanks.”

“Great,” she says. “Can you do tomorrow morning? I know it’s kind of late notice,” she says apologetically.

“I’d have to be done by ten for class,” you tell her. 

Bianca schedules you for nine the next morning, and tells you she’ll email you both to confirm. 

You’re at dinner with Bridget that night when Taehyung texts you about it.

[7:55 PM] Taehyung: hi. Would you be okay with doing tutoring at the coffee shop tmrw instead of the library

[7:56 PM] Taehyung: i have class at 10 and its closer to the academic buildings

You wave your foot around in discomfort. You hate knowing you hurt his feelings. He’s obviously upset, or this would’ve been a facetime call. 

[7:59 PM] You: yep. See you at 9.

He doesn’t answer.

Tuesday, November 20th

When you reach the cafe in the morning, Taehyung’s already in a booth, books open on the table. You pause at the edge of the table, and he looks up at you, but doesn’t say anything.

“Morning,” you said uneasily. “I’m gonna get in line and order my coffee, and then we can start?”

“Sure,” he says, and goes right back to highlighting the Strindberg text. 

You frown, crossing your arms. “Is this how it’s going to be for the whole hour? Are you even going to speak to me?”

“If I need help with the work,” he allows, eyes still on the text.

“Taehyung,” you say, frustrated, “don’t be childish -.”

“I’m being childish?” he echoes, eyebrows raising indignantly. “You started the cold shoulder shit just because I dared hang out with a friend when we -.”

When we… aren’t anything in the first place. You know that’s the end of the sentence. You know that’s the truth. There was nothing between you two but potential, but that had spoiled now. You don’t wait for the end of the sentence. You turn on your heel to leave.

“Wait,” he says quickly, and reaches for your hand, holding your fingers tightly. “I’m sorry. Don’t leave.”

You stand there, his fingers still clutching yours, frozen. His hand is warm on yours, his eyes intense, and you feel like he could just tug you right down there next to him with very little effort. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “Let’s just… I’ll work on the paper. Let’s just… work.”

You don’t really have a choice. You’re contracted for an hour. Pursing your lips, you set your bag on the empty bench. 

“I’m going to order my coffee,” you tell him quietly, and he nods, finally dropping your hand. When you return, you settle in and get your laptop running. 

“Okay,” you say, eager to put the arguing behind you and get to work. “What step of the paper are you on? Isn’t it due this week?”

“Yeah, by Friday at midnight,” he tells you. “I’m just done taking my notes for the disillusionment theme and then I can start typing it up.”

“How can I help today?” you ask.

He frowns, sliding the Strindberg text between you. “I was looking at his last little bit here,” he says, pointing with his capped highlighter. “I saw the sun and thought I saw what was hidden - I was going to write about the word thought - like, he thought he knew what was there, he thought he was seeing something hidden that was beautiful and good. Like, he saw the darkness behind the facade, but then the sun shone on this spot and he thought that behind the darkness there was still something good… but he was wrong.”

“Tae,” you say, quietly. 

He gives you a warning look. “Don’t,” he says. “Focus on the paper. Am I onto something worth putting in the paper?”

“Yeah,” you say, begrudgingly. “It’s good.”

He nods and writes something down in the notebook he has open next to the text. When he’s done, he opens his laptop and gets typing away. You drop your eyes, focus on your coffee. 

He types for about fifteen minutes and you don’t talk as he works. When you hear the sound of clicking keys stop, you glance up to see if he needs to be reminded to focus, as he asked.

But instead of looking distracted - out the window, or at his phone - he’s looking at you. He’s pouting, lips protruding, and it’s so fucking cute that it makes you feel angry.

“What?” you snap, but you’re fighting a smile. 

“I can’t stand that you’re mad at me,” he admits. “I should have told you I had a girl at the house, that it was a friend. I’m sorry. I know that we aren’t… y’know… but if I’d run into you with a guy like that I think I’d…” He trails off, half-formed thoughts tripping him up. “It would have felt bad. And I did not mean to make you feel bad.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “You can do whatever you want. You owe me nothing. I shouldn’t have gotten upset. I was trying to be chill about it and just… failing miserably.”

“You don’t send someone homemade soup and then show up with another girl,” he says, shaking his head. “I screwed up.”

“You didn’t,” you tell him gently. “It’s fine. I’d like it if we just… moved on.”

–

By the time your hour is up, Taehyung has finished typing most of the paper. You make him promise to finish it and send it to you to look over before your normal Wednesday morning session tomorrow.

You gather up your things and wait as Taehyung does the same. Once you’re both ready, you turn and walk towards the door; you both have class right after, and you’re in a bit of a hurry to make it on time. 

The line of students trying to grab a coffee before the ten o’clock classes start is quite long, reaching almost to the door. And at the end of it stands Davis.

You drop your eyes quickly, as if seeing him would make him more likely to see you. You scrunch down into your sweater, hiking your bag higher on your shoulder, and pick up your pace. 

Taehyung is suddenly beside you instead of behind you, his arm around your shoulders, pulling you tightly up against him as you walk side by side. He’s warm and solid against you, and you feel the tight fist that had been wrapping itself around your lungs release a little bit. It just feels instantly… safer. You keep your eyes down, but you feel Taehyung turn to look at Davis as you pass by. He reaches forward to open the door, and you step through together.

“Thanks,” you mutter, still watching the very fascinating pavement. 

“You have to stop running from him,” he tells you seriously. “He’s garbage, and you’re…”

You’re what?

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t let him get to you like that,” he amends. 

You scuff your sneaker along the path. “Which way are you going?” you ask him. 

“Pastorino Building,” he tells you, pointing.

“Me too.”

When he holds out his hand for you, you take it. 

--

[11:44 AM] Taehyung: you finally took me off of read, huh?

[11:52 AM] You: ???

[11:54 AM] Taehyung: insta

[11:56 AM] You: lol oh

[11:57 AM] You: yeah u earned it i guess

[12:00 PM] Taehyung: “i guess” o ok then 🙄

--

[12:11 PM] Nina💕: y is ur new man messing with Davis????

[12:14 PM] You: 100% honesty, i have nooooo idea what ur talking abt

[12:16 PM] Nina💕: walking around campus giving him dirty looks nd shit, real mature

[12:19 PM] You: omfg. i need everyone to grow the fuck up pls. 

[12:20 PM] You: knowing davis and knowing taehyung, i’d guess they saw each other ONCE and if tae didn’t smile then davis went and cried like a fucking baby 

It’s almost twelve hours later, after you’re in bed working on getting sleepy, that you realize that Nina had said “your new man” and you’d done nothing to refute this.

Fuck.

Wednesday, November 21st

You’re - stupidly - excited for your tutoring hour on Wednesday morning. You don’t know what is starting with you and Taehyung, but something is. But when you arrive at eleven on the dot, he’s not there. He’s still not there five minutes later, and you shoot him a quick text - “we on for tutoring?” 

Two minutes later, he comes up behind you, practically panting, a paper travel mug in each hand.

“Sorry,” he says, “I was already running a minute or two late because the line was so long, and then I got here and I couldn’t open the door -.”

You crack up, reaching to take the cups from his hands and place them on the table. 

“Did you bring me coffee?” you ask accusingly, a smile creeping across your face.

“I’m still trying to make up for Saturday,” he says with a laugh, pulling out a chair on the other side of the table.

“You have already, and then some,” you tell him seriously.

“I hope I ordered it how you like it,” he says sheepishly.

“I’m not picky,” you assure him. “So, what are we working on today?”

“All business, huh? Even when I bring you coffee?” he teases, eyes crinkling. 

“I’m all business when I’m on the clock,” you agree. “Talk to me in fifty-three minutes and I can be more fun.”

“You’re fun anyway,” he says, eyeing you sideways as he takes out his laptop. “Anyway, I finished the paper last night. Can I send it to you now? Then I can start my Chekhov reading while you look it over?”

“That sounds perfect,” you tell him. “Chekhov, huh? Three Sisters?”

"Cherry Orchard," he corrects you.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” you tell him. “I’m excited to see what you think. I do like Three Sisters better, though, if I had to choose.”

“I don’t get to choose,” he says lightly. “I just sent you the paper, did you get it?”

“I’m surprised you even know how to use the school email,” you murmur without thinking, eyes on your screen, and you’re surprised when he laughs, one hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Oh, but it’s fine if you think it?” he challenges, raising one eyebrow. Something stirs in your stomach. 

“Shut up and do your reading,” you say, laughing, doing your best to ignore the flutter of attraction. 

When your hour is up, you walk together towards the cafeteria as you have on other Wednesday mornings. But instead of splitting up, Taehyung raises that eyebrow at you again, as if issuing a dare. 

“Want to sit together?” he asks.

You grin. “Yeah,” you say. “But you might have to deal with my roommates when they figure out I ditched them.”

Thursday, November 22nd

Thursday is cold, but the sun shines brightly, so you decide to walk at your trail between your morning class and your afternoon class. It’s too cold to sit on your bench for long, but at least the walk will give you some exercise, and some good thinking time. Your mind is disgustingly full of Taehyung - the easy back and forth you have, how shockingly different he is from your expectations, the fucking cute way he pouts as he eats, the sexy way he rolls his tshirt sleeves, the way his smile will start so tentatively and then blast full-wattage out of nowhere.  You walk quickly, the cold hitting you sharply, like a slap in the face, and you need it. It knocks some sense into you. You’re a fucking mess, and you feel a little out of control with it. 

You head back to your room to take a quick shower before your 2:30 class, opting to skip lunch. You haven’t eaten since breakfast, and you know you won’t be able to eat until tutoring ends at 7. You wonder if you’d be able to talk Taehyung into doing tutoring from the cafeteria.

You somehow manage to make it on time for Becky at 5:00, barely, but you’re starving by the time Taehyung plops down in the seat across from you.

You tell him hello absently, already digging in your bag for your wallet, ready to ask him if he’d mind doing tutoring somewhere with food.

“Oh, goddamn,” you murmur, shifting your laptop out of the way and scraping around the bottom of your bag.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, peering at you.

“I can’t find my wallet,” you tell him, starting to take things out of the bag one by one. Then suddenly you freeze, your wide eyes meeting his across the table. “Oh shit,” you utter. “I think I dropped it at the trail.”

“The trail?” he echoes.

“The walking trails over at the nature preserve,” you clarify, still horrified. “I went walking there before class and I had my wallet with me then, and now that I’m thinking about it, I didn’t have it when I packed my bag for class.”

Taehyung looks at you, calculating. Then he nods and says, “Okay, so let’s go get it.”

“What?” you say, sure you misheard him. “Now? It’s dark. And freezing.”

He shrugs. “We’ll bundle up. It’ll be fun, like a little adventure.”

“Trespassing on closed trails in the dark - in snow temperatures - does not sound like an adventure,” you tell him. 

“Come on,” he goads. “What else are you going to do? You’re in classes until it’s dark tomorrow, you won’t be able to go look.”

You frown at him. “How do you know my class schedule?”

“I pay attention,” he says, waving a hand at you, like this is insignificant. “So? We’ll use our phones and follow where you walked. It could still be there.” 

You stop to consider it. You could just consider it a loss - freeze your credit card, replace your drivers license. Or you could wait and see if anyone turned it into the police or campus security. Surely, this isn’t so pressing that you need to go now.

But.

But, going for a nighttime walk with Taehyung - even if it is fucking cold out - does sound kind of exciting. 

“What about tutoring?” you ask, resolve crumbling.

“We’ll talk about Ibsen the whole time,” he says, already starting to pack up his bag. “Come on, there’s a parking lot at the trailhead, I’ll drive us over.”

There are no other cars in the lot when you park - probably because the whole nature preserve closes at sundown, which was about three hours ago. Taehyung turns off the car and you both get out, turning the flashlights on your phones on. You guide him to the trail you took, and walk in silence for a few minutes, beams crisscrossing the trail as you go.

“I turned my paper in yesterday,” he tells you. You’re shivering a little, searching the edge of the path. “Two days early. Do I get extra points for being early?”

“No,” you tell him flatly. “But yours will be one of the first she grades. I’m excited to see her feedback.”

“She’ll probably think I cheated,” Taehyung laughs. 

“No,” you disagree. “It definitely still sounded like you wrote it. Your voice came through.”

He looks at you across the path, only a silhouette from your phones illuminating patches on the ground. In the dark, you can’t make out his face at all, can’t read his eyes or his expression. 

“You did a good job,” you reassure him again. “It was well written.”

“Thanks,” he says finally. 

You walk in silence a little longer. You can’t see anything except the small circle on the ground from your phone, and it’s eerie. You’re glad Taehyung is with you, but you’re half tempted to step closer to him, to walk in his wake instead of on your own. You shiver again, your face aching from the cold, your fingers going numb. 

This was probably a dumb idea. 

You reach your bench and you hurry over, sure that if your wallet fell out of your pocket it would have been while you were seated. Sure enough, you find it under the bench, in a small tuft of dead grass. It occurs to you that Taehyung is here in your most sacred thinking spot, but you’d never brought Davis here even though you’d been dating for almost two whole school years as students here.

“Got it!” you cheer, turning to find Taehyung by the location of his phone’s light.

He comes up next to you, putting his hands on your upper arms. You’re still shivering slightly.

“You cold?” he murmurs, and you’ve never heard that tone of voice on him before. It’s low, almost guttural, and your body responds to it immediately, the blood rushing away from your head. 

“Mhm,” you say, not trusting yourself to try and form words. 

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in, and you lean in, soaking in his warmth. This is fine - this is nice - but then he moves a hand to gently tip your chin up and leans in to kiss you. His lips are soft against yours, but his kiss isn’t. As soon as he can feel you kissing him back, he reaches both arms around you again, tugging you tight against him as your lips crash together. 

You manage to sneak a hand out of his tight embrace and curl your fingers through the wavy hair at the nape of his neck; you tug just a little and his mouth opens for yours, a tiny groan escaping him as if against his will as his tongue touches yours for the first time.

Everything about the kiss is slow but purposeful, intense in its lack of frantic energy. He kisses you like he’s got his whole life to keep it up, like there’s no reason to rush when he can take it this slow and feel everything, notice everything, love everything that you do.

You bring one freezing hand up to touch his jaw, your thumb rubbing a gentle line along the bone, and he shivers under your touch. He moves to tangle one hand in your hair, and suddenly it’s an entirely different kiss, all the energy and aggression that he seemed to be holding back earlier now bursting forth.

You appreciate the variety.

You release his hand and clutch the front of his zippered winter coat, pulling him closer, though it doesn’t seem possible. You want him closer. You want him to kiss you for a hundred more hours. 

He nips your bottom lip and you whimper without meaning to; he groans again in response to this, moving to kiss a line down your jaw and down to your neck. The air is instantly freezing in the wake of his hot mouth, and you shudder in his hands. 

When he finally pulls away, leaning back to look at your flushed face, he asks, “How about now?”

You laugh, once, and whack him in the chest. “A little better,” you admit. 

He presses his forehead to yours and inhales deeply. “I would like to do that again without the puffy winter coats on,” he tells you.

You laugh again, stepping back a little bit. “Okay,” you tell him. “I think that can be arranged.” 

Next

Thank you so much for being here! I appreciate every single like, reblog, dm, ask, or reply!

As always, a million thanks to @kookstempo for being an expert turkey-wrangler and also for beta-ing!

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Okay, I know hockey player versus figure skater is a super cliché rivalry, but all day today, my brain was like “hockey player Cassian! Hockey player Cassian! Hockey player Cassian,” so here we are. Also, fun fact, this exact event actually happened to my little brother at one of his games. TW for blood and injuries. Hope you enjoy :) @nessianweek

The cool rush of the air conditioning is the first thing that hits Cassian as he pushes through the doors. The throwback pop song pumping out of the speakers and the smell of popcorn from the snack bar hits him next. He shifts the strap of his bag on his shoulder, resettling the weight, his sticks clacking together in his other hand. He makes his way over to the board declaring the locker room assignments for the day, squinting until he finds the Illyrians. He's about to head off toward their locker room when his eyes snag on someone. 

Nesta is perched like a queen on one of the benches in the lobby, her white skates resting beside her. She has a sweatshirt pulled on, but the red skirts of her dress skim across her thighs, and Cassian can see the jeweled embellishments peeking out under the collar. Unsurprising, she has a book opened in her hands, probably another of her smutty romances. Even in the harsh fluorescent lighting, Cassian finds himself drawn into her eyes, the way they glint as they dance across the pages. 

Cassian doesn't have to think twice before he's sauntering over to her. He drops his bag with a loud thump at her feet, a smile pulling across his face at her answering glower. He loves this game they play. The way he pushes her buttons and she pushes his always leaves flames licking up his skin in the most delicious way. He's sure they make quite the sight, the hockey player and the figure skater, but he'll never stop going back for more. 

"What do you want, Cassian?" 

"Love the outfit today, Nes. The sparkles really contrast well with your dark soul." 

"Don't you have to go smash someone into the boards?"

"I'd love to press you up against the boards." 

Cassian throws a wink her way for extra good measure, and the way Nesta's eyes narrow has his heart ticking up slightly in his chest. 

"Prick," Nesta mumbles, opening back up her book. 

With a chuckle, Cassian takes it for the cue that it is, picking back up his bag and heading for the locker room. He offers Azriel an easy grin as he passes him, his brother merely shaking his head at his antics yet again. 

~ * * * ~ 

Nesta hears her sister before she sees her, Feyre's laughing bouncing off the walls of the lobby. She closes her book and grabs her skates, but as she heads for the door, her steps falter and pause as she takes in Elain walking in beside Feyre. 

"Since when does it take both of you to pick me up?" Nesta asks once her sisters are close enough to hear. 

"Actually," Feyre starts slowly. "We were thinking we could stick around for the game." 

"What," Nesta deadpans, taking in both her sisters' expressions and inwardly sighing when she sees they're both actually serious. "Fine. Give me the keys, and I'll pick you both up later." 

"Oh, Nesta," Elain says, taking Nesta's hand in her own. "It'll be fun. Besides, you and Cassian are friends. Don't you want to see him play?" 

"We are not friends." 

"That's for sure," Feyre pipes in. "There is way too much sexual tension for that to be considered friendship." 

Nesta shoots a glare Feyre's way, but her sister merely smiles innocently. The mischievous glint swirling in her eyes tells Nesta she's not getting the keys from her youngest sister anytime soon. Which is how Nesta ends up pressed between her two sisters, the cold of the metal bleachers biting into the underside of her thighs and a shared blanket draped across their three laps. Elain keeps clapping excitedly to her right while Feyre shouts, "go, baby, go" every time Rhysand cuts up the ice on her left. Nesta thinks her eyes might actually get stuck from rolling them so much. 

Despite the equipment and jerseys making it hard to tell the players apart, the whole team blending together into a mash of blues and gold's, Nesta finds she can pick Cassian out fairly easily. She tells herself it's because he's clearly the biggest guy on the team and the hair sticking out the back of his helmet is a dead giveaway. But either way, her eyes always seem to find him any time he's on the ice, whether he’s sweeping along the blue line to make a play or throwing his body against the other team. 

They’re into the third period when Nesta watches Cassian jump over the boards, joining the rush before falling back into the neutral zone as the other team gains possession. He guards his man well as the play shifts to their defensive zone, the other player trying and failing to shake Cassian loose. The player tries to deke around him, but Cassian is quicker, their sticks clashing together. 

It's like it all unfolds in slow motion. The puck popping up into the air between them. The other player raising his stick like he plans to bat the puck down. The stick colliding with Cassian's head. 

There's a collective gasp from the crowd watching the game as Cassian crumbles to the ice, falling onto all fours. And then there's red. A few drops at first, but soon it's a steady stream. It seeps into the ice, spreading out around Cassian like a crimson puddle. 

"Oh my gods," Feyre whispers.

"I hope he's alright," Elain chimes in. 

Nesta knows that her sisters keep speaking, but all she can hear is a ringing in her ears, like a high pitched screaming sinking its claws into her mind. Her hands fist into the blanket in her lap, and she watches with wide eyes as a trainer walks onto the ice, pulling the cage of Cassian's helmet up and sliding a towel under. With the help of two teammates, Cassian's on his feet and skates back to the bench. Nesta's stomach roils as one of the rink staffers and the referees scrape Cassian's blood from the ice, and even when the game resumes, she can't take her eyes off Cassian slumped over his knees on the bench. 

~ * * * ~ 

Cassian can't help but poke at the bandage on his forehead as he checks himself in the locker room mirror. It's still tender, and he winces at the pain that radiates from that spot. Definitely going to leave a scar. At least he got a goal tonight. Small victories. With a sigh, he shoulders his bag, grabbing his sticks by the door and heading for the rink exit. 

When he steps into the lobby, he finds Nesta standing there. Cassian knew that both her sisters were here earlier, but a quick sweep of his eyes around the room shows them nowhere to be found. When his eyes dance back to Nesta, she's already looking at him, something intense brewing in her eyes like storm clouds rolling in. It leaves Cassian captivated, and in a few strides, He’s standing in front of her, dropping his bag at their feet. 

"What are you still doing here, sweetheart?" 

Cassian throws as much cheek as he can into the question, letting that cocky grin he knows gets under her skin slide across his face. He expects Nesta to scowl, to make some snide remark back, to pick up their game right where they left off, but Nesta's face remains serious. He watches in confusion as she crosses and then uncrosses her arms across her chest, takes a deep breath like she's steeling herself. 

"I just wanted to make sure you're alright," Nesta explains, her eyes glancing up to the bandage before settling back on his own. 

"Oh," Cassian says dumbly, blinking down at Nesta a few times before his brain finally catches up. "It was just bad luck. Stick hit just right for one of the screws in my helmet to go right into my head." 

"It looked… bad." 

"Well, head wounds bleed a lot." 

Nesta nods and silence falls like a blanket between them. Cassian's brain kicks into overdrive, suddenly desperate to keep whatever this precarious moment is going, keep her talking to him, keep those eyes on his. It sparks in his chest like a piece of flint, fire burning under his skin. He's so busy floundering, trying to will his head and mouth to produce actual words, that he almost misses the frown that takes over Nesta's face, her eyes caught on his hand. 

"You're not thinking of driving, are you?" 

The sudden question takes Cassian by surprise, and Cassian’s brow furrows in confusion until he remembers his car keys are in his hand. 

"How else would I get home?" 

"You can't drive with a concussion."

"What makes you think I have a concussion?"

"How could you not have a concussion?" 

"If I had a concussion, why would I have gone back out on the ice to finish the game?"

"Because you're an idiot." 

Before Cassian can even splutter out a protest at the insult, Nesta is reaching forward and snatching the keys out of his hand. Then, for good measure, she reaches out and takes his sticks out of his hand too. 

"There's an Urgent Care like five miles away that should still be open." 

With that and a final, firm nod, as if she's decidedly made up her mind and Cassian can't change it, Nesta turns on her heel and makes for the doors. Cassian is left there gaping, blinking dumbly after her retreating form, while his sluggish brain tries to grasp what exactly is happening. Maybe he is concussed. Not giving himself another second to contemplate, Cassian scrambles to pick up his bag, tossing the strap over his shoulder as he hurries after Nesta. 

"Can I at least buy you dinner after?"

[lavenderbexlatte]

more & more

stray kids 2.6k words female reader insert FemDom!Reader x Sub!3RACHA mature

🖤 warnings: light degradation 🖤

Series Masterlist (Parts 1-7)

connect with me! / masterlist

It’s all three of them. 

When that happened, you’re not quite sure. This is why you hate house parties, hate being messy drunk all on your own. There’s so many people milling around, crashing on couches, watching movies in the low light, disappearing into bedrooms to do God knows what.

You’re leaning on the wall, just watching the room at large. It’s a den, of some sort, a living room. A family room? You don’t know. There are long, worn, slouching sectional couches and a coffee table laden with bottles and cups. A television playing some movie casts a gentle bluish light over everything. It’s the quietest room in the house by far; you can hear loud laughter from the kitchen and bumping music from the backyard. You were content to just people-watch, enjoy being innocently drunk on your own and watching other people be less-innocently smashed.

This isn’t your first solo party, but it’s by far the most boring. Usually by now you’ve made a few friends who’ll carry you through the night, fun to dance and drink with and probably never see again. Not tonight. Up until now, it’s just been you, a series of drinks that you fished out of the fridge yourself, and lots of empty space.

But now, you’re surrounded by all three of them. On your left, Chan, propped casually on the wall himself, like he just happened to be there. On your right, Jisung, looking at you with that stupid grin, the really big one that shows his crooked tooth and pushes up his round cheeks. And right in front of you, Changbin, just regarding you coolly.

You know them. Everyone knows them. It’s far more surprising that they know you.

Because those three, they’re popular. Popular in a way that you didn’t really know could happen on an enormous college campus. Everyone knows them: Chan the music production major, president of the business honors frat; Changbin the creative writing whiz, Model UN president; Jisung, music major, only a sophomore but already leading the music honors society. They formed a project group once for a music production class project, as the legend goes, and the rap song they wrote, performed, and produced went Soundcloud viral. The rest is history. They’re local celebrities now, inseparable and insufferable.

They sit in front of you in your Physics 101 lecture. It’s a science class for nonscience majors, so you do alright for yourself, but you have no idea how these three are acing it the way they are. They talk and joke and write rap lyrics during class; Chan always has his production software open on his laptop, and Jisung is constantly scribbling down verses and bits. You’d think it was Changbin keeping them afloat, but he’s usually half asleep, propped up on one elbow as he nods off.

Not that you pay attention. Not that you care.

You’d care less if they weren’t so attractive. They’re all colored hair and big personality and annoying loud laughs while you’re trying to remember how to calculate redshift, apologies and soft smiles when their chairs bump into your desk.

The four of you even did a class project together once, a small star observation thing that only took a few hours, but it was a few hours of nighttime with them. But you were never close, you never even really talked beyond the basic chit-chat of classmates. You can barely remember their last names. You’re sure they don’t know yours.

So there’s really no reason for the three of them to be looking at you the way they are right now, on either side and directly in front of you, eyes trained on you.

You’re caged in, but you don’t hate it. You kind of like it. Really like it.

Changbin doesn’t say anything. None of them do. You don’t either. You just look at Changbin, your back pressed against the wall. He lifts one arm, all biceps and triceps and shoulders in a tight t-shirt, and rests his palm flat on the wall over your shoulder. He’s barely taller than you, but you feel pinned there, thoroughly caged in. It’s not a feeling you’re used to, and it sends a funny little thrill down your spine.

You break the silence first. “What are you doing?”

Changbin just keeps looking it you. It’s Chan who answers.

“Taking a risk.”

Huh.

You don’t say anything to that, just fixing Changbin with an even stare back. He leans forward, just enough that you think, oh Christ, he’s gonna kiss me.

He keeps coming until he doesn’t.

He veers to the side, right as your eyes flutter shut, and you open them to find his lips on Jisung’s, just a short tender press that leaves Jisung laughing after him. The big arm keeping you against the wall, holding you without even touching you, drops back down, and Changbin leans to the other side. With a little smirk as though he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, he kisses Chan, just the same.

You’re not quite sure what that’s meant to signal to you, or why they’re choosing to mess with you like this, but seeing them be so casual and tender sends an embarrassing wave of arousal through you. You wonder why you haven’t seen this part of their relationship before, if you’ve just been oblivious of it these months sitting behind them.

Chan, Changbin, and Jisung, local celebrities, inseparable bros…more than friends?

Changbin regards you again, grinning smooth and sneaky. He pauses, and you nod your consent ever so slightly, egging him on. With a little huff of a laugh, a little bit of alright, alright, he finally kisses you, all firm pressure and warm confidence. One of your hands goes up to touch him, hold him, but Jisung grabs your wrist as it rises beside him and holds it back down firmly against the wall. You don’t try it with the other hand. Chan will probably do the same.

He pulls away, still grinning. You’re breathless, but clear-headed.

“There’s that pretty blush,” says Chan, cavalier, “You got all pink-cheeked and flustered like that when ‘Bin walked into you in the Starbucks the other week, you remember that?”

You barely do. It was weeks ago, just a brush against you that sent your books tumbling out of your arms when you realized who it was, sneaking behind you with their hand on the small of your back. It had surprised you, more than overwhelmed you, but you do remember your cheeks burning in embarrassment as you collected your books and notes from the floor.

“We decided we wanted to see it again,” says Jisung.

And suddenly it’s clear. They’ve underestimated you. Cornered you at a party, decided it would be easy to get the shy girl from Physics to fuck around with them a little. Three handsome and popular guys, versus little old you. No contest, right?

Oh, this will be fun.

You glance around at the three of them, taking in their expressions and stances, the way they lean into you or away. It’s clear that Jisung is the least sure of himself, whether for his age or his personality, you don’t know.

It’s easy enough to turn toward Jisung, wrenching your arm around his grasp. You lean in close, until you’re practically nose-to-nose with him. He’s always doe-eyed, but right now you swear you can see your own cocky little grin reflected back in his pupils.

“Only Changbin gets to have fun?” you ask, quietly, relishing the way Jisung twitches toward you.

Changbin scoffs, but Jisung surges forward to kiss you, too, much more eagerly. You barely let him touch your lips before you back off, and he chases you as you lean back, giving away his own desperation.

“Aw,” you coo.

He raises the hand that isn’t still holding fast to your wrist, as if you grab you, cup your face, bring you closer, and you pull back all the way.

“No,” you say sweetly.

Immediately, his hand darts back down to his side. Good. Very good. You press your lips to his again, just barely any pressure at all, and repeat your little game, pulling back and making him chase you.

After a moment, Jisung seems to realize what you’re doing, that you’re not going to let him any closer, and he relaxes again, his expression equal parts confused and intrigued. The other two are watching you with wide eyes. Changbin might as well be drooling.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not that easy to push around,” you say, smiling brightly.

“Figures,” says Chan, amused.

He’s still not touching you, hasn’t touched you at all. He’s just leaning there, a warm presence by your side. For some reason, that interests you even more. Maybe he’s going to be a challenge.

“And anyway, we shouldn’t cause a scene in front of all these people,” you turn slightly, meeting Jisung’s eye, “You gonna let go?”

Surprised, Jisung releases your wrist that he’s been squeezing all the while, and you cross your arms over your chest. You turn to face front again, forcing a little more space between yourself and Changbin.

Chan laughs. “You were wrong, ‘Bin.”

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Changbin mutters. “Find someone sweet and quiet, they wanna do you up in shibari and peg you. Every single time.”

He’s giving you ideas, which is dangerous and delightful. You wonder who’s done that stuff to them before. You kind of want to send that person a congratulations card, give them a high-five.

“Must just be our type,” Jisung muses.

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Just once, can’t we actually be into a sub?”

“Cuz that would work so well for us,” Jisung replies. “Another sub. Perfect.”

“So what are we doing here?” you ask, curiosity truly bursting, “What is this?”

“Whatever you want it to be,” Chan says smoothly.

“You’re not just out here preying on innocent girls, are you?” you ask.

You don’t think they are. Everything you know paints them as harmless, more than a little dorky, good-natured and boisterous. But it’s easy to imagine someone less strong-willed than you getting swept away by the charm pouring off these three like Axe body spray off a middle schooler. They probably don’t even know how this looks, cornering someone and planting one on them.

Chan shakes his head, letting his hand wander over to tug Changbin into his side. “Nah. We were out for a few drinks, catching up with some people. And we saw you. Figured it was worth a shot.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Soft dom me into fucking you?”

Chan’s grin is rakish and ridiculously confident as he strokes Changbin’s shoulder. “It’s worked before.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” you say again.

You spare a glance around the room. Nobody has even noticed the four of you doing this very strange dance of power in the corner. The television is still blaring some old comedy, and people still recline on the assorted chairs and sofas. You’re in the clear to keep this going. You smile to yourself.

“I’m not disappointed,” says Jisung. “Are you two disappointed?”

Changbin shakes his head. Chan just keeps looking at you, still grinning bright and confident.

It occurs to you then, what Jisung has just said. About another sub not working out, with the three of them. They must all lean more submissive, then. Even Chan, under this thick layer of brat. You can work with that. He just needs a bit of an attitude adjustment.

So you move toward him, reaching for his face. He leans into the touch, until you move up to grab him by the hair. You remember when he was blonde, earlier in the school year, and an odd bluish grey before that. Somewhere in the middle was a shocking red that only lasted a day, a washable hairspray color. But now, his hair is inky black waves, and you twist your fingers into the curls that flyaway over his forehead and tug gently, tilting his chin up, until he’s backed himself against the wall, palms scrabbling at the wallpaper for purchase.

You just hold him like that, his hair a dark streak in your fist, not even pulling. Just holding him, letting the anticipation work its magic. Before long, he’s squirming ever so slightly in your hold, still meeting your eye stubbornly, pretending that he doesn’t want you to pull his hair, manhandle him more, do something.

“Is this it?” he scoffs.

“I don’t want to come on too strong,” you shrug.

Chan has the boldness to look bored. “You’re not doing anything. Maybe we were right the first time, and you’re just putting us on.”

You tug on his hair at the root, just once, hard enough that he jumps. Your other hand goes to the beltloop on his jeans, tugging his hips toward you just the slightest bit. It’s satisfying to watch him struggle, torn between rocking forward into you and staying put where the hand in his hair holds him up against the wall.

“Hm,” you hum, “Is this too much?”

You’re teasing him, and he knows it, since you’ve barely done anything at all. You can tell that he hates the way you’re patronizing him, from the way his lip curls into a sneer.

“No,” he rasps, “More.”

Changbin makes a small noise from just behind you, a groan or maybe even a moan, but you ignore it in favor of really driving your point home. You tug at the hair in your grip again, harder, and Chan arches that long pretty neck back with the tiniest gasp.

“More,” he says again.

“More and more,” you tease, fake sympathy dripping from your voice.

He nods eagerly, which tugs again at his own hair, making him gasp. You take that opportunity to kiss him, and he responds in kind, keeping his hands neatly by his sides without needing to be told. Where Changbin was measured, trying to impress you, and Jisung was surprised, Chan is eager to please.

You pull back, smacking your lips appreciatively. “Peach flavor, huh? Flavored lip balm. Aren’t you just a sweet peach.”

The way that Chan’s eyes blow wide when you say that is poetry. Oh, yes.

“You like that,” you say, “Don’t you, peach?”

Jisung lets out a desperate little sigh behind you, “Fuck.”

Oh. You’d forgotten that you’re putting on a show not just with Changbin and Jisung’s friend, but their partner. All the more reason to make it a good show.

“Tell me you like it,” you demand.

“I like it,” he says, almost before you’re finished speaking.

“Kiss him again,” comes Changbin’s voice. “Please.”

You oblige, just for a moment.

All at once, you break the kiss and pull away, letting go of his hair and backing all the way out of the little circle they’ve made around you. You take a second to appraise the three of them. Changbin is ruffled, far cry from the guy who’d made to pin you to the wall just a short while ago. Jisung is already hard in his tight jeans. And Chan is just a mess, still pressed to the wall where you’d left him, pink peach-flavored lips swollen from your handiwork.

You turn to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Chan asks, and you’re delighted to hear just a hint of a whine in his tone.

You fix the three of them with your best innocent look.

“You said you wanted more.”

As you turn again and saunter out of the family room(…den…living room?), you can hear the telltale sound of several desperate pairs of feet following you out.

Perfect.

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2021 #5: Freebie - Passion (Aberrant pt 2) NSFW

((Since some of y’all are thirsty and let’s face it I am deep in this backstory))

Corran fumbled with the door to their room, managing to get it open without dropping Emelia. “Don’t slam it!” She admonished as he kicked it closed behind them.

It was only a few steps to their bed, to drop her on the mattress and follow her down, kissing her once more. Gods, the shape of her mouth fit perfectly against his, and her taste was more delectable than his favorite meal.

She broke the kiss, preventing him from chasing her with a hand against his chest. “Lock the door,” she panted.

Corran grunted in frustration, but got up to do as she bid. As much as he hated pausing now, it was better than possibly being walked in on by their small son; the lock would keep him at bay for a brief time.

Corran yanked his shirt off as he crossed the room, the night air doing little to cool the fever in his skin. He threw the lock and turned back to the bed, eyes already adjusted to the dim light, his breath caught by the sight of her.

“Stop,” he ordered as she finished removing her dress, leaving her in her flimsy petticoat and chemise. Emelia blinked at him, head tilted in her usual quizzical expression while letting the dress fall to the ground. Corran stalked forward, unlacing his breeches. “I want to undress you myself,” he told her, his voice pitched low. He was gratified to see her shiver in response, waiting while he removed his boots so he could drop his pants, left only in his smalls. He saw the tip of her tongue flick over her lips as her gaze took in his arousal through the thin fabric.

Corran fell on her again, mouth finding hers once more, tongue plunging between her lips. He made his way down her neck as he untied and unhooked her remaining clothes, freeing her shoulders to kiss along them. Emelia’s cool hands smoothed over his back and sides, and she made sweet little sounds of pleasure as his lips and teeth raked over familiar sensitive places. “You feel hot as an oven,” she murmured. “Are you all right, love?”

“More than,” Corran replied, freeing her breasts. He cupped and squeezed one, her head falling back as he nipped the stiffened nipple of the other. They weren’t large breasts, but perfect for being held, or taken into his mouth. The shape and feel of them had changed after being used to feed their child, but Corran couldn’t recall anymore how they used to be and he liked them just fine now.

He pushed her clothes down her slender torso and over her hips, which she lifted for him. He pressed kisses to her ribs, her stomach, her sides. His tongue traced along her stretch marks, teasing the sensitive places they led to. She had been so worried about the effects carrying and bearing a child had on her form, but Corran thought the lines and altered shape of her abdomen lovely--further reminders of the love and life they had created together.

Her fingers raked through his hair as he found the waist of her smalls and pulled them down along with her petticoat. He had not quite freed her legs but his impatience won out, helping her kick off the tangle of fabric as he nipped at her inner thighs and over her hips. A needy whine came from her and destroyed what was left of his resolve, his mouth covering her sex.

Emelia arced beneath him, a small cry passing her lips. He grinned against her softness, relishing the scent and taste of her desire as he laved his tongue along her wet folds. He thrust his tongue into her as deep as he could, knowing it wasn’t enough for her but gods he loved how she tasted, how she spread her legs further, inviting him closer and deeper. He made his way up to the sensitive nub at the crown and covered it entirely, sucking and licking at it. She practically wailed, one hand gripping the sheets, the other his scalp. He knew exactly how much pressure to use, how to use his tongue in long strokes to push her swiftly to the brink.

“Gods, Corran, I—” she was writhing in his grasp, breath catching. He hummed an affirmation against her, unrelenting. Usually he liked to draw this out, taking his time while slowly ratcheting up her tension, ensuring she was ready to take him in, but tonight he needed to drink from her and hear her scream for him.

She did, calling his name while her hips bucked as much as he would allow, the heady scent of her release filling his nose, her taste filling his mouth, finally overpowering the aftertaste of Avengret’s blood as he pressed his tongue into Emelia again. He looked up, breathing heavily, watching her. Her midnight hair pooled around her head on the skewed pillows, chest heaving, golden-brown skin slick and shining with sweat as her sparkling dark eyes returned his gaze.

“Perfect,” he growled, rising up to kiss her again, her arms and a leg eagerly wrapping around him as she responded with equal fervor, working his smalls down his legs to free and stroke his throbbing cock.

“Gods, Em,” he moaned, her touch making him dizzy. “Soon as you’re ready—”

“Take me, Cor,” she urged, guiding him. “I need you inside.”

He needed no further encouragement, shifting position and thrusting into her, hilting himself in one swift motion. She gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. Corran groaned against the curve of her neck; she felt so damned good, wet heat tight around him, soft muscles fluttering and clenching along his length.

“Oh, gods,” she exclaimed as he drew back and thrust again, setting a quick, hard pace. He lifted himself, arms straight with elbows locked, watching her, knowing just the right angles to keep pressure on her clit while also dragging himself over that sweet spot inside her. Emelia’s head tossed, face scrunching, breath coming in gulps and gasps with each rough stroke and her body’s own responses, rocking to meet his every motion. Her nails left scratches down his arms as their bodies slapped wetly against each other, the bed frame creaking and squealing and slamming against the wall.

Her hips stuttered, internal muscles clenching and fluttering wildly as her breath came shorter, her tension building. Corran grinned, sweat dripping from him to splash on the pillows and her. “Th-that’s it,” he managed. “Come, Em; lemme hear you.”

“Cor—!” She lost coherence as she cried out, lifting toward him, her release pulsing around him as he continued his hard pace, falling to his elbows as he did not, could not, let up, his own tension building until the rush of blood in his head nearly drowned out all other sound. She gripped the nape of his neck and his back now, her nails digging into his skin and cutting through the haze of sensation. He reached down and hooked his arm under her leg, opening her further, taking him deeper as he needed more of her, more, more…

There!

He shouted her name, vaguely aware he had pushed her from the previous orgasm to yet another peak as he spilled inside her, Emelia crying out again and clinging to him for dear life as she shook like a leaf, body still jumping against his as they both slowly came down.

Corran rolled and fell to the side, pulling her tight to him, stroking her hair and back, burying his face in the crook of her neck again, idly licking the bruising bite mark he had left there, claiming his mate. He was heaving for air and sweating like the sinner he was, but the raging firestorm in his veins had abated, the Song merely a faint echo in his head and drowned out by the little sounds his wife made as they recovered.

“L-let me up,” she finally said, still shaky.

He growled and held her closer.

“I need to clean up,” she insisted, finally extricating herself while Corran pouted. She could barely stand, wobbling as she snagged her robe and unlocked the door to make her way to the wash.

Corran lay on his back, arms splayed, staring at nothing, head blessedly free from the earlier buzzing, empty of thought beyond the growing awareness of the aftermath of their lovemaking. He eventually forced himself up to pull the soaked coverlet off the bed--they hadn’t even gotten underneath it to the sheets--leaving it in a ball in the corner to be dealt with in the morning. He filled a glass from the pitcher she kept on the nightstand, drinking it swiftly and pouring another to drink at a more normal pace.

By the time Emelia returned, their discarded clothing had been picked up and hung on the correct pegs along the wall to also be dealt with on the morrow while Corran lay among the turned down sheets.

She slid into bed next to him, hands remaining a cooling balm as they ran over his chest. “Zaine’s still sleeping, somehow,” she said. “Though we were loud enough to rouse the dead.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining,” he teased, pulling her close once more.

“Certainly not,” she answered, looking down at him. “Though I am curious what brought that on.”

For a wild second he thought of telling her, but dismissed the notion before it even finished forming. He brushed strands of damp hair away from her face and smiled. He would continue to keep her as far from his people’s war as possible; he had decided that from the beginning. “Can’t a man want to swive his beautiful wife he adores with all his heart now and again?”

She laughed, that easy blush blooming on her cheeks once more. “I suppose he can; I know I enjoyed it. Although,” she yawned and settled against him, using his chest as a pillow.

“Although?”

“We were reckless; I’ll have to track myself for the next moon.”

His heart paused for a moment as he realized what she meant. While she often took a medicine to regulate her cycles, he usually wore a skin, or finished outside of her to be on the safe side. That...had not happened tonight, and he wondered how much of that was the dragon’s influence versus his simple, instinctual need for his beloved after the day’s events.

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing,” he said, not realizing immediately he had said it out loud, but then she tilted her head up.

“You want another baby?” She asked, tentative.

Could he maintain his responsibility to the cause, reaffirmed just this day? Probably, though it would be difficult. He had waited long enough, while life itself, he was finding, did not. “Do you?”

She hummed a little, snuggling in again. “It could be nice,” she replied. “I think Zaine would like a brother or sister.”

“Well,” Corran said, licking his suddenly dry lips. “If tonight doesn’t do it, I suppose we’ll just have to try again.” He tilted her chin up to kiss her one more time--gods, he really did love kissing her--and smiled. “Assuming you’re agreeable.”

“I’m sure you’ll convince me,” she replied, lips brushing his as they spoke. They laughed together, and he continued to stroke her back as she settled back down to using him as a pillow.

It took time for Corran to fall asleep, aware of Emelia’s steady breathing and her soft form alongside him, cooling the remaining heat in his blood. When he finally did close his eyes, he dreamed of her laughter while dragon wings beat through the sky.

---

(Direct sequel to Aberrant, Day 2 prompt for the FFXIVWrite2021)

[petite-ely]

Afraid // JJ Maybank

Six - Too much to risk

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: Mention gun, being shot at, swearing, slight mention of death, maybe some mistakes oopsie, tell me if I missed something

Description: A small improvised visits by Petekin leads to a hectic afternoon in the marsh.

A/n : Hellooo guys, gals and pals, this is quite a long part. I really wanted to finish the first episode. also I really don’t know how to had a little read mor thing I don’t know how. Sorry! hope you like it!

Previously next

Afraid masterlist

gif by @robinsbuckly

Song recommendation

It was now far later in the morning, meaning the sun had fully risen and it was a much more reasonable hour to be up at. JJ had left a while ago and John B was still peacefully sleeping (and loudly snoring). Y/n hadn’t been able to go to sleep after her talk with the blond boy and she was now sitting on the couch reading her book (actually reading this time). So, when she heard the front door open, she didn’t bother looking up, assuming it was one of her friends. Who else would just come in like that anyway?

"Hey, there’s coffee made in the kitchen if you want any,” she said, still not pulling her gaze of off her book.

“That’s kind of you to offer, but I’ve already had two cups this morning, I don’t think it would be reasonable for me to have more.” Y/n’s book fell to the ground.  

“Sheriff Peterkin, I’m so sorry. I-I thought you were someone else-” she got up from her seat, “-do you, do you need anything, water or uh-”

“You don’t have to bother sweetheart, I’m not planning on staying that long. I just want to talk for a bit,” answered the adult.

“Okay,” she took a pause to swallow. “I’ll go get John B.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll go get him myself.” Y/n nodded, watching as she disappeared into the hallway leading to her brother’s room.  

She started pacing around the living room, ferociously biting the nails on her left hand. It wasn’t every day a cop showed up in your house. She had absolutely no idea why Peterkin would want to talk. Actually, she had about 25 different ideas, starting with the fact her uncle hadn’t been on the island for about 3 months. And the party last night, what if she knew about the gun? Would JJ be in trouble? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good, that she was certain of it.

>>

The conversation went on for much longer than expected. Basically, Peterkin knew about their uncle being awol and she offered to help get  dcs off of their back for a while if they helped her in return. She had also mentioned that it wouldn’t be good if they had seen a shipwreck, which of course they denied despite that being actually true. Y/n didn’t fully understand what Peterkin meant. But she knew that it meant there was something valuable in that boat. And Jonh B knew it too. Yet, he was afraid, which was understandable, considering everything. They were pretty much guaranteed to be put in foster care if they got caught. Not good at all.

“You know what? I'm calling it off,” announced John B.

Y/n raised her head from her sketchbook, dropping her pencil on the low table in front of her to listen to what her brother had to say. She had been drawing silently while the other pogues, all sitting in different ridiculous positions across the backyard, talked and did their own things. She was only half listening to what they were saying, sketching messily the outline of the château. It wasn't very good, but it was calming to do. When she heard the seriousness in her brother’s tone, she closed her sketchbook, otherwise she’d be too distracted.

“Peterkin told us that if we stayed out of the marsh, she’d help with dcs.” The girl grimaced remembering the woman’s words.  

“And you believed her?” “Yes, JJ I believed her.”

“You really think that she’d help us?” asked y/n. “It’s been more than 6 months, bird. If she really wanted to help, she would have helped earlier, no?”  

“Yeah, she’s a cop, an actual cop. And you think she’s telling the truth?” added JJ.

“Look,” John B glanced at y/n. “All we gotta do is stay out of the marsh for a couple days and she’ll help us.”

“I know, I was there.” Kiara snickered softly at her friend’s words. “But I don’t know, I feel like we’re getting tricked or something. What if she’s like trying to lure us out of there-” she gestured to the water behind them, “-because there’s something she doesn’t want us to see, uh? What if it’s about dad?”  

J.B rubbed the back of his neck before turning his body slightly to face the ocean. “Look,” he addressed his sister. “I get that you’re curious and you want to know what’s down there, but I'm only trying to do what’s best for us. And I think it would be better if we listened to Peterkin. I’m just trying to keep you safe, to protect you, bug.” His voice softened as he finished his sentence.

“And it didn’t help that JJ was shooting a gun last night!” Y/n raised her eyebrows at Pope, her face clearly showing intrigue. She wondered where this conversation would lead, a fight between the two boys most likely. Her gaze shifted to JJ who seemed annoyed at the Routledge boy’s words.

“You know what, I should’ve let Topper drown your ass.” John B laughed. “Topper was gonna drown me?” “Sure looked like it.”

“Boys can you plea-” Y/n tried to stop the small bickers, miserably failing as her brother interrupted her. “Funny.” A loud sigh escaped the girl’s lips and Kiara beside her pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Have you looked in a mirror?” “Tell me some more. Come on.” “They always win don’t they, man?”

“Kooks versus pogues. They always, always win!” You could hear the frustration dripping from his voice. Which was understandable. He had a point, kooks always won, it was time for a change.

“Goddamn!” “Look, it’s okay!” Kie tried to reassure him. “No, it’s not okay!”

“He’s right,” agreed y/n. “They always win, or find a way to avoid the consequences.”

“Exactly, they don’t want us to go down into the marsh, that means there's something valuable down there and you know it.” He said to John B. “I know you do.”

“And I understand why you wouldn’t want to go,” he pointed to Pope. “You’re the golden boy, you got way too much to risk. And you,” he turned to Kiara. “I mean you’re already rich as fuck anyway.” Okay, that was an exaggeration.

“Why would you bother.”

“But us, you, me and y/n, we’ve got nothing to lose!” His eyes glowed with something y/n hadn’t seen in him in a long time. Hope. It made her sad to think about how JJ really had nothing in his life besides the pogues. But if he was hopeful, then maybe, maybe...

“We really don’t.” “Yes, we do have something to lose.”

“If something goes wrong and dcs comes in, y/n and I would be brought to the mainland in foster care. That means placed with families who probably only care about the check that comes in every month and her and I getting separated from one another and from you guys.”

Y/n thought about what her brother had just said. He had a point, if things went wrong, they could lose everything. Each other mainly and the pogues. It was the worst-case scenario. But if they didn’t get caught, it would make their life so much better. Was it worth all the risk though? That was the question.

“Do you understand what that means? How horrible it would be?” The girl got up from her seat and went to stand next to her brother. “I do,” she said. “I understand, bird.”

“I know that you’re scared and so am I.  It’s a pretty big risk. If we get caught, we’re fucked, but listen to what JJ has to say. I think that it might be worth the risk. And if we do get caught-,” she put her hand on his shoulder and turned him around so that he faced her, “we’ll find a way to find each other again. We’re Routledges, we always find a way to solve our problems, don’t we?” Her hand squeezed his shoulder softly. “We’re gonna be alright, bird.”

A small smile drew itself on John B’s lips. “So, what’s the plan,” he said to JJ.

“You got the key to Cameron’s big boat, right?” “No,” J. B’s face scrunched in disagreement.

“There’s scuba gear. We borrow that and then we go down to the wreck this afternoon and that’s what’s gonna save you, man,” exclaimed JJ. “You don’t see rich kids going into foster care, do you?”

Y/n breathed out loudly. She was scared as hell. This was going to be pretty tricky, but she knew something was down there. And if it wasn’t money or something like that, then it was something related to her dad’s disappearance. She could feel it deep into her soul.

>>>

“This is empty, you took empty tanks,” announced Kiara to the group as she furrowed through the bag of oxygen tanks.

Y/n put her head in her hands. Their plan had seemed so perfect and now they didn’t have the one thing they needed for it to work.

“Okay this one’s a quarter full. It’s enough for one of us.” “Love it when a plan comes together.”

“Does anybody know how to dive?” asked the brunette but only to be answered by a chorus of shrugs and denying nods. “Anybody?”

“It’s kind of a kook sport,” JJ looked at her.

“I, … I read about it,” tried Pope.  

“Great, Pope read about it, now someone’s gonna die,” exclaimed Kie dramatically.

“Look.” JJ’s gaze circled the group of friends.  “You put the thing in your mouth and you breathe. How hard can it be?”  

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” confessed y/n.

“Yeah,” agreed Pope. “If you come up too fast, Nitrogen gets in your blood and you get the bends.”

The girl’s eyes widened. She remembered a book she had read a while ago where one of the characters had the decompression sickness (and how tragic their death was).  

“Bends like bend over?” JJ joked as he bent his body in a way to stick his butt up in the air. Typical JJ joke, weird and somehow always a bit sexual. Y/n slapped his arm as a way to tell him off.  

“JJ, the bends is deadly,” she had a stern expression, “it kills you.” “Oh, right.”

“I can- I can dive,” announced J.B. “Yeah, you can dive I’m cool with that.” “Since when can you dive?”  

“No, you can’t dive,” scoffed his sister. “I’ll do it, it’s fine.” “What? The hell?”

“Let’s do some calculations real quick.” Pope pulled out a pen and started writing some numbers. Y/n got up from her seat and went to stand beside him. “So, that boat’s about 30 feet down.” “okay.” “So, it’ll take about 25 minutes at most at that depth.” “Twenty-five.” “Which means you need to make your safety stop at about... 10 feet. Alright? For two minutes.” “Ten feet, two minutes got it.”

They all watched as Kiara jumped straight into the water, her shirt already removed. “Uh, what was that all about?” “I don’t know, but I liked it, a lot.” y/n nudged her brother on the shoulder to get him to stop staring. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, so.” “All righty.”

She sat down on the edge of the boat, waiting for her friend to resurface from underwater. “Yeah. Uh, when you- when you’re down there, you look for the cargo hold. You stick this thing inside and you twist and pull, okay,” explained JJ. “Stick it in, twist and pull.”

“You okay?” asked y/n, while the boys kept on rambling. “Needed a swim?” Kiara rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face.  

“Hey!” she called to guys, John b more specifically. “I tied my t-shirt to the anchor about ten feet down. It’s where you need to do your safety stop.”

The Routledge girl admired her friend in the water. Her body moving gracefully as she swam back towards the boat. She seemed so, at ease. It used to be that way for her too, but now, even looking into the darkest part of the water gave her a feeling of vertigo. She wondered if she could still swim as good as she used to. It had been almost a year since the last time she had dove right into the marsh. It felt so far away. If only she was braver.

She hadn’t realised she had completely zoned out until she heard JJ speak. “Zen. Think Zen, you know.” She joined the group on the other side of the hms, her brother already suited for his dive.

“Hey, if we get caught out here in the marsh we’re basically screwed, so,” reminded Pope, “better get a move on.” “Copy that.”

Kiara got up and planted a small kiss on J. B’s cheek. Y/n looked at the two boys next to her with a confused expression. They both shrugged in answer, clearly just as confused as she was. “Diver down?” “Diver down.” She watched as his figure disappeared slowly into the water.

“All right.” “See ya, dude.”

She went to sit next to Kie. “I only love him as a brother,” she mocked her friend. “Yeah right, my ass.”  

“It’s just a small kiss y/n/n, it doesn’t mean anything. I still mean what I said yesterday. It’s just that,” she took a pause, her eyes squinting at the sun, “I’m just worried for him, you know he’s going through a lot and then there’s the shipwreck and all.”

“Uh huh, I totally get what you mean,” ironized y/n. “Shut up,” Kie nudged her with her elbow. “No, but seriously-” started the girl before being interrupted by the sound of a police siren behind her.

“Shit, guys.” “Guys, that’s the police.”

“Oh no, no, no, no, no, that is not good. Not good at all.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Yep that’s the police.” “Just act fricking normal.”

Anxiety bubbled at the pit of y/n’s stomach. Hopefully he wouldn’t recognize her, otherwise she was dead. So dead. She sat down beside Kiara in a somewhat natural position, her legs crossed to keep them from bouncing.

The police boat parked itself beside the hms. Officer Shoupe behind the wheel. “Evenin’ officers,” greeted Pope. “Evening.”

“How you kids doin’ ,” asked Shoupe. “You know the marsh is closed.”

“No.” “No.” “No, wow.” “I didn’t know that.” They all feigned ignorance, hoping to fool the two adults. “Why- why is it closed?” questioned Pope, adjusting his cap nervously.

“Well, we’re conducting a search out here,” informed the man. “Boat went down.” “Oh.” “Oh, no.”

“Seen’ anything?” asked the deputy.

“No.” “No, boats. No.” Y/n’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the boat, trying to keep herself from looking at her brother in the water.

“Where’s your friend you always hang with?” The pace of the rhythm fastened. “He here?” She opened her mouth, trying to think of a good excuse for the missing presence of her brother, but nothing came out.

“He’s working,” lied Kie. All of their heads nodded softly.

“I’m gonna check your little boat out,” announced Shoupe before hopping on the hms. “Yeah.” “Yeah, hop aboard.” The rhythm stopped, y/n’s nails digging into her palms.

He picked up a safety jacket. “You got another one of these?” “Yeah, yeah.”

“Of course, it’s uh, it’s in the hold,” JJ pointed to where the girls were seated. They both got up quickly. “Show him,” instructed Kie. Y/n’s joints were turning white.

“Okay.” JJ opened the hold and pulled out one of the jackets. “Yeah, here we go.” “All right.” The latch closed loudly. Shoupe’s gaze inspected the teens suspiciously. The tension could be cut with a knife.

He climbed on the flat part of the boat. “Be careful.” “Be careful out there, you don’t want to slip.”

He put his sunglasses on, staring at the exact place where John B and the ship were. The pogues exchanged worried glances. Hopefully, he wouldn’t see anything. He stood on the very edge of the boat, his figure towering over the water of the marsh.

“All right,” he finally turned around. Y/n breathed again. “All right.” “All right.”

“Beautiful day, innit?” “Sure is.”

“You let us know if you see anything on your way out,” he ordered as he started the engine. “Will do, will do.”

“We’ll be gone soon, sir.” “Yes, you will,” finally said the man before he vogued away.

Once he was far enough, the group hurried to the side of the boat, all worried about their friend. He’d been under for quite a long time now, there was no way he had any air left.

“He’s definitely out of air,” declared Pope.

At that exact moment, John B surged out of the water. Y/n felt relief take over her body. She felt her whole body unclench and let go of the grip her nails had in her hand.

“There he is!” Exclaimed JJ. “Oh god, Jesus Christ.”

“God damn it, Bird. I’m so glad you’re okay,” spoke y/n.

“Don’t scare us like that!” All of the pogues exclaimed, all so happy that their friend was all right.

“How’d it go down there?” wondered JJ. “Uh,” John b groaned and his sister hurried to the side of the boat to help him get in.

“Did you find anything?”

“Did I find anything?” He repeated throwing a large duffel bag onto the boat.

“Yeah there we go, that’s my boy!” JJ exclaimed excitedly.

“Are you okay?” Y/n asked as he coughed rather loudly. “Yeah, I’m good, but I ran out of air.” Her eyebrows scrunched together on her forehead. God, they were so lucky, what if J.B had ran out of air earlier? Or what if Shoupe had figured out what they were doing? Things could have gotten so bad.

But they didn’t, the girl reminded herself.

“You scared the shit out of me,” confessed Kiara, though it sounded more like a reproach.

“Yeah, same for me,” replied y/n. “Need a hand?” she stuck her hand out at him which he gladly took. The contact of the water with the cuts her nails had made in her hands burned, but she clenched her jaw and ignored the pain. She didn’t want to bother anyone.

“Yeah, the cops were up here but uh, took care of ‘em,” informed Pope.

“My bad.” “You’re all good.” “Yeah, you kinda missed the show, brother.”

“Hey guys?” Kiara’s voice was tinted with worry. “Guys, bogey, two o-clock.”

“What?” They all turned in the direction she was referring to. In the distance they noticed a strange looking boat heading towards them.

“Do you recognize that boat?”

“I’ve never seen it.” Kie put her hand above her eyes to hide herself from the sun. “What are they doing back here? The marsh is closed.”

“Honestly, they could ask us the same thing,” pointed y/n.

“Well, I think it would be better if we didn’t stick around and find out,” said JJ.

“JJ, get the bowline.” “Yeah.”

“Should we wait on ‘em?” asked Pope.

“Uh, I don’t think that would be a great idea,” responded y/n. The boat was coming in very fast and the people driving it looked angry and dangerous. It was much safer to just leave. “Go get the stern, go!” Hurried John B.

The blonde pulled the rope as fast as he possibly could. “Guys, don’t wait for me. Go,” he said. Y/n inspected the unknown boat in the distance, nothing about it seemed familiar. Who could these people be? And what did they want from them? “Let’s go.”

She kept her eyes glued to it as the motor started. “I have a really bad feeling about this,” she confessed, turning her head to John B. behind the wheel. “Yeah, I don’t like this either,” agreed Pope.

“Are they coming for us?” asked JJ. “Sure looks like it.”  

“Maybe they’re fishing?” proposed Pope. Y/n’s gaze paused on the two men. They were intimidating, to say the least. And their eyes, both had looks filled with something threatening. It wasn’t anger or hatred, no, it was the eyes of people who would do anything to get what they wanted and that was scary.

“Go, go, go, go!” “Go into the marsh.” “Let’s go!”

“I’m going. Act natural,” stated John B as he directed the hms towards the nearest channel.  

The white boat sped up, the motor roaring loudly. “Hey guys, they’re following us,” announced y/n. “Oh, this can’t be good.” “Shit”

“Dude, you gotta go faster!” “I’m going!” “Gun it!”

The sound of a gun shooting in the air echoed in the silence of the marsh. The pogues all went down instinctively. “Holy shit, guys!” ���Oh my fucking god, what the fuck!”

JJ grabbed the back of y/n’s shirt with his hand, bringing her closer to him. “John b get down!” almost hissed the girl. Another shot fired, y/n clung onto JJ.

“Oh my god, we’re gonna die!” yelled Pope. A third shot fired. Y/n’s eyes caught the net at the back of the boat and an idea sparked in her head. She looked at Kiara, who clearly had thought of the same thing.

“Pope, move,” ordered the brunette as her friend stood to go grab the green net. Another shot flew into the air beside her, the bullet barely missing her.  

“Get down, y/n!” shouted her brother desperately. She headed towards the back of the boat and threw the net into the water. It slid down the current and got caught right into the motor of the men’s boat, making the engine come to a halt abruptly. It clanged loudly and the two men shouted in anger. A sigh of relief left the girl’s lips. Her plan had worked.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” hurried Pope. A last gunshot was heard but the hms was too far away to be reached.

“Oh my god!” “Whew!” The pogues all cheered and laughed at their small victory. They were all so glad to be away from these men and all in one piece. Kiara pulled y/n into a hug.

“Y/n, don’t you ever do something like that again. You fucking scared the crap out of me,” said John B as they approached the dock of the château. “I can’t promise anything. Who knows when someone else will shoot at us?”

They all hurried themselves onto the dock, excited to know the content of the bag. “What do you guys think it is?” “Maybe it’s like jewelry? Would be a weird place to keep it but who knows?” “Gotta be money, right?”  

“That or a couple of keys with street value to the low- to mid-mils!” JJ’s eyes glistened with excitement. Y/n smiled softly.

“Can we please just open the bag?” burst Pope. The group all started at him.

“Wow Pope,” y/n giggled. “That was a rare outburst of emotions.”

“You guys are literally killing me with anticipation. Open the bag. We almost died over this.”

John B. pulled out a smaller bag which contained a metal canister. Every pair of eyes was fixed onto it as he pried it open and revealed a compass. Y/n kneeled next to her brother not believing what she was seeing. They exchanged a look, neither of them saying anything. They both knew what that object was and what it meant to their father, but what the hell was it doing there?

“Oh, wow. Yup, that’s about right.” Pope was clearly disappointed by their findings. “Good job, everybody. We found a compass.” Y/n raised a trembling hand to the compass, carefully taking it into her own hands to examine it. Was this really what she thought it was? How could it be? It didn’t make any sense.

JJ removed his hat in frustration. “Dude, what? It’s not worth anything.”

A small smile creeped on Jonh b’s face, his eyes still not looking away from the compass. “This was,” he started.

“This was our father’s,” completed y/n.

Taglist:

 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily @babygal-babygal

Tell me if you wanna be added or removed!

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Falls and Forgiveness // O.W.

Request(s): Ignore me sending in multiple Oliver Wood requests because your one of the only authors I can find that write for him. Could you possibly do an x slytherin reader??? Maybe the reader is always hanging around with the gryffindoor team and Oliver always gets jealous about how the team (maybe the twins?) always jokingly flirt with her to piss him off???? Very fluffy :) // Hey I was wondering if you’d do an Oliver Wood x reader request?? Maybe the readers on a different quittich team or something and one of them gets hurt during a match and the other throws the game to help them??? Something fluffy :) I love your writing btw xx - anon 

A/N: I haven’t written for Oliver in so long so this was like a breath of fresh air and I love writing every moment of it. Thank you so much for requesting, I hope you like and I hope you all enjoy!!

Warnings: swearing, arguments, flirting, established relationship, mentions of injuries. Really cheesy flirting too.

Word count: 2.8k

The Gryffindor common room had never know quiet. The house known for being boisterous and loud and always full of laughter. It is in the Gryffindor common room that you felt most at home despite having been sorted into Slytherin at eleven years old.

You had nothing against your house; it was the house of the determined, the cunning and the prideful. Friendships had been forged that ran deeper than blood and allegiances made that would only be favoured once graduated from the school for witchcraft and wizardry.

However, the appeal of Gryffindor house came in the form of their Quidditch captain – Oliver Wood. Deep brown eyes combined with a lush smile that had your knees weak. There was supposed to be a rivalry; enemy houses and enemy Quidditch teams yet you loved the teenager more than your own house. You had fallen for him in Fifth Year and he, you. No-one could deny the love you felt for each other was going to outlast the aged walls of the enchanted castle.

Along with the appeal of the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, the Gryffindor team has also taken you under their wing. Friendships forming despite the green of your robes. The Weasley twins in particular had taken a liking to you.

They never meant anything by it, their harmless flirting. Fred and George doing it to get a rise out of Oliver.

“(Y/N)!” Fred shouts, a smirk on his face.

“Yes, Fred?” You answer from your seat next to Oliver. The brunette tenses from Fred’s words, already dreading what is about to come out his mouth.

“Do you mind if I slither in?”

You snort, unimpressed by Fred’s attempt at flirting, “That’s in poor taste, Fred. I expected better from you.”

Fred winks, ignoring the cross look from Oliver. “It’s okay,” He starts, “I’m sure I’ll think of something to impress you.”

You laugh, placing a hand on Oliver’s thigh. “I have no doubt about it, save it for later though.”

Fred salutes before walking away, laughing with George over something that had happened earlier in the day. You shake your head at the sight of it, in shock at the foolish bravery displayed by the redhead. You turn your attention to Oliver; his brown eyes barely concealing the anger raging within in. Opening your mouth, you go to offer some words of comfort and reassurance, but Oliver pushes your hand from his thigh before leaving the common room.

You share a look with the twins before following Oliver out of the portrait hole and into the corridor. “Oliver, what’s wrong?”

“Why do you flirt back?” Oliver demands, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

“It’s harmless fun. They mean nothing by it, Oliver! Neither do I!”

“Do you?” He asks before the words can be stopped. Oliver sees the hurt flash over your face as his accusation lands. You take a step back, holding a hand to your stomach as you work through your emotions.

“If you think that I would do anything that could hurt you – hurt us – then you really don’t know me at all, do you?” Tears threaten to spill but you hold them back, meeting Oliver’s eye unashamed.

You wait for him to say something, to say anything but nothing leaves his mouth. Shaking your head, you turn away from the Gryffindor, not letting him see the tears that finally track their way down your cheeks as you head to the Slytherin common room.

Oliver runs a frustrated hand through his hair as he stares after your rushing figure. “Love,” He calls out in the hopes that it will make you turn. He releases a pitiful groan as he watches you duck your head further, steps getting faster and faster until you’re finally out of sight.

The sobs thankfully wait until you’re in your room. The darkness provided by the quilt of your bed calling you like a siren song. The darkness provides solace and comfort as the tears trail down your cheeks; wondering how on earth Oliver could doubt your relationship and your loyalty to him.

-------

The night proves to be long, but the morning proves to be longer. You stand outside the Great Hall wondering what you were going to do. Breakfasts were reserved for Oliver, everyone knew that. Even the teachers knew that – you would sit with the brunette and chat about anything and everything. He often distracted you, pulling you in for spontaneous kisses whenever he could.

Now though, you didn’t know where to sit. You would be welcome at the Slytherin table, of course you would but it didn’t sit right within you. It didn’t feel right to not be with Oliver for the first meal of the day.

Turning away from the Great Hall, you think about the snacks hidden away in your trunk. They would do for a while, until you could figure out what was happening and where you were going. For now though, you found respite in the library, wandering there and sitting down at one of the many aged wooden tables. The day had barely begun but there were already students milling about the grand room, dawdling between shelves as they got started on homework and essays alike. Running a finger through the wood grain, eyes running over the graffiti littering the table, you reach for the work burning a hole in your bag.

This would do, for now.

----

Oliver finds you in the library the following day. This time you are hidden away in the back of the library, among the shelves that hold the older books. The smell of worn leather is almost overpowering, but it comforts you, especially as you reach for

You don’t know how long he has been standing there. You gasp as you look up from the aged pages of your book to find his deep brown eyes watching you. Oliver looks unsure of himself; the air around him insecure and curious to your reaction.

“(Y/N),” Oliver greets, voice quiet and close to breaking as he takes a shy step towards you.

“Oliver,” You reply, looking anywhere but at him. Once glance into those brown eyes and you would crumble, it wasn’t for you to crumble.

“Can we talk?”

You shake your head, standing from your seat and staving off the inevitable tears that will fall when he leaves. You weren’t ready to talk. As much as you missed him – his smile and his kisses, you weren’t ready to discuss what happened that night.

“Please?” He pleads, close to falling to his knees and begging.

You shake your head once more, taking a step back before realising that you are pressed against the bookshelf. You clear your throat, dislodging the lump that had made its home there, “Not yet, Oliver.”

He nods, the hope in his eyes dimming at your words. He runs a hand through his hair, the locks the longest they had been in a long while. “Of course,” He comments. He sends a smile your way, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “Good luck for the match on Saturday. I know you’ll play well. You always do.”

“You too,” You whisper. You bite your lip, watching him walk away from you, his hands hanging limply at his side as his shoulders hunch.

After the match. After the match, you would talk to him, you promised yourself. After the match, you would explain that he could not go around flinging accusations like he did. After the match, it would all be solved and forgiven.

You hoped.

------

Saturday rolled around slowly. For the rest of the week, Oliver hadn’t tried to talk to you. Countless times you had caught him watching you; regret shining deep within his brown eyes. Sadness settled deep within you when you left your classroom after every lesson to find him absent. He was giving you the space you had asked for; he was respecting your wishes and yet you found yourself wishing he hadn’t listened to you.

You missed him. You missed him terribly. From his obsession with the sport you both played to the way he would pull you in by the hem of your shirt to kiss you. You missed the feel of his hand wrapping around yours; the way he would press a kiss to your temple randomly.

Your heart ached with his absence, but the space was needed. The logical part of you repeated this too often – the space was needed, he had to know he couldn’t go flinging accusations left, right and centre. However, your heart – the part that tended to control you more often than your mind – missed him too much for your own good.

Walking to the changing room, you remind yourself of the promise you had made to yourself earlier in the week. Get through the match. Get through this match and you can talk to him without distractions. Things needed to be mended between you, if it could be mended at all.

The usual nerves settled deep within your stomach, rolling around, leaving you nauseous. You finish tying the fastenings to your gloves, ensuring their tight enough before grabbing your broom and leaving the changing room.

Feeling foolish, you stand outside the changing rooms, hoping and wishing. You fiddle with your uniform, hoping and wishing for Oliver to show up regardless of your argument. It had been tradition for the last two years – no matter the match whether it his house versus your or yours versus another, he would always meet you here for a good luck kiss. It wouldn’t be more than a peck of lips, sweet and chaste but it always meant so much.

The kiss settled your nerves. It brought a smile out across your face, butterflies now rioting in your stomach instead of your nerves.

Looking to your left and then to your right, you sigh heavily. Pushing down the need to cry, you realise with some heaviness that Oliver wasn’t going to show. The gap that had grown between you two was getting too big for him to think about coming to wish you good luck before the match.

After the match, you repeat to yourself. Get through the match and you can tell him everything. Get through the match and you can whisper apology after apology to him, hoping he understood why you had taken a step back.

Steeling your nerves, readying yourself for the match, you head out onto the pitch all the while feeling as if something is going to go terribly wrong.

-------

Most people when waking from a long sleep do so slowly; they start by waking every limb, checking they work before moving onto stretching and opening their eyes. You, on the other hand, gasp suddenly as if jolted with something powerful. You wrench up, more than aware of the sharp pain lancing through the right side of your body.

It takes a moment for you to recognise your surroundings, the gothic, vaulted ceilings and the light stone walls of the hospital wing coming into focus as the dizziness abates.

You wince from the pain radiating in your side. Oliver stands from his seat, rushing to your side. His hands clench repeatedly into fists as he represses the need to touch you. “Don’t try to move,” He whispers, “Madame Pomfrey said you would be sore for at least a week.”

“Oliver?” You question, confused. Your eyebrows furrow as you meet his concerned gaze, taking in the dishevelled state of his Quidditch uniform, as if he barely gave himself time to get changed before rushing to the hospital wing.

“What happened?” You ask, pressing a hand to your head as if the very touch will bring back the memories.

“A dirty play,” Oliver grits; anger rising to the surface that he tries his best to quash but he had never been known to ignore his temper. “What do you remember?”

You sigh, rubbing the side of your head, “I remember something hitting me in the side and I remember losing grip of my broom…” You trail off, straining your memory in the hopes of remembering something. You shake your head, “That’s all I remember.”

Oliver nods as he sidles closer to the bedside. “You were hit by a bludger. In truth, an argument broke out between the teams. The Weasley’s are awfully protective of you, you see and when they saw you, they started to argue with your team. From there, it escalated and bludgers started being flung in every direction. One hit you in the side, knocking you sideways and off your broom to the pitch below.”

“No-one else was hurt though?”

Oliver laughs: a short burst, “It’s just like you to be concerned with someone else when you’re the one lying in the hospital wing having just recovered from broken ribs.”

“Well?” You all but demand, “Was anyone else hurt?”

Oliver shakes his head, “No, love. No-one else was hurt.”

You bite your lip, body heating at the use of the term of endearment. Oliver called you many things: ‘darling’, ‘dear’, ‘Leannan’, but ‘love’ was your favourite. To hear it fall from his lips after a week long absence of it, it made you feel like everything could be solved.

“Who won the match?” You question, eyes running over Oliver’s dishevelled form.

“No-one,” Oliver states, plain and simple.

“What?”

“I threw the match,” He says, shrugging his shoulders as if it didn’t bother him.

“Why would you do something like that?”

“You were laying on the grass, out cold. I didn’t know if you were breathing, I didn’t know anything,” Oliver rushes, his chest heaving with the force of his words, “I was going to make sure you were okay before I was back out on any damned pitch.”

“Oliver!” You gasp; shocked at his words. He loved Quidditch; had even been scouted to play for a team after graduating from Hogwarts. You had never heard him speak like this about the sport.

Oliver rests his face in his hands, getting to grips with the emotions surging through him. All he sees behind his eyes is your body falling helplessly to the ground; limbs limp and hair flying everywhere. It wouldn’t be a sight he forgot quickly.

He regains control only a moment later. He pulls his face out his hands and releasing a long breath. “I love you,” He states honestly, “I love you. This week without you has been hell and then seeing you get hurt… I just about lost my mind.”

You sniffle, tears beginning to form in your eyes at his words. Oliver stalks forward, taking your hands in his, squeezing them tightly as he brings them up to his mouth. He places one, two, three kisses to the back of your hands before whispering, “I am so sorry. I’m a jealous fool. I had no right to question our relationship.”

“No, you didn’t,” You state, eyes searching his, finding nothing but love for you within their depths.

Oliver takes the chance. He leans down, pressing his forehead to you as he repeats his apology as many times as needed.

After the fourth time, you pull back with a laugh.

“What?” Oliver asks, a shy smile on his face.

You shake your head, “You’re impossible, Oliver.”

“Impossibly in love with you,” He flirts, his smile growing larger.

You groan, letting your head fall back onto the pillow. He nudges you gently, getting you to move over slightly so he can join you on the hospital bed. Oliver brings a hand to your face, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone and down to your jawline as his eyes search your face for what, you don’t know.

The smile has disappeared from his face, replaced with a serious expression that looks so out of place. “I am sorry, my love,” He starts, “Can you forgive me?”

You lean forward, meeting him halfway, nudging your nose with his as you seek out his lips. “You’re already forgiven. Who else would wait by my bedside when I’m injured?”

One of Oliver’s hands winds its way through your hair. “Let’s try not to make that a habit though. Please?”

You pull back slightly, letting Oliver see the large smile on your face. “I can try my very hardest,” You quip with a laugh.

A laugh that is quickly quietened by Oliver’s lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s been a week in the waiting. Forgiveness and love personified by the way he takes his time, relearning the way you move against him whilst trying to not kiss you the way a man dying of thirst would reach for water. You smile against his mouth, unable to keep the grin off your face for longer than necessary, way too happy to be back in his arms once again.

******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @liilyevanss @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @remmyswritings​ @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon​ @ria-rests-here​ @superbturtlemakerathlete​ @inglourious-imagines​ @ithilwen-lionheart​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @ilovejjmaybank​ @theonly1outof-a-billion​

[thisaintascenereviews]

Harlott - Detritus Of The Final Age The last of the thrash albums that I decided to revisit and/or check from 2020 that I’ve been talking about over the last few years is upon us, and that’s the new album from Australian thrash band Harlott, and their fourth album, Detritus Of The Final Age. I got on board back in 2017 when they released their third album, Extinction, and what raised my eyebrow is that they’re signed to Metal Blade. That’s one of my favorite record labels, especially when you consider that founder Brian Slagel is the guy responsible for bringing together Metallica (it’s a truly fascinating story, and it’s in the book that he wrote about the story of Metal Blade, but that’s for another day), so I was really excited about that. That album ended up being good, not necessarily great. Like many of these bands, they understand what works about thrash, and they clearly love the genre, but they don’t do anything to transcend it. Bands like Power Trip and Municipal Waste are definitely not the most forward-thinking bands, either, but they have that something extra that sets them apart from the slew of generic thrash bands. Harlott didn’t have that extra special ingredient, so I wondered what would happen with their next album. I didn’t remember it well, as I only listened to these thrash albums that I’ve been talking about a couple of times in 2020, but I was curious to see how this one held up. Well, Detritus Of The Final Age is a good album, let me make that clear, but it suffers from the same problems that these other albums have as well, namely that it doesn’t know what kind of thrash album it wants to be. It really has the same problem as Hazzerd’s Delirium, which was a really cool album and had some cool songs, but at the end of the day, I didn’t know if it was trying to be a fun crossover thrash album, a politically and socially thrash album that took a lot of note from crossover and Bay Area thrash of the 80s, or if it wanted to be a progressive thrash album, as a couple of songs were a bit longer, weirder, and didn’t fit the rest of the record’s tone. The same can be said here, but really in just the overall sound, not quite with its lyricism. These guys are pretty politically charged, too, and they’re nothing special, but they make it work fine. It’s just that this album is weird, because a lot of the songs are more accessible and shorter thrash tunes, the album randomly gives us a couple of eight-minute And Justice For All type songs that feel more experimental and progressive, versus straightforward and to the point. What’s even stranger is that the album has one of those songs as the penultimate track, and a Cannibal Corpse is what actually closers the album out. If anything, I don’t usually mind when a band has a really long song to close the album out, but the Cannibal Corpse cover is a strange closing song, since it’s really fun, fast, loud. and to the point. It’s a great cover of “The Time To Kill Is Now,” but it doesn’t make sense to close the album. The album is still really solid, but those two longer songs sort of kill the momentum of the album, where they stop the album’s fun and loose sound in its tracks. They’re interesting songs, but they’re really confusing. Because this album is also 49 minutes long, I haven’t been going back to this one much. It’s really good, but not great. If you’re a fan of thrash, I’d still check it out, and their cover of “The Time To Kill Is Now” is very good (it’s almost a death-thrash sound, which is very different from their Bay Area-inspired sound, but still a lot of fun). Hazzerd had the same problem on their last album, too; I really loved the one really fun and dumb song they had, but the rest of the album was very inconsistent, and this album is the same way. I like what they do, it’s just I don’t know what they’re doing, or what they’re trying to do. I don’t know, I think it’s worth a listen, but there are better and more consistent thrash records that are worth hearing. Not to say this isn’t worth your time, but unless you’re a huge thrash fan and you’re a sucker for any band you can get your hands on, you probably won’t like this. I don’t even really love it, but all things considered, it’s still good stuff. The performances are solid, the songwriting is good, and they know what they’re doing what it comes to their love for thrash, but what kind of sound they’re going for is beyond me.

[shera-dnd]

So remember when I mentioned that one of my projects was a whole ass AU based on a single line from some song lyrics? Well that’s the project!

Because why not take the lyrics to Smile and turn some of that shit very literal?

Also get ready because this fic is gonna be flowery as all hell.

Anyways there is the AO3 link up top and here is the fic itself for those who’d rather read it here

Camps and tents were set, and arenas had begun construction in the cold fields just outside the walls of great Atlas, the city of innovation, riches, and splendor. This could only mean one thing, the Vytal Festival was fast approaching and with it the nobles, knights, and representatives from every last human nation in Remnant.

In an official capacity it was a seven day long celebration of their long lasting peace. In practice people always arrive long before the festival proper, and then start a few festivities of their own until it is time for the main event, meaning the festival itself could easily span a full month of revelry.

That meant a crowd of strangers, countless new faces that no single person could ever keep track of, all gathered outside the gates of Atlas for weeks. Which made it the perfect time for a young fae to play her tricks. Honestly, the lords of men should all be thankful that she wished only to partake in their revels.

The fae woman gathered her belongings in the nearby forest, and checked her reflection in a little pond she had found. Of all the members of her court, she was the one that had achieved mastery over glamours with the most ease, still she planned on spending weeks among the humans, so she had to make sure everything looked perfect.

The face that greeted her was unfamiliar, but also perfectly human. Her skin was a shade darker than the pasty atlesians she would be mingling with, and little freckles marked it in incidental little patterns. Her long wavy hair was kept in a neat little braid even as little strands insisted on rebelling. Her eyes were a beautiful grayish blue, but carried in them an uncharacteristic exhaustion for someone her age.

This was all calculated of course. She had to be beautiful and fair like it was expected of a proper noble lady, but she couldn’t allow herself to look too perfect, or the humans would find her unsettling. It took an experienced hand to craft a face that struck such balance and was still so well suited to the fae that hid behind it.

Satisfied with her work she donned her human clothes - a simple, but charming dress of blue and gold, and a matching shawl to keep her warm - and made her way into the fields beyond.

Her kind had described the city of Atlas as a scar upon the natural world, a hungry parasite starving its host of all it needed to survive as it slowly expanded to consume ever more. The very epitome of all of humanity’s crimes given shape in stone and metal.

She knew these accounts to be true, of course, but standing before it now she found it difficult to not feel awed at the majesty of it all. The city was grand indeed, but to say so felt like an understatement. Grandiose structures rose above the city’s imposing walls and reached towards the sky above. Every inch of them was white marble and polished silver.

And yet it all felt colder than the harshest winter, as if this city was meant to be beheld in awe, not lived in. Every tile, every brick, every unnaturally clean stone, it all declared a single message.

“You’re not welcome here.”

She did what she could to ignore the city beyond and focus her attention on the fields that stretched before her. All around tents and camps were being set, and music could be heard even at such distance. This is what she came here for.

Delicious smells washed over her as she approached the gathering crowds. Many of the smaller camps had brought food from the nations beyond, and prepared their meals around their own campfires, or sold them to passers by, and she was more than happy to purchase quite a few of these unique delicacies.

Around her musicians and artists, from nations all over the world, prepared to perform before what would soon grow to be the largest crowd in all of Remnant. For now they were all street performers, travelling bands, nameless bards, and the occasional trickster claiming to have mastery over the magical arts.

Except some of that magic was very real. Their glamours were good, but no illusion could hide a fae’s true nature from one another. So she saw their faces as clear as crystal and they, in turn, saw hers. They were fae of the seelie courts, living a secret life among the human crowds, and she was the sole unseelie that walked among them.

It was in that moment of distraction, taking in the faces of her fellow fae, that she found herself being pushed aside with considerable force. She turned around, ready to curse whichever fool was responsible for this, only to find a very apologetic looking woman.

The woman in question had dark skin and long curly red hair. Though she wore no armor, her white and green clothes were clearly expensive and finely made. The presence of a staff in her heraldry betrayed her as a Knight of the Winter Maiden.

“My apologies,” the knight blurted out, “are you hurt?”

Something about the way she carried herself made it very hard to stay mad at her.

“I’m well, thank you,” she replied, “but please, do be more careful.”

“I’ll try to,” the knight assured her, before adding, “I don’t believe I have seen you around Atlas before.”

“This is my first time in the kingdom actually,” she lied with ease, “I’m Ilia of the Menagerie Isles.”

“Salutations, Lady Ilia,” the knight beamed as she bowed respectfully before her, “I’m Penny of House Polendina. I would be delighted to show you around the festival grounds, but right now I’m needed for a tournament.”

And with another bow Lady Polendina dashed away with just as little care as before.

Huh, a tournament, she had said? Now that seemed like a good way for Ilia to spend her time.

Said tournament was taking place in the only fully constructed wooden structure around. It was just a simple set of stands with enough space between them to form a somewhat proper arena, but having a proper space to fight in seemed to have gotten many of the knights’ hearts pumping with excitement. So much so that there seemed to be some sort of commotion waiting for her by the entrance.

Multiple men seemed to be arguing with a knight in perfectly white armor, or more accurately shouting at them, since they did not appear to say anything and just tried to make their way around the men and into the arena.

“Lady Schnee!” One of the men called and Ilia froze in her tracks. Years living in the courts around Atlas had left her with a burning hatred for the name Schnee.

With pale skin, and paler hair, the woman who approached them looked like she had been sculpted from a block of ice, and the look on her face was at least as cold as one. Lady Schnee was as severe and uncaring as her name would indicate.

“What is it you want?” She demanded.

“This stranger refuses to take off their helmet, or tell us their name, but they insist on joining the tournament,” the first man explained.

“Do you have reason to deny them entry, or are you simply insistent on wasting everyone’s time?” She said, with a tongue that was twice as sharp as that man’s sword, and thrice as sharp as his wit.

“My lady, the Vytal tournament was created exclusively for nobles and knights,” the other man tried, but a stare from her made him shrink in his armor.

“Do you think me stupid? I know the rules of the Vytal tournament,” she rebuked, “this is not the Vytal tournament, this is an excuse for bored fools to hit each other with swords. If you believe them unworthy of such noble competition, then perhaps you should prove so in the arena, instead of wasting everyone’s time with your pointless pratling.”

With that the men scattered and Lady Schnee made her way back into the arena. Though the white knight’s face remained hidden by their helmet, there was still a sense of amusement with how they held themself after this. Ilia certainly knew who she would be rooting for today.

With that out of the way Ilia joined the crowd by the stands as they watched the knights take turns dueling each other. Neither Lady Schnee, nor Lady Polendina seem to partake in the fighting, though they both took their roles as judges and organizers of the event. Though only Lady Polendina showed any excitement at her role.

Soon enough the duel Ilia had been looking for was about to begin. The white knight versus the loud fool from earlier. While the fool armed himself with a heavy shield and a heavier blade, the white knight seemed to prefer a lighter approach to combat, fighting only with a long and thin sword.

Unfortunately the build up had been much longer than the fight. In but three moves that felt almost like a single fluid motion, the knight had stepped through their foe’s defences, and placed the tip of their sword against his neck. The duel was over, and the crowd sat stunned.

It quickly became clear that no duel would live up to that one today, but that did not mean the crowd could not find entertainment in the matches that followed. Even though the white knight had not shown such swift brutality again, they quickly took the position of crowd favorite as they continued to win duel after duel.

That was until there only stood one soul who had not been bested by their blade. A knight in pure black armor, adorned with valean heraldry, and armed with a pair of shorter blades. Though that knight also hid their face, something about their stance seemed familiar to Ilia.

That sense of dejavu only grew stronger as the duel itself finally began. The swiftness of their movement, the lightness of their feet - even in full armor - the way the twin blades danced around them with ease. Ilia had only known one person who fought like that, but that simply couldn’t be her.

It made no sense.

Distracted as she was by that familiarity, Ilia was caught by surprise by the end of the duel. The knight in black had managed to pierce the white knight’s defense, and had a blade firmly pressed against their neck. The white knight put their blade down and conceded.

The crowd cheered as both knights offered each other a respectful bow and the white knight marched away from the arena.

Lady Polendina hopped and skipped her way to the middle of the arena, gesturing for the crowd to quiet down for a moment.

“It is with great pleasure that I announce the winner of our warm up tournament,” she announced and the black knight took that as their cue to pull their helmet away.

Though the face under it was unquestionably human, and clearly untouched by any magical glamour, there was no doubt in Ilia’s mind as to who she was. That may truly be impossible, but she had only known one woman with golden eyes like those.

“Lady Blake, of the Knights of the Fall Maiden!”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Killing Cure (Part 19)

It is faintly entertaining to see those little fly beasts greet their mother. They swarm her, quite literally engulfing her in a cloud of flies. They haphazardly smack into her as though she is the only streetlamp on the roadside. Finally their frantic energy comes to a slow and they assemble themselves into their human guises. 

 Daniela throws her arms around Alcina first, enveloping her in a tight grip. He can see on her face that she is struggling to breathe and more so when Cassandra adds her own hug. “You guys are crushing her!” Bela scolds and they loosen their hold. Alcina exhales. 

 “Mother, you’re home!” Cassandra beams. 

 “Yes dear, for the night and then I have to leave again.”

 Daniela’s grip tightens once more. “No, mother!” 

 “I’ll be back before you can miss me.”

 “But we miss you right after the door closes, mother.” Bela pouts. Ethan’s stomach twists. 

 Alcina ruffles the girl’s hair. “Has the Duke been treating you well?”

 “Oh yes, he brings us the best food.” Cassandra answers. 

 “And we get to…” Daniela nudges Bela before she can finish. 

 “Before you can what? What does he let you do?”

 “Nothing mother!” Bela replies, earning herself an eye roll. 

 And Ethan’s stomach lolls again both with affection and sorrow. It is a delight to see Alcina smiling again--that soft, warm smile that she has reserved for her daughters alone. All the same it is growing harder and harder for him to imagine a future where he gets to hold his own daughter again. Harder for him to imagine a future where he will eventually get to scold her and ask her why she had been out so late or what petty teenage secrets she is keeping from him. 

If worse comes to worst, he wonders if Alcina would let him have moments like this with her daughters. It is better than not having them at all. 

 God, he hopes that his Rose is still alive. Alive and still Rose and not something that this damnable village has warped her into…

 “Manthing, come here!” Daniela shouts. 

 At least he knows that one of them would welcome him to the family if he had no other…

His tummy does another flip. He is thinking as if his daughter is already gone. He can’t afford to think that way. He tries instead to imagine a future where those fly beasts play with his daughter and give her their warped version of what teenhood and young adulthood is all about.

 Bela, he notices, still has not let go of Alcina. He isn’t sure that she will. 

 .oOo.

 “I should hate you, I should absolutely loathe you.” She pauses. “And make no mistake, I really do want to. I think about everything you’ve done to my daughters, how you’ve almost killed them, how you’ve hurt them. I think about what you’ve done to me.” She hovers her hand over the spot on her side. “I think about how terribly it still hurts.” He cringes but she continues, “oh, and it works, Winters, I want to flay you alive…” 

 He takes several steps back, somehow plenty assured that she would be able to find a way if she really wants to. “Then why don’t you?”

 “I can’t.” She mumbles. “You’re...thrilling, Winters. I haven’t met a human that has impressed me in a very long time. They’re all the same, mostly.” 

 He very nearly points out her humanity but he curbs his tongue at the thought of getting flayed alive. “I don’t know, I’m kind of just a man myself.” 

 “Not quite.” She murmurs. “You have...ambition. You have goals and determination.”

 He finds himself soaking the comments in like a sponge, absorbing them until they warm his soul and his cheeks. He doesn’t think that he should let him get used to them though. He imagines that he will say or do something that will earn him twice as many insults. 

 But the expression on her face remains rather soft. Kinder than he is used to. Truly he finds it hard to understand this woman. This woman who hates him one moment and then cherishes him then next. He wonders if she is like this with everyone she meets or if he makes her feel a special sort of conflict; habit and a comfort zone versus change and adaptation. 

 She seats herself at the head of the table. “Be a dear, Winters, fetch my daughters and I something to drink.” 

 Her daughters eye him with excitement.

 “What’s the magic word?” He tries with a lopsided smile. 

 “Go.” She points towards the wine cellar. He supposes that he should be thankful that she is permitting him to enter her treasured cask at all. He stands up and she flashes him one of her smug, self-satisfied smiles. 

 .oOo.

 Her wine doesn’t taste the same and it makes her sick in every way that it can--physically first and then emotionally, realizing that she can no longer stomach such an extraordinary, delectable taste. She supposes that she can still have herself a good blood bath every now and then, the texture is still pleasant, perhaps just not on her tongue. She rifles through her dresser for the most comfortable nightgown she owns. She might as well enjoy it while she has it. When she finds it she carries it to the bathroom. She supposes that she can fill it with the wine that she can no longer drink...

 “You used to sing!” Ethan declares from across the adjoining bedroom. Alcina’s face flushes, the man wasn’t supposed to have found that again, he wasn’t supposed to remember it.

 “Can you still sing?”

 “I haven’t done so in a very long time.”

 “You should give it a try.” He grins. 

 “Absolutely not.”

 “Come on mother!” Daniela perks up. “Sing something for us!” She isn't sure when the girls had come to join them. She sighs, having a feeling that her bath will have to wait a little longer. Probably becomes a definitely when The Duke find his way into her room.

 “You haven’t sang to us in a long time.” Bela agrees.

 “Girls…” She mutters through gritted teeth. 

 “Just one song, mother?” Cassandra requests. 

 “Now look what you’ve done.” She glowers at Ethan. But the man looks plenty pleased with himself. “I’ll sing if you can get The Duke to play the piano.” She folds her arms stubbornly across her chest. 

 “Gladly, m’lady.” The Duke replies. He strolls his way over to the grand piano and shifts in his chair several times until he finds himself a position that he finds to be both comfortable and optimal for reaching the keys. He plays a few test notes. “What are we singing, Miss D?”

 Alcina crinkles her noise. “That’s Lady Dimitrescu, to you Duke.” 

 The man gives a hearty chortle. 

 She tries to think of a short song, one that she hasn’t forgotten over time. “I will sing Vai Mindruto. You know the cords, yes?”

 “Most assuredly, m’lady.” He strikes the first few notes and Alcina inhales deeply. It has been so terribly long since she has sung even a note. Much less since she has sung before a crowd, nevermind that her audience is small and familiar. 

 .oOo. 

 What she no longer has in size, Lady Dimitrescu makes up for in presence, demeanor, and volume. With a voice like that she might as well be ten feet tall. Her vocals are smooth and her diction is flawless and powerful. 

 He had been expecting an uppity jazz number and she has graced them with an operatic ballad. He thinks that this might just be better than what he’d expected. She has a voice that transcends eras. A voice akin to sipping opulent champagne with his free hand clutching the  gold filigree railing of a  balcony. Her voice has likeness to the warm glow of a diamond chandelier throwing prisms around an otherwise dark and empty ballroom. 

It is haunting and elegant and haunting in its elegance. 

 He observes her daughters as they look upon their mother. Bela is falling asleep on Cassandra’s shoulder as she leans forward to have a better listen. And Daniela buzzes about in a slow, languid sway, dancing with a partner who isn’t there at all. 

 Alcina herself stands with her eyes closed and her head tilted up, perhaps imagining herself at another place and in another time entirely.  For the first time in a while she looks to be at peace. And just when he thinks that the song is reaching its peak, it reaches its end. He resents that it had been so short. The air is still charged with energy several minutes after the last ghost of a note tapers off down the hallway. Still charming even now that the room is fully silent. 

 Her hands fall back to her sides and she opens her eyes. Daniela gives several absurdly loud claps and Bela bolts upright with a disgruntled grumble. The Duke stands up and stretches, “it’s always a pleasure to do a number with you, Lady Dimitrescu.” He clicks his tongue. “A lovely voice for a lovely lady.”

 She clears her throat, “thank you Duke.” 

 “Why did you stop singing?” Ethan asks.

 She furrows her brows. “Mother Miranda says that it is a waste of time.” 

 The more he hears of that woman, the more he resents her. “Do you enjoy singing?” 

 Alcina hums as she ponders the question, that in itself is answer enough. Finally she nods, “well enough, yes.” 

 “Then it isn’t a waste of time.” Ethan flashes her a smile. “It makes your girls happy too.” 

It makes him happy.

[lgcmanager]

V&A (VERSUS & AGITO) MISSION

SCHEDULE TYPE: TRIMESTER ( PART 2 OUT OF 2 ) SCHEDULE RESTRICTIONS: cannot be paired with another trimester schedule, unless stated otherwise. for reference as to whether your muse is eligible for this event, please click over HERE.

( important note: this will be the second and last part of the v&a mission for q1 2022. the next one will be posted after this mission’s deadline. )

on FEBRUARY 28, all of the V&A members were gathered once again this time with KIM HYUNCHEOL, LEE ISEUL, and their managers, LEE KYUHWAN and LEE KYUWON.

with members leaving, the higher ups spend the last few weeks talking and brainstorming for their upcoming plans. but after the countless meetings, HYUNCHEOL reveals to the group their plans for the next few months. “LEGACY has a busy first quarter for all of the groups involved. TYPE ZERO is flying to china for their chinese debut and promotions while FABULA and CRYSTALLIS just debuted. this leaves V&A and honestly, we’ve had comeback plans in store for all of you for quite some time, but we needed the perfect timing to make it happen.” 

KYUHWAN and KYUWON begin to distribute the folders and papers containing the first task that is given to them which is to work on their comeback promotions. inside the folder contains lyrics sheets and members will be sent the audio files of all of the songs. for reference, this is v&a’s song list in order:

REVEAL – VERSUS ( title track )

DO OR NOT – AGITO ( title track )

GENTLEMAN – VERSUS ( b-side )

I.O.U – AGITO ( b-side )

SECRETS – VERSUS ( b-side / english )

DIONAEA – AGITO ( b-side / japanese ) **

ROCK WITH YOU – V&A ( b-side )

SALTY – V&A ( b-side )

BEAUTIFUL GOODBYE – V&A ( b-side )

( ** denotes that lee jiho has participated in the lyric writing process )

the line distributions for this can be found OVER HERE. 

HYUNCHEOL proceeds to tell the members that because this is their first full album, they will be spending all of MARCH and most of APRIL preparing for this comeback. their comeback date is slated for APRIL 26. during the first two weeks of their promotions, the members will promote their unit songs ( REVEAL for VERSUS and DO OR NOT for AGITO ). the two weeks after that will be spent promoting ROCK WITH YOU.

all of the V&A members will be recording the songs followed by filming for the music videos ( REVEAL, DO OR NOT, and ROCK WITH YOU ). also for AGITO, the female lead for their music video is no other than LGC AGENCY’s SEO YUMI.

COMEBACK PROMOTIONS

“seeing that many of you have taken our language workshops seriously, we’ve decided to let all of you appear on AFTER SCHOOL CLUB. it’s a talk show targeted towards the international audiences.” ISEUL reveals to the V&A members one of their scheduled gigs. due to how AFTER SCHOOL CLUB ( ASC ) is set up, all of the V&A managers will be present to handle any possible damage control that may happen ( and they hope that nothing of that sort will happen ). all of the members are expected to be professional especially that the show is live. they will be appearing on ASC on MAY 3.

the second gig that V&A will be participating in is pertaining more towards YUSHIN, DAEYEOL, and YEONWOO. the three of them will be guests on KNOWING BROTHERS for the MAY 1 episode.

TVA’S VARIETY SHOW

“lastly, we have a variety show in store for all of you and TYPE ZERO. at the moment there’s no official name for the show, but it’ll be a chance everyone to create and form bonds with each other. we’ll start filming for this in APRIL. ” hyuncheol states out loud, not giving additional details as to what the show would entail.

( important note: the information below is OOC so the members do not know about it IC. )

legacy is planning on filming a variety show featuring the lgc boys ( in this case, TYPE ZERO and V&A ). like hyuncheol mentioned, they will start filming the first part of the show from APRIL 11-APRIL 16 while the second half will be filmed from MAY 6-8, any hairstyle changes that the muses will have during this time will happen during the filming process, but the episodes will not be aired until JUNE. more details regarding the writing requirements and show’s concept will be posted for the next mission ( q2 2022 ).

because of this variety show and the future events, there will be a break on the NOTORIETY TIERS for the V&A members from APRIL to JULY. that means that if your muses have any notoriety activities during JULY and AUGUST, they will be skipping out on them to focus on q2’s activities as well.

REQUIREMENTS

COMEBACK PREPARATIONS: write a 300+ word solo or 4 replies (minimum 8 lines) thread with another V&A member about anything related to the comeback preparations (ex. filming/recording for the songs/music videos, notoriety tier schedules for the eligible muses, appearance on asc/knowing brothers, etc.) for +6 POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE ANYWHERE and +8 NOTORIETY ! ** can be done up to three times **

make sure to use the hashtag lgc:vnamission for everything related to the event. you have until APRIL 2, 2022 at 11:59PM EST to complete the requirements and validate your points. please submit the following form ONCE on the points blog.

 TITLE: MUSE NAME ∙ V&A MISSION 004

- COMEBACK PREPARATIONS: +6 ( skill points distribution ), +8 notoriety [ LINK ] ** can be done up to three times **

[caravelmp3]

i could drink a case of you, darling

pairing: jake kiszka x female!reader warning(s): alcohol mention, we get a makeout sesh word count: 3k synopsis: (y/n) and jake head back to his place after meeting and hitting it off in a l.a. bar. with vinyls & drinks and a bit of the heat of the moment, things are bound to take off note: hi lovelies !!! this is the first gvf-related writing i have done since becoming a fan and i’m quite nervous about posting it & it’s also the first thing i have wrote in a few months so i hope it’s coherent hahaha :) i hope you all enjoy !! x 

     Warm summer wind whipped (Y/N)’s hair around as she stood on the sidewalk of Hollywood Boulevard. Street lights and neon bar lights filled the sky and the streets below, bouncing off the ground, reflecting in Jake’s dark eyes as she instinctively leaned against him, hand sliding around his forearm for support. They stood among the throngs of people walking the street, those outside of the bar smoking a cigarette or asking for a light, and those standing outside waiting for a chance to dive behind the packed doors of the 70s-esque bar they just escaped from. It seemed like everyone in Los Angeles was spending their Friday night in the city, just like them. 

Jake turned to (Y/N) when she touched the inside of his arm, and he locked the phone in his hand, shoving it back into the pocket of his jacket. “Think the Uber is just around the corner,” he said. 

“Should we tell everyone that we’re leaving?” She asked, using her head to nod in the direction of the bar behind them. Just behind the doors, across the room filled with loud voices and music, their friends (and siblings) were inside, drunk and completely unaware that they had escaped their line of sight. “Or should we just let it be a surprise in the next five minutes when one of them goes to the bar and realizes we’re not there?” 

Jake licked his lips, and around the corner, he spotted a white car turning down the street - it matched the image in his head from the Uber app. It was their ride. “I think we should let it be a surprise.” He said with a smirk. 

She laughed, but didn’t know if it was from the alcohol pumping through her veins or the mental image of both their friend groups drunkenly stumbling around the bar, yelling their names in an attempt to find them when in reality they were whisking across the city, but she laughed anyway. 

“They will kill us,” 

“Oh absolutely,” Jake said before throwing up a hand, signaling the white car to them and letting them slow down to a stop in front of them. 

(Y/N) felt Jake pull away from her touch as he stepped down off the sidewalk and opened the back door to the car, poking his head in and talking briefly to the driver. Under the muffled music from inside, she caught him asking the driver for his name, and a second later Jake stood up and turned to her with a smile. 

He took a swift step up to the sidewalk, hands motioning to the car. “Your chariot has arrived,” He was tipsy. So was she. 

With a playful eye roll to his cliche line, (Y/N) shouldered her purse and stepped down off the sidewalk to the street, and she slid into the backseat of the car. Scooting in, Jake followed right behind her, their thighs pressed together as the driver sped off, following the directions to the house on his phone. The music in the car was low, just enough to hear what it was, but (Y/N) and Jake weren’t paying attention to anything but each other. She shifted to face him, his hand sliding to touch her knee through the material of her jeans, and they were talking, they were giggling about anything and everything, yet nothing at all. 

The orange street lights bounced in and out of the car the further they drove though East Hollywood, and she paused and admired him. Two hours ago they were mere strangers downing shots a table adjacent from each other, an hour ago they were laughing while dancing to Stephen Stills on a hammock-laden patio under string lights as those they came with cheered them on between rounds of beers and cocktails, and she never pictured her night ending by going home with someone. 

But she felt it when they talked, when they brushed hands, when they laughed. It felt like being with your best friend. They were two strangers in two different industries, but when they argued over Beatles versus The Rolling Stones before falling into singing whatever came on next on the jukebox, it felt like they had done it all before. 

“Oh god it’s almost one a.m.,” (Y/N) cursed under her breath as she glanced away from her cocktail to the watch on her wrist. 

Jake swooped in behind her, settling down on the bench to her right. She looked up at him with shining eyes and smiled, but there was a slight tug on her lips. “Got somewhere to be in the morning?” 

“No, I’m just supposed to go out tomorrow with some friends.” She looked forward, gaze darting across the room to where both her friend group and Jake’s were ordering standing around a picnic table next to the hammocks. “I might get an Uber and let you all have your fun.” When she reached into the side of her purse for her phone, Jake was quick to deflect her decision.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he reached out, placing a hand on her bag, and she raised a brow at him. He smiled, cheeks flushed and wisps of hair flying in the wind. She watched him pause as if he was thinking of what to say, then lick his lips before speaking up again. “I don’t want you to get an Uber alone. That’s sketchy.” 

(Y/N) smirked. “So what are you thinking?” 

“I’ll get an Uber, “he used his free hand to motion to the sky, “and you can come back to ours. I can show you all of those records that we talked about earlier. Maybe even let you borrow one or two.” 

“Oh, lucky me,” she grinned, obviously teasing him, and he chuckled. (Y/N)’s eyes scanned him quickly one last time - her brain ticking, determining whether or not going home with a stranger was how she wanted to end her night. And when his soft brown eyes met hers, she was a goner. “You get the Uber,” and Jake let out another chuckle, hand diving to the pocket of his jacket for his phone.

And half an hour later, after battling late traffic of East L.A., the two stumbled out of the backseat of the car and onto the sidewalk of a tiny residential area. With many rushed thank-yous, Jake shut the door and led (Y/N) to a small gate hidden between trimmed bushes, and he punched in a code before they stepped inside. 

While it wasn’t necessarily (Y/N)’s first rodeo, she did feel that kick of nerves in her stomach as she followed Jake into the house. Her heart was racing and stomach was full of nerves while he seemed so casual, tossing down his keys and flicking on the lights, heading to the kitchen while asking if she wanted a beer. 

“Yeah, I’ll take whatever you have.” 

Placing her bag down on the foyer table, she pushed further into the house, her eyes following a path of light from a room off the large living area. Peering inside, out of her own curiosity, she noticed a shelf on the wall full of records, and her feet led her inside. Her eyes drank in the sight of the vinyl's, the record player sitting in the corner of the room just waiting to be used.

Her eyes scanned the wall, looking at the different colors, the pictures, the fonts, imagining herself listening to them all. “You guys have Joan Baez records?” She beamed, speaking over her shoulder to Jake in the kitchen. 

Jake glanced up at her through the doorway, noticing her head craning back, staring up at the top shelf, and he smiled before screwing off the caps of the beers and crossing the distance between them. “I wasn’t joking when I said we grew up listening to literally everything.” He strolled into the room and (Y/N) glanced back with a matching smile, taking a beer from his outstretched arm, and then returning her eyes to the shelf. 

“My parents loved Joan Baez, mostly because she was the muse behind so many Dylan songs.” She turned her body towards him, their eyes meeting a second later and she quipped a brow. “Odds on having a Joni Mitchell record?” 

Jake’s eyes then darted to the wall. “More likely than you think,” and he stepped over and hooked his hand around the rolling ladder on the wall and slid it a few rows over to them. She watched as he took a step upon the ladder, and then another, reaching at the top shelf. “Which one - Ladies of The Canyon? Blue? For The Roses?” 

She reached out, holding onto the edge of the ladder while humming. “Surprise me,” 

Jake clicked his tongue, fingers fiddling with the vinyl before plucking one out. He held it out to her and she took it from his hand - noting the dark and light colors contrasting beautifully. It was Blue, her 1971 album. 

While he climbed down the small ladder, (Y/N) crossed the room to the corner where the record player sat next to a small lamp. She flipped on the lamp and flipped on the record player, pulling the record from the sleeve placing it on the turntable, then dropping down the stylus in one swoop. It started with All I Want. Joni’s soothing voice filled the room and she turned to Jake with a smile. 

“Is that your record?” 

He lowered down onto a chair, knees spread as he leaned back. “Think it’s Sam’s. We had so many duplicates of others when we moved in that we eventually just donated them all.” He explained and she gave a nod in response. 

Instead of taking the chair across from him, (Y/N) crossed the distance between them and lowered down onto the hardwood floor, placing herself right at his feet. She took a sip of her beer, crossed her legs, letting her shoulder brush his thigh while leaning against the chair. And they sat in silence for a moment - losing themselves in the sound of Joni’s voice, in the tapping of their hands and feet to the beat, in the sway of the melody of each song on that side of the record.

In the midst of Carey, Jake tilted his head to the side and looked down at (Y/N) at his feet. His free hand reached out, touching the skin of her shoulder, her neck, fingers twiddling with her hair. She felt his fingers graze over the back of her neck and she instinctively tilted her head back, and then she glanced over her shoulder to him. 

“Are you playing with my hair, Jake?” She teased and he let out a deep chuckle from behind her.

“It was so tempting,” he explained, hand then touching her shoulder, the side of her neck, and she felt her body melt right into putty. 

“That’s funny,” she shifted, turning to him. 

Jake raised a brow. “Why’s it funny?” 

And her eyes went straight to his hair. It was the second thing she noticed about him after his smile. His brown hair was long, hanging down past his shoulders, laying perfectly on the maroon corduroy jacket he was wearing. 

She lazily rested her cheek on the armrest of the chair, staring up at him with glossy eyes that had his heart racing. “Because I have wanted to play with your hair all night.” 

He smiled wide. “Well all you had to do was ask,” and he hastily slid down off the chair to her hip, both laughing while he came crashing down next to her. 

Legs tangled with drunken laughs, (Y/N) reached out, guiding her fingers straight through Jake’s long hair. His hair was soft, and they were so close she could smell his cologne on the collar of his shirt, making her head spin even faster. Jake leaned into her hand as she ran her fingers through the strands, finding it so soothing, and he looked at her, causing her to smile warmly at him. 

“This what you waited for?” 

“Like a dream came true,” she joked and they cracked smiles, “I’m mostly jealous though. Your hair is better than mine.” 

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” he motioned lazily to her leg, “I’m jealous of your boots. Wish I could pull those off as well as you do.” 

And she raised her foot up, the dark blue and sparkly boots glimmering in the low lighting of the room, and she shook her foot before placing it back down to the floor with a thump to the rug. “I feel like you would pull them off well. Pair them with any stage outfit and you’ll be Bowie up on that stage.” 

Jake leaned his head back against the chair and she shifted her knee over his thigh. She had her cheek resting against her own arm, fingers gently working in the strands of his hair. His eyes focused on her, on her flushed cheeks and red lips, glossy eyes, and he felt a kick of courage in his veins. 

“What would you say if I told you that I spent all night fighting the urge to kiss you?” 

(Y/N) stilled, her eyes searching his face, but she felt a kick in her chest, the butterflies filling her stomach. The guy she spent the entire night pining over was wanting to kiss her. And she felt like she was in a damn dream - hitting it off with a long-haired rockstar and sitting on their floor, tipsy, listening to vinyl. 

“I would say that you are a fool for not doing it.” 

Out the corner of her eye, she saw his hand raise up, the back of his fingers rubbing across the apples of her cheeks, and then his fingers slid to her neck and pressed against the nape of her neck, and she allowed him to pull her closer until their lips met. 

(Y/N)’s eyes fluttered shut as she felt his mouth press against hers, her body simultaneously busting at the seams while molding against him when she leaned in closer. His lips were soft, his skin was warm, her head was swirling. A second later she pulled back, nose nestling against his, and then she licked her lips before tilting her chin upwards and capturing his lips with hers again. 

The second kiss sealed their fate. 

Her lips parted when she took a small breath, and then she met his mouth again, over and over again while their bodies propelled them forward. Jake’s hands traveled down her body, touching her back, her hips as her fingers dived deeper into his hair, holding his head. When her lips dragged across his, his hands pressed against her lower back, and then her thigh, gently pulling her into his lap when she raised her knee to slide across his hips. Settling in his lap, their lips reconnected, this time more rushed, sloppy, heated. 

A slow and wavering breath left her lips when Jake’s cold hands met her waist - his skilled fingers traveling under the hem of her sweater and pressing against her hot skin, igniting her from the inside out as they kissed and kissed, and kissed again. She parted her lips and his tongue was in her mouth, and she could taste the hoppy beer, the nicotine on his breath from their smoke break before they escaped the bar into the night together. 

Jake’s lips broke away from hers and his head lolled back when she pressed her lips against his cheek, his jaw, trailing down his neck. He could feel his heart pound rapidly against his chest as she met the tender skin of his throat, and his fingers instinctively gripped tighter at the skin of her hips. Their lips reconnected for just a second before a noise ripped through the room - it was the typical Apple ringtone.

The noise startled them and they quickly pulled back from each other, looking around to see where the source of the noise was coming from. It was echoing from just outside of the room where they had placed their phones after coming in. When they realized it was their phones, they looked at each other - swollen lips and flushed cheeks. 

“Five dollars says it’s yours,” (Y/N) said quickly. 

Jake chuckled, his hands falling from her hips to her thighs, thumb rubbing along the seam. “And five says it’s your friends,” 

She quickly pulled her leg from his hip and leaned back, letting him stand to his feet. He quickly jogged out of the room and turned the corner to the foyer table, and a second later, he reappeared in the doorway with a grin while holding onto her phone with an illuminated screen. 

“Fuck,” she laughed, holding out a hand. He crossed the space between them and handed her the phone. The annoying ringtone stopped a beat later when she answered, and Jake busied himself with the records, walking over to change the vinyl to one he had in mind.

“Hey,” he heard her answer to her friends. “Are you guys still at the bar?” She asked next. 

He plucked a record from the sleeve and twirled it to the A-side, then placed it down, dropping the stylus onto the right spot to let it start playing. 

(Y/N) leaned on her hip, watching as Jake changed the records, but still paying attention to the loud sounds of the bar on the other end of the call - the yelling, the music, the cheers followed by clinks of glasses. And then she heard the album Jake put on to fill the space of the room - it was the first track of Some Girls, the 1978 Rolling Stones’ album. Their eyes met and she couldn’t help but laugh - just an hour or so ago they were arguing about the Beatles versus Stones between shots, and now he was making her pay for choosing the Beatles. 

“Anyways,” her friend sang through the speaker, “are you okay? Are you safe?” 

Jake spun around and pointed at her dramatically while then pretending to play air-guitar and (Y/N) beamed. “Yeah, I’m in good hands, no need to worry,”