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writerblue275 · 5 months

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How Heartsteel would react catching their S/O singing/dancing to “Paranoia” (to their part if applicable)

Inspiration: Me being a dancing/singing/lip syncing fool every time I listen to the damn song, especially while I’m cleaning my apartment.

Genre: Headcanon

Category: FLUFF

Gender: Gender Neutral Reader

TW: Swearing

^^(How did they get this GIF of me dancing?? 😂)

General things:

Setting the scene, let’s say it’s the first time they’re coming home after the song has released so they’re really getting your reaction to the finished song for the first time.

Ok let’s be clear, all of them would be so flattered and would love this.

Having a supportive partner means EVERYTHING TO THEM.

So even if I don’t put “it means a lot to them to catch you doing this, etc…etc…, it’s still implied.

Aphelios:

He’s had a long day in the studio working with Yone on the next album’s instrumentals after doing a debut music show, so he’s very ready to be home with you and to take it easy tonight.

Grins under his mask as he opens the door and hears “Paranoia” blasting on the Bluetooth speaker he got you for your birthday. He knows how much you love to jam to music!

Sneaks to wherever you are, not wanting to disrupt you and absolutely wanting to grab a photo he can send to Alune (after swearing her to secrecy [not that she would send the photo of you to anyone anyway! You and her are good friends too]).

Manages to get an excellent photo of you using the duster as a microphone, a smidge of dust on your cheek.

You’re so absorbed in your “performance” you don’t notice him at all.

Right after you mime the *ding ding ding* of the bell in Sett’s verse, your smart watch buzzes with a text message.

“I hate to disrupt your award-worthy performance, but what would you like for dinner? (Also you have a little dust on your cheek, cutie.)”

When you spin around and finally see him, he’s spinning his mask on his finger and giving you a sly grin, winking as you gasp in surprise and blush at being caught.

He grabs a tissue and gently wipes off your cheek before giving you a gentle kiss hello.

(I have a headcanon that he would primarily communicate to his partner using sign language)

*Signing* “I’m glad you enjoy our work, love!”

Seeing you love something he put so much effort and time into really brings him a LOT of pride and will continue to motivate him.

He helps you clean and asks you more about your thoughts on the song.

You were in the studio while he worked so you’ve heard parts of it, but you and him agreed that you shouldn’t hear the finished song until it released to the public. It was your suggestion actually. He was ready to let you listen to it early but you wanted to experience the full excitement of waiting for their debut just like everyone else.

Which he LOVED.

Ezreal:

This litTLE SHIT (said lovingly)!

Smug man #1

He will NEVER LET YOU FORGET THIS.

The SMIRK he has when he walks through the front door and hears the all-too-familiar intro to the song.

And when he hears you RAPPING along with Kayn’s part??

NO WAY is he missing this!!

He immediately makes his way to wherever you are and positions himself so he can see you without you seeing him.

Phone camera is at the ready.

Starts recording a video right before the pre-chorus begins and his part starts.

He can’t help but smile as you switch to lip syncing, clearly wanting to hear/focus on his voice.

You’ve told him many times how much you adore his singing voice.

(And he’ll never admit to anyone how much hearing you say that means to him but that’s a different story)

It takes every fiber of his being to not reveal himself while he’s recording.

He’s about two seconds from giggling.

Records through the end of the chorus before stopping the recording and immediately sending the video to the Heartsteel group chat with all the members and Alune. They all love you so he knows they’ll love seeing the video.

He puts his phone away and plans to sneak up on you. (Lmao sneak up? I mean flash.)

This man is an EXPERT at surprising you.

Flashes right behind you before the second pre-chorus starts and starts singing, bursting into laughter as you let out a surprised scream.

He gets a well deserved pillow to the face for that.

Later Yone texts you and tells you that he’s “glad you like the song enough to sing and dance to it throughout your daily tasks.”

And Aphelios hits you with the “:)”

And Ez gets another pillow to the face before bed.

Followed by a kiss because he is POUTING.

Kayn:

This SMUG motherfucker!! (Again, said lovingly!!!)

Smug man #2!!

Comes home to you cooking dinner for you and him, using the spatula as a mic.

Does THE shoulder lean against the door frame (y’all know what I mean, especially if you read romance novels) and just watches you with the biggest shit-eating smirk on his face.

That smirk only get bigger as the song ends and restarts and you don’t change it, telling him you’ve had their song on repeat for who knows how long!

If anything, you’re getting even more into it, starting to dance a little more now and adding some little ad libs while he raps.

Ex: “If you try to step to me, it’ll be the last time” You *in rhythm*: “FUCK YEAH”

He absolutely loves it.

Honestly you’re making him fall in love with you all over again.

Also gives him the idea to ask Alune if you can help make up the fan chants (although he’s sad because he knows they’ll have to be a bit more PG)

Can’t help himself as he lets out a chuckle, giving himself away in the process.

Holds his hands up peacefully as you spin around, ready to throw the spatula if needed.

“Sorry baby, I’m afraid you can’t use me for target practice.”

“God Damnit, Kayn, you know I scare easily! How long have you been home?”

“There’s a reason I stayed over here instead of startling you over there where there are a bunch more kitchen utensils you could have reacted with. And to answer your question, enough time for me to understand how much you seem to enjoy our song.”

You playfully, roll your eyes, shake your head, and smile as he comes over and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing you hello.

He’d definitely tell the guys what he saw, but he wouldn’t film or photograph you (this time 😉).

K’Sante:

I get such immaculate vibes from Heartsteel K’Sante.

Like I’m a BTS fan (woot woot ARMY) and I get very very similar energy/vibes from K’Sante and RM.

Like I do not know what it is, but I would trust K’Sante with holding/watching my drink at a club if I needed to run to the restroom. He has that sort of good energy.

I suppose it’s the…safe? energy??

Absolutely hilarious to use that word considering the batshit things they did in that movie studio.😂

But you know what I mean!

And being in a relationship with someone who has this sort of energy would be A++++.

(I know this is a bit of a tangent but I swear it’s relevant to the topic)

K’Sante’s part in “Paranoia” has that same sort of energy to it. (It’s so hard to explain what I meannnn)

And when he catches you singing and dancing along to his part, the bridge of the song, while you’re folding/putting away laundry, I think he’d watch you for a couple moments.

But only a couple.

He’d make his presence known a bit earlier

Because then I think he’d come join you! ☺️

He’d start singing with you and encourage you to keep singing with him.

He’d gently pull you a little closer to him.

And obviously the slower paced part of bridge doesn’t last forever, but even then I think he’d still dance with you once the song ramped up with you (hard to explain but think casual dancing with a partner at a club/bar).

It would be so FUN??? Such a fun sweet moment between the two of you.

He’d of course then help you fold the laundry.

“It’s only fair since I distracted you from it for a bit!”

You’d keep listening to music with him as you both get some chores done around the house.

Definitely making sure to take time for more dance breaks (duhhhh).

Sett:

(A/N: I love the entirety of “Paranoia” but something about Sett’s verse makes me absolutely FERAL!! THE LYRICS. THE VIBE. THE INSTRUMENTALS. PerFECTION! ØZI fucking nailed it.)

When I first started thinking about this, I thought that Sett would be smug guy #3.

Now I’m not quite so stuck to that idea.

Oh don’t get me wrong, he’d definitely hug you and tease you once you saw him watching you and blushed a deep red.

But they would mainly be half-hearted teases.

And internally? You know this man is melting about you and how lucky he is to have you as his partner and how much he loves you.

Sett clearly has such a soft side for the people he truly loves and cares about.

Have you seen how much he adores his Mama???

You are like the only other person who can really bring that soft side out of him.

And catching you already having the lyrics to his verse down 100% is something that would bring that out of him.

Speaking of his Mama…

Sett would absolutely take photos or videos of you.

But they’re only going to one person.

That’s right, to Mama.

We’re going to assume that his mother really likes you and you really like her. (You think this man is going to be with someone his mother doesn’t get along with? BFFR)

Though let me say I think she’d be very easy to get along with.

Like I definitely don’t think she’s the mother-in-law from hell I keep seeing stories about on TikTok.

But anyway, he just wants to show off his favorite person to his other favorite person (who also adores his favorite person).

And little do you and Sett know but that just inspired Mama to knit you a sweater that matches the beanie she made that he wore in the MV. As like a holiday present!

(I’m so sorry this one was admittedly a little self-indulgent but I think it’s so cute!)

Yone:

Oh this man.

Obviously everyone has worked extremely hard so that Heartsteel can debut. Everyone has had late nights and long days on little sleep.

But as Heartsteel’s main producer…

(Not to mention band mom!!)

Yone really had a record number of late nights at the studio.

Reworking a passage over and over and over….

And OVER

Until it’s right (or until Aphelios/Alune drag him out of the studio at 3am telling him to work on it tomorrow with fresh ears).

And he’d never tell you, but you know he’s felt really bad about all those late nights. All those nights he wasn’t with you.

Potential dates missed because of deadlines.

Not that you were angry with him or anything.

You love him and you know how much pressure he’s put on himself.

And the last thing you want to do is potentially add more pressure on him.

In fact, you and him made a routine the past couple months. Whenever he’d have to work on the weekends, you’d come over to his studio each night during the weekend and bring a movie/couple episodes of a show and takeout.

And he gladly lets you pull his attention away from work for other media and cuddles.

(I feel like in private Yone would be more cuddly than one might expect of a stoic man like him.)

But during these media breaks??

This tall man was like a damn koala the way he cuddled you (not that you were complaining).

So seeing you sing and dance to the song he produced…

Even though the production of this song meant you often went to bed alone….

Was so fucking cathartic for him.

It made him feel like every sacrifice was worth it. Just to see how happy you were to dance and sing to the song he put so much of himself into.

His expression would be so soft as he watched you.

And after you noticed him and gave him a smile, he’d come over and give you a hug, burying his face against your neck.

You are his MUSE, and don’t you forget it.

Ahh thank you for reading! This is my first bit of creative writing in over 5 years, so apologies if it’s not great!

Shout out to @coco6420 for telling me on my main account to not stop myself when I talked about being tempted to post headcanons for Arcane/Heartsteel. Well here we go. 😂

#heartsteel #heartsteel headcanons #headcanon #heartsteel aphelios #heartsteel ezreal #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel k'sante #heartsteel sett #heartsteel yone #league of legends #heartsteel x reader

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nix-writes-mcyt · 14 days

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Saw Skizz on your list of people you write for while going through your request info again so I just had to request something!!

I just know being held in his big beefy arms is like heaven on earth! So maybe some sweet cuddling in bed on a nice warm day?

Love your writing so so so much!! -XB anon ❤️

I love me some beefy arms, just ask my fiancé haha (no but really I will swoon). I've mentioned this in a previous post but this is actually very much influenced by my relationship with my fiancé who is on his last night shift of the week when this is posted. It's a hard time for us both but it's worth it when he gets home. All this to say, if you want to write one of the biggest tips I'd give is to draw from real emotions and experiences. It really helps to give a subtle bit of depth which gives your readers an easier time feeling that emotion themselves!

Working Late

Drabble Contains: Fluff -------------------

This evening has been hard, you knew it was coming but it has still been hard.

Skizz had told you he really wanted to finish his shop and would do so by any means necessary, the problem was that that meant you'd had to spend the evening alone, which was fine. You'd sorted a few bits out around the house, walked the dogs, made sure that everything was in order for the morning. It was all fine.. except for one problem.

The one problem came when it was time for bed, which was that you'd have to go to bed. Alone. You'd hoped you could stay awake until Skizz got home, but that wasn't the case.

Once midnight had hit you were falling asleep on the sofa, which the dogs seemed more annoyed at than you. They liked that spot.

So, begrudgingly, you'd made your way to the bathroom, washed your face, brushed your teeth, and gone to bed.

You'd had a miserable time falling asleep. It was too cold and too quiet without him there. You tried to read, but your eyes couldn't focus on the words. You tried to listen to music, but it just wasn't the vibe. So you'd given up and laid there until you'd eventually fallen asleep.

Until a few moments ago, when you woke up. The room is still as dark as can be, you're still exhausted. Groggily, you reach over to the side table and tap the button on the clock. 3.37am. It's been an hour, maybe a bit more. You're unsure what time your really managed to get to sleep.

It's still cold, you're still alone. Your heart sinks. He probably won't be back tonight. So you pull the duvet closer, attempting to fall back into your slumber.

You can hear your own breaths, the sound of your heart beating. It's just not the same without him here. It's not as easy, doesn't feel as safe.

Yet, slowly your body begins to relax, darkness taking back over. You barely register the sound of the door, the shuffling, or at least you're too far into sleep to be able to react.

A familiar weight moves the mattress, duvet going with it as he takes his usual spot. You make some sort of grumbling noise at being disturbed, but a sigh escapes you as he gets close.

One arm drapes itself over you, then pulls you in. One strong, familiar arm. His voice is sleepy too, muttering "don't you grumble at me it's time for cuddles."

You feel yourself smile, possibly only internally, although it's too dark to know. Not that you could see your face without a mirror anyway.

You shuffle to get more comfy pressed up against him, warming up quickly. Then you shuffle again to stuff some blanket between the two of you to stop the heat. "Just that hot am I?" He giggles, clearly about to drift off. Somehow you find it in you to respond, "don't need heating when I have you." He lets out an amused huff, but like you is too tired to say any more.

The silence is filled with the soft sound of his breathing, plus your cozy and warm now. That's not even to mention how safe you feel being in his arms again, those wonderful arms that are so strong holding you so carefully against him.

With what you're sure is a soft sigh you're able to comfortably drift into a peaceful slumber, dreaming only of Skizz, how much you love him, and the wonderful arms that leave you feeling so safe and secure (and flustered, but it's a calm, peaceful sleep. Sue me.)

#skizz x reader #skizzleman x reader #hermitcraft x reader #mcyt x reader #hermitcraft #hermitblr #mcytblr #mcyt #skizz #skizzleman #fluff #comfort #cute #cuddles #inspired by my irl relationship

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cas-backwards-tie · 3 months

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Under The Moonlight

Vladimir Makarov x Reader

Summary: You think the Commander hates your taste in music. Why is he so judgmental about what you listen to in your free time? Turns out... maybe you were caught up on the wrong thing.

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: (Vlad should probably be a warning in of itself), Passive-Aggressiveness? , Spying, Grabbing,

A/N: Ugh... I love (and hate) this song bc it gets stuck in my head so easily and it gives me such fantasy vibes. I can't help but imagine wedding vibes and him with this song every listen. btw put two diff versions in links bc those are 2/3 that I have and listen to.

"You know Arabic?" He'd asked. The first time he'd stumbled upon you listening to the song, more than curious when you'd also been singing along. With a shake of your head and a slight smile of embarrassment simultaneously dusting your cheeks with blush, this only makes his eyebrows furrow. "Then how do you know the words?"

The laugh that tumbles past your lips does nothing but further turn up the heat on the already boiling frustration and inconsequential meltdown that will no doubt later take place. "By listening to it," you answer, an inkling of a smile returning in spite of his fury, "over, and over... and over again."

With an annoyed puff of breath you know he's done with you, about to make his leave. "Why?" You ask. For once, you've swapped places as your curious eyes seek out his form.

"Because it would be useful information to know." Ever the cryptic, of course that's all he leaves you with before turning his back to you, arms crossed over his chest as he exits the room.

The second time he hears the song, he's in between meetings. It's one of those rare days where he has a little free time, not that he knows how to spend that sort of thing anymore. Having entered the library, he can hear the radio playing the Arabic song once more. Your voice joins it, again, and Vladimir finds himself subtly eyeing his surroundings as the corners of his lips twitch, tugging at a smile.

He schools himself, able to keep himself in line. While the bookshelves keep him out of view and no one's in the vicinity, he quietly strolls through the stacks, hand grazing the many novels. It seems that now you've been here longer, you're starting to get more comfortable. Even if your voice isn't the loudest, the quiet nature of a library certainly doesn't help as it carries your voice, he's sure, outdoors to the nearby stationed guards.

Once he's around the nearest bookshelf, he peeks far enough just to see your visage. From this, alone, can he paint a picture. Hand still on the page, he imagines you'd been reading, the radio on quietly as background noise, no doubt something you've continued to use since you've yet to get used to the quietness his climate provides. Thus, the radios around the Compound offer solace. He's noticed you around them often. In your focus amidst the book, you'd been distracted by the song, a familiar tune on the radio beckoning your attention. Of course, not being one to resist temptation, you couldn't resist turning it up and singing along.

He can't deny you're awful. Otherwise, he'd probably have to shoot you. It'd grow to be a nuisance, really... and dangerous, a warning signal no doubt. Yet, there's an innocence about you when you sing. Mocha-colored eyes roam your features as he watches, mesmerized, your eyes closed, as your upper body moves to the music from your chair. The smile that graces your lips is one to remember, and it's one that has him equally awed, and yet... in amusement.

"You really don't understand?" With a swift turn, Vladimir reveals himself from the bookshelves, his hands clasped behind his back casually. The gasp and jump that he'd elicited from you does nothing more than garner a chuckle from him.

"Why do you care?" You ask, hand still resting on your heart as you attempt to catch your breath. Staring at him with wild eyes, it boggles you, the way you feel like he's asked you this before. It takes a moment, as it's been at least a month or so, but you remember that he has. He's asking again. "It's not like you know," you tease, poking him back. If there's anything you'd learned early on, and he'd learned about you... it's that you love to play with Vladimir by matching fire with fire. And, equally, he too, loves to do so.

"Actually, I do, любимая," he quips. With slow and calculated steps he begins approaching the table, eyes raking over you once and then twice. "and I don't! I can assure you. I only find it amusing how you seem more than content to sing something which could mean anything... according to you."

While he stops to close the book atop your hand, inspecting the spine and choice of leisure, you suspect. You place your hand atop his, afraid he's going to take the book. It's only when he meets your gaze briefly, long enough to narrow eyes at you before immediately departing for the door a few feet behind you. "Wait!" You call after him. Turning in your seat, a hand comes up to rest against the bulbous ear of the chair; thudding boots abruptly come to a halt as the Commander stops, albeit he doesn't turn around. "What does it mean, then?" You ask, words getting quieter as you start to lose confidence the further the moment continues.

"I'm sure you'd love to know." That's all he leaves you with. Dissatisfied and annoyed with the pettiness and childlike behavior the Commander can sometimes exhibit, you ignore him whenever you can. After all, while he may have originally intrigued you, whatever curiosity you had is not worth whatever outcome you receive in the aftermath of one of his moods.

When you finally find out what the song means, it's at a moment you were completely unexpecting it. After a successful mission, you'd all celebrated by building a big bonfire at camp, sitting around after dinner, sharing stories, and drink. It's not every day you get to let loose, and while normally there's a fairly tight schedule to work around, you know better to take advantage of a free day when you can. With this in mind, you drink to your heart's content. After all, it's on the Commander, right? Listening to the stories, your head leans back against the wooden makeshift benches as your eyes find the bright stars above.

It may be an effortless attempt to map them out, or mentally draw out the constellations you know, but as you listen to the jokes, the stories, songs, and laugh along, it isn't until there's a momentary silence that you finally raise your head again. Scanning around the fire, you notice that everyone's gone to bed, it seems. And sure, while it's been a long day and it'd been getting late, you didn't think everyone would've left so soon. Yet, your eyes are drawn to the only other pair you see, staring at you from a few feet to your right. The last person left at the fire.

"You're not tired?" He asks, and it's weird. It's like there's no mask up this time. You're not sure if it's the alcohol playing tricks on you right now, or if you're really hearing him correctly, but he almost sounds... genuine.

Head leant back against the wood once again, you let it loll to the right, finally able to meet his gaze. The flames make his eyes shine brightly, his features illuminated in a fiery glow. His hair is slightly amess, some strands not falling in the same direction as the wind has blown them around. Nose and jaw sharply outlined by the shadows of the night, you can't help but feel warmth, and not because you're both sitting right in front of the fire. Eyes having roamed his features, they finally meet his again as he turns his gaze from the fire once more to you, clearly anticipating an answer.

With a shake of your head, you do nothing to stop the way your lashes slowly flutter, the mere thought and mention of sleep threatening. As you lift the bottle in your hands to your lips again, wanting to finish the last little fifth or sixth of drink left in it, you're met with a disgruntled hum. "I think you've had enough."

The words should be a warning to you. A loud and clear signal as to what was about to happen, and yet you hadn't put two and two together in your intoxicated state of mind. "Mm-mm. 'Slmost finished," you manage to slur out. Lifting the bottle again, Vladimir is quick to stand, closing the space between you as he snatches it out of your hand and tosses it into the fire. The glass breaks, flames fanning higher momentarily as he reaches under your armpits and lifts you up. There isn't much of a struggle considering you can't put up much of a fight in your state.

"It's time you get some sleep," he states, wrapping an arm around your back as he attempts to guide you to a tent. He guides you outside of the fire circle until you don't move. And while he's a strong man, perhaps it's the drink, or he doesn't know what, but you're being as stubborn as a rock.

"What's it mean?" You ask. This takes him aback; the Commander knows you're not ignorant, and while you may be drunk, there's certainly no way that vodka, or any sort of liquor no matter the quantity is capable of erasing such a simple fact as the meaning of sleep. While he takes a step back, eyes beginning to search for signs of injury, it isn't until he follows your gaze that he understands.

Albeit the distant snoring, the wind, the roaring fire, and crunching of both your boots, he hadn't realized. It was quiet, the radio on the other side of the firepit. The device had been left on, and while the two of you had stayed awake he hadn't paid too much mind to it, yet now he can't help but smile. Of course, of course of all moments this song would play. Right now.

"You really want to know?" Vladimir asks, not backing away as he towers over you, eyes meeting your face in the darkness as he waits for your attention to find him again. After all, perhaps with the way he's been the one to hear you all these little times, maybe... just maybe it could be a sign.

Ridiculous, of course. That's what he told himself for months now, too good to be true. He knows what he's done... what he's had to do. What he will do and must, not just for himself but for his people, for the planet, in order to not only survive, but bring the world to a state that will be beneficial for all. Nevertheless, they always say there's a price one must pay for such deeds. He knows this true... and while he might have dreamt at times of other lives and wanted for other things, those boy's dreams were crushed long ago.

That was... until the radio started playing that song only moments ago. As he scans your face, eager and almost impatient for you to turn your eyes on him, when you do, it's not what he expects. The scoff that meets him leaves him taken aback. Met with an eye roll, and an attempt to walk past him. He knows. He knows he can be rough, and while it might be harsh he grabs your arm and keeps you from walking any further away. Whatever prize he thinks he's found, whatever omen, sign, or soul tie... he's not letting this go. He's not letting you go.

"I know you're just gonna trick me again, okay?" While other times he might be delighted to hear that you think he'd play games with you, nothing but stoicism sits on his features.

Bringing you in close, he searches your eyes as he whispers. "The love words of his eyes are sweeter than songs." Vladimir cautiously places a hand on your waist, the one holding your arm releasing its grip as it slides up to rest on your shoulder. "From a couple of words, from a greeting, I become someone else. When he sways, my heart sways with him. I may sacrifice my eyes and whole life for him, and it's too little." He repeats the words, the two of you gently swaying in the moonlit camp as the music quietly accompanies him in the background through the aged radio.

"My night, oh, night, my night." It feels as if with each passing moment his voice somehow gets quieter and quieter if that was even possible, yet you're already so impossibly close. "Oh night, my night, his love makes the night longer. The love of years between him and I. Just one more step, my heart, it's not a fantasy." Your noses just barely brush against each other, breath mingling in the space between you.

"My soul just go with him and get lost in his beauty. His covets the magic of life, his charm extraordinary. The one whose eyes the moon envied. The smile is the shining sun." There's no denying the heat between you, the tension thick in the minimal space between you, both of your eyes closed as you revel in this moment. Yet, he knows he shouldn't. You wish he would. As the song comes to an end on the radio, he's the first to open his eyes, eager to watch your open yours. As you do, it's the same happiness and adoration that he's seen you with on your expression even when you had no idea what the song had meant.

You might not have known what it meant... but something about the vocals and the expression of the song had just given you the sense that it had been about exactly everything Vladimir had just described to you. "Thank you," you whisper, not quite ready to leave this moment. Not ready to leave his arms.

Zziiippp!!!

The sound of a tent opening nearby causes both of you to distance yourselves, something within each of you sobering up instantly. While, sure, he's the Commander and can have anything he wants... you both know things are better this way.

____________

translations:

любимая = loved one / darling / lovely

forever taglist: @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo ,@ohdamnadam

#cod mwiii x reader #cod mw3 x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #call of duty modern warfare 3 x reader #makarov x reader #cod mwiii makarov #cod mw3 makarov #my writing #my fics #cod fanfic #cod x reader #not proofread #not beta'd #song fics #song fic

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wil-dearest · 7 months

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cathers-world asked: NSFW stalker!wilbur?

yeah why not, i always love a good stalker, me.

trigger warnings: 18+ for sure. stalking, duh, but still, be careful. gender-neutral reader. non-con, because you're asleep, so again, be careful while reading. leaning into simpbur. sorry. also mentions of suicide ideation, so there's that.

wil-dearest presents:

The Angels Made You For Me

If he'd been counting the days since he's started following you home, he would say it'd be a problem. But since his nasty habit began, he could confidently say it's been going on too long, perhaps, without much to show for it. He knows everything about you, about your schedule, about your habits, your friends- fucking. Everything.

He would consider trying to be more subtle about it but several times you've seen him, made direct eye contact with him and smiled, and yet nothing. He hasn't been arrested, hadn't been tackled by a concerned friend. Nothing has happened. And despite his lucky track, he still wanted more, wanted more from you.

He saw you first in the spring, when the flowers were blooming and he'd been in the park like you, except it was supposed to be his last day. His last day to live because, quite simply, nothing was really that fucking worth it anymore. Not the media, the music, definitely not the people, nature wasn't his last chance to convince him everything would be peaches and rainbows, it was his last meal. (Not physically, he'd ate two days ago and he could almost feel his ribs.) This was his last peaceful moment. He hadn't been entirely sure how he was going to go out, by gun or by jumping or by a vehicle- the possibilities were endless and with some sort of end in sight, it was easier to breathe in the park air and look around.

There you'd been, sitting with on a picnic blanket with a dog, bathing underneath the careful sun and soaking the day in. He had a brief moment of euphoria when you opened your squinting eyes completely and smiled, waving hello at him. Your smile froze him in his spot, where he'd been walking down the path and you tilted your head as he continued to stare. He started walking again, head forced to look straight as he tried to will away the blush dusting his cheeks and ears, as his mind couldn't focus on anything but your smile and the way you looked so damn... happy. Peaceful. Downright angelic, even.

Light footsteps crunch on the gravel louder and louder until they stopped behind him and he feels a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, it's you, your smile not as bright but just as genuine as your hand held out a phone. He sucked in a breath from his teeth, reaching out to take out the familiar device. He hadn't meant to but his fingers grazed your own and he couldn't help the way his heart leapt into his chest. Why was he feeling this way? Why was his chest contracting and why couldn't he breathe any easier? You said something and he feels almost bad when he asks you to repeat yourself.

Your smile widens as you glance downwards at your feet before looking up at him, "I said you better be careful with that thing, people won't always return it, you know." He nods.

"But you did," he says, rushed like he hadn't meant to say it at all.

Your smile doesn't dim, doesn't shrink, it deepens and he can see the beginnings of a laugh bubble inside of you. "I almost didn't." You say, and a hand reaches up to cover your mouth as you back up, laughing. Then you wave and you say goodbye and walk away back to your dog and your picnic blanket.

An old movie scratches inside of his head and it's as if he was transported back in time, listening to the music play and watching you sit back down, scratching the dog's back.

So this is love.

This particularly night, yes he lied he kept count, marks the six month since you had saved his life. Truly, without you, he would've been dead. He would've been another person to sink into the earth, forgotten and rotted. He would've taken his life and parted everyone with but a stench to his name.

There are days he regrets it but when he sees you again, it puts things in perspective.

So, he wants to do something special. He wants to be near you again. Following you home doesn't necessarily mean anything if he's more than a block away, keeping to himself and making sure no one else fucks with you. (If you deserved anything, it would be a peaceful, uneventful walk from the gas station to your home. And he would make sure of it a hundred, thousand times.)

It doesn't take much planning, he already knows so much about you already, if anything, slipping into your house feels... easy. Natural, despite it being anything but. In the end, it doesn't matter because your home is warm and smells so good, he knows you cooked before bed. Stepping lightly, he traces the walls with his fingers, taking in every detail he couldn't before, the photos framed on the wall, the decorations that, yes may be early, but you deserve happiness where you found it. Fall and Halloween, though already on the cusp of falling into season already, would have to be an everyday thing with how much you loved it so much. He wouldn't mind. He would never mind.

Your door already half-way opened, he peered around the edge, eyeing the form in your bed. It was you. You never took anybody home. (As if you knew he would be yours in the end, his mind whispers, logic bending and melding to his rose-colored feelings.) Never slept in anything more than a large, loose shirt. He doesn't immediately step in, watches as your chest rises and falls with every passing moment. You're... bewitching. Being near scratches an itch he only recently figured out. Being near you is so peaceful and so nerve-wracking at the same time, heart pounding, beating against the cages of his ribs, begging to tear its way out and settle into your hands, that were of no doubt, softer than any fabric the world could manufacture.

He steps into your room, hands shaking as they come up to lightly graze the walls in there too. With every step he takes closer to your bed, the more his hands shake and the more he chokes on his heart. There are thoughts racing inside his head, begging to leave and begging to leave you forever but how can he leave when you've done so much for him already? How can he leave right now, right now when he's come so far? He's lived without you for so long, he's not sure he can accept a life without being near you again.

The intoxicating scene of your room dizzies his head, spins his vision till he almost collapses over you, managing to catch himself after his knees buckled under his weight. You breathe deeply in and with every bated breath, he watches as you sigh out, shuffling in your sleep as your neck extends the other way, leaving it bare to him.

His head spins further as he releases a stolen breath, choosing to stand stock still, eyes catching onto any new detail he could see now, even in the dark. His fingers come over the edge of your bed and they burn when they touch your bare arm. Warm, soft. Just like he'd thought, like he remembered. His free hand comes up to cover his mouth, imagining it as yours and imagines that you've caught him, that you flip him onto the bed on his back, straddling his hips and pressing with a warm hand into his underwear, whispering sweet things into his neck and before he realizes it, his hand that had touched you- it had retracted back to his body, slipping underneath his pants and briefs, and squeezes around his cock. He almost couldn't contain himself, feeling the hardest he'd ever been, wanting nothing more than to sink the tip between your lips and send his seed down your throat. He wanted nothing more than that. The hand that covered his mouth lowered down, reaching out to brush the hair away from your neck, out of your face.

He leans down and inhales, soaking in how close you are, how you overwhelm his senses completely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips when an idea flashed in his head. It's there for a second before he leans closer, his tongue relishing in the taste of your skin, how hot you burn and how you sign against his touch, almost arching into it. He presses a kiss there and you move in your sleep again, almost hitting him in the process of batting whatever the hell was tickling you.

It's too much, too fast. His come coats the inside of his underwear and he has to pull away before he groans right into your ear.

He can't get any closer without waking you but you were nowhere near being ready for him. He slips out of your bedroom door, lips burning from where he kissed you. Yes, he kissed your sleeping face, from your forehead and cheeks, nose and chin to your lightly parted mouth. It didn't even last three seconds before he had to pull away, dragging himself out of your home and towards his.

His heart is pounding inside his chest but he knows you hold it, even whilst sleeping. And he hopes to one day hold yours.

And with hope and love, it could be soon.

#spencer writes #wilbur soot smut #dark content #tw stalking #tw noncon

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mxtantrights · 6 months

Text

famous dc!au (dick's version)

TRACK ELEVEN: UNDERSTAND

It's grueling work. The first video was easy but this director has an extravagant and almost larger than life. It's not common for you to star opposite a famous guy who now, on top of that, will play a greek god.

Dick makes it easy. He shows up on set and jokes around with you. And he always eats with you on lunch break, he tries to pay each time but you try to make it even.

Still you can't help but to feel saddened that your friendship is basically over. Along with end of your friendship and the possibility of it being more than that is less than zero. There was no way Dick would have time for you after this video is done. He's too important and busy. And too not over his ex, possibly.

You try your best to smile while on set today.

Dick is freaking out. Like actually nervous and almost throwing up, that type of freaking out. The song he wrote-the one about you but doesn't actually call you out by name, but are about the moments he shared with you-it comes out tonight.

He can't pull the plug on it, he hasn't tried but he knows it won't go over well. His manager talked this single up so well to the studio heads that they wanna renegotiate his contract for one more year.

He doesn't wanna creep you out. But he also can't keep going on like this. It feels like a viscous circle of torture. He's close to telling you and relieving himself of this heavy secret. But then he thinks about how you might not feel the same, and how his confession might chase you out of his life completely. He doesn't want that.

He tries his best to not fall in love with you today.

"Okay and that looks great guys I think we've got it for today. We'll send word if we need to do reshoots." the director says.

Someone is pulling a robe over your body. You're not really paying attention because you're watching Dick walk away from set. You had just finished the dance sequence and you were out of breath and sweating.

But all that was on your mind was Dick. It was crazy.

You can't let this go on for forever. You know that. But you honestly don't know what to do that won't hurt your feelings in the process.

With a sigh you head back to your trailer. When you get in you see a fruit basket on top of the couch. You walk over to it, there's a bright blue note sticking out the top. You take the note out.

Your fingers rip the envelope open.

'Thanks for everything. I wanted to get your opinion on this.-Dick" the note reads.

You look at the bottom of the note to see a QR code. You take your phone out from the safe in your trailer and scan it. The link takes you to a blank site with only a media player on it. The time stamp is two minutes fifty seconds.

You hit play, intrigued. When you put your volume up you can barely hear what is playing but it sounds like a song, it sounds like Dick's voice. You hit pause and look around your trailer for your headphones. You find them in your back.

Quickly you connect them to the bluetooth on your phone and hit play again. The intro plays and your brain gets this fuzzy feeling, like you've heard these sounds before. You rewind once, twice trying to understand why its so familiar.

But you decide to leave it alone as you want to hear the rest of the song. The melody plays out and honestly Dick's voice puts you in a bit of a trance. You don't really notice the words he's saying at first but when he gets to the chorus your focus is brought in.

Maybe we could try if you let me

Take you by the hand

You're the only one who understands

It hits you then. Where you heard the beginning from. It's from the first music video shoot. When you and Dick were throwing jokes at each other. It was your laugh. Dick put your laugh in a song?

You can't believe it. Well, you-not you really cannot. But why did he leave this for you to listen to if...

Was this a confession? You hit pause on the song. Then your feet are moving before you can even fully think out the repercussions of your actions. You walk right out of your trailer and onto the lot, all the way over to Dick's trailer which is on the other side.

When you get to the door that's when you feel how hard your heart is pumping. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. Maybe you had gotten ahead of yourself. Maybe it wasn't a confession but just him letting you know he's using a personal moment between the two of you in his new music.

Just as you're about to walk up the steps to knock on his door, the door opens. Out comes the stunning and beautiful Zantana. You can feel it in real time how your confidence deflates like a balloon. You try to keep your smile on though.

Her lips start moving but you can't hear her, that's when you realize you still have your headphone on. You pull them off your ears.

"Sorry. What did you just say?" you ask.

She smiles, "Oh, I just said that he's not in here. He might've slipped out a while ago."

"Oh." you say.

"I'm Zantana by the way." she says, holding out her hand.

You take it into your own and shake hands, introducing yourself to her as politely as you can. Your brain is working on overdrive. He's not here? How would she know that if she wasn't here with him?

"I can let him know that you were looking for him." she says.

You shake your head wildly, "No it was nothing. I can just text him."

"Okay. See you around maybe? Are you coming to the party?" she asks.

You feel horrible. You feel like absolute shit. Like here she is being so sweet yo you meanwhile you don't know if these two are a thing or not and you've maybe been harboring feeling for her significant other.

"Party?" you ask now.

Zantana nods, "Yeah the release party for his new single."

Your eyes widen. The song you were listening to a few seconds ago? That song? He was planning on releasing it into the world? What? Your mind is jumping through multiple hoops at the same time.

"I didn't know anything about that." you say, lying.

"Hey, I can put you down as my plus one and get you in. Don't worry about it." she offers.

"I'm just not sure if I can make it." you try to wiggle your way out of going.

"It's a really good song! I know your support would mean a lot to him." she explains.

You think to yourself, maybe she thinks the song is about her. or maybe it is about her and you've gone delusional and the laugh at the beginning isn't yours, because maybe some laughs sound the same. Maybe.

You can't decline an invitation like this. If you want to end this on a good note, if you want to end this at all you have to go.

"Okay, I'll be there." you say.

#dc x reader #dc x you #dc imagine #dc fic #dc #dick Grayson x reader #dick Grayson x you #dick Grayson imagine #dick Grayson fic #dick Grayson #famous dc! au (dick's version)

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delicateflowerss · 2 years

Text

Heartless (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Series Masterlist

After crashing a party, you know better than anyone that Rafe Cameron has no heart.

Warnings: 18+, DUB-CON, smut, pogue!reader, dark!Rafe, voyeurism, degradation, choking kink, slight violence, mention of anal, self-hatred, mention of drowning, mentions of drugs, underage drinking, non-canon ages (pogues are aged up)

You hate lying, especially to them.

Your friends wanted you to stay, spending the rest of the night on the porch of the Chateau, a beer in one hand and a joint in the other. Normally, that would sound like the perfect night to you. But even they can’t distract you from how miserable you are.

You sat there and listened to Pope and JJ’s bickering, Kiara interfering when she was needed. Looking away from them, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at what you saw. Sarah sitting in John B’s lap, contentment painted on their faces.

So, you lied.

You told them that your mom needed you home, the poisonous words leaving your mouth with ease. You planned on curling up in your bed, deciding that your misery was best dealt with in private.

But as you get closer to your house, you feel the need to keep riding your bike, farther and farther away.

You don’t mind the long ride, enjoying the breeze on your face and the smell of sea salt wafting through the air. Your head feels clear for once, your only focus is keeping your legs moving and steering the handlebar.

It doesn’t hit you how far you are until you see it.

You come to a halt, stumbling a little off the seat of your bike, Your feet clumsy on the pedals. Your eyes scan the cars lining the driveway, types of cars you don’t usually see on The Cut. You can hear the deep bass of the music all the way from the street. People walk in and out of the intimidatingly large house.

You’re on the wrong side of the island.

Even worse, you’re at the Cameron’s house.

You could turn back now, ease your guilty conscience by actually going home.

You begin to realize that you have nothing left to lose. The idea of crashing a kook party sounds exciting, crashing a party hosted by Rafe Cameron sounds even more exciting.

Your heartbeat gets louder in your ears at the mere thought. Your fingers clench around the handlebars before riding past the gates.

The music is almost deafening as a sea of red solo cups surround you. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen this many polo shirts in your life.

You remember why Sarah can stay at the Chateau tonight, Ward, Rose, and Wheezie are out of town for the weekend. She mentioned that to you a few days ago but you forgot about it. You guess you weren’t really listening in the first place.

Looking around, you don’t see anyone too familiar, just a bunch of kooks you never really talked to. You worry you stick out like a sore thumb. But no one even looks at you, too drunk or high to care.

You see someone pouring an unidentifiable liquid into cups. Without asking what it is, you down the lime green drink, grimacing at the taste. It’s exactly what you need. You’ll drink anything if it dampens the pain you feel, how your heart clenches at the thought of him.

You continue to look around, wondering if you’ll run into your host. Your palms still feel a little sweaty, so you refill your cup, downing that one too.

Leaving the kitchen, you spot Topper. A cup in one hand, the other on the wall next to the girl he’s obviously flirting with. If it means he’s over Sarah, you suppose you’re happy for him.

You move through the crowd, accidentally bumping into the people around you. It hits you how fucking depressing this is. At a party filled with strangers, your throat burning slightly from the alcohol. You could be with your friends, the people who care about you, actually having fun. Except it hasn’t been that way for a while.

Even Sarah’s noticed.

“So, he took me out on the water, and we just sat there, watching the sunset. It was so romantic, Y/N.” She smiled to herself, lost in the memory. “I think John B might be the perfect boyfriend.”

She looked over at you, her smile fading.

“Are you even listening?”

You nodded. “I’m listening and it sounds wonderful. I’m so happy for you.”

Your tone didn’t exactly match what you were saying, the words struggled to come out of you. You hoped she didn’t notice, but she did.

Her eyes didn’t leave you, instead of anger, worry seeped in.

“Why don’t you come over later? My dad won’t mind.”

You avoided her stare, fiddling with the threads on your jeans. You just shrugged gently, not knowing what to say.

She sighed, leaning back on her hands. The two of you were on the dock, the sun shining off the water in front of you.

Ever since Sarah started dating John B, you two got close. You’ve been friends with the others for years, but you and her instantly clicked. It’s a kind of bond you’ve never really had with anyone before.

So, avoiding her was never easy for you.

“You haven’t wanted to come over in weeks… are you mad at me?” Her voice sounded softer, confusion creeping in.

You quickly looked up to meet her eyes, instantly seeing the hurt she felt.

“No, Sarah. I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you.” You felt bad she even thought that.

You saw her shoulders relax, relief flooding her.

“But why don’t you want to come over anymore?” Worry still lingered in her voice.

You took a moment to answer but before you could, she continued.

“Did something happen the last time you came over?”

You stayed silent.

“Or did something happen before that?” She prodded you, wanting any kind of answer.

“Why do you think something happened before that?” You asked, wondering where she got that from.

She moved off her hands, bringing them to her thighs.

“You’ve been distant. Like you’re holding something back. Maybe it’s in my head, but usually you tell me everything. And lately, it’s like there’s a wall there.”

You bit your lip, considering her words. You were careful with what you said next.

“Nothing happened. I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, I just… have a lot on my mind.”

You hoped that fulfilled her curiosity.

It didn’t.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head and said, “It’s just family stuff.”

She watched you, finally getting the message that you don’t want to talk.

You felt like the worst friend ever.

You can’t remember if you’re on your fourth or fifth cup. You’ve just been taking what’s being given to you.

You’ve made your way into the backyard. The blue ripples of the pool water stare back at you. It’s quieter outside, no one out here but you. It’s that time of year when it’s too cold to swim but too hot to wear a jacket.

You take in the big pool and pretty flowers. Sometimes, you like to fantasize about what it would have been like to grow up on Figure Eight. Being able to have nice clothes, a big house, maybe even getting a car for your 16th birthday. Not having to deal with sneering rich kids on their yachts calling you poor and dirty.

You try to snap out of your thoughts, your head already foggy. You should leave before you’re unable to ride your bike all the way back to The Cut. You thought the alcohol would help you to forget your problems, but instead it’s bringing them to the forefront of your mind.

You should’ve known that being here would only make things worse.

Something did happen the last time you were here.

You laid in Sarah’s bed, her steady breathing filling the room. The smell of burnt popcorn lingered as the TV flashed brightly in the dark room. The movie you two tried watching, plays with no sound. The white light is almost blinding.

Sarah fell asleep before you did, something that happens often when you two have a sleepover. You tried to get comfortable, hoping to join her in blissful slumber. But your mouth felt dry, and your throat felt scratchy. You sat up with a quiet sigh, annoyed that you have to get up to get a glass of water.

So, you tread lightly, not wanting to wake her or anyone else up. You could tell everyone else was asleep, the house dark and quiet.

That’s what you thought at least.

Before you could make it to the stairs, you passed by a door open enough so a glimmer of light peeked through.

That’s when you heard it.

A moan, loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough to not wake anyone up. A moan not belonging to him.

Your brow furrowed as you stepped closer to his door.

You held your breath as you peeked in, pushing down any guilt over an act that crosses every line.

You saw him moving on top of her, some nameless girl you’ve never seen before. His back muscles flexed under his skin with every thrust. The strands of his dirty blond hair brushed against her face. Gentle moans kept coming from her.

He brought his hand to her mouth, caressing her bottom lip. The light reflected off his gold ring. He moved his finger just to replace it with his lips. It was a soft, almost, loving action.

You tore your eyes from the scene in front of you. Nausea swirled in your stomach and your eyes started to sting.

You’ve tried to forget about that night, but it’s haunted you. You told yourself that Rafe wasn’t dating that girl, knowing that he doesn’t do girlfriends.

At least that’s what he told you.

Your eyes are still stuck on the swimming pool before you. You think about diving into the cold water, your blood turning to ice as you stay under while freezing water rushes into your lungs. Would people just continue partying when they saw you? Would he care at all?

So consumed by your thoughts and self-induced torture, you don’t hear the door open and close behind you. You don’t register that anyone is out there with you until you feel a rough hand on your arm.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks through gritted teeth.

Forcing you to look at him, you watch him with wide eyes.

You want to say he looks good, his blue polo shirt matching his eyes. His pupils are blown, telling you what he’s been up to. But his bruising grip hurts and before you can say anything, he pulls you back into the noisy house. No one notices how he drags you up the stairs, your feet stumbling a little, while he shows no care whether you fall on your face or not.

You’re pushed into his bedroom. You only know it’s his room from walking by it so many times. You’ve never actually stepped foot in here before. The door slams behind him and he fiddles with a lock and key.

You try to catch your breath as you take in the scenery of his room, drinking in details of how Rafe spends his every day. You notice the posters on his wall and the brand of deodorant he has on his nightstand.

“Y/N, tell me what the fuck you’re doing at my party.”

You look at him, his tone demanding your attention. You can tell he’s angry, his eyebrows pulled together and his jaw ticking. He looms over you, has he always been this tall?

You’ve seen Rafe angry before, who hasn’t? But it’s never been directed at you. You unconsciously fiddle with the hem of your shirt, not knowing what to do or say.

“I- I was in the neighborhood. I thought it’d be fun…” You end up mumbling.

He stares at you for a second.

Then he bursts out laughing.

His anger has dissipated but you know this is worse. Your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment.

He finally calms down, a grin on his face.

“You were in the neighborhood,” he repeats, nodding, “Okay.” He acts like he believes you before breathing out another laugh, a smirk on his pink lips.

“So, why’d you really come here? Needed to see me that badly?”

“I just wanted to go to a party, okay? It has nothing to do with you.”

“I doubt that,” he says under his breath. But you hear him.

“Rafe.” He locks eyes with you at the sound of his name. “Don’t be an asshole.”

He rolls his eyes at the petty insult and steps closer to you.

It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him. You can smell his cologne. You could never pinpoint the exact scent, just the slight smell of something woodsy.

It distracts you from how upset you are with him. But the next few words that comes out of his mouth makes it all rush back.

“I don’t want some dirty pogue off the street at my party.”

He doesn’t have that usual smirk or teasing tone to his voice. He seems genuine, like he truly despises you.

You can feel your chest start to tighten and your eyes beginning to water. You try your hardest to stop the tears, but it’s in vain.

“Aw, are you crying? Did I hurt your feelings?” His tone is now mocking, a short laugh following what he says.

“You’re being mean, Rafe.” You wipe the tears falling down hastily, struggling to get the words out through your trembling lip.

“I’m not being mean,” he says before reaching to grab your jaw, his fingers on either side of your face. You groan from the pain, his fingers digging into your skin. “But I can be. You want me to be mean?” He asks, his lips parted, eyes scanning your face.

You don’t respond, just watching him through your blurry vision.

“I think you do.” That smirk appears on his lips again. “You always liked it rough.”

“Rafe-.” He cuts you off by capturing your lips in a painful kiss. He can taste the saltiness of your tears, reveling in the hurt he’s caused you.

He pulls away, a smug look on his face. He takes his hand away from you, the pain dulling.

“You just can’t get enough of me, can you?” You can hear his pants unzipping.

“I didn’t come here to fuck you.”

You want to believe what you’re saying is true, but of course the possibility of it happening has been in the back of your mind since you walked into this party.

“Don’t lie to me,” he darkly whispers, anger tracing his tone. “You’ve been obsessed with me ever since I decided to put my cock inside you.”

He brings a finger to the side of his head, tapping it. “But what you still don’t get is, I was bored. And you were easy.”

The night of the bonfire flashes in your mind. You can remember the feeling of his hand on your waist and how beautiful he looked under the moonlight. He whispered in your ear, telling you how pretty you look. That was the sweetest he ever was to you.

After he led you away and fucked you in the dark, things changed between you and Rafe. You two hooked up for months, in places only you two knew about. He treated you nicely enough for you to keep coming back, hoping that he would look at you the way he did on the night of the bonfire.

He never did.

He became your best kept secret, cancelling plans with your friends just for him. Just for him to drop you, one random afternoon, telling you he was done and blocking your number.

He grabs ahold of your hair, yanking it, a yelp coming from your lips.

“I can’t believe how stupid you are to think I would ever date you.” A laugh falls from his mouth, “A pogue.”

Hand still in your hair, he moves you towards his bed, pushing your body down on the mattress.

You fall onto your stomach, your cheek squished against the soft sheets.

You guess him ending things wasn’t that random. It came just a few days after you asked about getting serious, which you realize was a bit naïve.

You feel him start to push your shorts down. You let him do what he wants with you. Even if what he says and does hurts you, deep down, you know it’s true. You believe the things he calls you. You are just a dirty pogue who doesn’t deserve him.

“What would your friends say if they knew half the things you’ve let me do to you?”

You feel your underwear get pushed down next, the cool air on your pussy.

“Like that time, you let me fuck you in the ass.”

He sounds proud of himself.

“Do your friends know you’re such a whore?”

They would be upset if you had been sleeping with any kook, but if they ever found out that you’ve been sleeping with Rafe, they would hate you. You’ve betrayed them and they don’t even know it.

He notices your arousal, already coating your inner thighs. He knows that your shame and desire are so closely linked.

“You’re soaking wet, and I haven’t even touched you.”

You can feel the tip of his cock poking at your entrance.

Your teeth sink into your lip and your face warms with embarrassment, and how turned on you are.

“I know you don’t let anyone fuck you the way I do. Maybe you’re just my whore,” he says before pushing inside you.

Your mouth falls open, him giving you no time to adjust. He groans as he pounds into you, using you and your cunt.

He moves his hand to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it, squeezing it.

A ragged moan comes from you as he continues to thrust into you. A roughness to them as he overwhelms you with pleasure.

After a while, he flips you over.

You look up at him, the strands of his hair damp from the sweat on his forehead. His quick breaths match yours. He looks down at you, a dark look in his eyes.

He puts his cock back inside you, his pace slower but deeper. You bring a hand to his arm, fingers squeezing his bicep.

He moves his face closer to yours, his breathing fans against your face and his hair tickles your cheeks.

“Is this what you’ve wanted?”

You don’t understand what he’s saying, what you’re feeling takes over any thinking.

“You want me to fuck you like this, like I’m your boyfriend? You want me to fuck you like I actually care about you?”

He moves his thumb to your bottom lip, caressing your soft skin. He keeps his eyes on yours before replacing his thumb with his lips, giving you a gentle kiss.

A type of kiss you don’t usually get. That’s when it hits you.

“I know you watched me that night,” he whispers against your lips. “I could hear your footsteps, you’re louder than you think.”

You feel him deep inside of you, hitting your sweet spot. You start to unravel.

“You don’t deserve to be treated that way. You’re just a slut who keeps my dick wet when I’m lonely.”

“Rafe…” Tears run down your face as you come around him, your walls squeezing him.

His eyelids flutter as he takes himself out of you and strokes himself, spilling all over your stomach. His warm cum on the bare skin of where your shirt lifted up.

He gets up to get you a towel from his bathroom, throwing it to you.

“Clean yourself up,” he says while fixing his pants.

You do as he says, sitting up, already knowing how sore you’re going to be tomorrow. You find your shorts, slipping them on.

“And Y/N, get the fuck out of my house.” He opens his door for you, impatiently waiting for you to leave. “Don’t let anyone see you leave.”

You wish you could stand up for yourself, but a numbness has overtaken you. So, all you do is give Rafe a tear-stained glance and do as he says, wanting to get as far away from this place as possible.

You should’ve known you weren’t just crashing a party. You were walking right into the lion’s den.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader

732 notes · View notes

souliebird · 7 months

Text

[[get low || unfinished]]

series: daredevil | pairing: matt murdock x ofc | rating: unrated

summary: Matt gets off work early, but he's not the only one. (unfinished)

words: 1.7k

notes: I'll never finish this so I might as well chuck it into the wild

"Go home, Matt", Foggy said, planting his hands on Matt's shoulders and forcibly turning him so he was facing the direction of his apartment

"But Foggy," Matt tried to counter, but before he could get another word out, a hand was slapped over his mouth.

"No buts, Matthew. Go home and take the rest of the day off. Take a nap. Take a very very long nap and do not look a gift horse in the mouth," Foggy told him, hands still blocking him from speaking.

That didn't stop him from trying, though.

"Your blind jokes no longer work on me, Murdock. Go home. I do not want to see you until tomorrow because I AM going home to take a very long nap. Which you are also going to do. Nod of you understand."

Matt nodded, unable to fight the smile starting to spread across his face. Foggy dropped his hands and Matt could not help himself.

"To be clear, I'm not going home with you, right? Marci might-"

Foggy groaned loudly, throwing his hands up and turning to start walking towards his own apartment. Matt threw back his head in laughter.

"Bye, Foggy, I'll see you tomorrow!"

"You won't see anything, you fucking asshole! Take a nap!"

Matt shook his head fondly before unfolding his cane and starting to tap his way home.

Their afternoon court case had been rescheduled thanks to leaky pipe finally bursting over the court room they happened to be scheduled in. They had received the call, and after confirming all the details regarding their new time slot Foggy had decided it was a sign to take the rest of the day off.

Because they had court planned, Karen was off following a lead for one of her articles, so there really was no reason to stay in the office.

And he didn't get the afternoon off very often…and a nap did sound nice.

Not that he'd ever admit it to Foggy.

As he crossed the street to the block his apartment was on, a familiar sound caught his ear and his smile returned.

Sadie was home, and by the sounds of it, in the process of cooking something. He could hear her chopping away at fresh vegetables, probably making something insanely delicious for dinner. His stomach gave a pleased rumble at the idea.

He didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky to be with someone who took all his Rightful pickiness about food seriously and made him food he actually really enjoyed. She was passionate about food and Matt happily reaped the benefits.

He folded up his cane before going into the building and starting upstairs. He limited his focus to his apartment, sorting out what noises were coming from within. He could hear music, something in Spanish with a deep bass that was muffled, suggesting Sadie was wearing headphones. He'd have to be careful to not scare her when going in.

She was definitely not expecting him to be home so early. Not that he expected her to be there either.

He resisted the urge to start taking the stairs two at a time. He was supposed to be Relaxing, after all.

Matt tilted his head as he listened and climbed.

Sadie's heart rate was steady as she prepped, talking to herself all the while. Just a barely whispered "chop chop chop" that made Matt's smile bigger. He could tell she was smiling as well.

The song coming from her headphones changed and after a few beats, Sadie gave a delighted gasp. The chopping stopped and Matt heard the clank of the knife as she set it down. He listened as she took a few steps away from the counter then started to…rock? Sway? No, dance. Matt's grin got bigger.

Sadie was dancing to her music.

He stopped for a moment, trying to place the song. It was vaguely familiar, something he heard in college, he's pretty sure. He didn't go to clubs for obvious reasons, but he had gone to parties and had heard the songs around.

Sadie clearly not only knew the song but enjoyed it. As soon as the vocals started, she was singing along.

Matt licked his lips, deciding it may not be a bad idea to hurry up to the apartment so he could witness Sadie having fun up close. She was always so anxious that he just wanted her to have fun. He wanted her to be comfortable around him, to be able to dance like she was when he was in the room. Even after the few months they had been together romantically, she was still nervous to let go around him.

Hearing her dance, moving her hips how she was, motivated him to get to his front door in almost record time. He had to stop and pull his focus away so he could actually open the door. With the final barrier gone between him and Sadie, Matt closed his eyes and inhaled.

He could taste the iced coffee Sadie had gotten while out, the sweat she was starting to generate from her dancing, the supposedly scent free detergent that clung to the sleep shorts and tank top she had changed into. Her day clothes were in the hamper - she had walked by a construction site at some point and he would bet they were covered in dust. Before she had started cooking, she had tidied up the apartment, not that she ever let it get too dirty.

Matt had thought he was a stickler for cleaning until he met her.

Based on the way she was still dancing around the kitchen, Sadie had not heard him come into the apartment. He dropped his saddle bag, coat, shoes, and cane at the door, not caring to hang everything properly.

The lyrics to the song were not PG at all and Matt could only guess her dancing wasn't either. Her knees were bent and her ass was bouncing around in her tiny shorts, while her hips swirled around. Matt knew how good she was at using her hips - when she got a little tipsy she preferred to ride him like it was a sport and she was aiming to take gold at the Olympics.

He finally moved from the hallway to the main room, Sadie still not noticing him, and took a moment to take everything in.

Her curls were bundled on her head and she smelled like coffee and lemon and baking soda. He could taste the lipstick she was still wearing - she had changed to an indie line made of cocoa butter after she'd learned about his senses - and he wanted to lick it off her lips. Or maybe, she could put some more on and leave pretty marks all over him. The thought made his cock twitch with interest.

Deciding he no longer wanted to just be an observer, Matt stepped forward and called out softly, "Oye Siri, pausa la música."

"Pausando la música," the mechanical voice of Sadie's phone replied through her headphones, pausing the music as it answered.

Sadie almost instantly stopped dancing, making an adorably confused noise. She whirled around to face where her phone was laying on the counter and in doing so, finally noticed Matt. Her heart jumped in a brief moment of fear but she quickly realized it was him, and every part of her just sang with joy. Like every time she saw him.

She pushed the headphones off her head so they were around her neck and began moving around the counter to him, "Matt! I thought you had court today?"

"I did," he replied, stepping forward to meet her, hands going out to grab her waist as soon as he was able to. He danced his fingers over the waistband of her shorts, which she had folded a few times to make them even shorter, before tugging her flush against him. "But the court room got flooded and our date changed. Next Monday now."

Sadie looped her arms around his neck, swaying just slightly in his arms, "Do I want to know?"

Matt huffed fondly, "It wasn't my fault, just poor city maintenance."

"You know," she started, fingers tracing up to start scratching at the base of his skull. Matt gave a pleased groan and dipped his head in enjoyment of the touch and the little rant he knew was coming. "If they diverted even two percent of that inflated police budget into city maintenance, things like that wouldn't happen. How many city buildings are past code? So many schools could get updated plumbing and air conditioners, but no the police need another ten-gillion dollars to stand on train platforms and drink coffee."

"I think ten-gillion is underestimating it," Matt hummed. "I think I heard Brett say it's more forty-gillion."

Sadie giggled, pressing herself closer to him, "is there such a thing as a city maintenance vigilante? Instead of fighting crime, you break into buildings and get them up to code? A group of crusaders changing out cloth wiring in the middle of the night?"

Matt tried to imagine it and let out a bark of laughter, "Trying to get the permits would be impossible."

"They're vigilantes, Matt, they work outside the law. No permits or inspections, just passionate people fixing the city," she pushed up onto her toes and kissed the tip of his nose, "Like you."

"Hmm, and you," Matt replied, starting to smile more over the smudge of lipstick now on him, "How'd the food bank go?"

She gave a little shrug, still scratching at the base of his neck, "they said they'd review it in their next meeting. We'd be better off doing it ourselves."

Matt huffed in response, "You can't do everything yourself. You taught me that." He squeezed her hips before stepping back just enough to put their forehead together. He could feel her smiling up at him and took the opportunity to sneak in a quick kiss. "You could teach me something new, though."

Sadie reacted in all the ways he had hoped she would - her heart rate increased and her arousal coated the air around them and her cheeks heated up a fraction from the rush of blood to them. She made a curious little noise in the back of her throat, one most people wouldn't hear, but was so loud in his ears.

"Teach me how to dance?" He asked, dropping his voice and putting a little tease into it.

Sadie was instantly embarrassed, hiding her face against his neck, "Matt…."

He squeezed her hips again, nuzzling into her hair, "Think it should be a hands on lesson. My hands, all over you, feeling how you move."

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x ofc

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neopuff · 3 months

Text

ALWAYS ON MY MIND

chapter two: at the back of my mind ships: sasha/milla characters: sasha, milla, otto, truman words: 4452 ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53435410/chapters/135363142

[chap 1]

It'd been almost a month since Grand Head Zanotto forced Sasha to socialize with someone new for several hours. He'd not done it again since, but that was probably because they hadn't had any new hires since then.

His two hours with Agent Vodello had been surprisingly pleasant. She was charming and friendly, but not uncomfortably so, and Sasha liked that she listened to what he said. At least she seemed to be listening - he hadn't attempted to read her mind out of respect for her privacy, but occasionally caught the telepathic sound of music playing.

After their tour, she hadn't sought him out for anything. Which was just fine - Sasha was always working on research projects or helping Agent Mentallis with one of his new inventions. He didn't need anything else on his plate.

Still, Agent Vodello waved at him anytime they were both in the lobby. He felt himself awkwardly wave back each time, but she was always, always with someone else, so their interactions never really expanded beyond that.

Which, again, was perfectly fine with him.

On one uneventful Monday morning, Sasha was making his way across the Quarry to Agent Mentallis’ lab when he saw her by herself for the first time in a long time.

She was exiting Agent Mentallis’ lab and had a neutral, almost sad expression on her face. Sasha thought it looked unnatural on her, when she was usually so…smiley.

Just as he thought that, she noticed him, and gave him the bright smile he was used to seeing. “Ah, hello, Agent Nein!”

They both stopped on the same floating pad, just two away from the parking lot in front of the lab. “Good morning, Agent Vodello. Nice to see you.”

“You, too!” She looked positively giddy, clapping her hands together in front of her. “It’s been far too long since we’ve talked - we should get coffee sometime and chat!”

Sasha adjusted his sunglasses, taking that in. He knew that her words were the universal expression of we’ll probably never spend time together again, but said in the nicest way possible. Which was a bit disappointing, but at least he wouldn’t get his hopes up. “Yes…of course. Some time when we’re both free.”

Agent Vodello smiled and waved at him as she levitated away - he watched her for a half-second before turning to focus entirely on the lab. Where his focus was supposed to be.

He stepped through the annoying security room and found himself standing across from Otto Mentallis’ familiar face - the older psychic was alone at his desk, tinkering with something small.

“Agent Mentallis.”

“Ah, Sasha!” Otto smiled and waved him over. “This is a real change of pace - my last visitor was a very lively young woman.”

Sasha chose not to take that as an insult. “I assume you’re referring to Agent Vodello.”

“Yes, that’s her!” The older man stood up and stretched, cracking his back. “Talkative, charming. Pretty, too, don’t you think?”

At that question, Sasha pulled out a cigarette and quickly lit it, enjoying the calm it brought his nerves. “...it would be pointless to pretend otherwise.”

Otto laughed loudly and sharply, surprising the younger agent who stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “I always appreciate how predictable you are, honestly. It makes me feel like I’ve got a good handle on this place. Now what’d you come down here for?”

“I…was interested in how your latest project is going,” Sasha answered, ignoring the other comments. He could genuinely never tell if Agent Mentallis was purposefully trying to get under his skin, or if the man simply didn’t pay attention to some of the things that came out of his mouth. “Have you made much progress?”

“Ahhh…my Distilled Emotions series. No, not particularly.” Otto put a hand to his chin and glanced to the side, where he had scribbles and scratch marks all over the pages of an open notebook. “I’m still interested in the idea, but…it’s slow-going. Nothing has seemed to work so far. But I’m not giving up just yet!”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Sasha stuffed his hands into his pockets, lit cigarette floating near his head. “If there’s any way I could assist…”

“Not with this one, I don’t think. Not yet, at least! I’ll let you know when I make a breakthrough worth talking about.” The older man paused for a moment, glaring at his wall of gadgets both finished and unfinished, then he grabbed one item to show it off. “Did I show you my new Otto-shot Camera?”

“You did not.” Sasha eyed the camera suspiciously - he didn’t have much need for taking photographs, but he was curious to know how it differed from a normal camera. “What does it do?”

“What doesn’t it do would be a better question!” Otto held it up proudly. “You can use it to…well - take photos! But it also has fun filters and can detect hard-to-find figments inside someone’s mind…it’s very helpful.”

Sasha didn’t think any of that sounded particularly useful to him, though he supposed there was no downside to help in collecting figments. “This seems like it would be better suited for someone like Agent Vodello,” he commented dryly, not really thinking about any unintended meaning to his words.

Otto, however, seemed to find that comment very interesting, considering the suspicious smirk that came over his face as soon as Sasha mentioned the lively, pretty young woman again.

Sasha frowned at the older man’s expression.

“You know what, Sasha, you’re absolutely right. She seems very photogenic - perhaps you could bring this to her and she can test it for me!” Otto said, wolfish smile never leaving his face.

Confused, Sasha reached out and took the camera out of his hands. He wasn’t an idiot - he could see Agent Mentallis was trying to imply something untoward and he didn’t understand how acknowledging her existence would justify that. “What are you doing?” he asked uncomfortably.

“Me? I’m just trying to be efficient with my time!” Otto answered innocently, holding his hands up in the air. “I’m an old man, Sasha. You can't expect me to go back and forth to the Motherlobe all willy-nilly.”

Sasha held the camera tighter in his hands. Though Agent Mentallis’ explanation made sense, they'd spent enough time together that Sasha knew he was lying. He didn't understand why Agent Mentallis felt it necessary to make those types of jokes, but it certainly wasn't the first time nor would it be the last.

“...alright. I'll bring it to her,” Sasha said hesitantly. “But I don’t see her often, so don’t expect results anytime soon.”

“Sure, sure. Whenever. I'm in no rush!”

Sasha made his way out of the workshop, feeling a bit like he'd wasted his time. He liked Agent Mentallis and really enjoyed working with the man on machines and gadgets, but Agent Mentallis also had the unfortunate habit of implying that Sasha needed to socialize with people his own age. On more than one occasion, he'd even told Sasha to go get a life!

But Sasha did have a life. He felt extremely comfortable as he was currently living, even if he didn't have many friends. He'd spent the last seven years building himself a career and a reputation amongst the Psychonauts that he wouldn't trade for anything. And those years of focus and discipline had given him the strength and understanding to work through difficulties from his youth. There was no amount of socializing with a beautiful woman that would have any such impact.

Or a not-beautiful woman.

Or anyone, really.

He took a step closer to the Motherlobe and took another drag of his cigarette. It felt like he was breaking some sort of unspoken rule by acknowledging Agent Vodello’s charm. He could only blame Otto for implanting the thought in his mind. But it wasn’t inappropriate to recognize that she was pretty. She clearly took pride in her appearance - she wore makeup, styled her hair, looked at herself in mirrors anytime she noticed one. But Sasha felt still like he was doing something wrong.

As he entered the Motherlobe, Sasha’s eyes were immediately drawn to the woman of the hour - she had started to wear more colorful clothes after getting settled in the new job, and her style tended to include bright colors, which made her especially noticeable.

More than that, though, she was levitating alongside Grand Head Zanotto, and they were headed towards the Nerve Center.

Obviously they were going to talk about something important. Sasha had no reason to interrupt, especially when all he had to give her was Agent Mentallis’ strange new camera. So he made his way back to his office. Sasha had recently completed a short recon mission and still needed to write up his report - there was plenty of work to do that didn't involve anyone else.

He got about fifteen minutes into his report - which meant it was almost done, since the mission had been fairly simple - when he felt a telepathic prodding in the back of his mind.

“Sasha, can you come up to my office? I need your assistance.”

He pouted and adjusted his sunglasses, curious what Grand Head Zanotto needed from him. Especially after he just met with Agent Vodello - Sasha anxiously wondered if she'd complained about him for some reason. Maybe she felt he'd been staring at her and was uncomfortable. Or perhaps Agent Mentallis said something out-of-turn.

“Be right there,” Sasha responded, telepathically reaching back.

Paperwork forgotten, Sasha tried not to feed his paranoia as he made his way to the Grand Head’s office. It was unlikely that Agent Vodello had filed a complaint about him. And it was even more unlikely that Agent Mentallis being inappropriate would lead to Sasha being called in for a talk.

He didn't really have a guess as to the purpose of this meeting, so he supposed he had no choice but to wait and find out.

Upon reaching the Grand Head’s office, Sasha turned to levitate over the water fixture when he heard two familiar voices talking. He was immediately confused and very curious why he’d been brought in when the previous meeting hadn’t ended yet.

“Ah, there he is!”

Sasha landed a few feet in front of the Grand Head’s desk when the older man smiled at him, and Camilla turned around with a matching smile on her face.

“Two times in one day! What a treat!” she said with a little wink.

Sasha took another drag from his cigarette and nodded at her, then looked up at the Grand Head. “You needed me for something…?”

“Not me, exactly. Agent Vodello here has been struggling with some of her psychic powers and I thought you could give her some one-on-one training since you’re not on any assignments right now,” Grand Head Zanotto answered quickly, repeatedly glancing down at the clock on his desk.

“Oh.”

Camilla looked embarrassed and ran her fingers through her hair. “I haven’t had much opportunity to practice certain things and he mentioned you right away,” she said with a chuckle. “I hope it’s not a bother.”

“No, not at all,” Sasha answered, adjusting his sunglasses slightly. “I always have time to help a fellow Psychonaut.”

She smiled again - a particularly bright and charming smile that made Sasha grab his cigarette once more - and then stood up. Sasha had forgotten how tall she was. Though he was still taller than her, it was only by an inch or two. He was used to towering over the average person; it was a nice change of pace.

“That’s great to hear, Sasha!” Grand Head Zanotto was looking through some papers on his desk while he spoke. “The new classroom is finished if you two want to check it out while you train! Or go wherever. Doesn’t matter. Just let me or Agent Forsythe know if you need anything!”

They exited his office and started walking through the Nerve Center, ignoring the dozen Psychonauts levitating all over the room and chatting about anything under the sun.

Sasha noticed Agent Forsythe staring curiously at the two of them walking together and he couldn’t stop himself from smoking again.

“You smoke quite a bit,” Camilla commented.

“It’s been more than usual lately,” he responded as they exited the Nerve Center and made their way into the lobby. “Good for calming my nerves.”

There was a bit of hesitation before Agent Vodello spoke again. “I hope I’m not causing you more stress, I’m sure Truman could ask someone else if you’re busy!”

Sasha turned towards her, one eyebrow raised. “It has nothing to do with you,” he lied, having realized in the past hour that his urge to smoke increased every time Camilla’s looks or charm were mentioned around him. Or anytime she said something especially friendly. There was just something about her - Agent Mentallis wasn’t wrong when he called her pretty, but she was more than just pretty. She was show-stoppingly gorgeous. And she made Sasha feel nervous in ways he wasn’t quite used to. He’d been around plenty of beautiful people, but Camilla had a glow around her like no other. She lit up every room she was in like she harnessed the light of the sun itself. “I can’t pinpoint exactly what it’s related to, but I’m sure it’ll pass.”

“I hope so,” Camilla responded, glancing around the newly updated wing of the Motherlobe. “I haven’t been over here yet,” she said unprompted, spinning around as she levitated.

“I haven’t either.” Sasha watched her for a moment, then turned to take in the new hallway layout. “I suppose Agent Forsythe’s new office will go back here, then.”

She’d poked her head into the new classroom as he spoke - the room was finished being built a week or two ago and was still being filled with the appropriate furniture. So it looked a little empty. Not that it mattered, since the training would all be in Sasha’s head.

“We’ll be training here?” she asked curiously.

Sasha levitated past her and into the room, stopping in front of a set of chairs that had been left in the center of the floor. He pulled a small, colorful door out of his jacket pocket and let it hover above his hand. “I think we’ll cause less damage if we go into my mind.”

“Oh!” Camilla quickly joined him by the chairs. “I didn’t even consider that.”

“Have you…been inside someone else’s mind before?” he asked a little hesitantly, not sure where she was at in her training.

“Truman let me visit his mind not long after he visited mine.” She answered carefully, not making eye contact while she spoke. “It wasn’t for very long, though. I was still…working on some things.”

Sasha nodded, not knowing the specifics but understanding the gist. “I suppose you don’t have your own door, then.”

“I was actually just talking to Agent Mentallis about that!” Camilla answered. “He promised to make mine nice and sparkly.” She chuckled, then reached out to touch the edge of Sasha’s door. “Yours is beautiful. I wouldn’t have expected so many colors!”

He grabbed his cigarette and took one last drag, happy to get his money’s worth by smoking the stick as far as it could go. “Yes. Well. My mind is certainly not as colorful.”

She giggled at that response and took a seat in one of the chairs, brushing invisible dust off her dress and sitting up as straight as possible. “I’m ready when you are, Agent Nein.”

Sasha followed suit and took the seat across from her. He placed the small door on his forehead, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and waited for the welcome intruder to find her way inside. He remembered his first time entering someone’s mind through a door - that person was Otto Mentallis, and that man’s mind was a disorganized mess. It’d given Sasha hives just walking through it, and encouraged him to keep his own mind as clean and organized as possible.

For himself, sure. But also for future guests.

A minute later and he was greeted by the sight of Camilla Vodello levitating around one side of his specifically crafted block of a mindscape.

“Now this is more what I expected,” she said thoughtfully.

He wondered if she meant that literally - that she’d been thinking about him and wondering what his mind looked like - but quickly shook that off. He was usually a master of controlling his thoughts and focusing…Agent Vodello just so happened to throw him off-balance. He needed to get a handle on that.

He adjusted his sunglasses, wondering when his censors would start to arrive. “Which powers would you like to work on?”

“I’m not the best at PSI-Blasting,” she admitted sheepishly. “Or connecting thoughts.”

“My mind is an excellent space for working on your Marksmanship skills,” Sasha responded. “I can set up some thoughts for you to connect, though we’ll have to put them back when we’re done.”

“Of course!” Camilla smiled at him, hands clasped behind her back. “I wouldn’t want to change your opinions like that.” She started to levitate, as she often did, and then went exploring around to another side of Sasha’s mind cube. She didn’t react much to anything - considering how clean Sasha kept it, he wasn’t surprised.

But then she let out a low “oh, hello!” and Sasha mentally focused on her to see what she was doing.

She was watching one of his memory vaults jumping around, making little noises at it as if she was speaking to a dog. It was strange, to say the least. Sasha levitated the vision of himself in his mind towards her to observe it closer.

He recognized which vault it was immediately. “You can open it if you’d like,” he said as he continued to watch her try to pet it. “Especially if you haven’t looked into a memory vault before. It’s a very unique experience.”

“Truman asked me not to look at his,” Camilla answered, reaching down to lightly scratch the memory vault. “Are you sure? If it’s too much, I can-”

“It’s fine.” He meant it, too.

She held eye contact for another moment, just in case he showed any sign of hesitation at all, then reached down and gently pet the memory vault on its head. It made a happy noise and then laid down and opened up for her, which Sasha thought was interesting. Usually he’d smack them or use telekinesis to hold them steady - he’d never watched someone coax one so gently before.

Agent Vodello spent a minute staring at the inside of the vault, and Sasha felt a voyeuristic discomfort from watching her do so. He didn’t have much of a choice, though, whether he stared at her directly or just felt her presence in his mind.

Eventually she stood up, a solemn look on her face. It wasn’t like he was the only person in the world who lost their mother at a young age, but he supposed he could’ve warned her.

She levitated over to him without saying a word, and before Sasha could open his mouth - her arms were suddenly wrapped around his neck and she was pressed up against him.

He didn’t know what to do. So he just stood there, completely stiff and still, until she backed away.

“I’m so sorry, Sasha,” she said softly, her hands held together in front of her chest. “She seemed like a wonderful person.”

Still a bit shaken by the hug, Sasha was frozen for a moment before finally shaking his head and reaching up to adjust his sunglasses. He needed a cigarette again. “I…yes, she was. Thank you for saying so.”

Camilla smiled at him and reached forward, placing one of her hands against his arm. “If you ever want to talk, I’d be happy to listen.”

The amount of affection he was receiving was a little overwhelming for Sasha, and he stared down at her hand for a few seconds before awkwardly clearing his throat and lightly shaking his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. It was quite a long time ago.” He felt like he could breathe easier as she pulled her hand away. “Let’s focus on why we’re here - my censors should be showing up any moment now.”

They spent over an hour training in Sasha’s mind - blasting censors with blastokinesis, tossing censors at one another using telekinesis, slowing down time and watching the confusion cross the censors’ faces…it was fun, if he was being honest with himself. Sasha hadn’t had an opportunity to just blow off some steam inside his mind in several months.

One moment that he filed away for later was when he asked Camilla about pyrokinesis. She shook her head and claimed that fire just wasn’t her thing, so they moved on without it. But he was unfortunately quite curious about that. Was she in an accident that involved fire?

Or perhaps she just wasn’t confident at controlling it.

Either way, the subject seemed sensitive and he didn’t know her well enough to ask.

She blasted another small censor and took a deep breath before stretching out her arms and falling back, landing with a thud and closing her eyes.

Sasha levitated over and stood next to her, staring down at the serene look on her face. “Are you alright?”

“Just tired, darling, very tired,” she mumbled in response.

He felt his cheeks heat up slightly, not sure why she’d just called him that. Was she thinking about someone else? Was she so tired that she’d lost her verbal self control? “I…um,” he started, wanting to say something about it. But she looked very peaceful and unconcerned with her own words, it almost felt rude to say something. “...we can leave, if you’d like.”

She sighed again, opening her eyes to stare back at him. Then she smiled. “That sounds nice. I’m supposed to meet with Kim for lunch soon.”

Sasha hoped he didn’t look as embarrassed as he felt. The combination of that nickname and the smile she just gave him made him feel like there were angry butterflies trying to break out of his stomach. “If that can wait a little longer, I actually have something for you in my office.”

Camilla levitated back to a standing position and tilted her head - staring at him like he’d said something crazy. “...you do?”

He glanced away from her, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Yes, um. Well, it’s from Agent Mentallis. A device he thought you might like to test for him.”

Her eyes widened and brightened at that, and Camilla grabbed her smelling salts and quickly made her way out of Sasha’s mind. When he opened his eyes again in the classroom, she was already standing and ready to go.

“This is the first time Agent Mentallis has thought of me for something like this!” she said excitedly, clapping her hands together in front of her. “What is it?”

Sasha stood up with her and started making his way out of the room. “You shouldn’t get too excited. It’s a camera. A…psychic camera.”

Camilla followed him, floating the whole way. “A psychic camera?”

“He, um…thought you could test it out for him. Take photos of…” Sasha paused, not sure if it would be weird to suggest she take photographs of herself. But that was the implication, wasn’t it? “...anything. It can apparently help you find figments in people’s minds.”

She smiled, though there was a look on her face that seemed more confused than excited. “I did enjoy collecting figments in Truman’s mind. Still, it seems a bit random.”

“Agent Mentallis mentioned something about you being, um…” Sasha reached into his pocket and grabbed a new cigarette, needing it desperately. “Photogenic.”

Camilla laughed and levitated ahead of him. She’d only been to his office once before, but it wasn’t difficult to remember the way there. “It’s not the first time an older man has said something like that about me, I suppose.”

Sasha suddenly felt mortified on her behalf. He stood still, the aquarium lighting up the left side of his face while his newly-lit cigarette lit up the right. “I’ll talk to him. He shouldn’t make comments like that. It’s not appropriate.”

She turned around and had an amused smile on her face. “I like photogenic, actually.” She paused in front of Sasha’s office door, waiting for him to catch up. “It’s kind of nice.”

Sasha decided that he would still say something to Agent Mentallis, whether she wanted him to or not. If he didn’t, the older man was guaranteed to continue making little comments or suggestions or implications and Sasha Nein was not a man who enjoyed being teased or watching his coworker be teased. Especially when there was nothing to be teased about! So he stepped past Camilla, let his office door open, and quickly used telekinesis to grab the camera and bring it over.

“Ohh, it’s cute!” she said with a smile. “Perhaps Kim will let me take photos of her, too.”

He grabbed one side of his sunglasses with his thumb and middle finger, adjusting them slightly. Again. “Don’t feel any obligation to do this right away. Agent Mentallis tends to jump from one project to another very quickly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Agent Vodello levitated the camera into her surprisingly spacious purse and then glanced at her watch. “I should go meet with Kim now. But I’d love to train more tomorrow if you’re free?”

Sasha raised a single eyebrow. “Um…yes, I’m free. Should we meet in the classroom again at 11?”

“Yes, that’s perfect!” She hopped up, back to levitating as she liked to do. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, darling!”

She quickly exited his office and left Sasha with the same question he’d had earlier about her use of the term darling. After that second instance, he couldn’t use the excuse that she was tired or delusional. But…it was strange, wasn’t it? The last person in his life who’d called him anything close to darling was his mother, though it admittedly felt quite different coming from Agent Vodello. He wondered if there was a possibility she just talked like that and he hadn’t paid enough attention to notice before. There were a few Psychonauts at the Motherlobe who frequently used slang that Sasha didn’t understand, so…that would certainly make more sense than anything else.

He took a deep breath and decided to move on. There was no use lingering on such a simple little thing.

#sashamilla #psychonauts #sasha nein #milla vodello #truman zanotto #otto mentallis #science party #lunchtime yoga #carro fics #carrofics

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rdhadastroke · 1 year

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So this straw-masked dumbass decided to do a thing and share some personal tips about writing fanfiction/writing someone else's character/writing in general!

Please keep in mind that I am a hobbyist writer, not a professional! These are just suggestions/things that help me that may or may not work for you, please feel free to correct me or add your own anecdotes :)

Tips for getting ready to write:

Make sure that you're in an environment where you can concentrate.

Whether that be in a quiet room, a chatty café, or blasting your eardrums out with music, whatever gets you in the groove is good. Not everybody can focus in the same environment, so your choice of surroundings for when you right aren't going to be the same as everyone else's. I (personally) listen to long video essays, my current favorite song on loop, or a playlist about the story/characters.

Clear a space for where you want to write.

Clear the space of excess clutter and keep only what you need. If what you need to write is a lot, that's fine! Having too much going on at once in your writing space can overwhelm and/or distract you. I know from personal experience.

Have all of your materials at hand.

Character sheets, previous stories, note paper to jot down ideas, rough environment & scene sketches... Whatever references and tools you need, keep them with you! Also, keep a glass of water or some other drink nearby. Hydrate or diedrate, my friends.

Make sure that you won't be interrupted while you're writing.

This may not be an option for those of you living with your parents or a roommate, but it's ideal for your creative flow to go undisturbed, uninterrupted, and unwatched. Is your father really watching you write your fanfic? No, probably not, considering that he's snoring. But it still feels weird to write when he's sitting in his armchair right behind you. No, I am not projecting my experience onto the reader under the cover of an absurd joke, why would you say that?

Now that setup is out of the way, let's go over some actual writing stuff:

Always, always, always block out what you want to write before you actually write it.

By "block out", I mean give a basic summary of the events you want to take place in that chapter or segment. I usually do this event-by-event because I struggle to carry on a story without an outline, but you can do it by chapter or by paragraph if you'd like. Make jokes in your mini-summaries, and phrase things in wacky ways (that convey things to you effectively)! You don't have to be too serious about it. After all, if you're in a lil silly goofy mood, you can get an epic sentence like this:

If you get stuck on a part of a story, move on and save it for later.

If you're anything like me, you understand the screaming, crying, pissing, pants-shittingly frustrating experience of not knowing how to describe something or figure out what should be said next. As angering as it is, it's okay. Just write a mini block-in for what you want to happen, want to describe, or the general tone of what you want to be said. Or use a keyword that you can Ctrl+F for to finish those pesky scenes when you're ready. If your writing software can do it (I have no clue if any one program does this, I only use Google Docs), mark the spot for review to return to it later. If you're one of those frighteningly powerful people who write stories by hand, highlight it and paste what you want to go there over it once you're ready. If you aren't familiar with this infuriating part of writing, you're a lucky bastard and I envy you immensely.

If you have writer's block, there are 8 potential strategies (that I can provide) you can use to alleviate it.

These are NOT surefire fixes for writer's block and are EXTREMELY subjective and results will vary from person to person, but they can potentially help you.

Read a book. Sometimes reading how another author writes (dialogue, scenery, figurative language, etc.) can help you get a better grasp of what you want to write, and how you want to write it. You might even get inspired to make a different story, which bleeds into the next point.

Work on/start a different story. (This isn't always the best way to get out of writer's block, so if you can't get a word down, this probably won't help.) Sometimes changing what you're working on can free up the ink clogged in your pen, for lack of a better phrase, and give you an, "aha!" moment.

Eat and drink something. Brains don't work when they don't have fuel, so feed your machine. Frequent maintenance keeps an engine running smooth, so occasionally get a snack and make sure to keep hydrated.

Take a walk and get some fresh air, and touch some grass for the love of god. Jokes aside, getting your body moving can excite your brain into working and clear some brain fog, since exercise gives your brain a dose of serotonin. As silly as it sounds, sitting in the sun and touching some grass can actually make you feel nice and rejuvenated, it helps me a lot. Even if you don't go outside, moving around is a good way to give your brain a break.

Talk to a friend and get their input. Their ideas can get you through a tough spot and inspire you to get writing again.

Look at pretty pictures and distract yourself from what you're doing. I have pictures of art pieces and doodles I like hanging in front of the desk where I write, and losing myself in pretty stuff helps me work through what I'm struggling with.

Jot down notes by hand on what you're trying to do. Planning things out on pen and paper, despite being tedious, imprints information in your mind and can be useful to your writing needs

If you're writing a fanfiction, look at the source material. Chances are, there's something there that could help you along.

If you don't have the motivation to write anything, don't.

This isn't the best advice for someone who's on a time limit, but works wonders for passion projects and fun stories. Very few do their best work when they force themselves to do it. Besides, there's no point in having a hobby if you don't get joy out of it and overly stress over it.

Writing someone else's character? No problemo, here's some fanfic help:

Always look at the source material, and don't be shy to explore new territory with the character.

It's important to stay true to the personality of a character when you're writing someone else's creation, but don't be afraid to throw in some headcanons and artistic flair. Remember, there's a difference between writing a character unrealistically (pertaining to personality, likes, interests, and universe/world/time period) and changing the circumstances of the original story. Characters are people too, and people react differently to the same thing depending on the world around them. A character may not have [x] trait if [y] event never happened, likewise [y] event never would have happened if this character didn't have [x] trait. Take into consideration the people around the character, as well, as they can also affect what the character does and how they develop. Change up small events in the original source material's story to get a different story and a different reaction out of the character. Experiment, and have fun! It's your story, write it your way!

That's all the advice I have for now, and I hope I was helpful! :)))

#fanfiction tips #writing tips #writing help #writing #fanfiction help #fanfiction #writing advice #fanfiction advice #hobby writer #im not a professional

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themorbidwriter · 4 months

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The Dutton Ranch glowed with the beauty of the morning on your very first day there. Determined to make a good impression and avoid any disruptions, you woke up early and headed to the barn to tackle the biggest task on your list. As you stepped inside, the serene and peaceful atmosphere enveloped you, accompanied only by the gentle sounds of the countryside drifting through the open doors. The scent of hay and animals filled the air, creating a comforting and familiar aura. Without wasting a moment, you plugged in your earbuds, queued up an upbeat playlist, and found your rhythm. The music transported you into a world of focus and determination, as you swayed and hummed along, totally absorbed in your work.

Unbeknownst to you, Rip Wheeler had quietly entered the barn, observing your dedication with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. Wanting to catch your attention, he greeted you with a friendly "Hello there." Unfortunately, the music blasting through your earbuds prevented you from hearing his words, and you continued working, oblivious to his presence. Intrigued by your commitment, Rip decided to make himself known in a more direct way. He tilted his head, a mischievous smile forming on his lips, and approached you from behind. Out of the blue, Rip blew a soft puff of air through your hair, successfully startling you. As you turned around, your eyes met his, and a bewildered expression crossed your face as you struggled to process the unexpected interruption.

Your heart raced as you took in Rip's rugged features and piercing gaze. His mischievous blue eyes sparkled, causing a warmth to spread through your body despite the initial shock. It took a moment for words to form, but eventually, you managed to stutter out a greeting, "Oh… uh, hi. Sorry, I didn't hear you." Rip chuckled at your flustered response and took a step back, giving you some space. His deep, confident voice filled the barn as he assured you, "No need to apologize. I couldn't help but notice your enthusiasm. You really know how to put in the work."

Blushing, you quickly looked away, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pride at his words. You hadn't expected anyone, let alone the formidable foreman of the ranch, to witness your routine. Gathering your composure, you replied, "Thank you. I wanted to make a good impression." Rip's lips curled into a reassuring smile as the warm morning light streamed through the barn windows, softening his features. "Consider that mission accomplished. You've definitely caught my attention."

Your heart skipped a beat, unsure if his words were meant as a simple compliment or something more. Before you had a chance to dwell on it, Rip continued, his voice filled with genuine interest, "So, what brings you to the Dutton Ranch? Are you planning to stay long?" Pausing to gather your thoughts, you explained, "I just graduated from college, I needed a change of pace and my father just happens to be friends with Mr. Dutton and he thought me getting a job here would be an opportunity I was lucky enough to land a job here."

As you spoke, Rip's unwavering gaze remained fixed on you, intensifying your emotions. His interest felt genuine, and you couldn't help but feel grateful to your father for opening the doors to this incredible opportunity. The Dutton Ranch was a legendary place, and being a part of it was a dream come true. "Your father has excellent taste," Rip expressed, a hint of admiration lacing his words. "Working on this ranch is not just an ordinary job. It requires dedication and a love for the land. Do you have that love?"

You nodded, a small smile gracing your lips. "Absolutely. Nature's beauty and the peace that comes from working the land have captivated me since childhood. The Dutton Ranch provides the perfect opportunity to fully immerse myself in that way of life." Rip's eyes sparkled with understanding as he listened intently to your words. He admired the passion in your voice, knowing firsthand the profound fulfillment that could be found in ranching. As a trusted hand on the ranch and a friend to the Dutton family, he felt a responsibility to ensure that those who joined the ranch possessed the same devotion and connection to the land.

"Good," Rip replied, firmly nodding in agreement. "Working on the Dutton Ranch is more than just a job. It's about preserving a legacy, a way of life that has been passed down through generations." As you stood there, captivated by Rip's passionate speech about the ranch's significance, it suddenly dawned on you the true weight of his role on this land. He wasn't just another worker; he was the foreman, entrusted with overseeing every aspect of the ranch and ensuring its lasting prosperity.

A playful smile danced across your lips as you cast a teasing gaze down at Rip and remarked, "So, you're the foreman, huh? That means you're supervising me right now. And, if I'm not mistaken, you're actually giving me a lecture because you want me to grasp how important this land is to you. Am I close?" Rip couldn't contain his laughter at your playful comment, his ruggedly handsome face breaking into a wide grin. "Damn right you are," he replied, his eyes sparkling with warmth and affection.

You found yourself drawn to Rip's easy smile and genuine laughter, feeling a connection with him that you hadn't expected. His presence exuded strength and determination, but there was also a vulnerability hidden beneath the surface. It was as if he carried the weight of the land on his broad shoulders, shouldering the responsibility of preserving the ranch's heritage. Rip's eyes locked with yours as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, husky tone. "You have to understand," he began, his voice laced with emotion, "that this land, this ranch, it's more than just a job or a way of life. It's a part of who we are. It's in our blood, our very souls."

You could feel the intensity of his words resonating within you, awakening a sense of purpose that you hadn't yet realized existed. The Dutton Ranch was more than just a dream come true; it was a chance to be a part of something greater, to contribute to a legacy that stretched back through generations. Rip paused for a moment, studying your face with a mixture of curiosity and awe. "You have that fire in you," he murmured, his voice tinged with both admiration and a hint of skepticism. "But it remains to be seen if you have the grit and resilience required to survive in this harsh, beautiful land."

You found yourself lost in Rip Wheeler's deep, intense gaze as you locked eyes with him. There was an indescribable magnetism between the two of you that seemed to draw you closer together. As you continued to stare up into his piercing eyes, your own gaze gradually shifted downwards, causing a slight blush to spread across your cheeks. With each passing moment, you became acutely aware of just how close his face was to yours.

A sudden rush of nervousness and anticipation coursed through your veins, forcing your heart to beat a little faster. The cacophony of thoughts in your head intensified as you desperately tried to regain your composure. Amidst the chaos, one singular thought echoed over and over again like a broken record: keep it professional. Realizing the need to break the tension and refocus your attention, you cleared your throat, the sound cutting through the charged atmosphere. "Yeah, sure," you managed to stammer, attempting to compose yourself. "Whatever you say, Rip… I mean, sir."

The words tumbled out of your mouth in a rushed, breathless manner, betraying your inner turmoil. Despite your attempt to maintain a professional tone, the slip of calling him by his first name did not go unnoticed. Rip's rugged features softened slightly, revealing a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, husky timbre. "You can call me Rip, if you'd like," he replied, his words laden with an unspoken invitation. The sound of your own breath caught in your throat as you processed his unexpected response.

You stood there, face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement, as you took a step back from Rip Wheeler. The name seemed to have caught your attention, and you couldn't help but flash him a smile. "Rip! That's a really interesting name!" you exclaimed, trying to make conversation and perhaps distract yourself from the awkwardness of the situation. Rip raised an eyebrow at your comment, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. He studied you curiously, his piercing gaze leaving you slightly flustered. Your attempt to create some distance only seemed to entertain him more, and you couldn't help feeling slightly self-conscious under his scrutiny.

Just as you turned to walk away, your foot caught on something unseen, causing you to lose your balance. Before you knew it, you found yourself falling backward, much to your surprise, and landed hard on your ass with a resounding thud. The shock of the impact made you grunt involuntarily, unable to suppress the exclamation that slipped from your lips. "Fuck me running!" you blurted out, wincing at the realization of the inappropriate choice of words. Your eyes widened, mortified that such a phrase had escaped you in the presence of the enigmatic Rip Wheeler. The combination of shock, embarrassment, and pain made you want to sink into the ground as you prayed for it to all just disappear.

As you lay there, your heart racing and your cheeks flaming red, you could feel Rip's gaze on you. You braced yourself for his reaction, expecting him to either laugh or scold you. But instead, he simply smiled and extended a hand to help you up. "You okay there?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. You took his hand gratefully, feeling a jolt of electricity run through you as your fingers brushed against his rough skin. As he helped you to your feet, your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. You could see the amusement in his eyes, but there was also something else there - something that made your heart skip a beat. You tried to look away, but his gaze was too intense, too captivating. And then, without warning, he leaned in closer and whispered in your ear, "I think we're going to get along just fine."

Your heart pounded in your chest as his warm breath caressed your ear, sending shivers down your spine. The world around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in that suspended moment of connection. It was as if an invisible bond had formed between you, drawing you closer together in ways you couldn't quite comprehend. His words hung in the air, the implications both thrilling and terrifying. What did he mean by "we're going to get along?" Was this just a friendly gesture or something more? You could feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his presence, and it made your mind race with possibilities.

As you stood there, the intensity of the moment enveloping you, a small smile began to tug at the corners of Rip's lips. It was a smile filled with promises and secrets, a smile that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. It was a smile that suggested this encounter was no mere coincidence. Rip released your hand, but the electric connection between you remained palpable and unbroken. His eyes traced over your flushed face, lingering on your lips for a fleeting moment before meeting your gaze once again. In his eyes, you could see a glimmer of challenge, a silent invitation that stirred something deep within you.

As a surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, you felt a hitch in your breath. The ground beneath you felt unsteady, defying the laws of gravity. The world around you faded away, leaving only Rip's presence and the cacophony of your racing thoughts. In that moment, the air crackled with an intense energy, an unspoken tension that pulled you closer together. You took a hesitant step forward, unable to resist the magnetic force that Rip exuded. Anticipation spread through your body, mingling with the lingering pain from your recent fall.

Moving closer, your eyes locked once more, drawn to the magnetic pull between you like two celestial bodies in perfect orbit. Rip's gaze bore into yours, intense and unyielding, seemingly capable of penetrating through the barriers you had carefully constructed. It was a vulnerability that both thrilled and terrified you. Without breaking eye contact, Rip reached up, his hand coming to rest gently against your cheek. His touch was surprisingly tender, sending sparks of desire trailing along your skin. The world around you seemed to dissipate entirely, replaced only by the electricity of his touch and the magnetic pull between you.

The weight of his hand on your cheek called for a response, and instinctively, you leaned into his touch. A surge of heat spread through your body, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you. In this suspended moment, time stood still as you savored the tantalizing possibilities that hung in the air. But, as if on cue, the moment shattered with Jimmy's oblivious smile as he entered the barn. The air instantly became tense, disrupted by his presence and breaking the intimate atmosphere between Rip and you.

You tore your gaze away from Rip, feeling a pang of disappointment and confusion as reality crashed back in. It was as if a spell had been broken, and the world rushed back in with all its noise and chaos. Jimmy's obliviousness to the charged atmosphere between you and Rip only added to your frustration. He walked over to you, completely unaware of the connection you had just shared. "Hey, what's going on here? Did I interrupt something?" Jimmy asked, his brows furrowing with genuine concern. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of desire that still clung to your thoughts. "No, nothing, just lost my footing for a moment. Rip was helping me up."

Jimmy gave a nod of understanding, though you could tell he still had a lingering suspicion that something had transpired. As he began to talk about the day's tasks and plans, you could hardly concentrate. Your mind was still spinning, replaying the intense moment between you and Rip. Were you reading too much into it? Or was there something more between you? Throughout the day, while completing your usual chores around the ranch, your mind kept wandering back to that electric moment in the barn. The memory of Rip's touch lingered on your skin, sending sparks of longing through your veins. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was unfinished business between the two of you.

As the sun began to sink below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, you found yourself standing by the horse stable, lost in your thoughts. Dusk painted a romantic backdrop, amplifying the emotions swirling within you. Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, and before you could turn around, a deep voice filled the air. "I hope I didn't scare you away earlier," Rip said, his voice rough and soothing all at once. You felt a thrill run down your spine at the sound of his voice, turning around to find Rip leaning against a wooden beam of the stable. His dark hair was tousled from the wind, and his strong arms were crossed casually over his chest. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, as if he too was grappling with the same magnetic pull between you.

A blush stained your cheeks as you met Rip's gaze, unable to form words in response. The electricity between the two of you crackled in the air, making it hard to breathe. Time seemed to stand still, as the world around you faded into the background. Breaking the silence, Rip took a step closer, his steady footsteps resonating with purpose. "I've been thinking about you all day," he confessed softly, his voice laced with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. As Rip's words hung in the air, you couldn't help but feel your heart quicken its pace. Each beat echoed in your ears, syncing with the rhythm of the moment. His honesty washed over you like a gentle breeze, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. The vulnerability in his voice only served to deepen your connection.

You found it difficult to tear your gaze away from his mesmerizing eyes, which held a depth and intensity that drew you in. The setting sun cast a warm glow upon his features, accentuating the subtle contours of his face. As his lips curved into a tender smile, a surge of warmth flooded your chest. Step by step, Rip closed the distance between you, his movements deliberate and deliberate, almost as if he was afraid to shatter the fragile tension that hung delicately in the air. The wooden beam creaked slightly under his weight as he leaned against it, creating a symphony of sounds that further added to the atmosphere.

As his hand gently reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a shiver coursed through your body. His touch was warm and reassuring, radiating a tenderness that felt both comforting and exhilarating. Time seemed to stand still, suspended in the gentle ebb and flow of the moment. His fingers trailed delicately down the curve of your cheek, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. You couldn't help but lean into his touch, craving more of his gentle caress. His hand then cupped your face, his thumb softly caressing your cheekbone, and your breath hitched in your throat. The weight of his touch was electrifying, sending a jolt of desire rippling through your body.

The proximity between the two of you became almost unbearable, yet you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, as if the slightest movement could send everything toppling over the edge. In this moment, it felt as though the whole world revolved around the two of you, locked in an intimate dance of emotions. Rip's eyes absorbed every detail of your face, as if he was committing it to memory. His gaze was so intense that it felt like he was unraveling every secret you held within, every hidden desire and vulnerability. It was both thrilling and terrifying, to have someone see you so completely, yet it was also a rare and beautiful gift.

In a breathless whisper, Rip's voice filled with a fiery passion. "I cannot resist you any longer," he murmured, his words igniting a blazing inferno in your heart. Anticipation crackled in the air, his lips drawing closer to yours, as you found yourself unable to resist the magnetic force between you. Just as his lips were about to meet yours, Lloyd's voice shattered the moment as he called out to Rip, breaking the spell that held you both captive. Both of you were abruptly taken aback, startled by the sudden interruption. Rip's hand swiftly fell from your face, and the charged atmosphere dissipated instantly. Lloyd's untroubled presence invaded the previously sacred space that had been established between you and Rip. His obliviousness to the gravity of the moment left you feeling frustrated and a bit embarrassed.

Rip swiftly regained his composure, his features returning to their usual stoic expression. "Yeah, Lloyd?" he replied, his voice giving away no hint of the desire that had recently consumed him. A pang of disappointment washed over you as you observed how easily he shifted gears, seemingly brushing off the connection that had formed between the two of you. Unaware of the lingering tension in the air, Lloyd moved closer. "Just wanted to let you know that dinner's ready," he cheerfully announced, oblivious to the emotional turbulence that lay just beneath the surface. With great effort, you nodded, fighting to regain your composure. "Thanks, Lloyd. We'll be there shortly," you managed to say, your voice revealing a slight tremor.

As Lloyd departed towards the main house, you turned to face Rip, desperately searching his eyes for any indication that he shared the same intensity that you felt. However, all you found was a guarded expression and a fleeting hint of regret that quickly vanished. "We should go," Rip suggested, his voice sounding distant and detached. It was as if the spell had been abruptly shattered, forcing the harsh reality of the world to come crashing back in. You nodded, unable to muster any words as you stood there, feeling the weight of missed opportunity and the ache of unfulfilled longing. But you knew that Rip was right—they had to go. Slowly, you both made your way back to the main house, where the fragrant aroma of a home-cooked meal filled the air.

As you entered the dining room, John glanced up and observed Rip and you as you made your way towards the table. Sitting beside each other, you cleared your throat and apologized for your tardiness. Explaining the situation, you shared, "Apologies for our delay; I had some chores to complete, and Rip kindly assisted me in finishing them, as I was struggling with a particular task. Isn't that right, Rip?" Rip nodded in agreement, his eyes briefly locking with yours as he confirmed your explanation. "Yes, that's right," he replied, his voice cool and collected. "It took longer than anticipated, but we managed to get it done."

John raised an eyebrow, his playful smile hinting at a knowingness that made your cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Well, glad you two could collaborate so efficiently," he chuckled, causing a ripple of laughter to pass through the rest of the group gathered around the table. It felt like a strange mixture of relief and discomfort, knowing that your secret rendezvous had been exposed, albeit in a lighthearted manner. Unable to shake off the lingering tension, you found it difficult to focus on the meal. Each bite seemed to stick in your throat, reminding you of the missed opportunity and the unspoken desires that were still lurking beneath the surface. The conversation at the table buzzed around you, but your mind kept drifting back to Rip, replaying the moment over and over again.

As the conversation around the dining room table continued, your mind wandered to Rip Wheeler, the rugged and handsome ranch hand who sat beside you. You couldn't help but notice the way his muscles bulged beneath his shirt as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the conversation. Your heart skipped a beat as your gaze lingered on him, and a smile crept up on your face. Without thinking twice, you placed your hand on Rip's lap, and he turned his head to look at you.

You quickly unbuttoned his pants, and he raised an eyebrow, unsure of what was happening. Without a word, you slid your hand into his pants and wrapped it around his dick. Rip let out a low moan as you began to stroke him slowly and steadily. John Dutton regaled the group with a story, oblivious to the intimate act taking place right under his nose. Rip's dick was thick and hard in your hand, and you could feel his breath catching in his throat as you stroked him. You leaned in close to his ear, whispering words of encouragement and desire. "You're so big," you murmured, "I want to taste you."

As your hand continued to move up and down Rip's cock, you could feel his body tense and his breathing become more erratic. His eyes closed tightly as he let out a soft groan, his head tilting slightly to the side as he surrendered himself to the pleasure you were providing. You couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement and desire as you watched him lose control, his body responding to your touch in a way that left you breathless.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against Rip's ear as you whispered, "I want to feel you inside me. I want to be filled by your strength and your power." Rip's eyes snapped open, his gaze locking with yours as he realized the true nature of your request. As you turned your head and looked at John, you noticed the slight furrow in his brow and the curiosity in his eyes as he continued recounting his story. Taking a moment to clear your throat, you couldn't help but interrupt him. "I'm sorry, John," you began hesitantly, "for interrupting your, uh, story, but where's your bathroom? I, uh, have to use it."

John paused mid-sentence, his attention now fully focused on you. He contemplated your request for a moment before a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Oh, it's just down the hall to the left," he replied, his voice warm and accommodating. "First door on your right, can't miss it." As you turned your head and caught John's gaze, a mischievous smile played on your lips. You couldn't resist teasing him a little, especially since you knew Rip was watching. Clearing your throat you faked a perplexed expression and innocently asked, "Third door on the left, you say?"

John paused once again, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of your words. "No," he finally replied, shaking his head. "First door on the right." You pretended to suddenly understand, realizing that you had made a mistake. "Oh! The fifth door on the left," you declared confidently, causing a burst of laughter to escape from Rip. John looked at you, completely bewildered. He couldn't help but chuckle awkwardly "Uh, no, Rip," he said, gesturing towards you. "How about you show her where the bathroom is?"

Rip stood up, his voice laced with amusement as he replied, "Sure thing, John. I'll take her there." As he led you down the hall, your heart pounding in your chest, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. You wanted Rip more than anything in that moment, and you knew that once you were alone with him, there was no stopping what would happen next. Jimmy suddenly looked up from his plate and said, “Hey Rip, I can show (Y/N) where the bathroom is.” Rip narrowed his eyes at Jimmy, immediately killing the friendly atmosphere at the table. "Shut the fuck up, Jimmy," he growled. Lloyd's eyes shifted from Rip to you, trying to figure out what was going on. But as he watched the exchange between the two, something suddenly clicked in his mind. "Uh, you know what Jimmy, how about you let Rip show (Y/N) where the bathroom is," Lloyd suggested, trying to diffuse the situation.

As Rip led you down the hallway, your heart pounded in your chest, and your mind raced with anticipation. You couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement as you followed him, every step bringing you closer to the fulfillment of your desires. The hallway was dimly lit, and the only sounds were the soft creaking of the floorboards beneath your feet and the faint hum of the air conditioning unit. As you reached the door at the end of the hall, Rip turned to face you, his eyes locked onto yours. You could see the desire and hunger in his gaze, and it sent shivers down your spine. Without a word, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, beckoning you to follow.

The bathroom was small and cramped, but it was enough to satisfy your needs. The walls were a dull gray, and the floor was tiled in a mosaic pattern that sparkled in the dim light. Rip closed the door behind you, his back pressed against it as he looked down at you. You could see the hunger in his eyes as he took in your appearance, his gaze lingering on your curves and your full lips. Without a word, Rip reached out and pulled you closer, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you into him. His lips met yours in a fierce kiss, his tongue darting into your mouth as he deepened the embrace. You could feel his arousal pressing against your thighs as he ground himself against you, his hands roaming over your body as he explored every inch of you.

As he lifted you up onto the sink counter, Rip's hands traveled down to your thighs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your skin. You moaned softly as he slid one finger between your legs, his touch sending shivers through your body. He continued to explore every inch of you with his fingers, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you with each passing moment. As Rip's fingers moved faster and faster, you could feel yourself nearing the brink of ecstasy. You wrapped your legs around him tightly, pulling him closer as he continued to explore every inch of you with his fingers. Suddenly, Rip's lips found their way back to yours as he kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as he brought you over the edge.

With a sudden urgency, Rip lifted you up and set you down on the floor, his hands moving quickly to unfasten his pants. You watched in anticipation as he stepped out of them, revealing his arousal in all its glory. Without a word, Rip took hold of your hips and pulled you closer, his arousal pressing against your core. You could feel the heat between your bodies as he entered you, his movements slow and deliberate at first before picking up speed. As Rip's movements grew more frenzied, you could feel yourself nearing the brink once again. You wrapped your legs around him tightly, pulling him closer as he continued to move within you. Suddenly, Rip's body stiffened, and he let out a loud groan as he came within you. You felt his body shudder against yours as he collapsed onto the floor beside you, spent and satisfied.

#yellowstone #rip wheeler #rip wheeler x reader #cole hauser

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juneedstosleep · 2 years

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some grounding tips for people with dissociative disorders!!

I've been seeing a few posts around here on people sharing some of the things they do to ground themselves when dissociation hits the hardest and some of them help me a lot! So I decided to write here some of my personal tips that sometimes help!

• Paint your nails with colours! - sometimes when i lose my grounding so bad, i have a really hard time on recognizing my hands. painting them whatever colour i have available at the time helps me to focus on something when i look at my hands. i can focus on the colours and try to remember carefully the time when i painted them.

• listening to familiar music with headphones. - i usually choose a song i know every word of so i can get a sense of familiarity that keeps me grounded. it also helps to quiet down my thoughts that keep spirilling.

• if i have someone around that i trust, i ask them to hug me tightly or squeeze my hand strongly. this helps to acknowledge that my body feels things, therefore it might be real.

• really hot or really cold showers. again, body feeling things

• jumping jacks or riding a bike. exercices help me focus on things outside of my mind and also tiredness makes the body feels more intense. feeling intense always helps to make me feel slightly more present.

• coffee. whenever i have an important test or anything that i have to put my mind on and can't zone out, i always consume a good amount of coffee before. it helps me focus on what i absolutely need to do.

hope this helps! take care :)

#dpdr #dpd #actually dissociative #dissociative #depersonalization #derealization #mental health #mental heath support #grounding tips #grounding

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an-aroaces-harem · 1 month

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Ivy Chapter 9

DISCLAIMER: I just deepl and google translated my way through this because I wanted to know what’s going on, so there are definitely mistakes but I believe I managed the general gist of the story. Anyway, it’s just a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes. Morganatic Idol belongs to Cybird and ABC Frontier, Inc.

Rina: That's it.

I finished cleaning the room and exhaled.

(I've been able to get it done in a lot less time than in the beginning.)

This is thanks to time I have spent helping Ivy-san.

As soon as I think of that ... what happened at that meeting a few days ago comes to my mind again.

--flashback--

Ivy: We get along, sure, but it isn’t like that.

Ivy: Kawanaga-san thinks of me like a big brother.

Ivy: For me, she’s like a cute little sister.

--flashback end--

Rina: ... like a sister

(Not so long ago, I didn't mind being treated like that by Ivy-san.)

In fact, I was even glad to be familiar with him.

And yet, now that I'm aware of my feelings for him, it hurts so much.

(... stop. It's no use thinking about it. I need to focus on what I can do instead.)

I shake my head to shake off the sinking feeling.

(Well, I'll have to look into exe again today.)

(I've been spending a lot of time helping out for a while now and haven't gotten around to doing the research for the presentation ...)

With that in mind, I was looking for materials and found a CD stuffed into a box at the back of a shelf.

It appears to be a CD with sound data burned into it, and the title is written on the label of the case.

(It doesn't seem to be the name of an exe song. Let's give it a listen.)

I'm also allowed to use the room's audio when researching.

I immediately started playing it, and what I heard was Ivy-san's singing voice.

The direction is completely different from the cool, tension-filled songs of today's exe.

(But it's warm and gentle and fits Ivy-san's voice tremendously. It's a lovely song.)

... As I was listening to the music, the door of the room suddenly opened.

I turned around to see if Ivy-san had returned.

Hitaki-san was there.

Hitaki: Hey, you were there too.

Rina: Is there a problem, Hitaki-san?

Hitaki: I'm here to borrow some materials. Ivy-san told me it's fine.

When Hitaki-san entered the room, he seemed to notice the music playing in the room.

Hitaki: ... Oh, I know I've heard this somewhere before. This is an R2R song.

'R2R' ... I remember when I looked up exe during the presentation, that name came up.

Rina: I think that's the music unit that Ivy-san had before exe, isn't it?

Hitaki: Yes, it was a unit formed by Ivy-san and Eito-san. This is a hit song from that time.

Hitaki: I'm sure it quite well domestically, but by the looks of it, you don't know?

Rina: Yes ... I wasn't really into music.

Rina: I've only seen a few names when I looked up exe, but I don't know much about it.

Hitaki: If you're interested, I can tell you what I know.

Rina: I'd love to!

Hitaki: That's quite a quick answer. Do you want to know so much about Ivy-san?

Rina: What!? That's not why ...

Hitaki: Hmm, just kidding.

Hitaki: As I mentioned earlier, R2R is a duo unit consisting of Eito-san and Ivy-san.

Hitaki: He was very popular among young people because of his consistent singing ability and high level of music.

Rina: Certainly, it's a great song, too.

Rina: The atmosphere is quite different from that of today's exe.

Hitaki: R2R's songs are more melody-driven than exe's songs which are more rhythm-driven.

Hitaki: I heard that Ivy-san is writing the music now, but back then he and Eito-san were working on it together.

Hitaki: I guess the unit changed, and so did his musicality.

(I see what you mean. Maybe that's one of those things ...)

Hitaki: R2R was expected to go global, but ... the results didn't go well.

Hitaki: No matter how popular they were in Japan, they weren't accepted overseas.

Rina: ... I see.

(It's a really tough world ... after all those great songs.)

Hitaki: That's why Eito-san used his experience to start Aero Light Productions.

Hitaki: He's trying to raise the bar in the japanese music industry and create a group that can compete on a global level.

Rina: I see ...

I had heard that Sakura-san was a former musician, but I had no idea he had such deep thoughts.

And I didn't know that Ivy-san had a bitter experience of losing in front of the world's wall.

(Somehow I find that hard to believe, even though Ivy-san is now very active as an exe member.)

(I'm sure it must have been very frustrating and painful ...)

Hitaki: ... what are you thinking about? Maybe about Ivy-san?

Rina: Yes ... it is truly amazing that he has overcome so many setbacks and is doing so well.

Rina: I can't even imagine how much effort he had to put in to acquire the skills necessary to compete on the world stage.

Hitaki: That's right ... fufu, you're really all about Ivy-san. I'm a little jealous.

Rina: Eh?

Then I finally realized that Hitaki-san and I were getting awfully close.

Rina: U-uh ...?

Hitaki: Ah, sorry. I just thought it was kind of cute how you were trying so hard to care for Ivy-san.

Hitaki: I'd like to get a better look at that face.

With a sweet smile, Hitaki-san peeked at me.

Rina: I don't think I'm cute ...

(So close to my face ...!)

As I try to keep my distance, a large palm is placed on my shoulder.

Hitaki: Don't run away. I just want to talk to you more.

My resistance was suppressed and I was pulled towards Hitaki-san with a strong force.

Rina: Talk to me about what?

Hitaki: Remember what I said at our meeting the other day, that I wanted you to help me with Gem, not exe?

Rina: I remember. But I turned that down at the time, didn't I?

As I tried to turn away from his approaching face, Hitaki-san's palm gently touched my cheek.

The coolness of the air makes me shiver.

Hitaki: Would you please think about it again? I just can't give up.

Rina: Why are you so ...? I don't think Gem needs me.

Hitaki: You underestimate yourself. Your power is a wonderful thing.

Hitaki: In fact, the exe members were happy to see how well you did, weren't they?

Rina: B-but I ...

Hitaki: I know. You did your best for Ivy-san.

Hitaki: What's so special about Ivy-san?

Rina: !!

I froze at his words and looked up at him, stunned. Hitaki-san's smile deepened as his eyes seemed to see through everything.

Hitaki: ... you think of him like a big brother? I know you can count on him to be kind to you.

Rina: Y-yes ... I ...

... I feel like I have to affirm it, but my voice is stuck in my throat and won't come out.

Hitaki: Ivy-san also said that he thinks of you as a sister.

Rina: ...

Hitaki: It's a wonderful relationship, isn't it? ... But, really, is that enough for you?

Hitaki-san's hand was holding my shoulder, but before I knew it, it was around my waist.

A palm slides across my cheek, making me look up as I try to turn away.

Rina: Please let go of me ...

Hitaki: ... You should go to Gem. It would make you happier.

He was drawing closer.

Hitaki: I value your ability and would be willing to do great work with you if you would become a Gem exclusive.

Hitaki: I know we will be irreplaceable partners, both publicly and privately.

Rina: But I'm ...

Hitaki: And I don't think you're a little sister. You're very pretty and attractive woman who can be desperate for someone.

Hitaki: I'm not going to make you feel lonely by treating you like a child.

Rina: ...

The gently whispered words seemed to contain some kind of magical power.

Just as Hitaki-san's air was about to consume me ... the door to the room opened.

Ivy: Kawanaga-san ... and Hitaki?

When Ivy-san comes into the room, his eyes widen and he looks at me and Hitaki-san.

Rina: Ivy-san ...

My head cooled down at once. Quickly, I shake off Hitaki-san's hand and move away.

Rina: ...

I felt like I had to say something, but I was to upset to speak.

Ivy: ... You look pale. Calm down.

Seeing me, he lowered his eyebrows in concern.

(What should I do? I can't believe Ivy-san saw me in that position ...!)

Hitaki: Welcome back, Ivy-san. You're back earlier than I expected.

Ivy: I got the job done smoothly.

Ivy: I know Kawanaga-san is cleaning ... but what are you doing here?

Hitaki: I came to borrow some materials. Then I ran into her by chance and we had a little chat.

Hitaki: Right?

Rina: Y-yes ...

That's certainly not wrong.

But after being so close to him like that, and after he whispered those words to me ... I felt guilty for some reason.

(I know you saw me earlier, Ivy-san. I hope he didn't think I was weird.)

(Or do you think I'm just like a little sister and don't care ...?)

I can't look at Ivy-san's face.

What Hitaki-san said to me earlier is going through my mind.

Rina: ... and I'm done cleaning for the day.

Rina: Excuse me!

I was so frustrated that I ran away from the place.

Hitaki: Oh, she got away. Fufu ... She's really funny.

Hitaki: She's as honest as a puppy. Her expression changes from one moment to the next, and she's easy to read.

Hitaki: I can see why Ivy-san adores her.

Ivy: Hitaki ... Don't mess with Kawanaga-san as a joke.

Ivy: She's so pure. She's working so hard in an environment she's not used to.

Hitaki: I'm not kidding ...

Hitaki: Does that mean I can ask you a question if I'm not joking?

Ivy: What?

Hitaki: As she's a housekeeper, you're in charge of her, and you spend the most time together.

Hitaki: My connection to her is certainly tenous by comparison.

Ivy: Ah. So get to the point ...

Hitaki: But that doesn't matter. I like her.

Ivy: What did you say?

Hitaki: I recognize her abilities and understand her feelings ... much more than you do.

Ivy: ... What does that mean?

Hitaki: I mean it as it is ... If you're going to be like that forever, I'll take her.

Ivy: ...

Hitaki: ... Sometimes the most precious things that we take for granted can suddenly disappear one day.

Hitaki: Please be careful.

Ivy: !

Hitaki: ... then I'll be off. Excuse me.

Aloof, Hitaki walked out of the room.

The remaining Ivy stands alone, wide-eyed and stunned.

Ivy: ... The important things we take for granted will cease to be ...

He mutters in a small voice and turns around.

Ivy: ...

What are those eyes, shaking with pain, reflecting?

No one else knew about it.

#morganatic idol #morudoru #morudoru ivy #resa translates something for once?

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a-s-levynn · 8 months

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@lovingache @reveries-of-my-mind @sleepanonymous Sorry you had to wait this much but i fell asleep and then work happend and i rewrote the entire post because it made so little sense and yeah..

I certainly can't be brief with this so i'm gonna insert a cut but if you are interested, this is what ST helped and still helps me work through during my still ongoing journey of selfacceptance.

It is kind of messy, there is a lot of rambling and wandering of thoughts but finally here it is.

A lot of this is, i'm sure of it, is going to sound very familiar to you because there is a reason we gravitate towards Sleep Token. Yeah memes are fun, much shapes, the guys are cryptids, Vessel has a nice body, III is the fun chaos noodle ballerina whatever, II is cute how he simps for Vessel from behind the drumkit when he isn't destroying it, IV is obejctively the sexy one and all the shenanigens. Whatever. We all know. BUT. If we are honest we love all of it because how it was built up. Because we are all a bit broken inside in ways. And we have a way to channel it in a way many of us never been able to before. We are allowed to be broken and exist in a space where it is okay. It is understood. Like.. Never in my entire life been so comfortable with the scars on my arms as is was when i was waiting in que before an ST ritual. Just sayin..

But back to the topic. Sorry i'm prone to wander.

It's hard to get this together in a way that isn't too much about me but it is not an easy task let me tell you. I'll put a link to an abbreviated version of how i got to be the person i am because it retrospectively will add some additional context to this entire thing, but that's fully optional. But first:

a little context on how i fell into the ST pit anyway: I first found them when the second ep released. I liked the look, i checked them out solely because that masked look interesting, but i really did not vibed with the music. I wasn't listening to the lyrics.

Next time they came into my field of vision before the release of TPWBYT. I still wasn't fully sold but there were a few tracks that got trough to me from Sundowning. Still not all of it. I wasn't paying attention still.

And then the end of last year came and something started an itch in my brain to take them out again.. and i finally sat down and read the lyrics properly. I never in my entire life sobbed so uncontrollably like when i first experienced Atlantic with actually paying attention to the lyrics.

And then the TMBTE singles started to release, then the album came. It's not a coincidence i said it's akin to a pilgrimage. It was an emotional pilgrimage to me, and still is every time i do it. And i was fairly normal about all of it. It hit me for sure, but i actually was lost when i finally saw them live. It just broke through like a dam in a flood. That concentrated energy is something that is hard to describe. Anyway. Now here i am.

So the things Sleep Token helped me with, that 10+ years of objectively unsuccesful therapy miserably failed to achieve.

being able to cry properly

being unapologetic about what i like

being able to start to feel my feelings

being unashamed by feelings that are generally considered problematic

being able to process in a much more healthy way if something is not okay in my head

ST gave me a healthier coping album to listen to when i'm on my lows

I'm not saying i'm perfectly fine by a weave of a magical drumstic, what i'm saying is that i stab myself significantly less when i can't focus for the life of me.

So maybe go over the bulletpoints i guess?

1. crying

With ST i felt finally seen in a way i never had before. I never was a cryer, but since i actually got into ST, i do sometimes. Not all the time but probably a far healthier amount then before. Because not crying is unhealthy. It doesn't make you strong and all that crap. It just adds to the unnecessary weight you carry. Some realize this sooner and i'm so happy for them beause it is important.

2. being unapologetic of my interests

I meantioned it before, an it was what sprang this entire long ass post to existance, but let it be here as well: i was unlearning a lot of thing and being apologetic over what i like is one for them. And i was progressively better and better at it, but like lately it just blew through the stratosphere because one cannot talk about Sleep Token and not sound kind of mental at least a bit. And at this point i don't give a shit. I like what i like, it doesn't hurt anyone. If someone laughs at me for it? Good for them at least i made them smile.

The context of this is a friendgroup i was in from around 14 to 20 and it had good paarts but ultimately was an emotionally controlling one, which i realized far too late. And it already created patterns and habits. Needless to say, i don't talk to any of them anymore.

3. feeling the feelz

This is where i'm going to start to sound really weird i think but who knows.. maybe more of you are in the same shoes than i would think.

From a considerably young age i was repressing basically every strong emotion possible. Happyness, sadness, excitement even anger to a certain degree. It started with the sadness, and emotional pain but as with everything it spiraled out to the rest of my emotions. I was also basically in a constant fight or flight mode which just propells you forward at any given time, when you should have stopped to feel shit.

And after a while that creates this weird dissonance of not really feeling anything and at the same time having the empathy, emotional maturity and social awareness to understand how others feel in given situations. Moreover i was acutely aware how i should feel in certain moments, it just.. never really happend. I knew the correct answers to the proverbial questions but my brain just put up a wall and never let me actually feel anything. I was simply empty.

This created the perfect blank slate for me to be the quote on quote emotional mirror for all my friends and even family at times. So usually people came and still come to me to be a sort of free therapist or something like that. Just spitballing what they are going through and reflecting it back to help them understand. And don't get me wrong i love helping people, i really do, and also when the conversation is over, some of their relief is left behind for me and it was at least something.

But at the end of the day i was constantly left with this feeling of "who am i in all this?" , "where is the person whom i can call me?" and that is a very lonely place of being. Especially when you are younger. (This is i think, at least partially, why i may have caught on to the vibe what Vessel supposed to be about. Because either i like it or not, i get what it's like. At least a version of it. To be so empty that anything and everything that creates the illusion of feeling something, anything, it is good enough for the moment.)

And here comes Sleep Token again. Because the songs are highly, highly emotional. And here comes the brilliance of Vessel as a character because by design a vessel is a blank slate. Could be anyone, because it is supposedly empty. Which is a very familiar state of being for me. And that is what made for me so easy to connect and by proxy going through the motions and start to get eased into being comfortable with feeling things again.

It still in it's infancy, that is why i'm a wreck at days, because i'm still relearning stuff that was last natural for me around two decades ago. But i wanna get there. When i can just feel, without guidance. But this is something none of my supposedly professional therapist knew what to do with.

And here comes this british sadboy with his masks and bodypaint and i'm finally nudged away from point zero? Yeah, you can bet your ass i'll take my chances and be grateful for the rest of my life no matter how far it gets me. If it is a tenth of an inch than it is a tenth of an inch. It is still more progress than i ever had before.

4. being unashamed of feelz

Sounds contradictory to the previous point but not really. If you ever felt.. for example let's say obession, true obession you know it's not like any other feeling. It works differently. Not easily controllable and it could lead to anger and rage, end in agression, all sorts of not so great things.

These are stuff we all try to repress for understanable reasons. This is the stuff we know are bad because they usually can lead to bad things. We hear it all our lives. They aren't bad. Not necesseraly. So we shouldn't be afraid to feel them. Not without understanding they are there, either one wants it or not. These are just as natural than any other feeling and no less dangerous than the rest.

They are part of the human condition. But we need to learn to live with them and control them. Repressed things tend to just explode one day and that is when the damage happens. When something can exist in a controlled enviroment, and can be observed from different angles it can be understood. And we are usually not afraid of things we understand. We deal with them. That is the whole point.

And yet again, obsession is a heavy and somewhat recurring theme in ST lyrics either actually or on a meta level if you pay attention. And the way it is presented and integrated into the whole of the story created with the discography is what solidifies it as, a thing than can be observed. It can be understood.

And the honesty of how it is presented what makes me comfortable with the fact that no, i'm not a freak, i'm not abnormal because of it. But there is a conscientious choice to be made how i deal with it. How i learn to direct it to something positive and create something with it, insted of going the other way.

It's like murder. Everyone thinks about it. It doesn't mean everyone is a potential murderer waiting to snap. Fuck no. But we do think about it. Is it okay to think about it a lot? It's not my place to decide how much is too much. But thinking isn't the problem. It is how we talk about the fact that we think about it, can be a problem. Anyway i'm diverging to much into philosophising territories. It happens, sorry.

5. processing the mess in my head

This is a pretty straightforward one actually. My mind is a mess. My long term memory is patchy, the short term one is barely existant. I understand a lot of the world in certain ways but i know so little in others. ST makes me think a lot more.

I always catch a word or a phrase or a line, maybe a verse, that lodges itself behind my eye for a time and i just keep it rolling. Associating on it, connecting it to other stuff. It stops me for a minute and forces me to roll an idea over and over and over and over again in my head and just run with it until i end up with some sort of epiphany.

It doesn't have to be a big thing, it can be the smallest thing, something like a shiny glass ball in a box of far more interesting toys. But it is my glass ball, I picked the colour inside.

6. a healthier coping album

Yeah this one.. So for the longest time when my mind got murky and getting too lost into the void, music was what could drag me out of it. Since i was a kid, the album that could kick me back towards the tracks was Phobia from Breaking Benjamin. I put it on an usually by the end of it i sort of was back on a functioning state. Not a good place but a functionig one. But if you ever heard the album in it's entirety, it is hardly an uplifting one.

Now when i feel low i roll the first two ST albums in sequence. By the time i reach missing limbs i feel actually better. My mom put it to words really well when she said "I don't understand the words of what this man is singing about but i can guess he is not happy. Is it about sad things right? I feel that. But i like it because it feels more comforting instead of making me sad as well." And that i thinks sums it up pretty well. Because it is no longet the outstreched hand of you-are-not-alone but the outstreched soul that cries you-can-find-yourself-in-me. And that is the definition of comforting for me. (Yes i love that phrace because it fits, let me be proud of myself for saying something that sounds good for once.)

And that is pretty much it for now. There should be a few more things ST is a reasonably large part of my self-journey but i've gotta think on it more i think. I'm not even sure i realize all of it.

I'll link a separete post here at the end which sums up how i got to this place i am. It is heavily abbreviated but it is still feels too long. It is certainly far more personal than this but i think it adds context to what was written above. But i don't want to clutter this one with that kind of personal stuff, also it's just an optional thing for anyone who wishes to maybe understand me a bit better and where i come from. [link to said post] Just for the record: this post does mention mental a physical abuse (no sexual one), self harm, mental issues, so all the fun stuff, but does not detail it.

#levynn tries to think #i wasn't joking about it being an essay #length-wise it certainly is #this is probably either gonna cost me followers or no one is going to read it because it's long as hell #sleep token

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shibusawaz · 10 months

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BSD Music Hcs - Armed Detective Agency 🫶

(Made using American music as a basis because I'm not familiar with the Japanese music scene. More based around general tastes rather than specific genres and songs)

Atsushi, Dazai, Kunikida, Kenji, Kyouka, Ranpo, Yosano, and Fukuzawa below

Atsushi

• He's obviously not going to have the most... well rounded taste in music due to his strict upbringing

• in fact, many people would likely make fun of him for having "basic" taste in music

• while I don't think he'd have gone his whole childhood without hearing anything, I think it'd be heavily restricted to radio hits and maybe classical music.

• So, Atsushi would likely have a lot of more popular, recent songs in his playlists.

• I think he'd be very open to new music, though. The songs on his playlist he hasn't heard listening to the radio are ones recommended by the agency members!

• He's always glad to listen to something that his friend likes, and he generally enjoys it too.

• However, I think he'd lean towards hip-hop (maybe rap. depends on his mood) in terms of favorites. I think he'd like the Weeknd but I don't know why

• I think he'd also enjoy indie music. since he didn't grow up hearing music as much as other people, he's more open to new sounds and experimental genres

• I don't think he'd like radiohead, though.

• He won't pay for spotify premium.

Dazai

• Probably pirates his music.

• Dazai is very hard for me to understand, so please excuse how short this may be.

• nobody really knows what he listens to, he'll tell different people he enjoys different artists.

• i think if he was alone, he'd listen to slower music.

• it doesn't necessarily have to be sad, but he'll be fine if it is.

• He listens to music with softer singing/lyrics to sort of slow down and process his day. It calms him and helps him focus on what's happened. Think Cigarettes after sex type beat.

• At work though? He listens to very upbeat music• His personal favorite is "Pump up The Jam" by Technotronic. It gets on kunikida's nerves. Dazai will sing it, hum it, blast it on the agency computer.

• Leave him alone!!! he's pumping up the jam!!

• He also takes recommendations from the agency, but they're never listened to or acknowledged publicly

• He's heard every song Atsushi recommends him, but indulges atsushi anyways

• Dazai would listen to their recs in secret though. and hold each one very dear to him.

Kunikida

• The one who's supposed to be in charge of the agency's background music.

• While he'd play clean music for the agency, I think his music taste would consist of very vulgar language

• Not intentionally, of course. The songs that fit his ideals for music will have their strange aspects and that's okay

• Any songs with themes against his ideals (Glorifying murder, probably whatever the fuck is going on in Mr. Brightside) he prefers not to listen to.

• I think he'd like romantic songs, but he'd keep to himself about it. He seems like a romantic at heart

• He also enjoys upbeat music to get himself into a working mood (if he isn't already)

• I think he'd enjoy the Red hot chili peppers. this came to me while writing and I'll die by it now

• When people recommend him music, he doesn't listen to it immediately, but once he gets free time he'll focus solely on the song he's listening to

• He'll tell a person their music is good no matter what, but if it's not to his taste he'll express that very politely

• Unless it's Dazai. Dazai will be cursed out very harshly if he plays "Pump up the jam" again

• doesn't pay for premium music services, but complains about ads regardless

• he has a playlist for every. single. mood. his music is meticulously organized

Kenji

• If anyone told you "they love all types of music," they didn't love as many as Kenji. He'll listen to anything

• i think his favorite music, though, is local music.

• He'll save any song made by someone from his hometown, no matter what it is.

• Local garage punk band? He'll buy the album. Recording from a town festival? He'll find an upload of it and save it.

• Super, super open about what he listens to. you can ask him about one song and be bombarded with favorites of his

• While he has very diverse taste, I think he leans slightly towards more upbeat country music.

• He grew up with early Taylor swift (please forgive me this is the only country artist I know and she's not even country) and the likes

• He has a habit of humming a different song while working every day.

• i think he'd have a playlist for everything, but he always forgets to add his new songs to them.

• He has a playlist for sleeping, mostly calm music with rain sounds. It's not something he necessarily needs but it's a small comfort

• You can't just "recommend a song" to Kenji. If someone tells him about a song they think he'd like, he'd pull out his ear buds right then and there and offer them one to listen together

• Very cheerful about recs, always enjoys them no matter what they are.

• doesn't pay for premium music, and doesn't mind ads at all

Kyouka

• I think, like atsushi, she doesn't really have the most diverse music taste but she's also a teenage girl so.

• I think the mafia influenced her taste a bit, but she's largely built her own playlist through trying new things.

• She likes popular music that's currently trending, but leans more towards softer/cuter music.

• I feel like she enjoys vocaloid, but isn't obsessed with it.

• the same goes for K-pop, Kyouka wouldn't religiously listen to it but she would have a few favorite idols that she follows

• She gets very (invisibly) excited to show atsushi new songs she found, and sharing song discoveries is a favorite pasttime of theirs.

• Kyouka is 13. She's going through a phase where she needs angsty music in her life.

• I think one of her favorites would be "Sleep to Dream" by Fiona Apple. this is just the vibe

• She actually is allowed the aux at the agency! She's much too insecure about her music taste to put any songs on, though.

• Kyouka regularly asks her fellow agency members for recs, but never really gets back to them about the songs.

• It's best to assume she wouldn't ask them for more recommendations if she didn't enjoy the previous ones, though.

Ranpo

• Always understands the theme behind a song but doesn't really care. Ranpo really just likes funky beats.

• I think he'd listen to a lot of electronic music, or things that are electronic-adjacent, or things that I mistake for electronic music. Things like Major Tom by Peter Schilling

• He also listens to a lot of older and more familiar classic rock songs. This is Fukuzawa's doing.

• He doesn't really care to check the artist of a song, so his playlists are very erratic. He's got a bunch of the same songs by a couple artists, then the rest is Russian roulette.

• Only one playlist. Of everything he likes.

• He shares an account with Fukuzawa and Yosano.

• He could probably read a person's entire personality through their music, but he wouldn't

• In fact, if you want Ranpo to listen to something, you'll have to beg him and remind him constantly to listen to your song

• It's not that he doesn't care, necessarily, it's that he just doesn't consider trying new music very often

• Ranpo is someone who would be very comfortable with their taste and not seek much change from what's familiar.

• I don't think he'd enjoy higher pitched voices that cut over the music.

• That being said, Ranpo also has very strong authority over the agency's background music. He doesn't add much, though

• He completely supports the Pump up the jam agenda. He'll even sing it with Dazai, occasionally

Yosano

• I think she'd listen to primarily female artists, and keep up with what her favorite artists are doing

• One of her favorite songs has been Poker Face by Lady Gaga ever since she was young.

• I think she'd be very into having soundtracks from her favorite movies! She knows a lot of artists and songs through this

• outside of movie soundtracks, she'll listen to a lot of pop, but not present day pop

• I think Yosano would enjoy popular songs of an era well past their time

• this isn't because she's out of touch with trends, she'd just enjoy songs from around the 2010s more.

• Yosano also knows plenty of classic rock, but doesn't listen to it all that often. This is Fukuzawa's doing.

• However, she keeps up with Riot grrrl music almost religiously. It's one of her favorite genres.

• She has a separate playlist to play as background music in her office.

• Kunikida has no reign over this section of the agency.

• The doctor's office is a lawless land.

• He doesn't mind though, because she doesn't play it all that loud while she's working. In fact, if she doesn't have patients, she'll often just use her ear buds from the computer

• Yosano takes music recommendations, sparingly. If someone gives her consistently bad songs, she'll start lying to them about listening.

• however, she's always up to chat about lyric interpretations and news on artists for songs she does enjoy.

Fukuzawa

• He may be an "old man" to most people, but he's actually only 40-something. I can never put my finger on what year bsd takes place in, but regardless I think he'd enjoy 80's and 90's hits.

• He's not been to many concerts, especially in recent years, but when he was younger and not yet "involved in his career" I think he'd visit plenty of live performances.

• Everyone who works at the agency has heard Bohemian Rhapsody several times.

• He doesn't generally listen to new music because he's comfortable with his current tastes

• however, his "current tastes" consist of so, so many songs• if you asked him what he thought of any artist, he'd probably tell you he'd heard of them.

• While he's a very private man, I think he was also very excited to introduce Ranpo and Yosano to his music

• He didn't look excited to show them his songs, but inside he was genuinely glad to share the music he's loved so dearly for very long• I think all three of them have danced together, at least once. I know it's not in character but please indulge me

• Fukuzawa pays for spotify premium, but shares an account with Ranpo and yosano.

• The profile picture for this account is a cat.

• it took him a bit to get used to the digital music services, so he kept all his cd's. He's got a lot of them, and has even burned a few himself

• I think he'd burn cd's for the agency members as a Christmas gift. most of them don't own a cd player, but they appreciate it!

• He enjoys getting recommendations from other people, and will always give them honest feedback.

• he's a bit confused by more recent songs, but he enjoys the trends and innovations made in the music industry

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a-kookie-with-my-tae · 2 months

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Befallen: Chapter 1

Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Music Producer!Reader

Genre: Fluff and not really Angst but like all the sexual tension

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Y/N doesn't know how to feels, sexual tension, Jimin is a chaotic mess, the main couple has a staring problem, what even is this

A/N: This chapter takes place 6 months after the prologue. I am really happy with how this turned out. I actually had this chapter written last week, but my OCD made me do a million edits before I could post it. I think you guys will enjoy! Don't forget to comment and reblog if you like it. Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

Mellifluous: a sound that is sweet and smooth, pleasing to hear.

I sit in frustration as I stare at the multiple monitors in front of me. This song has had me stumped for the better part of the day, and I have absolutely no idea what to do with it. It's supposed to be relieving my stress from the new album about to drop, but it seems to be doing a terrible job at that. I've tried rearranging the melodies, changing the synth tracks, even adjusting the tempo of the whole song itself. But it still doesn't sound quite right.

I tweak the backing drum track a bit in the chorus, making it a bit heavier before I start the track from the beginning, leaning back against the leather and closing my eyes in focus as I listen intently.

The track starts off slow, almost like a whisper of guitar echos before the drums come in softly. It has an almost metallic feel to it, even though it is supposed to be a synth pop track. After about half a minute I sigh and pause it. It sounds of a different era, but I can't quite seem to put my finger on it.

As it is, it sounds great. But, great has never been enough for me. It has to be perfect. So, I lean forward to get back to work when a soft voice speaks behind me.

"You should add whispers to the beginning of the track."

I jump in my seat as I swivel around, facing the intruder with wide eyes.

An all-too-familiar face leans against the doorway, seemingly comfortable in my space even though he's never once stepped foot in this studio. He's dressed comfortably, albeit stylish with a long sleeve white tee, baggy black cargo pants and black Timblerlands. His biceps flex which brings my attention to the rings that adorn his very tattooed fingers wrapped around his crossed arms. The ink swirls up and disappears into the rolled up sleeve of his shirt.

I can't help but wonder what he's doing here. In my six months of working here we've never run into each other, within reason. He's the golden boy of the company, part of one of the biggest bands in the world right now. The fact that he's leaning against my doorway is an improbable occurrence. I half convince myself that I'm imagining things. What reason would he have to be here when his personal studio is on the other side of the building. Even the practice rooms he frequents aren't anywhere close to here.

I don't have time to think about the reasoning behind his presence as he stares at me back, peculiarity in his gaze.

He clears his throat, which brings my attention back to his face. His hair is unstyled and wavy, almost covering his big doe eyes. Supple lips pulling into a smirk as he watches me admire him. His jawline is sharp and angular. I knew he was handsome, having seen enough pictures around the building and circulating the internet, but basking in it in person is a whole different level of beauty. He almost seems inhuman.

It feels like an eternity has passed in those few seconds.

I snap myself out of my trance as I reposition myself in my chair.

"What?" I can barely get my voice cooperate with me as I speak softly, the one syllable somehow stuck in my throat.

He chuckles softly, his head turning down toward the floor. His smile is radiant, and something in my chest flutters at the sight of it.

Calm down, Y/N. Shut that shit down.

He raises his head once again as our eyes make contact.

"I said, you should add whispers to the beginning of the track." He speaks a bit louder this time, although he already knows that the volume of his voice wasn't the reason I couldn't comprehend the words.

I lean back and cross my arms as my brows furrow slightly.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

He smiles softly before stepping toward me. I tense up as he he grows closer.

"Here." He says before leaning around me and grasping the mouse on my desk. I quickly swivel around in my chair, staring at him incredulously as he focuses on the monitors in front of us. The mouse clicks and the track once again starts playing from the beginning and the echoes of the guitar fill the room.

He waits a couple of seconds before speaking. "Right here. A conversation."

He turns back toward me and I inhale sharply, not noticing before how close in proximity he was.

"Just a few lines, spoken softly." He says.

I just stare at him, waiting for him to continue on his analysis of the track.

"And right here," the drums come in as he speaks, signaling the start of where I was planning to have the first verse, "is where the vocals come in. Soft and sweet."

All that can be heard is the quiet sound of the track. But even that fades to the background as I gaze into his eyes. It feels as if I could get lost in those chocolate orbs forever, something swimming in them that I can't quite put my finger on.

"What makes you say that?" My voice is but a whisper, but to him it's as clear as if I were projecting across an auditorium.

"This song is meant to send a message." He begins, "I just don't know if you've quite figured out what it's supposed to be, yet."

His words envelop me as I comprehend their meaning. Every song I write is meant to convey a deeper meaning, a true heartfelt message for the world to hear. But, with the other producers and the stylistic choices of the bands they go to... that message always seems to get muddled. None of the artists I work with have ever heard my raw music. To have him recognize that, even before it's finished, makes me feel seen in a way I never knew was possible.

I stare, awestruck at his statement for what seems like hours, even though only a few seconds must have passed. His eyes glance at my lips, so quick that if I hadn't been so aware of his every movement I would've missed it. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can the door of the studio swings open.

"'Sup, bitch! Whatchya wor-" Jimin comes barging in the room, unknowingly interrupting the unwelcome moment between his bandmate and I. My head quickly swivels over to the doorway to where my best friend now stands. His eyes almost bug out of his head as his lips freeze puckered out in an "o" shape for a few seconds before he recovers swiftly, eyeing me knowingly as he crosses his arms.

I adjust myself in my seat, turning my body away from the bunny-toothed man next to me and toward him. He dons a sly smirk as his eyes dart between the two of us.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you had... company." He says with a certain connotation that I choose not to pay mind to.

I roll my eyes as I stand up to welcome him. Jimin has become my closest friend here in Korea. Sure, I'm friendly with a few of the other producers and some of the stylists and makeup artists that work with the bands here, but Jimin has become quite a confidante for me. We share everything with each other, from the smallest crushes to the weird moments that happen in our day to day lives. It's the former that I'm worried about at the moment. He's the only one here that knows about my reasoning behind coming to Korea, and definitely the only member of his band that even knows of my existence.

Well, until now.

I stand up from my chair and step toward him, partly to welcome my friend but also to get as much distance between me and the handsome man that has been invading my space for the past few minutes.

Jungkook's brows furrow in confusion as he looks between Jimin and I.

"You guys... know each other?" He asks incredulously.

"Of course!" Jimin wraps his arm around my shoulders, tugging me against his side as he speaks with pride in his voice. "Y/N is one of the producers here. She's awesome. Maybe even my favorite even though she won't show me any of her secret tracks she works on when she doesn't have a company project."

He half-jokingly pins me with a glare, pouting before smiling wide, pearly whites shining for the world to see and eyes disappearing into his cheeks.

Although he says it teasingly, I know that me not sharing my raw music with him is a sore spot for the guy. Since music is such a big part of my life and all. Seeing Jungkook in here, seemingly helping me with one, must sting a bit no matter what facade he puts up. His eyes tell.

"Ah, you must be new here." Jungkook says, looking at me with a welcoming smile on his face.

Jimin laughs, holding onto me for support as his knees give. Jungkook's brows furrow in confusion at the state of his friend. I roll my eyes at the display. Jimin has always had a flair for the dramatic, laughter always sending him falling out of chairs or onto the floor. Him leaning on me for support is a common occurrence.

He sniffles and wipes metaphoric tears away from his eyes before speaking, "Y/N? No..."

Jimin says it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, which I guess for him it is, as Jungkook raises an eyebrow at him, questioning his friend even further.

"She's been here since... when was it Y/N? Like... April?" He turns toward me for confirmation and I nod my head softly.

"Oh." Jungkook's eyebrows raise in surprise before confusion settles into his features. "How have we not worked together before?"

"Jimin wants me all to himself, apparently." I say sarcastically.

"No..." Jimin whines at the accusation, stomping his foot like a toddler. "I just happened to stumble into the wrong studio when trying to find Hyowon-ssi. These hallways can get confusing..."

His bottom lip juts out in a pout. I laugh lightly at his antics.

"Yeah, because you haven't been to one of our head producer's studio before and couldn't remember that it was room 102 and not 201." I deadpan before looking back in Jungkook's direction. The confusion in his eyes muddles with amusement at our antics.

"In all seriousness, I just don't think I'm high enough on the food chain here to really work with the golden band of the company." I drift my eyes away from him, the words rushing through my mind making him seem even more unreachable. "After all, you guys have had your main producers, the best of the best here, for years. I'm practically a nobody, I mean, I've only been here for six months."

"Almost seven!" Jimin jumps in, as if a couple more weeks of experience here really makes a difference in the grand scheme of things.

I laugh and shake my head at him. Always so quick to defend my honor, even when it isn't necessary.

"Fine... almost seven months." I correct, smiling at him before turning back toward Jungkook. "But I mostly work with the newer bands with a few of the other producers here. Right now, I'm actually working with TXT on their newest album."

He gazes at me in curiosity. I don't even want to think about the thoughts that are swimming through his mind right now, the obvious tension in the room before Jimin thankfully came in and the new information about me racing through it.

"What you were playing before doesn't really seem their style..." He doesn't say it as a question, rather than a fact.

"Yeah, that's.. um..." I look apologetically toward Jimin as I speak. I see the hurt in his eyes as he knows what I've must've been working on. "No one was really supposed to hear that."

Jungkook's eyebrows jump up in realization. "Oh! That was..." His eyes flash toward Jimin before looking back at me.

"Anyway," I start, "I need to get back to work, so..." I shrug as I straighten my spine and stuff my hands in my pockets, avoiding his gaze.

Jungkook nods before stepping toward the door, pausing right before to address me.

"For what it's worth, Y/N," my eyes dart back to his as he speaks with a serious tone. "I hope you find the message you're looking for."

As soon as the door shuts, Jimin is starting his assault.

"What was Jungkook doing here?" He trails behind me as I sit back in my chair, finding a seat on the couch adjacent to me.

"He stumbled in here randomly and almost gave me a heart attack while I was working. I honestly don't even know why he was in the area. He's never in this part of the building."

"Yeah, that is weird..." He agrees, thinking deeply for a moment.

"But," he pouts once again, this time in focus instead, "I thought you didn't have any new projects right now, with TXT prepping for the release of the album?"

"I know... I was just trying to de-stress a bit. Work on something that wasn't... that." Not that I didn't love the new album, I was very proud of the work I did along with a few of the other producers in the company. But working on the same eight songs over and over for months on end gets a little tiring real quick.

"No fair!" He stomps his foot almost childlike and crosses his arm, pouting jokingly even though his eyes show the sting of hurt at the realization . "I've been your best friend for months and I haven't heard any of these secret tracks of yours. Jungkook was here for thirty seconds and he got to..."

I smile, knowing I'm eventually going to give in to Jimin's demands, but wanting to see his dramatics play out for a little while longer, But he's right. Even though Jungkook barging into my space and hearing what I was working on was unintended at best, it still happened. As my self-proclaimed best friend, he has a right to hear it, too.

"...it's best friend code, Y/N.... I think. If not, it should be! The right thing to do would be to show me, too." He nods to himself, determination written on his face. "Yeah. You gotta show me what you were working on when he came in."

"Will that make you feel better?" I ask, chuckling quietly, already prepping to restart the track so he can hear.

His eyes sparkle in response as his face lights up.

"Yes!" He stands up and stumbles his way to my desk in excitement. "Show me, show me, show me!"

The smile doesn't leave my face as I turn my chair around to face the monitors yet again.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #fanfiction #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook

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hollandorks · 2 years

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shadows in the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

chapter three

summary: more than a year after the events of middle of the night, y/n and Bruce are happily engaged and working to lower the amount of crime in Gotham. However, a new killer calling himself the Riddler has other plans for their happiness…set during the events of the movie, mostly canonical, some changes made to fit the story

a/n: Time for another chapter! Trying to stick to a twice a week schedule for now until the draft of the fic is completed! I’ll be going on vacation starting this Sunday so I’m not sure when ch 4 will be posted. I’m going to try to make time to post while I’m gone though! Also, yes I am randomly changing the setting of the house around to make it not be the tower but still fit with the movie!

If you feel like supporting me further, donate to my ko-fi! You can get either a teaser for the next chapter (for lower donation amounts) or the entire next chapter (higher donation amounts). Find more info and the link to my ko-fi here!

Series Masterlist

word count: 3448

She really had a bad feeling about this. Something was brewing in Gotham, and Batman was at the center of it all.

The roar of Bruce’s motorcycle preceded him into the Batcave by several minutes. The bats that had settled after y/n’s earlier entrance now took off again, screeching and chittering in a familiar rush of noise.

She wanted to ask Bruce a bunch of questions, but she waited while he removed the motorcycle helmet, set aside the backpack with the cowl in it, and walked over to the workstation that held the screen.

He took out the contacts and earpiece and set them both in their proper place.

His shoulders were tense. His face was drawn and tired.

Y/n tried really hard not to chew a hole in her lip.

“I can hear you, you know,” Bruce murmured as he started his routine replay of the night. On screen, a subway station materialized, a gang of men in weird face paint watching him from a distance.

“Hear what?” she asked with a frown. She hadn’t sighed, had she? She was trying to be patient, but–

“Biting your tongue and trying not to ask a million questions.” He gave her a small lift of the lips that could have been a smile.

She smiled a little sheepishly. “Sorry.”

He brushed one knuckle against her cheek and pulled his latest journal closer. “You watch, I’ll write.”

She nodded, glad that the curiosity burning a hole in her chest would soon be eased. Bruce reached around her and turned up what she referred to as his “moody writing playlist,” which was mostly a bunch of Nirvana. He always listened to something while he wrote and watched the replays of his night. When she’d asked about it, he’d said it helped him to get his mind off of things, helped him focus his thoughts more objectively by not getting as caught up in the recordings. Without the music, he was too focused on the recordings when he wanted to be shedding the Batman for the night.

As Bruce started scribbling furiously, she watched his night unfold across the screen. The face-paint guys were getting their asses kicked.

“I’m vengeance,” Bruce’s voice said on the screen.

Y/n couldn’t help it. She snorted. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased, earning herself a small smile from Bruce as he wrote.

She watched him take her call the moment he’d finished kicking those guys’ asses, watched him meet with Gordon and receive the news about the interim mayor.

“Unbelievable breaking news this hour, everyone,” the GC1 anchor said from behind them on the screen playing the news. Y/n hit pause on Bruce’s recordings to listen. Might be better to ease into it before she watched the crime scene footage. “Interim Mayor Don Mitchell, Jr. was found murdered last night inside his home in the exclusive Crest Hill district.”

A woman’s voice chimed in. “Exact details of the crime still have not been released, but a citywide manhunt is already underway as police and FBI search for the brazen killer. And this certainly is not the first time Gotham has been rocked by the murder of a political figure. In fact, in an eerie coincidence, it was 20 years ago this week that celebrated billionaire philanthropist Dr. Thomas Wayne and his wife Martha were slain during Wayne’s own mayoral campaign. It was a shocking crime that remains unsolved to this day.”

She and Bruce both froze. He reached over and turned off the music. He was trying to downplay it, but she could see how his whole body tensed. How every single part of him was suddenly focused on the news.

The news anchors continued. “Don Mitchell, Jr.’s political career was especially notable for his tough war on drugs when he and city police launched a major sting operation, resulting in the arrest of notorious mafia crime figure Salvatore Maroni with what, to this day, remains the biggest drug bust in GCPD history.”

The elevator rattled to a halt and Alfred came limping out.

The news reporter continued, “Don Mitchell, Jr. has had such a successful run as interim mayor that he had planned to–”

Bruce and y/n both turned back to the replay of the night while the news played on.

“I assume you’ve heard about this,” Alfred said as he handed Bruce a glass of green juice. He patted y/n on the arm. “I didn’t know you were back, dear, or I would have brought some down for you as well.”

Y/n glanced suspiciously at the juice. “That’s alright, I ate at the restaurant.” It was a lie–she’d completely forgotten until that moment to eat. She’d been too worried about Bruce, too caught up in working to keep her mind off of what was going on.

On the screen in front of them was a man with his face completely wrapped in duct tape.

“All this blood’s from his head?” Gordon asked on the video.

Y/n swallowed. Bruce was tense next to her. She had no idea if it was because of the murder in front of them or the mention of the anniversary of his parents’ murders, or both.

A second detective on screen answered Gordon. “Most of it’s from his hand. Thumb was severed. Killer may have taken it as a trophy.”

Y/n swallowed again and averted her eyes as Bruce’s lens went to the aforementioned severed thumb.

“He was alive when it was cut off. Ecchymosis…around the wound.” Bruce’s voice on the video, this time.

“Nerd,” she muttered, elbowing him. She couldn’t help it. He was on edge, and she wanted to make it better. It worked, a little. He at the very least rolled his eyes as they continued to watch the crime scene unfold.

After a couple of minutes, Bruce printed out a copy of the card the killer had left him.

“I don’t like this,” she said softly as her eyes skimmed over the words. Bruce started scribbling furiously on the printout. He lies still. She had no idea how he’d figured out the riddle so fast, and in front of a bloodied body no less. Sometimes she forgot just how smart he was.

Alfred’s gaze darted between Bruce writing and the screen, where Gordon was holding up an envelope that was addressed to Batman. “The killer left this for the Batman?” he asked incredulously.

“Apparently,” Bruce muttered.

“You’re becoming quite a celebrity.”

Y/n kept quiet, eyes fixed on the screen, brain whirring. This wasn’t good, she thought for the hundredth time. She had a really bad feeling about all of this, and she couldn’t shake it. Now that she was seeing what Bruce had seen…

“Why is he writing to you?” she and Alfred asked at the exact same time. They exchanged a sharp look.

Bruce was unphased. “I don’t know yet.”

There was tension in Alfred’s eyes. He was as freaked out as she was, y/n realized. And Bruce was acting like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Have a shower,” Alfred said authoritatively. “Our accounting friends at Wayne Enterprises are coming for breakfast.”

Y/n and Bruce both jerked their heads towards Alfred.

“Here? Why?” Bruce demanded. His shoulders were even more tense than before, if that was impossible. She gently laid a hand on the crook of his elbow. She could feel the hard edge of the suit armor beneath the jacket.

“Because I couldn’t get you to go there,” Alfred snapped. Usually Alfred wasn’t like this but this new killer had them all so immediately on edge she knew he was struggling to control himself. She knew what they were all thinking about–another case, another murder, another mayor. It was like it was still haunting them, even after more than a year.

“I haven’t got time for this.”

“It’s getting serious, Bruce. If this continues, it won’t be long before you’ve nothing left.” Alfred’s fists clenched.

“I don’t care about that. Any of that.”

Y/n tried very hard to disappear into the shadows like Bruce did so well. She didn’t want to be a part of this argument.

Alfred’s voice was calmer now. “You don’t care about your family’s legacy? About your life with y/n? Your future?”

“What I’m doing is my family’s legacy. If I can’t change things, Gotham will destroy our future. If I can’t change things here, if I can’t have an effect, then I don’t care what happens to me.” Bruce clenched his jaw so tightly she was sure it would break.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Alfred said a bit sadly. It’s what y/n was afraid of too, though she didn’t chime in. This was between the two of them.

Bruce gave a humorless smirk. “Alfred, stop. You’re not my father.” She couldn’t help her wince at the words.

Alfred’s expression closed off immediately. “I’m well aware.” Her heart squeezed at the obvious pain in the older man’s eyes.

“Bruce–” she said, but he smacked a button on the computer to print something and stalked off to the elevator.

She and Alfred shared a look after Bruce was gone.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “He–”

“You don’t need to apologize for him,” Alfred said softly. “He’s right, I’m not his father. But…”

“I know,” she said. But Bruce needed someone to look out for him. “He’s being a dick. I’ll talk to him.”

Alfred gave her a small smile. Behind her, the computer was still playing Bruce’s night. A shift in Alfred’s expression had her turning to look at the screen.

On the screen, a young boy sat alone on a bed.

“We really gotta go, man,” Gordon said on the recording.

Alfred closed his eyes and sighed.

“Oh,” y/n said, suddenly understanding Bruce’s mood a lot better.

The boy had found his father.

Just like Bruce had seen his parents get killed, almost exactly twenty years ago.

Once, when she was recovering in the hospital from the events of the gala, Alfred had told her that Bruce blamed himself for the murder of his parents. He’d only been a kid at the time, but apparently that hadn’t mattered. It’s what had started him on this whole journey to becoming Batman.

Her heart broke for Bruce all over again.

“Let me–Let me talk to him,” y/n said as Alfred picked up the card and the cipher Bruce had printed.

“Thank you, dear,” Alfred murmured. They shared another look. Without saying the words, she knew Alfred’s heart was breaking all over again for Bruce, just like hers was. But worse, because Alfred had lived through it, too. She squeezed his arm on her way to the elevator.

–

Upstairs, Bruce was coming out of the shower, towel slung low on his waist, hair dripping water down his scarred and muscled chest. Normally, the sight would have driven her to distraction–and maybe into action–but her mind was too full of too many other things.

“I’m sorry,” she said to him. “About–what you saw at the crime scene. I know–”

He brushed past her to the dresser.

“I know it’s hard,” she continued obstinately. “But you should be nicer to Alfred. He loves you. We both love you.”

“I know,” Bruce snapped. He abruptly softened. He rested one clenched fist against the top of his dresser. “I know,” he said again. “I’ll–I should apologize.”

“Yeah, you should.” When his head snapped up, she smiled so he would know she was being purposefully hard on him.

“I don’t–why are the accountants coming here?” he asked suddenly. He yanked on a pair of pants.

“Beats me. Although I probably pay about as much attention to this stuff as you do.” She shrugged. It was the truth. Wayne Enterprises had never particularly fascinated her, although Alfred had told her she would own shares of it when she and Bruce got married. She didn’t care about it, partly because Bruce didn’t care about it. She understood where he was coming from downstairs. The money didn’t matter. Helping Gotham mattered. Being together mattered. If they were broke and had to live under a bridge, she didn’t care, so long as he was with her.

“We should probably go downstairs,” Bruce said as he blindly grabbed a shirt from the dresser. He seemed a little less tense and a little more guilty now.

She tugged on his wrist as he walked past her. He stopped and looked down at ther. He softened further as he studied her. Her thumb stroked over the soft part of the inside of his wrist.

“Hi,” she said with a soft smile. “Feel like I didn’t actually get to say hi to you yet.”

“Hi,” he murmured.

She stood on her toes and kissed him lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He squeezed her hip with his free hand. There was a storm in his blue eyes, but it dimmed, just a bit, as he stared down at her.

“Come on, Alfred might not be your dad, but he might still spank you.”

Bruce snorted and followed her out to where Alfred was waiting in the large study on the other end of the second floor. They’d had a giant table put in so they could work at the same time, or use the separate desks in the space if they didn’t. Usually it was Bruce who spread papers across the entire surface, but she’d done the same thing when she was first launching the Gotham Project. It was a makeshift study and a smaller version of the library upstairs all rolled into one.

Alfred’s preferred music–classical–drifted down the hallway to meet them.

“Some fresh berries there,” Alfred said without looking up. Still mad, y/n thought with a grimace. Bruce idly lifted a blueberry to his mouth as he peered over Alfred’s shoulder at the cipher.

Y/n excused herself to the kitchen to make coffee, leaving Alfred and Bruce to it. She hoped Bruce would apologize, but she wasn’t holding her breath. Even now, even after everything, getting Bruce to talk about his feelings was like pulling teeth and herding cats at the same time. Painful and impossible and sometimes not worth the hassle. He was most open with her, but with Alfred…it was hard to break old habits. For both of them.

As her coffee machine percolated happily, her phone chimed with an alert. The accountants had been let in the gate and were making their way to the manor.

She grabbed her coffee cup and went to the front door, glad she had dressed a little better than Bruce had as she greeted a couple of really professional looking accountants. She led them into the formal dining room–a room they had never used in all of her time in Wayne Manor–where breakfast was already waiting.

“I’ll go get Mr. Wayne,” she said to the accountants, hustling out before she could get caught in conversation. “Please, help yourselves.”

“The accountants are here,” she said to Alfred and Bruce when she re-entered the study. She tried really hard not to laugh at Bruce wearing sunglasses inside, but didn’t quite manage it. He sighed softly. He knew exactly what she was smirking about.

She started silently praying that she, too, didn’t have to sit in on what was going to be a deathly boring meeting.

“Go on, then,” Alfred gestured at Bruce. “Let’s go have breakfast. Y/n, you should get some sleep.”

She opened her mouth to ask how he’d known, but then realized it was Alfred. Of course he knew she hadn’t slept, just like Bruce hadn’t slept.

“Have fun.” She winked at Bruce, who winced. She was immensely glad she wasn’t to be included.

She glanced at the cipher, now covered in letters, before immediately giving up. She wasn’t good at those sorts of things.

After a few minutes, her curiosity got the better of her, and she wandered downstairs towards the dining room. She wasn’t going to eavesdrop, exactly, just make sure Bruce wasn’t causing a scene. That’s what she told herself, at least, as she clutched her coffee tightly and stopped just down the hallway out of sight.

“–won’t sign a prenup. Everything is hers, whether I’m alive or dead. In fact, when we get married, she can have my shares in Wayne Enterprises. I don’t care. Everything I have is already hers, if she wants it.”

Well, she thought drily. Looks like he’s causing a scene already.

Then the words sank in.

This meeting was about her. About getting Bruce involved in the company, but also ensuring that the company was safe from her. An oily feeling slithered slowly down her spine. Her gut clenched. Even as long as they’d been together, they thought she was going to steal the company and the Wayne money.

But Bruce wanted her to have all of it.

She flushed.

“--be hasty, Mr. Wayne,” Alfred was saying in a soothing voice. “We’ll just add that to your living will, and then we’ll add her name to the shares upon your marriage like we discussed.”

Bruce’s voice rose and fell again, interrupted by that of the accountants.

Y/n really shouldn’t be eavesdropping. She crept back to their bedroom with her coffee and climbed into bed in the dark. The curtains were drawn, as usual, and she didn’t even bother turning on a lamp. As soon as Bruce was done, it was time for bed.

Everything I have is already hers, if she wants it.

She knew he loved her. Knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. But something about those words in particular caused warmth to surge through her while a lump formed in her throat. He was telling that–and vehemently–to official Wayne Enterprises accountants.

It wasn’t much longer before Bruce came stomping into the room, shucking his shirt off as he went. He was muttering to himself, clearly worked up.

“Hi,” she said. She set her empty coffee cup on the nightstand.

He looked up guiltily. Even in the dark, she could tell he was flushed. “Oh–were you sleeping?”

“No, your hissy fit was keeping me up.” But she smiled. He rolled his eyes.

Bruce slid into the covers beside her and yanked her almost roughly to his bare chest. “They think you’re after my money,” he said angrily.

“Oh, I am,” she said.

He ignored her and continued on, “They want me to sign a prenup and they want me to keep you from owning shares of the company. At all.” His body was tensing more and more by the second. She knew that this, on top of everything he’d seen last night, was too much for him. “I don’t even–”

“Shh,” she said. “If it makes everyone happy, I’ll sign. I don’t care about the money. We could live under a bridge for all I cared, as long as you were there. And as long as I had access to coffee.”

She kissed the underside of his jaw. He relaxed marginally.

“I’ll sign the whole goddamn company over to you right now just to spite them,” Bruce muttered. “You’d be better with it anyways.”

Y/n stiffened. “I really don’t want that,” she said a bit breathlessly. It would be a nightmare, to say the least.

“You’d be so good at it. I’ve seen what you’ve done with the Gotham Project in less than a year and–”

“Okay, but Bryn and Ollie keep that place running, for the most part. Hey, maybe we should give Wayne Enterprises to them.”

Finally, Bruce relaxed into her touch, and laughed. “I would really consider it, if it wouldn’t give Alfred an aneurism.”

She huffed a laugh at the thought. “Yeah, let’s keep Alfred healthy. Between the two of us, he already has high blood pressure.”

Bruce nuzzled his face into her hair and took a deep breath. Then another. Slowly, they both relaxed into each other’s warmth until their breathing matched.

“I’m…scared,” y/n finally whispered. She hid her face in the space Bruce’s neck met his shoulder. She breathed in the scent of him. “I don’t like that this guy, this killer, addressed a card to you. And with Mitchell–”

“I know,” Bruce murmured. “I’ll figure it out. But after you get a few hours of sleep first.”

“Me?” she asked. One eyebrow quirked upwards even though he couldn’t see it, as tucked underneath his chin as she was. “I’ll sleep if you do.”

She started to pull away but Bruce tightened his grip. He sighed. “Fine.”

“Good, I was about to threaten you if you didn’t give in.”

“Mmm.”

She grinned. He was already almost asleep.

She let his quiet breathing soothe her until she too fell asleep, cradled in his arms.

Next Chapter

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