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amyispxnk · 3 months

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My Kind of Woman

Chapter 1: Special.

Series Masterlist

Series summary - Your song captivates Joel the second he hears you that night in Jackson, but he struggles to work up the courage to confess his feelings. With some (very heavy) encouragement from Ellie and Tommy, you two get closer and closer until he finally thinks he’s ready.

Chapter summary - You and Joel finally sit down together after a year of stolen glances.

A/N: OH MY GOD IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I’VE WRITTEN A FIC I MISSED IT SM. Let’s all collectively pray that I actually finish this series, btw. It kind of just came to me earlier today and I barely have anything planned but.. you know me by now.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol, light language, (kind of) fluff, nothing much really in this chapter

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“Come on man. We’ve been here for almost two years and you still haven’t made any friends. I see how you look at her- just say something! It is actual torture having to watch you dance around people like this.” Ellie groans dramatically, trying to kick some sense into the man who sits across from her. Joel just grunts, continuing to eat his stew as she looks blankly at him. “She’s nice enough.” She adds after a moment, trying to get him to say something.

After more silence, she speaks again with an exaggerated sigh, “I guess I’ll just go talk to her then, tell her that my old man has a big, fat crush on her. Maybe then you two can-” her smirk falters when Joel interrupts her.

“Don’t you dare go doin’ that,” he grumbles “Y’ gon’ make me look stupid-”

“So you talk to her then! Stop moping around all the time.” Ellie concludes, before standing up and saying goodbye, going to clear her tray and giving him a look before leaving the mess hall.

Joel watches her go before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. First, Tommy was on his ass about making some friends - “You’re scarin’ people, y’know. Givin’ everyone death stares when you walk around, being so.. withdrawn all the time. It’d do ya some good,” he’d told Joel one evening at the Tipsy Bison - and now Ellie was too. And, knowing Ellie, that kid wouldn’t be as patient, probably already concocting some sort of plan to force you and Joel together.

As he leans his head back and mulls over his options, he looks out the window. Of course you’re out there, playing with the kids of Jackson. You’re one of the most popular people in Jackson, always being friendly and knowing just about everyone.

..Except him, of course. You’ve had some small chats with him, but you never really see him. He sees you though, having been.. observing you for the past year, keeping his distance - being respectful, in his eyes, being a wuss, in Ellie’s - and he knows enough about you to know that he probably has no chance with you.

You’re funny, sweet, fucking stunning, and he’s seen multiple guys try to approach you at the bar. Younger, more attractive guys. Mainly, you help teach kids things like art and music at the Jackson school, and you also do patrols a few times a week. On some nights you also sing at the Tipsy Bison when there are events and dances. The band will play, often with you as the lead singer. He always makes sure he’s there when you are.

The first time he saw you was on one of his very first nights in the Tipsy Bison. Tommy had dragged him along, Ellie going too, with promise of a fun night.

He came mainly to keep an eye on Ellie and to get some alcohol in his system, not expecting anything ‘fun’ to happen. Boy, was he wrong.

It had been around half an hour of him nursing his whiskey in the corner of the room when you came onto stage, million-dollar smile on your face as you spoke into the microphone.

“Good evening, Jackson!” You began, already getting a loud cheer from the crowd of people there that night. “It’s great to be singin’ for you again, you know I missed ya! Now, tonight, we got a few songs lined up, but this first one is a special request from Mister Tommy Miller over there!” You had said, pointing over to Tommy who was sitting with Joel, the younger brother grinning widely at you.

The band started and you began to sing one of Joel’s favourite songs from before the outbreak - somehow, it sounded even better in your voice. Joel glared at Tommy when he realised what he had done, and Tommy just shrugged before looking back at you. He couldn’t stay mad at him though, because by the end of it he was entranced by the sweet melody of your voice and how gorgeous you looked singing your heart out under the lights.

You were beaming at the audience after finishing as they showered you with applause, though it took Joel a second to actually start clapping and stop staring at you.

He tried denying it, but, as cheesy as it sounds, it was love at first sight for him.

It scared him, definitely. It had barely been a year since he lost Tess, and although he wouldn’t go as far as saying they were in love, it was the closest thing he’d had to it in decades. To think he even liked you from just hearing you sing one song.. that fucking terrified him.

Which is why he kept his distance for so long. He didn’t know what to do with himself when he realised he actually liked you. He hadn’t had any sort of connection other than Ellie and Tommy in so long, and they were his family. You, though.. you were so different.

He sighed deeply before opening his eyes again, finishing his meal as he watched you smile and laugh in the snow through the window.

A week later, Tommy manages to convince Joel to come to the Tipsy Bison again, promising ‘no funny business’ to go on. Joel isn’t sure he’d really mind.

Time goes by quietly, a simple Monday afternoon not having much going on for them, but then you turn up. He sees you as soon as you walk through the doors, an unfamiliar tiredness in your eyes. It looks like you’ve been on a long patrol.

You look around before noticing Tommy and Joel, walking over with a small smile.

Joel stares daggers at Tommy. “You said no funny business,” he grits, a strange panic flooding his system. Did he brush his hair this morning? Do his clothes look tidy? Did he have anything in his teeth?

“Ain’t no funny business here, brother.” Tommy grins at him, not giving him a chance to reply as you get to their table.

“Hi Tommy!” You smile, hugging him before turning to Joel. “And Joel! It’s so great to see you!”

Joel blinks at you. Fuck, you’re talking to him. He needs to say something back.

“Yeah, you too.” He mumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly.

If you pick up on his discomfort, you don’t mention it, looking around before continuing.

“Are y’all stayin’?” You ask, now leaning forward a little with your palms on the table.

“As far as I’m concerned.” Tommy replies, to which you nod. “Y’ wouldn’t mind if I sit with ya, then?” You ask.

“Not at all, darlin’.” He says, and you slide into the booth with them, starting up a conversation about what you did today, mentioning that draining patrol you just got back from.

“I’m tellin’ ya - morning patrols are like hell on earth, Tommy. ‘S not fair to be makin’ us go out at 6 am.” You groan, to which he smiles. “Nothin’ a little coffee can’t fix.” Tommy replies, which makes you perk up.

“You have coffee? Since when?” You gasp, wide-eyed at him.

“New trade opened, and since Joel here is such an addict, we got our hands on some.” He gestures to Joel, and you look over at him, a smile creeping onto your face.

“I see.. being Tommy’s brother has its perks then? Got you hoarding all the coffee for yourself?” You tease, to which Joel chuckles quietly at, sitting up a little taller.

“Not hoardin’. Nobody else has asked for any.” He tells you, looking into your eyes and trying not to get lost in them for too long.

“And if I wanted some?” You say, tilting your head sideways slightly as it rests on your palm.

“Y’ always welcome to come get some, sweetheart.” He isn’t sure what possessed him to use the pet name with you, but he’s very thankful for it as a soft crimson paints your cheeks and you bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot. “Well, thank you.” You reply, before a man comes over to get you your drink. “Whiskey, neat please.” You tell him and he goes off to get it. Joel is pleasantly surprised by your choice. He never really thought about what you might order from the bar, but the fact that you shared the same drink of choice made you even more attractive in his eyes.

2 hours later, Tommy had gone off to handle an issue with the council and you and Joel had been talking and drinking and laughing. It’s around 3 now and he barely realises in time for his afternoon patrol, finishing off his whiskey before telling you, noticing the slight sadness that appears on your face at him having to go.

“Oh! Alright then. I’ll see you around. Have a good patrol, Joel.” You smile at him, and he offers you a small smile back.

“See ya ‘round.” He says before leaving and going back to the stables.

Later that evening, Ellie somehow figures out what went down earlier at the bar (Joel’s already planning on giving Tommy a talking to tomorrow) and makes fun of him endlessly for it, saying that he was apparently so shy when he was talking with you.

“I’d have never thought that someone could make the big, bad Joel all nervous and flustered, but she just continues to prove me wrong. She’s definitely special, huh.” Ellie grins, before bidding Joel goodnight and leaving him with his thoughts.

He hated to admit it, but Ellie was right in saying that. You were special.

Tysm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 💞

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youngtomhardy · 2 years

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Me on film by Cin Lona in Los Angeles, CA.

I haven’t had a place where I can endlessly type out thoughts for awhile… I wanna tell you what’s really been going on behind the scenes with my career. The highs, lows and everything in between. If you followed me here, you’re a true medranhoe. These might be long, but I hope you find these interesting. <3 Here’s my story so far…

After releasing Fluids & going viral on twitter a few times, I was found by a team parented by Epic Records in 2020. In hindsight, it’s better that I never officially signed. We had our first meeting on March 15, 2020, can you believe? The next day, the world shut down and I didn’t hear from them for months. They had just spent a shit ton of money on lunch with me where they told me they were gonna put me on tour as an opener, promised me Rock in Rio within the first 2 years of working, and a huge deal with the parent company. I was devastated when the lockdowns started, but I understood. We were all scared.

Eventually we got to talking again and tried to work during the pandemic. The music industry collapsed and TikTok became the way to break artists. So they encouraged me to get on there & start making content. Then they linked me up with a personal trainer. Took care of the costs, put it onto my development budget. In between, they’d whisk me away to estates in Palm Springs, 5 star hotels in Venice, insanely expensive dinners in LA’s art district. It was a dream come true, it was too good to be true. I predicted this would happen in my teen years. I feel like I’ve already seen my life happen, but that’s for another post.

From there, I wrote a radio top 40 single with AJ, got my first sync deals, got Fluids in front of Mike Dean and a couple other huge name producers (they all love the song by the way) and started working on my album with my co-producer Dan. He’s gone on to work with BTS and Noah Cyrus which is fucking amazing & honestly will be a great little quip for press when my album drops. A win is a win. The songs are great, we worked on 5 songs together for the record.

Slowly but surely, things looked less and less promising with the team. Texts and calls got less frequent, my personal training sessions were cancelled. I knew what was happening. Another part of my story I’d already foreseen. Even through all of this, they remained so kind & supportive, for which I’m grateful. Regardless, I could feel them pulling away and that hurt.

In spite of going viral on tiktok over and over again, my streams and listeners rapidly rising, the deal never happened. It hurt so fucking bad. I cried and screamed and raged and ranted to anyone who would listen. I’m still not fully over it, but I have a little more clarity & peace now. It wasn’t my fault & I know this is common in the industry, but I guess I was just really hoping to bypass that part of the story. I’ve always been an impatient fuck.

So I picked myself up like always do and said fine, I’ll drop this album myself. Started the rollout and the music got attention from bigger names. All. By. Myself. Personal Heaven dropped and it got to Slayyyter. She told me she loved the song, wanted a session with me, and we became friends. She’s the first pop star in the industry that went out of her way to be kind & work with me. I’ve always admired her so much, I really hope one of the songs we worked on (or will work on) comes out one day. I’m seriously so grateful for her friendship.

Then I started working with Funk LeBlanc and we made a song that was an instant success with fans. ‘Do Your Thing, Babe!’ went viral 5 times all in different scales. The lowest viewed tiktok had 60k, the highest almost half a million. Labels got into my email again, ranging from EMI (they ghosted me after 1 email — why i’ll never know — but that one hurt) to smaller indie efforts. A new team reached out to me, this time with ties to Columbia. A dream label of mine. I’m still working with the imprint label now, but things are a little more low key. No promises of deals, no expensive dinners, no parties, just little meetings here and there — a friendship almost. I don’t know if this is better or not, but it feels good and genuine. They love the music, the image, and I really am so thankful to my first team for helping me curate that side of myself.

So now, I spend my days going to sessions, doing quick jobs for extra cash, playing with my puppy, and working out. Kim Petras recently followed me and I don’t really know why but I love her & hope it’s for my music. I’m hoping to get into sessions with her one day too, maybe a collab? Hopefully. I just gotta really make my mark. I may not be where I want to, but my god am I further along than where I was. My project is finally out in January. My heart once broken is finally healing. For the first time in a long time, the future looks bright and I’m happy.

- Disco Dad.

#michael medrano #disco dad #party aesthetic #men who smoke #smoke cloud #smoke aesthetic #stache papi #tumblr diary #music industry #artists on tumblr #leather daddy #indie sleaze #slayyyter #kim petras #pop star #me

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apparently-artless · 1 month

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oh my god WAAAAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH ART!!!! the gifset is SO so so beautiful you have no idea!!!!!!!!! i cannot stop watching it over and over again. the colours are absolutely perfect, and the gif transitions are so smooth!!!!!! i'm so so happy aaaaa i can't believe something so beautiful was made for my request 😭😭😭 i really appreciate it, thank you soo much!!!! the bokuyaba fandom is truly lucky to have you in it, your edits are always so spectacular and i always enjoy looking at them. im so glad you had fun making it too!!!! thanks a million and i hope you have a wonderful day, week, month and year <333 !!!!!!!! 💛💛💛

hi, willow!! thank you so much for sending me another message to let me know of your thoughts!! this message really made me happy. ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

i also noticed that you pinned my post on your blog, i was practically blushing when i saw the label on top. (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)

in all honesty, i was very aware of the scene that you were referring to when i saw your request. i was also thinking of making a set for that scene but it got buried in all the current series i am watching. the scene itself was already beautiful and to be honest i am not good at scenes with sunset gradient. and i guess that's another reason why i didn't made this set until you requested it. and so i took it both as a challenge and an opportunity. who knows, i might end up gif-baiting other people to watch it?? lol

and yes!! i did have fun making the set. i had to combine some gradients with different blending modes and i had to manipulate the level adjustment layer a lot for each gif. i was very concerned that i might end up ruining an already beautiful scene so i tried not to deviate too much from the original colors but at the same time still incorporate my own coloring style.

i hope you don't mind me putting the comparison of the original vs my coloring. this is just to show you how much i had fun making this edit. i am also very satisfied with the result if i do say so myself. hehehe. ^^

anyways, it doesn't matter if other people don't appreciate it as long as the person who requested the set liked it, is what i thought. so i'm very happy when i saw your message and your tags in the post when you reblogged it.

bokuyaba is a dark horse anime series for me. it's something i watched simply because i wanted to explore different genre every season. i was thinking of dropping it after 1-2 episodes but i'm glad that i didn't. i am not an avid fan of romance, especially if the main characters are young but this series has something special to offer. it's one of my favourite romance anime now with school setting.

SO TO ALL THE PEOPLE WHO DROPPED THIS ANIME, GIVE IT A TRY AGAIN. AND THEN SCREAM AT ME IN MY INBOX FOR WASTING YOUR TIME IF YOU STILL WOULD NOT LIKE IT AFTER WATCHING AT LEAST THE FIRST SEASON. XD

#art answers #reply #boku no kokoro no yabai yatsu #bokuyaba #artsrecs #sorry for the long reply ^^#it's the first time i am interacting to someone here on tumblr who loves bokuyaba as well

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snapehasppfingers · 1 year

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Chapter 1 of Hate!

The Serpent

The train's scream fills the crisp autumn air, brushing through my silver locks as I let the suffocating breath through my lips. Here it goes I guess. With a humf I swing my childhood trunk over my shoulder and levitate my other belongings and make my way to my car. It's certainly been awhile since I've set foot in this train, shame that there's still all the same divots and dents in the walls. Navigating the aisle was always a challenge, kids of all ages screaming, giggling, reuniting and some even crying. It's weird going back after thirteen years and no longer being so giddy to fully experience going to Hogwarts, and don't get me wrong I am excited but I feel old. As students make it to their cabins the train seems to still and pierce the air once again with its whistle, now I can stress out in silence. I grabbed my most recent pickup from Marlas Marvelous Books and Trinkets “The darkest arts” which has kept me in an unhealthy sleep cycle for weeks.

Soon enough the train rolls to a stop, hissing for everyone to get off and let it rest. I decide to wait to avoid the rush and pure chaos that scurrys out of the train. I grabbed my trunk and made my way to my first real home.

The carriage ride was exactly what I remembered, uncomfortably bumpy and another head ache. I walked through the gates I walked through millions of times, still intimidating and grand. I immediately made my way to Dumbledoors office to ask what and where I am supposed to place my shit. I wandered through the halls like I was a 16 year old seeing it all again for the first time, the ceilings descending into grand structures, the delicate details of the halls. As I rounded the corner to his office I noticed the wall was already separated and faint voices could be heard the closer I got. He must be expecting me? No, I should wait. No it will be quick, just play dumb. Against my better judgment I decided to get it over with and climbed the stoned steps, that hopefully won't lead me to my death.

Upon arrival the door was closed so I lightly knocked, which caused all sounds to silence and all that could be heard were footsteps. The old oak door swung open to the man himself, with his mystical white beard and moon rimmed glasses and upon inspection a genuine smile.

“Ms. Middleton! How lovely to see you after such a long time, I have been waiting for you to get here!” He said with his gentle smile, he paused and looked at the other voice I heard who I didn't even register was there. I wish I hadn't, I didn't think I would have to see him again especially here. Severus Snape, where do I even begin? When I was attending Hogwarts I was one year older than him and I had taken notice of the only other person stealing all the good potion books and Defense Against the Dark Arts books. I was curious, sure but I never spoke with him when we would both be in the library past curfew. One night I asked if I could have the book he was reading because it hasn't been in the library for months. He was quiet and to be honest seemed uncomfortable with me interacting with him but once I broke that wall with him we slowly became “acquaintances' '. My thoughts were interrupted by Dumbdoors again.

“I apologize I wasn't sure about your exact arrival, Severus and I were discussing lesson plans but we have covered what is needed. Right Severus?” His tone changed just slightly I couldn't quite tell what but I was more focusing on looking at him. I snuck a peak just to see his reaction, just to see if he's still the same Sev I remember. My hazel pools were only met with his endless onyx eyes boring into me, I felt my body shiver and I once again rested my gaze on Dumbledore. I don't think Snape heard him because he was still looking at me when I spoke,

“Please my intention wasn't to intrude, my apologies. I am only here asking where I shall be housed and my classroom arrangements. You may continue. I will step out until you're done.” I said with a small smile on my lips, attempting to disguise my anxiety. I kept my eyes on Dumbledoor awaiting a response but it wasn't him that spoke, it was a deep, silky and rough voice that could only come from him.

“We have concluded our discussion, I will take my leave, excuse me Miss. Middleton.” He spoke my name with some type of emotion but I could only tell because we used to laugh when we called each other by our last names. His gaze lingering on me until he had to make it through the door, and with a woosh that infamous black cape he disappeared.

Time skip (because I'm lazy :)

The next morning after I had gotten my rooms comfortable and the classroom at least moved into, I slept like a baby. My body ached from yesterday's events as I dragged my body out of my bed, I staggered to the bathroom and showered, making sure to take a moment to prepare for today. Today is my first day back. I need to make lesson plans and talk to all my old professors and maybe even some of my favorite old secret places. I got dressed in my simple robes with my hair in a ponytail and doc martens. I make my way to the Great Hall and feel myself get light headed at the anxiety coursing through my veins the closer and closer I get to those big ass doors. Sure enough the second I do, the only people here are the professors all eating in their “spots' ' in the front.

“Oh my! Look who it is!” A shrill voice screeched out as I shot my head to see who it was; they engulfed me with a hug. It didn't take much to know it was a “Mini” (a.k.a.) Mcgonagall, just by feeling her old woman arms wrap around me so tight my eyes started getting black around the rims, by her signature smell of- parchment, ink and herbal teas. Mini was like a mother to me all through my years, she helped the first day when I spilled my only ink pot on my paper, most others had the money to get more but I didn't so I remember just staring blankly at the sheet while my throat got hot and tight. She asked me for help in her storage closet and handed me a fresh bottle of ink as well as the most amazing hug a 10 year old had ever gotten. Ever since then I liked her, which was rare, so this was refreshing.

“Mini! I missed you so much! I'm excited to be working with you and learning from you all over again. How have you been?” I asked with the most genuine smile across my face, we walked and talked as she gilded me up to a seat. A seat by none other than Severus Snape, I mentally face palmed as I acted unaffected by it.

“So please tell us all about where you disappeared off to after 7th year. I was so sad to hear, I'm sorry for your loss.” She smiled sympathetically, and I would find it endearing if she hadn't just brought up my fathers sudden passing in front of everyone, especially Snape. I composed myself and tried to tweak the original story which included me getting the mark and trying to find family in anything I could because I was so lost with myself. Yeah probably not the most welcoming start.

“Mini I will happily catch up with you over some tea, now please tell me how things have been?” I smiled in a way that hopefully told her I don't want to talk about this right now, and she seemed to have gotten it. We chatted and eventually she started talking to Paloma, I turned my attention to my plate and not to the brooding man next to me.

“ Ms, Middleton?” I stopped chewing as I felt his breath fan against my face with that question. I tilted my head so I could make eye contact but his eyes were set forward.

“Yes Professor, Snape?” I cringed at the formality and the memory of us that would be laughing at this, but we weren't.

“I wasn't expecting to ever see you again.” He practically yawned while saying it, making it feel like the biggest pain in the ass to talk to me. He was always a dick. I don't know why he's talking to me. I certainly don't want to talk to him. I rolled my eyes and replied with the same tone.

“Sorry to disappoint you. Now if you’ll excuse me.” I bit out the last bit causing his focus to fail and his eyes to try and find mine but I was already out of the hall.

Honestly I could be nicer but I don't owe that man anything but silence, he was never nice. Reasonably so I guess, when we were “friends' ' we talked about things, most of the time it was innocent and did not involve the more realistic concepts of our lives but we got into it on the late nights at the top of the astronomy tower. That was our spot, other than the library we would meet up there past curfew when we just couldn't rest and chat, sometimes we wouldn't talk at all until I lit a cigarette then he would ask for a drag. Thinking about it as an adult I liked him more than a friend but I could tell even then that he was just in need of company, and he treated me as such and I was always a second option.

I rounded the halls and ended up in my classroom, which was all too boring and gloomy for my taste. I added my “touch” to the room and opened all the shutters and lit an incense. I knew I needed to plan my first month of lessons, so with an exasperated breath I sat at my desk and began my brian storm. My

experience from DADA while in school was average, and I always wanted to do more interactive things so I will add a defense spell course for students. As I was scribbling away a knock clouded the room with baritone echos, I wasn't exactly pleased to be bothered while i'm working but I got up and made my way to the large door. To my surprise it was Severus, he looked tired and worn out which wasn't a good look on him. I almost felt sympathy for him but then he opened his stupid mouth.

“Sorry to disturb your time, I was sent down here to request a healing potion for Madam Pomfrey.” His gaze pierces mine as I look at him with a bored expression. I looked at him with confusion as I realized the potions professor was asking me to brew a potion for someone, not him. I inwardly rolled my eyes.

“Forgive me if i'm wrong but I do believe that's your field of expertise not mine. I can do it, I just don't understand why I am the one doing it?” My face was plain but my voice rose with an interrogating tone. He then scoffed and sighed the biggest breath I felt on my face, which was not pleasant and I was already angry at his half assed reaction.

“I am aware of my job, thank you. I have more urgent important matters to deal with and she asked me to ask you next. I simply don't have the time.” He said with a smirk threatening his lips, a smirk I wanted to jynx off. The audacity of this old bat.

“That's funny actually because I also have more important matters to attend to like planning my class. So I know you're perfectly capable and I know Madam Pomfrey didn't ask you to ask me, you're just lazy. So if you'll excuse me I need to get back to my job.” I bit out at a dangerously low voice with death pooling in my gaze. He looked taken aback for a moment before the stupid smirk returned.

“What important things do you have to do? Playing magic with fake spells because you aren't qualified to actually teach?” He bit out trying to hurt me in some sense which I had to contain my laughter.

“You know Snape I don't really want to talk to you, I don't really know what I'm doing still. So I'm gonna return to what I was doing before you cursed me with your presence. Goodday.” I smiled and slammed the door in his face, and I smirked the whole way back to my desk. Sure what he said did hurt but I never want him to see me weak again, never again will I like or enjoy his presence.

Ok thats the first chapter please let me know what you think!

-<3

#snape angst #snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape #severus snape fanfiction

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siriusmydeer · 3 years

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ooo okay so a James Potter x reader soulmate au where they feel each others pain, and she has a suspicion he's her soulmate but it's confirmed when he falls off his broom, and she hates him being her soulmate because he's in love with lily, but he says that lily doesn't matter anymore blah blah, and she says she first thought it was him when he fell of a bench in the great hall or something after confessing his love for lily in front of the entire school (1)

‘all along that they were soulmates but she tells him its really inconsiderate for being so obvious about his love for lily when he knew he had a soulmate and he feels really guilty and tries to make it up for her and yeah fluff ending please :)’

the painful soulmate

james potter x fem!reader

summary: in a world where you can feel your soulmates pain; your soulmate happens to think someone else is his soulmate

word count: 2.2k

warning: swearing, mentions of verbally abusing someone, mentions of beating people up, injuries; falling in the air, cracked ribs, tripping, face planting. joking name calling, kissing, angst, soulmate au, insinuation of unrequited love, fluff ending

by the age of 16 you and every other witch along with wizard were given a particular... gift. you wouldn’t consider it a gift, more like your worse fucking nightmare but you could squeal and pretend to be all dainty and excited about meeting your soulmate.

i mean why not give someone a choice on who they wanted to love? this wasn’t a game of spin the bottle this was forever.

being the only female in your friend group, made all the boys amongst you ridiculously pry into your privacy. wanting to know who they had to verbally torture considering they would scoop up the ‘precious little baby-girl’ of the group.

coming directly from the drama queen himself; sirius black. it’s not like they could beat up your partner because you would be able to feel his or her pain as-well.

you were sat in the marauders dorm absently playing with your fingers while looking at each of your mates, sirius and remus attempted to finish their plans on a new prank for the newest defence against the dark arts teacher, james sat at his desk table writing up ways to ask lily more dramatically than the last and peter had been figuring out his transfiguration homework from a few days prior.

“prongs, if you know she’s gonna say no, then why ask?” remus questioned not even looked at the sapphire-eyed boy. his only logic being, ‘well ill turn her no into a yes.’ as if coercion was the way to go.

the brunette sat at the table swiftly turning his head in the lyncanthropes direction, his spectacles almost falling down his nose from the quick snap of his head. “well, lily-pad has always said, ‘not in a million years!’ but that means after a million years she’d go out with me.” finishing his speech with a small grin.

the rest of the group on the other hand looked at him dumbfounded. eyebrows either scrunched or furrowed, “james m’afraid that’s not how it works.” you spoke, trying to ease his feelings as if your words could stop his incessant pining.

“well, i’ll just make it work!” turning around and continuing his list, speaking as if he was godric gryffindor coming up with the best idea of the century. “ten galleons she says no again.” sirius quickly whispers in peters direction, the dirty blonde haired boy doing a quick nod then looking back at his parchment.

“i heard that!”

the next time there was a ramble of soulmate talk, which by the way you were getting exhausted from. why did everyone have to have a soulmate? why couldn’t you pick from your own free will? it’s not even like you could have a bloody crush because there was already someone supposedly out there for you!

one free period, ONE! and it’s spent over peter narrowing down his options on all the gryffindor girls he might be paired with. “it’s definitely not marls, peter.” sirius’ pearl irises glanced at peter than over to remus who was trying to teach you how to play wizards chess.

“moony, not to be offensive, but this game sucks arse.” you shrugged, glaring at your queen piece that looked like it wanted to yell at you. as you were twisting around the wood of your pieces, james got up from the bench catching a glimpse of red among the ravenclaw students. instead tripping on the stone of the bench and face planting into the freshly cut grass.

you felt a soreness at the fronts of your calves and an immense discomfort on your face. you grimaced while rubbing your knees trying to soothe the random shoot of exertion through your veins to the point where you almost had the urge to groan.

james quickly scrambled to his feet trying to brush out his hair that had sprinkles of green all over the front, you completely ignored the fact that james’ fall broken by the stone of the bench had caused you to have a twinge of pain into your system.

“none of you saw that.” he panted with slight embarrassment, directing his message to sirius who had his hand clenched into a fist over his lips attempting to cover up the small chortles that were threatening to escape his lips.

“don’t worry, we saw nothing.” you confirmed with an amused grin, putting your two fingers over your lips like a seal.

he grinned back at you twice as hard, your heart starting more of an upbeat frequency that you started to notice as he sat beside you moving a piece that could ruin remus’ chance at winning.

“you slimy git! you’re helping her cheat, you little slag!” remus whined, trying to analyze the board again.

after your recovery, from absolutely nothing. you were sprawled on the scarlet-couch waiting for the rest of your friends to come back from detention. you dazed into a book remus had recently given to you, an icepack laying on your foot as you were almost hypnotized by the pride and prejudice book in your hands.

“oi, m’lady!” sirius abruptly shouted while returning to his common room. you jumped from the stentorian voice, that sunk into the now not-solemn and peaceful common room.

you turned your head seeing the bespectacled boy limp onto the other vermillion couch and rest his leg onto the plush of the pillow, meanwhile, the fawn and dirty blonde haired boys sat in the gryffindor-red love seats tired from their detention.

“what’s wrong with him?” you asked, referring to james’ leg that was propped under the pillow.

“we don’t know, we were walking and he just picked up his foot in agony. who knows maybe lily stubbed her toe.” sirius amused to the rest of the group. but your eyes widened in concern, but you had— there’s absolutely and completely no way. more than one person can stub their toe in one day, not just— just one person.

almost like you were in a daze or hypnotized, as stealth as possible you grabbed the maroon coloured blanket that was rested on the arm rest of the couch you spread it over your legs covering the foot; that you had injured previously that day.

what the fuck. no seriously, what the fuck. there wasn’t— there couldn’t even be— that wouldn’t work. it’s not possible. the butterflies, the flushed face, the nervous ticks— fuck.

over the course of the next few days, you were very careful. you could’ve been mary friggin’ poppins i mean you didn’t want him to get suspicious if you were both injured at the same time. you also did not want to know if he— the boy pining over lily fucking evans since first year was possibly— no there’s no way.

the following week there was a slytherin and gryffindor quidditch game. which also happened to be incredibly nerve wracking not only for you but between both houses, as much as slytherin wanted to seem nonchalant there act was simply not going to work. this determined who would be playing in the quidditch house cup, slytherins also happened to not play the fairest in quidditch so extra gryffindor training was keen.

well now that following week, was today. the game was fine, great even. gryffindor was in the lead and james was about to score a quaffle in the hoop, that was until slytherin beater decided to bat a bludger right into james torso causing him to collapse off his broom twenty five feet into the air with nothing to break his fall. at the reflect of the bludger on james ribs you already groaned hunched over into your seat catches the attention of both peter and sirius.

dumbledore did all the spells he could in such a swiftly manner before james skidded on the muddy grass of the pitch. by then you couldn’t even hold in the moans and groans from his affliction with the hard iron bludger and the fall from the air.

both peter and sirius’ eyes widened and shared a look before taking concern to your arching figure. “m’god i didn’t think it hurt that bad!” you groaned into your hands that could almost be seen as trembling from the agony that you were in as james’ team mates brought him down to the infirmary to check for injuries which he did in-fact have.

after sirius had brought you to your dorm, attempting to do a spell to rid you of most-but not all of your pain he raced to healers wing, seeing james on the verge of unconsciousness as madam pomfrey tried to whip up a potion in a fast manner to heal the boy.

i guess it was true— james was your soulmate. your soulmate in love with another woman that is.

a few hours later james was ordered to stay the night for observation, while both sirius and peter decided to catch up remus along with james up on the other ‘things’ more, or less, that occurred during the quidditch match.

him, and lily.... weren’t soulmates? he thought maybe one day they would’ve ended up together, at some point. not his very best friend being the one he’s ‘destined’ with. but he was desperate to speak with you, how did you know? did you even know? how bad did it hurt? he had so many questions scattered around his brain, until he saw your face that was close to a grimace from pain.

“hi.” you whispered, catching his attention.

“hey.” he whispered back hoarsely, gulping at the sudden tension in the room.

“so we’re—“ “you’re my—“ you both spoke at the same time, following an humourless more-so nervous chuckle, from the both of you.

“how long— did you even know?” james started, looking at your figure as if you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

you sat down nervously, cracking your knuckles as you were unsure where to start. “i thought— i started wondering, that day me and rem were playing chess and you fell.” you cleared your throat while speaking, avoiding eye contact entirely. “my knees started to hurt, but i didn’t even notice it. the day that you came into the common room limping, was when i suspected it.” you wrung your fingers together nervously, then looking into his irises.

“you knew? why didn’t you—“ his anger already starting to get the best of him, you knew that you were his soulmate. you were right in-front of him, but you never told him; he almost felt betrayed.

“i didn’t know! only suspected. but you have to understand, james. you were incessantly pinning after lily, you claimed you were ‘in love with her’. you’re making it seem like it was gonna be so easy for me to tell you that ‘guess what, james! the girl you love actually isn’t your soulmate and it’s your best friend you have no interest in!’ prongs, m’fraud s’not that easy.” you mocked, proving your correct argument to him based on his actions.

he took a shaky breath, analyzing basically his whole life in-front of him. even though he might’ve ‘loved’ lily, you were still more important to him. soulmate or not, he would always go to you first. he could barely stand to fight with you, he couldn’t loose you over some silly crush that he had.

“it doesn’t matter— lily— she doesn’t matter. y/n it’s you, soulmate, not soulmate, who cares! lily or not lily, you’ve always been my go-to, my number one, i mean you’ve always been the most important!” he said drastically while punctuating his words, and flailing his arms in the air to prove his point to you.

you sighed looking at him, almost unsure of his words. he looked at you expectantly before speaking again, “i’ll get on my knees right now and beg to you. with broken— well now bruised but priory broken ribs. not to mention my stubbed toe.” he chuckled at last second trying to humour you.

“oh my g— get up!” you snickered at him, james potter was on his knees fighting all the pride in his system right in-front of you where you were sat. his hands grasped both sides of your thighs trying to soothe you into you forgiving him.

at the sight of him right infront of you, with the best sirius black puppy dog eyes he could muster with a pouted lip you immediately gave in. “fine.” you sighed, “fine, fine, fine.” you giggled.

both of his hands encasing your cheeks, a small pout on your lips. “can i kiss you?” he asked, his elbows resting on your thighs. you looked at him pretending to ponder off in thought; shrugging while you spoke, “hmmm, maybe. i gues—“ he quickly cut you off, kissing your pouted lips in the middle of a sentence.

you kissed back, holding his face between your agile fingers. your right hand resting on his squared jaw and the other in his fluffy and borderline-sweaty hair. your lips slotting together, he could feel the mint taste from the gum you have chewed earlier bleed onto his tastebuds; you on the other hand, not such a memorable taste.

you quickly pulled away, a dramatic whine escaping from his throat. “you remember when you face planted into the dirt earlier?” you giggled while asking him. he looked at you confused; why would... you... be asking if he remembered himself falling?

“erm, yeah i can recall.”

“yeah your mouth tastes like dirt.”

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#james potter one shot #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #james potter x oc #james potter x you #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #james potter fanart #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #harry potter

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

The Lesson

After breaking up with your long-term boyfriend, you finally found the courage to enrol at university, studying Modern Theatre. Your life now taking an unexpected detour to its original plan of marriage, babies, settling down. This is going to be an interesting year.

Tag List (message me to be added): @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @cloudofdisney

Warnings - smut / teacher.student relationship

Main Characters - Cillian Murphy (he's 35 and single for the purpose of this fic, no children)

"Hey!!! Over here!!" You heard Sarah, your best friend, shouting from the other side of the hall and made your way over.

"Thank god, I was starting to think I'd gone to the wrong place! This place is huge!!" You laughed as you hugged each other. Your bag slung over your shoulder, you linked arms with Sarah with your other arm as you made your way down to the Lecture Theatre.

"So how are you feeling?" Sarah asked.

"Nervous! I never, in a million years, thought I'd be doing this! I feel so old!" You laughed. At 26, you were easily the oldest student here, but Sarah laughed your worries away.

"Trust me, you're not. Once they revealed who the teacher was going to be this semester, a fair few extra people signed up to do that course y/n!" You looked at her confused.

"What, Mr Allen?? He's about 75 isn't he?" Sarah laughed again and left you at the door to your classroom, making her way to her own Design Studio at the bottom of the corridor to teach her own class.

"You'll see when you get inside!" She called behind her, smiling.

You took your seats near the front of the room, looking behind you you could see a gaggle of ladies in the back corner, all of them easily over the age of 40 with no clear interest at all in the subject at hand. They were all giggling like children.. this was going to be fun, you thought, rolling your eyes. Turning back round, you caught a glimpse of a dark haired man making his way through the door at the back of the room. As he made his way to the desk in the centre of the stage area in front of the students, you couldn't help but gasp a little. Jesus he was cute....

The ladies at the back squealed in delight and the man rolled his eyes.

"Right then, let's make a few things clear from the off shall we folks?" He spoke, his Irish accent booming through the auditorium. Everyone fell silent.

"I have a passion for the arts - I've been involved with them since I was 19. I'm here to teach you all I've learned over the last 16years and I plan on teaching it to like minded, dedicated people. People who want to make a career out of the beauty that is theatre. Those of you here simply to catch a glimpse of anything OTHER than a teacher doing his job, the doors at the back of the room." He stood still, leaning against the desk. The gasp at the back of the room was so loud, you couldn't help but giggle a little. Busted ladies. They all whispered to each other, a few of them glaring in the man's direction as they made their way to the back of the room. Slowly but surely, a few others also left sheepishly, men included, and you couldn't help but notice the man smiling a little underneath his floppy brown hair and round glasses. Who was this man??

"Now that's taken care of, I'm hoping I'm left with students that are here to learn the theatre and nothing else..." He paused, looking round the room. His eyes met yours and he paused for a second, raising his eyebrow slightly. You were now the oldest in the room, and you felt even more out of place. You kept a straight face, and maintained the eye contact with him. He wasn't bullying YOU out of here, you didn't care who he THOUGHT he was.

"Right... Well we'd better get going then!" His demeanour changed, he smiled broadly clapping his hands together. "My name's Cillian Murphy - please for the love of God call me Cillian... Mr Murphy is my Dad and I'm not quite ready for that level of old yet." A few chuckles in the room - that tension was gone. "This isn't the first time I've done a class like this, and I've had to evict people part way through for.. ah.. shall we say inappropriate behaviour. Wanted to nip that in the bud from the offset, so I apologise to you all now for the way the class started. Now, do you all have the textbooks the school sent out last month? Let's start on page 35 shall we?" The class, including you, opened the books in unison to find the chapter on Lighting and Sound. Cillian glanced back over at you, a look of uncertainty on his face. You could feel him staring, but refused to look up at him.

"So how are your classes going y/n?" Your mum walked into your apartment to find you studying, book one side, laptop the other and you making notes in the middle of your desk in the corner of the room. You'd given her a key a month prior so she could let your dog, Juno, out during the day while you were at uni.

"It's hard work! I had no idea there was so much to learn about the theatre, they make it look so easy!!"

Your mum laughed and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for you both. Kicking back, you allowed yourself a break after 3 hours studying and met your mum at the small breakfast bar.

"I hear you have a new teacher too? Cillian Murphy?"

"Yeah, he's amazing! He's been there and done it all mum, the stories he tells are fascinating!"

"You know who he is, right?" You did know. You'd googled him when you got home after that first lesson. Pretty big hot shot actor, but you weren't bothered. He seemed pretty down to earth and normal to you.

"Yep I know - you'd never think it though, he's so... Normal I guess?"

"Cute too."

"Mother! Behave!" You both giggled. You couldn't deny he was very attractive though - but you could tell he was a professional. No way had he even looked at you that way - in fact you were convinced he thought you were there purely for him, rather than the course, so you were even more determined to pass this semester with flying colours to prove a point.

The following weeks were filled with more information than you could get your head around. You hated to admit it, but you were struggling to keep up. You hated admitting defeat, but you were really starting to wonder if you could carry on at this pace. Your work was starting to slip, and Cillian had noticed it too, much to your dismay. He'd called a 1-2-1 with you this afternoon, and you were convinced he was going to pull you from the course. You knocked on the door of his office, the defeat written all over your face.

"Come in y/n.."

"Hi.." you tried to smile as you sat across from him. He had your latest piece of coursework in front of him on the desk and he was leaning back in the chair, eyeing you through the rims of his round glasses. Standing up, he made his was over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of Irish Whiskey. You watched him, silently, as he put two glasses on the desk.

"Shouldn't be drinking this during the day, but felt the need. Want one?" You smiled, nodding your head.

"Conversation is clearly not going to be a fun one, no?"

"What makes you say that? I'm just lightening the mood y/n, you walked in here looking like you were going to either cry or knock me out!" He laughed, and offered you the glass. You took it, and sat it in your hands. Your fingers connected and you forced down a gasp at the contact. You'd refused to show him any kind of attraction but it was difficult while he was sat so close to you.

"Listen, I know I'm falling behind Cillian, I'll make it up I promise -"

"Stop. It's okay. Yes, your marks are dropping slightly, but not by much, okay? I'm seeing real potential in you. I invited you here to talk to you about some extra classes to help bump you back to where you need to be. What do you say?" He took a sip of the whiskey and so did you. Relief washing through you as the warm liquid fell down your throat. Hopefully it hid the blush in your cheeks.

"Um.. wow... Okay.. yeah! That'd be great, thank you!" He smiled again. God that smile... Stop it y/n.. he's your teacher, stop.. he sat back down at his desk and handed you a book.

"Great! I've put my phone number on the inside cover. Have a read of this, and call me when you're done. I think you'll like it." You took the book and smiled. A history of Modern Theatre. You agreed, definitely an interesting read.

"Is it classed as 'appropriate' for a teacher to give a student his phone number, Cillian?" You smirked, referring to his opening outburst on that first day. He chuckled.

"Maybe not, but I'm not a teacher, I'm an actor helping out the local university for a semester while the actual teacher takes a leave of absence." You'd heard Mr Allen had fallen ill, Cillian was just a temporary stand in for three months. Nothing permanent. "I have a new job starting in January, I'll be done here by Christmas." You couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought of him not being around anymore. Without admitting it, you'd looked forward to seeing him every day in class. He stood again, and raised his glass in a toast. You raised yours.

"What are we drinking to?"

"You. We're drinking to you y/n. I'm telling you, I'm seeing some real potential with you - you're going far, just need to focus more on the content, that's all." You blushed again.. was that the reason you were distracted? Him? Maybe. "Meet me back here tonight, around 4:30? Should be done with marking by then, we can make a start?" You agreed, a nervous knot forming in your stomach.

**************************************

You'd been having your 1-2-1 meetings with Cillian for more than a month now, and your marks were certainly improving. You had finished the book he gave you, but you hadn't plucked up the courage to text him yet. Watching TV alone in your apartment one evening, you downed your third glass of wine and picked up your phone. He wouldn't have given you the number if he didn't expect you to use it, come on y/n...

"Hey Cillian? Just letting you know I finished the book. Really good read, thank you! I'll have it back with you in the morning. And thank you for spending time with me helping to improve my marks too, it's really helped. Y/n x" pressing send, you cursed yourself, why the hell did you put a X at the end!!! You cursed again when it was delivered... Then again when its status changed to 'read'... Oh crap... A reply.

"Glad you liked it! It's been a pleasure, you're doing a great job! Cx." He put one on his text too... Come on y/n, you're not a teenager anymore, get a grip of yourself!!! Your phone pinged again.

"Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow xx" 2 kisses? Ping.. "Maybe we can finish more than your coursework.x" What did that mean? Was he flirting with you?

"What did you have in mind? X"

"There's still half a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard, shame to let it go to waste X"

"I don't think you'd be able to keep up with me Cillian 😉" you typed, feeling a bit braver.

"Challenge accepted y/n. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon X" you knew his stint at the university was coming to a close, was he flirting with you?

****************************************

You knocked Cillian's office door at 4:30 sharp, knowing how much of a stickler he was for punctuality. You felt nervous, after your texts last night you didn't know what to expect - was he flirting or were you just overthinking it? The door opened, and he stood aside to welcome you in, a smile on his face as he greeted you.

"Good to see you y/n, come on in!" He walked to the cabinet in the corner. "I never turn down a challenge, you in?" You smiled, nodding, as he poured two glasses.

"Good job I left the car at home this morning," you chuckled as he brought his glass to meet yours. Both of you sinking it down in one, you grimaced as the liquid slipped down your throat and he took the glass from you to pour another.

"We'll take this one a bit slower y/n, what do you say?" His eyes darkened slightly, the alcohol clearly having an effect. You couldn't help the warm feeling running through your groin as he licked his lips to clear them of the whiskey remnants that sat on them.

"Whatever you say sir.." he glanced up at you as you said 'sir', and leaned against the desk.

"Sir? Since when did you call me sir?" He tilted his head back slightly, glass swirling in his hand. You sipped your drink and stood to face him, confidence growing. You could see his attraction towards you, and you decided to go with it.

"Since you decided to try and seduce your student... Sir." He swallowed hard, the game clearly up, watching you take a step towards him. Your bodies inches apart, he brought his hand up to rest on your hip, pulling you that little bit closer.

"Probably shouldn't have put kisses on a text to your teacher, then, should you.."

"Probably shouldn't have given me your phone number then, should you.." the air was hot now, your bodies touching gently, your breathing becoming deeper. You brought your hands to his chest, over his shoulders, and he quickly spun you round so you were now sat on his desk. His lips found yours and he ground his hips against your core, your legs parted allowing him access, skirt hitched up to your waist.

"I've wanted you since that first day... Fuck y/n you're beautiful... Sexy... Smart..." He kissed your neck between each word, breathing becoming hot and heavy. Suddenly stopping, he kissed your lips before making his way to the door, turning the key in the lock, before coming back to finish what you started. Unbuttoning your blouse and opening it, his hand snaked around your breasts, underneath the black lace bra. Groaning slightly, he moved his hands lower, down your abdomen.

"Leave as much on as possible... I'm taking you on this desk, right now.. you okay with that?"

"Like I said sir, I don't know if you'll be able to keep up with me.." your leg pushed him away slightly as you stood up, pushing him against the wall. You sank to your knees, taking his trousers and boxer shorts down with them, his cock springing up, twitching, begging for attention. Gasping, he watched you lick a circle around the swollen head, down the shaft, before taking one of his balls into your mouth and sucking lightly. His hand in your hair now, pulling it gently as he groaned. You continued teasing him with your tongue, before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth, giving it a hard suck, releasing it with a pop, sending his head back against the wall.

"Fuck... Take it y/n.. take it down..." You smiled, before sinking your mouth over his cock, all the way down the back of your throat, groaning into it sending shockwaves through him.

"Lets see how much you can take..." You sucked harder, not giving him time to react. Moving your head quickly up and down his shaft, you felt your core begin to leak, you'd never felt as turned on in your life as you did right now. You felt his legs start to shake...

"Yes.. fuck yes... Feels so good baby... Suck it... Harder.. god fuck yes..." His balls tightened, you could feel him trying to pull back but you held him firm with your hands on his hips, willing him to empty into you. "I'm gonna... You might... Jesus.... Fuck...." He came hard, gripping your hair for support as he came hard, you felt his cum shoot in the back of your throat and swallowed as much as you could, some of it spilling down your chin. You pulled your mouth away, holding your mouth slightly open so he could see his cum on your tongue before swallowing it back down.

"That was... My god... Fuck y/n..."

"Oh you will sir, you definitely will. I'm not done with you yet.." you stood up and sat back on the desk, legs parted again to reveal your core to him, completely bare. He didn't see you remove your underwear while you were sucking him, but he wasn't complaining. Gathering himself, he moved to stand between your legs and pulled your lips to his, kissing you passionately, tasting a little of himself in the process and feeling surprisingly aroused from it. He moved his mouth down to your core, running his tongue along your open slot painfully slowly.

"Cillian... Please... Need to cum...."

"You will, baby, oh you will..." You moved your hands to his soft, floppy hair and pulled his face where you needed it. He loved you taking control and took your clit with his tongue, pressing it, rolling it around his tongue as he felt you begin to shake. You lifted a leg onto the desk to give him better access, and he inserted two fingers inside you, tipping them up to meet your g spot deep inside, emitting a sharp cry from you as you three your head back.

"Yes!!! Oh god yes... Right there... Fuck!!" Your hips were involuntarily rolling against his face now, riding his tongue as he brought you more pleasure than you thought was possible. Within minutes, your orgasm was building, and sensing it, he pumped his fingers harder against that one spot that was making you see stars. Three pumps and you came hard against his face, liquid flowing from you like a waterfall, hitting the floor underneath you as you screamed Cillians name. He leaned back on his ankles, watching you coming undone, smiling. Once you'd caught your breath, your eyes fell onto his his.

"Feeling proud of yourself there Mr Murphy?" You smiled. He stood between your thighs again.

"Extremely. But I'm not done with you yet. Turn around y/n." His blue eyes darker now. Your core throbbed, knowing what was coming. Standing up, turning round, you bent over his desk, his hands parting your legs. Taking a condom from his bag behind him, you heard the packet rip open and you rotated your hips, teasing him. He groaned deeply as he started to push his length into you, inch by inch.

"Ohh... Oh god..." You weren't ready for his size, you legs parting as much as possible. Inch by inch he pushed, allowing you to adjust, before bottoming out, his balls resting near your still throbbing clit.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard against this desk, y/n... You're gonna take every thrust like the good girl you are..." You bucked your hips up and he responded by pulling his cock nearly out, and thrusting back in powerfully enough to make you scream his name. Picking up the pace, he leaned over to grab your hair in his hand, giving it a sharp tug as he thrust into you from behind over and over, relentlessly.

"Harder... Cillian harder!!! Fucking... Oh god yes!!!" Loving the sound of your cries and the feel of your pussy contracting around his cock, he knew you were close to another orgasm.

"Rub yourself... Rub your clit baby, make yourself cum for me..." You reached a hand round to your core and found that bundle of nerves. Circling it hard, your orgasm built up again and you swore you saw stars.

"Good girl.... That's it baby... Let it go, I've got you... Let it go...." That was all you needed to hear. You came hard, and he couldn't hold back once he felt your walls contracting round him. "I'm... Oh y/n yes... Yes!" He stilled, you felt his cock pulsate, filling the condom. Both of you breathless, he fell forwards resting against your back.

He pulled out gently, pulling the condom off and disposing of it in the bin, he chuckled slightly.

"Remind me to empty the bin before we leave... I don't think the cleaner will expect to see that in there in the morning!" You laughed too, standing up to face him.

"That was incredible... Just amazing..." You rested your head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your hair gently.

"I enjoyed that too y/n.. and I'd really like to see you again, if you'll let me?"

"I'd like that..." You smiled. You'd convinced yourself if anything happened it would probably be a one time thing, I mean he was a famous actor, what would he want with you? You had no illusions going into this.

"My teaching finishes here in 2 weeks - what do you say I take you out for dinner when it's done?"

"Sounds like a plan Cillian. But am I supposed to stay away until then?"

"Definitely not, y/n, we've still got a few 1-2-1 sessions to squeeze in before I leave..." He leaned down to kiss you, pushing you back against the desk again. His erection pressing against your core again. "It would appear I'm able to keep up after all y/n..."

#cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian teacher x you #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian x smut

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

I Can’t Fight This Feeling

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

He just came here for a fucking break. Somewhere none of the people he normally works with would be caught dead. Which is the only reason he was in an art museum right now. Because Black Mask aside, none of Gotham’s rogues or henchmen had the slightest interest in art and Black Mask would never deign to be in the presence of Gotham’s unwashed masses.

So here, this place, it was a safe haven. A relaxing place. A place where he could let his mind wander and his guard down, as much as you could anywhere in Gotham. It had absolutely nothing to do with the painting of a dark haired, blue eyed woman glancing hopefully into the distance that he had been staring at for the last hour, the same painting he ended up in front of every time he visited.

But his peaceful reprieve was being intruded upon. He couldn’t see the person, but he could feel their eyes boring into him. They’ve been on him for at least the last ten minutes. That meant it was more than just someone who wanted to hit on him. They would have made their move already. He would give them five more minutes to move on before he acted, but he could feel his rage rising with each passing second.

After another five minutes, he rounded on them, ready to threaten them until they regretted even breathing in the same building as him. “What are you fucking…” he hissed out, but his anger dissipated when he was met with the same blue eyes that had consumed his mind for the last hour. Or rather, if he were being honest, for the last three years. “…looking… at.”

“Oh, sorry,” her eyes widened in surprise before she looked away awkwardly. “That must have seemed so creepy. It’s just… you look so familiar? I could swear I know you from somewhere.” Her eyes returned to his, searching them for familiarity.

He stared at her wide eyed. She couldn’t be here. Why would she be here… in Gotham. She didn’t belong in Gotham. She was supposed to stay in Paris where it was safe, now that Hawkmoth was gone and the League couldn’t track her, where she could stay innocent. “Marinette,” he breathed out.

She gave him a brilliant smile and let out a relieved breath. “Oh good. You do know me.” She laughed nervously. “I’ve never remembered anyone from that time before. And it has to be from that time, right? Otherwise I’d remember how I know you.”

“What are you doing here?” He continued to stare at her still in a haze. She had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the last few years, her eyes brighter. God, they had always been mesmerizing, but now they were positively hypnotic. Maybe that had more to do with getting away from the Hawkmoth situation, being free again, not bogged down by the responsibility of protecting millions of people as a child, being in a whole new time in her life. He was so lost in thought, it took a second for her words to register. “What do you mean ‘that time’?”

“I was looking for a little design inspiration.” Her voice was unsteady, slightly shaking. She tapped her fingers together nervously. “I have, um… a commission I need to figure out and homework and I have no idea what to do for the homework. The direction was so vague or maybe it wasn’t and it’s just me. It’s just not something that registers with me, you know.” Her voice became stronger as she babbled. “Like, I can design a thousand dresses based on a flower, or the rain, or a building, but design based on a heart? I can’t do it. Ask for something based on a star? I got it. A circle? Hundreds of designs. A square? Got that too. Even a triangle would be fun. But a heart? So cliché.”

“I meant,” he interrupted harsher than he intended to. He let his voice soften. “What are you doing in Gotham?”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment. “I go to school here. My best friend and I moved here last year for school. I go for design. He wants to be a teacher.”

“In Gotham?” he asked incredulously. “Of all the places you could have gone, why Gotham?”

She tilted her head to the side in consideration, weighing her words carefully. It was the first time since they started talking that her body seemed to relax. He studied her body language a bit more. No, not relax, slump. Her shoulders slumped as she thought of the reason that brought her here. “Because Gotham doesn’t judge,” she answered quietly. “Because you can just disappear in Gotham. No matter your past, as long as you aren’t actively trying to hurt them, nobody cares. There’s no hostile looks, no glares, no thinly veiled insults or completely unveiled insults. You can just be.”

Jason’s heart clenched and his anger started to build. He took a step closer to her. “Why was that important to you? Who was looking at you like that?” He kept his voice even and calm, but he was sure his eyes were starting to show hues of green edging in.

She shook her head and looked down. “Not me. My best friend. He tried moving to London and New York, but it just… seemed to follow him everywhere he went. I mean he still had all his friends but… they started getting into trouble too because they were getting into fights defending him and… yeah. So we applied to transfer here and both got accepted to our different schools.”

He nodded in understanding. That seemed like something she would do; uproot her entire life for a friend. “Gotham is good like that. They let you rebuild yourself. We’ve seen too much pain to judge too much.” He looked away for a few seconds before he realized something. “You never answered the second question. What did you mean ‘that time’?”

“Oh… um…” she looked away awkwardly again and shuffled her feet a few times. “I have amnesia? I lost a few years of my life a few years ago.”

“Amnesia?”

“Yeah, it was super weird. I wasn’t even in an accident. No physical injuries. Just memory loss.” She was rubbing the back of her neck and looking up at him sideways as she spoke.

He stared at her for a few more seconds. That made no sense. Why would she lose her memories like that? The League could have done something, he supposed. But if the League had been involved, she’d be dead. So it must be something else, something related to the miraculous was most likely. A few years ago would put it right around when Hawkmoth was caught and Ladybug and the other miraculous heroes disappeared.

His eyes flicked to her ears. She wasn’t wearing earrings. She wasn’t wearing her miraculous. He reached up toward her ears where they should be, but realized a few centimeters from her what he was doing and pulled back his hand like he’d been stung. She lost being a hero. Could the miraculous really do that? Remove any parts of a memory that related to the miraculous?

“Um, speaking of losing things. I don’t remember your name,” she prodded shyly.

“Jason. Jason Todd,” he answered, still somewhat in a daze, still focused on her ears.

She smiled at the answer, but her lips quickly turned down into a slight frown. The shift caused his hear to stutter. Why was she frowning? Did his name bring back who he was? No, that couldn’t be it. She never knew his name. So why the frown? Did she… had she heard of him? Was she disappointed in him? Was she scared of him? Was she aghast at the approach he took to cleaning up Gotham?

The thought pressed against his chest like a vice. Every decision he’d made since he left her in that park had been touched by her. Would she approve? Would she understand? It didn’t change how he acted… usually. He still did what he needed to do, what needed to be done. But the thought was still there. Would she think he was the evil villain he tried so hard to be? He knew she would be disappointed, but seeing it reflected on her face was something else. He steeled himself and rolled his shoulders in false nonchalance. He gave her a forcefully charming smile. “What’s the matter, don’t like the name?”

She quirked her head to the side as she watched him. Jason braced himself for whatever her next words were going to be. They had to be how disappointed she was in him, right? Disappointed in what he became. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just disappointed.”

Jason drew in a breath. There it was. The reaction he was expecting. Even though he knew it was coming it still hurt more than he thought it would. Why was he letting this person he didn’t even know affect him, damn it! She didn’t even know him. She had no right! He tried to meet her eyes so he could deliver a devastating glare, but she was staring ahead blankly. His eyes softened involuntarily. That’s why it hurt. Because she was the best person he’d met, the most forgiving, and if even she thought he was disappointing, he must really be.

“I don’t remember your name,” she continued, oblivious to his reaction. She looked back up at him with an adorable pout on her soft, pink lips. “I was so excited that seeing you sparked something. I guess I was hoping your name might help recover more memories. But my head, you know?” She tapped her head with her knuckles gently.

Jason gaped at her. She was disappointed in herself? Not him? “No!” he cried louder than he meant to, he just couldn’t let her think this was her fault when it had to be some kind of magic. “You never… you didn’t know my name. And, I’ve known lots of people with amnesia. Living in Gotham, people get their heads rattled or hit frequently. Memories are hard. They don’t come back the way you would think they do. Sometimes they don’t ever come back at all.”

She scrunched her face in confusion. Her lips turned down sadly. “But… you knew my name. And I remember you.”

Jason opened his mouth to try some kind of explanation. He snapped his mouth shut. What could he say? How was he supposed to explain how he knew her? This is where his years of training in bullshit and condescension would come in handy. Except he didn’t want to be condescending with her, so just bullshit then. He sighed heavily. But he didn’t want to lie to her either, not to her. She was the one good thing he’d done since the Pits. Helping her was his one saving grace. “We… we weren’t friends. We weren’t close. I honestly have no idea why you would remember me. I wasn’t a good person. You knew that.”

She stared at him in surprise. Her brows furrowed in thought, but she stayed quiet as if waiting for him to elaborate. He opened his mouth again, but snapped it shut again quickly when the sound of gunfire echoed through the museum. Jason’s head immediately snapped to the sound and he moved before he realized it to put himself between Marinette and the doorway.

Marinette sighed at the shots. Jason whipped around to look at her. A sigh is definitely not the response he was expecting. It was not the normal response. That was much closer to an emotionally damaged response, a tired of life response, a response he had tried to save her from having. Granted his reaction wasn’t normal either, but he knew why he reacted the way he did.

She shrugged. “The Walker Emerald,” she explained. “It’s in the Ancient Art exhibit.” When he still looked confused, she continued. “It’s an Incan artifact. They used emeralds in some of their works. The Walker Emerald is the largest emerald they’ve found in excavations. It’s held in place by a solid gold setting. It’s huge. They named it for the archaeologist that discovered it. What bullshit is that?” she grumbled, seeming more upset by that than the gunfire. “I stayed away from here for weeks after they opened the exhibit because I figured this would happen. But I thought it would have happened earlier. Guess they were waiting for people to put their guard down and it worked. I did.”

Jason moved to the doorway and peeked around the corner. “But why now? Why during the day when there would be people here?”

“Because security at night is a lot worse for it,” Marinette said as she peeked out next to him. He grabbed her and pulled her back into the room behind him. “Just my luck they would do it when I finally visited again.” She tried to move to the doorway again but Jason pulled her back again with a scowl, moving them further from the door. She really had no self-preservation instincts. She rolled her eyes, but didn’t fight him, instead slumping into his side to wait for everything to blow over. “If you remember me, then you probably already know how bad my luck is.”

He barked out a laugh at the irony. He stopped immediately when they heard more gunfire and someone behind them call out. Marinette peeked past him again. She cursed quietly and took off running. Jason cursed loudly and ran to the doorway just in time to see Marinette slide into the feet of one of the goons, knocking him off his feet and into the goon next to him, knocking him down as well. Before the second guy landed, she’d jumped back up and swept a little boy who had been in their path off his feet. Fuck! She was still acting like a hero, but without the suit or magic to help her.

He groaned to himself. Bad luck his ass. That was either extreme skill or luck… or both. But considering she hadn’t thought to follow it up by making sure they couldn’t follow her, if it was skill, it was subconscious remnants of her time as a hero, not something she could pull on at will. And she probably hadn’t intentionally trained to be able to defend herself, because she didn’t remember being a hero, so why would she. Which meant she had no self-preservation skills. She was acting purely on her emotions. She was going to get herself killed with her good heart. Where was her friend who came here with her? Why weren’t they protecting her? Somebody had to, since she clearly wasn’t going to do it herself.

He moved before he thought too hard about it. The goons were already standing up, guns out and cocked, and had their eyes trained on the statue’s pedestal she was hiding behind. He punched one in the temple, knocking him out immediately, and grabbed the gun from his hand as he fell. He pointed the gun at the goon and was about to pull the trigger when he heard the gasp behind him. He heard Marinette quickly fussing over the kid and telling him not to look. He groaned silently and tightened his grip on the gun. He couldn’t kill him in front of the kid… or Marinette.

He motioned to the gun in the goon’s hand and held his hand out. “You know who I am, yeah?” The goon nodded slowly. “Give me your gun and get the fuck out of here and I won’t come after you.” The goon dropped his gun and backed away, never turning his back on Jason until he was out of the room and rapid footfalls could be heard.

Jason took a breath and slowly let it out to calm himself before moving to Marinette’s truly terrible hiding spot. He silently reached out for her hand to help her stand and escorted her and the kid back into the room they had been in. The kid immediately perked up and reached out for a woman in the corner with two other kids. She thanked Marinette and him with tears running down her face, clutching to the boy like a lifeline before bringing him back to the other two kids and holding them all the same way.

Jason yanked Marinette into his chest and wrapped his arms around her. He watched the door for any indication they were going to send more goons after them. After a few seconds he pulled away just enough to look at her. “Stop doing that!” he whisper yelled. He pulled them into the corner where they were at least partially hidden by marble statues. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“You ran after me,” she pointed out with a roll of her eyes. “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I… you…” he scowled at her. He opened his mouth to lecture her more articulately, but snapped it shut again. “Let’s get you somewhere safer,” he gritted out.

She shook her head. “I’m not leaving them and I already feel safe. I feel safe with you. I trust you.” Jason scoffed at her. How was she still alive? Why was her friend not watching her at all times if she was this trusting and bad at judging people? “I remember you. You’re the only thing I’ve remembered. That must mean you were important to me. You wouldn’t have been important unless you did something I thought was significant. So that means I thought I could trust you. And I trust myself that I can trust you.” She smiled confidently at him.

Jason groaned and motioned to himself. “Do I look like someone you can trust?” he exclaimed as loudly as he felt he could safely. He may not be in his Red Hood suit right then, but he was definitely dressed in mob boss chic, designed to emanate a powerful asshole vibe and cultivate fear and respect.

She kept her eyes focused entirely on his, not bothering to take in his carefully crafted vibe. Just staring at his eyes, staring into his soul, and seeking out that part of him that he thought had died years ago. That part the League had trained out of him. The part the Joker had beaten out of him. “Yes,” she said immediately and confidently.

He stared at her blankly. Why would she trust him? He was untrustworthy. He was a killer. He was brutal. He had cultivated that reputation. It was well deserved. Hell, he’d attacked her. And yet here she was, looking up at him with those big, bright, trusting, blue eyes. “Okay.” He swallowed hard. Those blue eyes were more deadly than half the rogues in Gotham. Those blue eyes could get him to do things nobody else had ever been able to.

It only took half an hour for the police to clear the museum and let them back out on the street, likely because some of them had been in on the heist in the first place. It felt strange and unsettling to wait for the police instead of acting. His skin itched to act in a way other than decking the officer that had been staring at him with distain since he came to tell them they could leave.

He escorted Marinette and the small family to the sidewalk outside and stuck next to them to make sure the police didn’t harass them. He was determinedly not looking at Marinette, but he could feel her staring at him again. When he finally looked over at her, he lost his breath for a second. She was staring at him with such adoration and respect, his lungs couldn’t function correctly. Jason frowned. “You've got to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I'm a hero,” he groused. “I don’t deserve it. I haven’t earned it. I’m not a hero.”

Marinette blinked at him a few times and cocked her head to the side curiously. She smiled sweetly at him. It seemed vastly out of place considering the situation they were in and yet perfectly in place on her lips. “You’re that kid’s hero. And that mom’s… and mine.”

Jason stared back at her breathlessly. “Look… you don’t remember me. If you did… I’m… It’s dangerous to be around me. I’m dangerous to be around. You shouldn't be seen with me. It's dangerous for you to even talk to me.” She smiled softly at him. “And why are you smiling? I just told you to go away.”

Her smile got brighter his indignation. “Because if you were as evil as you seem so intent on convincing me you are, you wouldn't care. But you do, so you're not. So I was right.”

“Pixie, you have no idea how hard I worked on my reputation, what I’ve done to deserve it.”

Marinette nodded in faux seriousness. “Right. Terrible person that almost died protecting a kid he never met and would do it again in a heartbeat and stayed with us to make sure we were safe.”

“Who intimidated the henchmen out of harming us, because they knew what I could do, because they knew I’m not a good guy.”

Marinette laughed. She had the audacity to laugh at him. He was one of the leading crime bosses in the city. “Oh yeah, okay, Wreck it Ralph. Whatever you say. I bet you jaywalk and everything.”

“I do!” he exclaimed throwing his arms out in exasperation. “I’m going to do it again when I leave here.” She laughed harder at him. He stopped and thought about what he just said. “No. I mean…”

“Truly terrifying,” she agreed, cutting off his objections, still mocking his seriousness.

Jason hung his head in defeat. His head snapped up when he heard the batmobile arrive. “And you are safe now. But, I have to go.” His eyes stayed on the batmobile, analyzing the threat to him.

“Now?”

He looked back at her with a wry smile. “Batman and I don’t get along so well. That should tell you something.”

“It tells me even heroes make mistakes,” she said defiantly.

Jason let out a long suffering sigh, but nodded. “Stay safe, Marinette.”

“Will I see you again?” Her eyes were brimming with hope, but her voice was fragile. She tucked a piece of her hair that had come undone while they were escaping behind her ear. Jason’s eyes traced her hand as it moved.

He hated to kill that in her, but he couldn’t allow her to be in his life. He couldn’t bring her down like that. He couldn’t see her again and he couldn’t lie to her. He opened his mouth to answer her, but got a reprieve. “Marinette!” She hadn’t bothered to look at the source of the call, keeping her eyes on Jason. But, the eye contact was broken when she was tackled by a blonde man. “I came as soon as I saw! Are you okay?”

Jason disappeared into the crowd before she recovered from the onslaught. No matter what she believed, he wasn’t good and he wouldn’t be good for her. He vowed to himself that he wouldn’t look for her. He wouldn’t follow her. He wouldn’t give any rogues or henchmen in Gotham any indication that she was special to him. He would protect her in any way that didn’t make her a target. He gave one last look over his shoulder just catching a last glimpse of her searching the crowd. He turned away and continued forward.

Chapter 4

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @jayjayspixiepop @aespades @how-to-function-properly @pawsitivelymiraculous @maribatserver

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - trust

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d-criss-news · 3 years

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20 Questions With Darren Criss: How Acting Has Helped Him Make New Music

While Darren Criss has graced our TV screens with a range of characters, from high schooler Blaine Anderson on Glee to serial killer Andrew Cunanan on The Assassination of Gianni Versace, he was last spotted just being himself, on our For You Page on TikTok. “I’m walking to rehearsal with a guitar on my back with a Trader Joe’s bag ... I did not bring an umbrella because I forgot that it was raining. I’m rocking that NYC musician life,” the Glee alum explained in the hilarious clip posted three days ago.

While Criss’ acting work has earned him acclaim and stardom, he leaned into making music during the pandemic. On Aug. 20, he dropped a new EP, Masquerade, featuring five new tracks that Criss says were inspired by the different characters Criss has embraced throughout his career. After Criss wrote songs for his musical comedy web series Royalties and Apple TV+’s animated sitcom Central Park before the pandemic struck the United States, he then used those experiences as a precursor to his new EP. As Criss continues to promote his new music, he answered 20 of Billboard's questions – giving us a peek into how his new EP came together, and how growing up in San Fransisco shaped him as an actor, singer and all-around artist.

1. What inspired your latest project, Masquerade?

Although I would have preferred that it come at a far less grim cost, I finally had the time. Before the pandemic, I had written 10 new songs for my show Royalties -- along with an original song for Disney and another for Apple’s Central Park. These were all assignments in which I was writing for a certain scenario and character. Go figure. It was the most music I had ever written in a calendar year. This really emboldened me to rethink how I made my own music— to start putting a focus on “character creation” in my songs, rather than personal reflection. The latter was not proving to be as productive. The alchemy of having this time and having set a new intention with my own songwriting and producing made me put on a few of my favorite masques and throw myself a Masquerade.

2. How do you think your background as an actor complements your music?

They are one and the same to me. I treat acting roles like musical pieces— dialogue is like scoring a melody; there’s pace, dynamics, cadence, tone. Physical characterization is like producing -- zeroing in on the bass line, deciding on the kick pattern. Vocal characterization is like choosing the right sonic experience, choosing the most effective snare sound, and mixing the high end or low end. It goes without saying that it works in the complete opposite direction. Making each song is taking on a different role literally and employing the use of different masques to maximize the effectiveness of the particular story being told.

3. On Instagram you wrote that “Masquerade is a small collection of the variety of musical masques that have always inspired me.” Which track do you identify with most in your real life?

Everybody absorbs songs differently. Some key into the lyrics, some into the melody, some the production, some into vocal performance. When I listen to songs, I consider all of their value on totally different scales. So it’s hard to say if there’s any track I “identify” with more than any others, since I -- by nature -- identify with all of them. I think I just identify with certain aspects more than others. If it helps for a more interesting answer, I will say I enjoy the slightly more classical, playful -- dare I say -- more Broadway-leaning wordplay of “Walk of Shame,” but that’s just talking about lyricism. I enjoy the attitude of “F*kn Around,” the batsh--t musicality of “I Can’t Dance,” the relentless grooves of “Let’s” and “For A Night Like This.” All have different ingredients I really enjoy having an excuse to dive into.

4. What’s the first piece of music that you bought for yourself, and what was the medium?

Beatles audio cassettes: “Help” and “Hard Day’s Night.” I just listened on repeat on a tape-playing Walkman until my brother and I got a stereo for our room with a CD player in it, which was when I just bought the same two albums again, but this time as compact discs.

5. What was the first concert you saw?It’s hard to say, because my parents took us to a lot of classical concerts when we were small. But I guess this question usually refers to what was the first concert you went to on your own volition, and that my friend, was definitely Warped Tour ’01. My brother and I went on our own— two teenagers going to their first music festival, in the golden age of that particular genre and culture. It was f--king incredible.

6. What did your parents do for a living when you were a kid?

My dad was in private banking and advised really, really wealthy people on how to handle their money. My mom was, by choice, a stay-at-home mom, but in reality, she was my dad’s consigliere. They discussed absolutely everything together. They were a real team, and I saw that every single day in the house. They both had a background in finance (That’s how they met in the first place.) and were incredibly skilled at all the hardcore adulting things that I absolutely suck at. They were total finance wizards together. So of course, instead of becoming an accountant, I picked up playing the guitar and ran as far I could with it. Luckily, they were all about it.

7. What was your favorite homecooked meal growing up?

My dad was an incredible chef. For special occasions, I’d request his crab cakes. They were unreal. I’ve never had a crab cake anywhere in the world that was good as my dad’s.

8. Who made you realize you could be an artist full-time?

I don’t know if I’ve actually realized that yet.

9. What’s at the top of your professional bucket list?

The specifics change every day, but the core idea at the top is to continue being consistently inconsistent with my choices, and to keep getting audiences to constantly reconsider their consideration of me. But I mean, sure, what performer doesn’t want to play Coachella? What songwriter doesn’t want to have Adele sing one of their songs? What actor doesn’t want to be in a Wes Anderson film?

10. How did your hometown/city shape who you are?

San Francisco. I mean, come on. I was really lucky. The older I get, the more grateful I am for just being born and raised there. It’s an incredibly diverse, culturally rich, colorful, inclusive, vibrant city. By the time I was born, it had served as a beacon for millions of creative, out-of-the-box thinkers to gather and thrive. I grew up around that. The combination of that with having parents, who were unbelievably supportive of the arts themselves, laid an incredibly fortunate foundation to consider the life of an artist as a legitimately viable option. It’s a foundation that I am supremely aware is not the case for millions of young artists around the world. I was absurdly lucky.

11. What’s the last song you listened to?

I mean probably one of mine, but not by choice. I know, lame. But I’m promoting a new EP, what’d you expect? But if you wanna know what I’ve been listening to, as far as new s--t is concerned: a lot of Lizzy McAlpine, Remi Wolf, and Charlie Burg.

12. If you could see any artist in concert, dead or alive, who would it be?

The Beatles is an obvious "yeah, duh." Sammy Davis, Mel Tormé, or of course, Nat King Cole. I would’ve loved to see Howard Ashman give a lecture on his creative process and his body of work.

13. What’s the wildest thing you’ve seen happen in the crowd of one of your sets?

I feel like just having a crowd at all, at any one of my sets, is pretty wild enough.

14. What’s your karaoke go-to?

The real answer to this I’ll write into a book one day, because I have a lot to say about karaoke etiquette. I have two options here: I can either name a song that I like to sing for me, for fun, or I can name a song that really gets the group going. The answer depends on what kind of karaoke night we’re dealing with here. So I will say, after I’ve selected a ton of songs that services a decent enough party vibe for everyone else, then I would do one for me, and that would be the Beatles’ “Oh! Darling.”

15. What’s one thing your most devoted fans don’t know about you?

What I have up my sleeve.

16. What TV show did you binge-watch over the past year?

Dave is a stroke of genius. There are episodes that I believe are bona fide masterpieces. Also, My Brilliant Friend is a masterclass in cinematic television.

17. What movie, or song, always makes you cry?

It’s A Wonderful Life.

18. What’s one piece of advice you would give to your younger self?

Get used to sharing everything about yourself and your life now, or more astutely, to the idea that you don’t necessarily get to control how your life is shared. I know it’s not really your thing, but you’re gonna have to get used to it, so start building up those calluses now. And don’t worry, all the stuff you love now will be cool again in your mid-thirties, so keep some of those clothes because you’ll be a full-blown fashion icon if you just keep wearing exactly what you’re wearing. Oh nd also, put money into Apple and Facebook.

19. What new hobby did you take on in the last year?

I’ve always been a linguaphile. My idea of leisure time is getting to study or review other languages. This past year, I took the time to finally dive into learning how to read, write, and speak Japanese. Other than making music, it was one of the biggest components of my 2020-2021.

20. What do you hope to accomplish or experience by the end of 2021?

I hope I get to play live shows again.

#darren criss #billboard #masquerade ep #press #sept 2021

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tallyovie-writes · 3 years

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Arsonists's Lullaby R.A.B.

SONGFIC

Summary: Regulus finds a soul like his in a person he would have never guessed

Author's note: unedited, after 3 exams, 1 am, please be kind I know it starts slow but there will be more parts

1.6k words

When I was a child, I heard voices

Some would sing and some would scream

You soon find you have few choices

I learned the voices died with me

At 5 years old, Regulus Arcturus Black learned that family did not always mean blood. He had yet to figure out the true meaning of the word, but he knew what he had was a dark echo of an utopist dream.

His childhood was dominated by a gray filter, muffling the sounds, numbing the emotions, stretching the minutes forever. On certain days, the lights grew darker, shadowing the world into almost black. Black like his name, black like the soul he will grow up to have. The ticking of the clocks were too loud, the walls too high, his mothers steps on the creaking stairs too firm in a world of doubt and uncertainty.

When I was a child, I'd sit for hours

Staring into open flame

Something in it had a power

Could barely tear my eyes away

Sometimes, for split seconds, burgundy took over the darkness. The lifelessness in the manor disappeared, and compensating for life's previous absence it channelled all of its heat into hate. Hate for an empty mother from Sirius, hate for a son who did not fit traditions from his mother.

Hate from Regulus, who possessed the survival instinct of laying low and keeping to himself but his brother did not. And Regulus resented him in these moments. For all the plates in million pieces, previously broken on the wall, for all the harsh words leaving their father's mouth, for all the clever little punishments their mother put them through. Them, because getting caught in the crossfire of a traditional Black "family" argument meant everyone's suffering.

It was a flame barely extinguishable. It meant the only display of emotions aside from the rare brotherly moments he shared with Sirius.

Emotions lead to addiction. And if anger is the only feeling fuelled, darkness starts to grow.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

That fire burned a self preservation so deep in him, that Regulus recognized he needed power in order to make it in this world. Power to stay strong, make it through between his ambitious peers and most importantly to guard himself. The blatant, headstrong bravery Sirius took upon arriving at Hogwarts made school holidays a hellish wartime at home.

Regulus learned not to engage. The moment the edges of his self-made cell threatened to break, he carefully tucked in his emotions once again. He didn't want to cut out feeling at all, he deemed that too dangerous for his liking. No. He just didn't let his emotions get the best of him. A man ruled by his feelings is a terrifying sight. He mentally injected himself with an anaesthetic in public, and behind four walls he let himself carefully examine them. It wasn't easy. The tangled web of emotional strings, numbed most of the time, screamed for air. Screamed for understanding, for letting go, for caring. But he cut those last remaining ties with love the moment Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor.

When I was 16, my senses fooled me

Thought gasoline was on my clothes

I knew that something would always rule me

I knew the scent was mine alone

At 16 years old Regulus Arcturus Black saw a way in the darkness. He didn't dare call it a glimmer of hope. Hope was a privilege only offered to the good and divine, to the pure and just. He was neither, he thought.

Perhaps he was right. For now. But fate has a way of changing the tides and replacing the figures on the chessboard.

He has long lost the map to his emotions. They were carefully tucked away in a forgotten pocket somewhere around his heart, but as one man, he couldn't untangle them alone. Not like he wanted to.

His salvation arrived in the face of a charismatic leader. He had answers to Regulus's questions that he long sought to find. Ever since he was a child he associated power with stability and control over one's life, and this stranger offered power on a silver plate. He couldn't have been worse. Of course in hindsight, everything seems more clear.

But as he was shrouded in darkness, he chose to become a part of the dark as well.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

One of the main problems in Regulus's logic was that he thought that being a Death Eater would solve all of his insecurities and instability. At first it seemed to work, building a new world by idealistic wishes and getting rid of the dangers life proposed helped setting his nerves right. But as the curls of the smoke threatened to suffocate him, his decision pressed hard on his shoulder.

He knew there was no out of this. The Dark Lord's silver tongue has lost its magic, he could detect the empty lies, the manipulation, the sinister force. He could detect it, because it takes one to know another, and he was a master in the arts of manipulation and lying. Why wouldn't he be? He spent all of his childhood perfecting the image of the pureblood son his family wanted him to be. And he did not fail. Keeping it up during Hogwarts has become a natural instinct, but also demolished his true self.

What was the true soul of Regulus Arcturus Black?

When I was a man I thought it ended

When I knew love's perfect ache

But my peace has always depended

On all the ashes in my wake

He thought he would never find it out. But then you came along and wrecked his carefully planted walls. At first he hated you for that.

You were obnoxious and the true image of what a pureblood offspring should be. What he should be.

He would have never thought that someone could be a better liar and manipulator than him. Regulus needed years of careful examination to see the cracks in your armour and the rare slips in character. At first, he was sure that his mind was imagining things that were not there. After years of reading his slytherin peers, your occasional un-slytherin-like behaviour peaked his curiosity.

One day he was sitting at the Slytherin table when an idea struck. You didn't sit far away, so you had to be pulled into the conversation too.

"Snape!" Regulus called to the oily haired seventh year. "Heard He recruited you. You finally pulled your head out of your ass?"

Of course he has seen the err of his decision by now, so Regulus asked him this for two reasons.

One: he had to keep up appearances.

Two: he wanted to see how you reacted.

He had been spending the last few weeks noticing your subtle icks regarding certain subjects. So far his theory seemed to prove true.

On the outside an appraising look sat on your face.

But Regulus learned to discover the signs. And he was once again right as he noticed the tip of your ring finger hardly pushed against your thumb nail, leaving a mark. Subtle, but still a tell tale sign of someone who is not fully on board with the subject.

One day he decided to corner you.

"I know the game you are playing" he didn't mean to sound so threatening, but it came out like that.

A snake doesn't crack under pressure, so you looked him in the eye and let a sly smile spread across your face.

"Please, do enlighten me. What game am I playing? Or is it better if I ask which game of mine you are referring to? I am a busy woman."

He let your comment fly.

"I noticed the tip of your ring finger is bruised. I would bandage it. The past few weeks you must have been careless and cut it. Wouldn't want any infection, would you?" he looked deep into your eyes, transferring the other meaning of his words.

You knew what he meant. Lately, you spotted the Black boy's eyes on you. In the Great Hall, during classes, those grey orbs never left you. You thought he harbored a silly little crush on you. Now you realized your mistake. The question however remained. What will he do with this information?

You are getting careless, if I noticed, someone might too. Someone you wouldn't want to notice. His eyes said.

Your House was not meant for easy friendships. The rising of The Dark Lord supported a lot of back stabbings for meaningless praises, so you had to be careful.

With a last nod he turned his back on you and walked away, leaving you with only frustration and more questions. Could the Slytherin Silver Boy share your views? Maybe when Hell freezes over.

Regulus knew, he should have said; I know the game you are playing, because I am playing it too.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

Fate sat on her chair and watched the two young snakes step on their shared path. Neither of them knew yet what this little encounter will set into motion.

But Fate knew and mourned the loss of another great story that has not even started, but was already told.

She sipped her wine and caressed the head of one of her demons.

#regulus black images #regulus black fanfiction #regulus x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x reader #regulus black x oc #regulus arcturus black #sirius black #tom riddle #the noble and most ancient house of black #hozier #arsonists's lullaby #true hero of slytherin #slytherin aesthetic #harry potter #fanfiction #songfic

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

An Artful Revenge Pt. 2

Feyre’s part of The Damnation Series. Part 1 is here.

I am proud of myself for finishing this shit, because it’s long as fuck. Whoops.

~Feyre~

Honestly, I should’ve known.

I should’ve known that somehow, with whatever endless resources he has, he would find me.

That’s all I can think as I find my way into the Impressionists exhibit and find Rhysand Azara, real estate agent to the stars, leaning against the wall, sipping a cup of coffee and looking at Dancers in Blue with narrowed eyes.

It’s been five days since our date, and like the cliché I am, I’ve spent the entire time thinking about him. I’ve checked my phone countless times, and I even decided to stalk him and Googled his name.

When--just like he’d said--nothing came up, I googled Dancers in Pink. He said he had it, but it had been sold a few years ago in an auction to “Amren Valenta.”

Unless Rhysand had a stage name, that was definitely not him.

I dug some more, but after three hours all I discovered was that he owned Azara Industries, which owned a lot of buildings downtown. Oh, and he never let himself be photographed.

Which was upsetting, because it means I had nothing to stare at whilst stalking him.

Pathetic. I am so pathetic.

But anyway, I should’ve known he’d come here. He’d said he’d call, but he didn’t have my number. Plus, I’d told him I come here pretty much every day, so really, what did I expect?

I still laugh as I spot him though, somehow surprised, and ask, “Here to flirt with more art students?”

“Just one,” he answers, running his eyes over me as I draw closer.

Gods, this man is seductive. He’s just looking at me, but I feel his gaze like a touch, dragging over my entire body with slow, intentional grazes.

My breath hitches, and his eyes twinkle, like he’s well aware to the dirty place my mind has wondered. I can tell he’s holding in some likely-male comment, but he refrains from embarrassing me and he holds out another cup of coffee.

I take it, grateful for the caffeine boost, and find it somehow made exactly the way I like it. Maybe I’m not the only one stalking.

Although his methods have to be better than mine if he already knows about the definitely unhealthy amount of sugar I put in my coffee.

“How many times have you been here this week?” I ask, curious to see his level of devotion.

“Three. Not a very convenient way of communicating with someone, I admit. I was about to send a smoke signal.” He watches me sip the coffee, watches my tongue dart over my lip. “Plans tonight?”

I fight a sigh and decide to be a student worthy of my scholarship for once. “I told myself I’d work on my senior project.”

His lips twitch at my dejected tone. “What is it?”

A ginormous pain in my ass. “Bad,” I say simply.

He shakes his head, sipping his coffee and eyeing me over the rim of the cup. “Details.”

For someone who offers no information, he loves demanding it from me. Instead of fight it, I groan and give in to the patriarchy. “It’s just bad! It’s supposed to be a mix of different styles and mediums, but it’s going so poorly I might just start over. Or drop out and become a starving artist a year ahead of schedule.”

Rhysand smiles at my phrasing. “I would never let you starve. And what do you mean, mixing styles and mediums?”

“For someone who frequents museums and has millions of dollars in art, you don’t know much about it, do you?”

“I have people for that.”

“Amren Valenta?” I ask without thinking, exposing myself as a stalker.

He pauses, cup halfway to his smirking mouth, and raises a brow. “Clever, creepy little woman,” he teases. “But yes. Amren is my curator, and we use her name because I don’t want media attention. As I’m sure you know.”

Busted and blushing to high hell, I roll my eyes and become a junior detective. “Isn’t it illegal to buy something with someone else’s name? What if the IRS comes after you?”

Rhysand looks at a loss for words at that. If I weren’t serious, it would make me laugh how shocked he looks. “I guess,” he says after a moment, “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

I roll my eyes again, because we both know he doesn’t give a shit. It’s not like the IRS actually enforces rules for the one percent, anyway.

“Now tell me about your project.”

Rolling my eyes at how bossy he is, I tell him, “I wanted to combine photography and painting. And I wanted it to be kind of abstract, but also realistic enough.”

“Ambitious.”

I sigh, not able to repress it this time. “Stupid, is what it is. I don’t even know where to start. I have no motivation, let alone inspiration, to work on it.”

A contemplative look crosses his face. “I know where you could find inspiration.”

I raise an eyebrow and gesture around us, because in case he’s missed it, we’re in a museum. Inspiration abounds. But he scoffs and whispers, “This is child’s play compared to a certain someone’s private collection.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, playing along and pretending I don’t know the someone he’s talking about.

He nods, looking around as if making sure there are no spies in the completely empty room listening we’re standing in. “He has Degas, Monet, Dali, you name it. And he’s generous enough to let you come over tonight.”

Pursing my lips, I scan his face, trying to see if he’s serious. I mean... I am dying to see his collection. But, “Is this just a ploy to get me naked?”

He puts a hand on his chest, offense written across his face. “You think I’d try to seduce you while you study?”

“Yes.”

“You’re probably right.” He chuckles, then says, “If you need to get naked to look at art, I certainly won’t complain. But no, Feyre darling, this isn’t a ploy.”

I pause, half stuck on the whole darling thing and half contemplating what to do.

Ploy or not, I know that if I go to his apartment or house or mansion or castle, I’ll probably sleep with him. He’s too attractive, and my resolve just isn’t that great where’s he’s concerned.

Plus, I know it’s insane, but art just... Never mind.

I tell myself nothing’s going to happen and that I’m going because of the art--both lies--as I say, “Okay.”

He extends a hand, and I slide mine into it, almost sighing at how perfect we fit together. Would that be the case everywhere?

Feyre.

I avoid looking at him as he leads me from the room and outside, where a very beefy guy holds open the door to a black sedan. “Seriously?” I ask Rhysand as he ushers me in the back, then climbs in beside me.

“I usually drive myself,” he says in defense, smiling when I roll my eyes.

The city blurs around us as Beefcakes drives, and I’m about to ask where the hell he lives when the car pulls to a stop and the door opens. Climbing out, I look up at the black, shiny penthouse tower, and say, “Of course you live here.”

It’s expensive and in the city and has a million floors, and I bet he lives at the very tippy top.

He gives me a strange look but pulls me in the lobby, then into an elevator. We shoot up flight after flight till we reach the penthouse, confirming my suspicions.

For what feels like the millionth time, I ask myself why the hell Rhysand’s taken an interest in me. I mean, a year of therapy got me to admit I’m decent looking and all, but I’m... I’m a college student. He’s older and richer and has his life together. Why does he want me?

I don’t have long to contemplate life’s great mysteries because the elevator doors slide open, revealing his apartment, and I become too busy trying to mask my surprise.

I thought the place would be... I don’t know, like him. Sleek. Modern. Luxurious.

And it is, at least that last part. Everything is obviously expensive. But there’s also a homey quality created by a fireplace, plush couches, decorative rugs, tapestries.

It’s burgundy and black and cream, and so unexpected I smile.

I step in and walk automatically toward the huge windows, taking in the view and realizing we’re at the dead center of the city. In all directions, Chicago’s spread out, lights and traffic and Lake Michigan surrounding us.

Even though the place is beyond wonderful, there’s one thing missing.

I turn to Rhysand and raise a brow. “No art?”

“One floor down.”

I have to press my lips together to keep the questions in. One floor down, as in it takes up the whole floor. As in he has a private museum. As in I’m so fucking excited I can hardly walk.

But he seems to be baiting me, seeing how long I’ll last before demanding to be taken down there, so I casually walk around his apartment, taking in all the little details. “It’s more... lived in than I would’ve thought.”

He nods, knowing what I mean even though it was a poor way of explaining it. “I have a few places around the city, but this is the one I prefer.” Nodding to the kitchen, he asks, “Hungry?”

“You cook?” The thought of him covered in flour seems absurd, but we all have our hobbies.

He smiles like I’ve said something funny. “No, but I have takeout menus in there.”

“Hopeless,” I tease, going to the kitchen and opening the fridge like I’m the one who lives here. “I’ll find something.”

I end up finding beer, wine, cheese, and various fruits and vegetables.

Not a lot, but enough to make a charcuterie board, which just so happens to be my specialty. I search for a few minutes before finding a wooden cutting board, then start to assemble whatever snacks I can find.

Cherries and grapes, two types of cheeses, carrots, and crackers fill most of the board, and I fill in gaps with blackberries and chocolate chips I’m surprised he has.

Once it’s completed and visually appealing enough, I slide it over to where he’s seated on a barstool and bow dramatically. “I’m a master cheese plate maker.”

“I see that. Wine?”

Nodding, I reach in the fridge and grab the first bottle I see. Setting it in front of him, I move to the cabinet and get two glasses and an opener.

Rhysand takes the opener and eyes the bottle, lips twitching as he smoothly uncorks it.

“What?” I ask, unable to figure out what’s funny. Was it weird to make a board or something? Surely even rich guys like cheese and crackers, right?

He pours two glasses, shaking his head and silently refusing to let me in on the joke.

Eyes narrowed, I sit next to him and suspiciously take a small sip from my glass. He watches me, probably expecting me to say something about it, so I offer, “It’s good.”

He bites his lip but can’t keep the laugh in at that, so I finally demand, “What?”

“It’s an $800 bottle of wine, Feyre.”

I almost spit it all over him, which would indeed be a shame, because there’s probably $50 in my mouth. Managing to swallow it down, I sputter, “You... you should’ve said something!”

He’s still laughing, but he stops to take a huge swallow and shrug. “I say we drink the whole bottle.”

I put my head in my hands, blushing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I couldn’t care less.” He pries my hands away. “Seriously. I just wanted to tease you.”

Now that, I believe. But I still ask, “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” He smiles, taking another sip. “I keep the really expensive stuff at the townhouse, anyway.”

I roll my eyes and drink some more, somehow trying to taste it better or something now that I know it’s liquid gold. Shifting to put my foot on the stool, I lean across him to grab the platter.

His gaze glides over me slowly, and there’s surprise in his eyes, like he can’t believe I’m sitting in front of him so casually.

It’s probably weird to be so... open around a stranger, but he’s not exactly normal, so I don’t feel any pressure to be, either.

Regardless, it’s a little hard to breathe with him looking at me like that, so to break the tension, I grab a cherry, pull the stem off, and hold it an inch in front of his face.

“Ready?”

His eyes cross and he pushes my hand away so he can actually see what I’m holding. “Ready,” he confirms.”

I stick the stem in my mouth, using a trick I spent three hours teaching myself on a rainy afternoon to tie it in a knot, then pull it out with a victorious grin.

“Very impressive,” he notes, but before I can gloat about my supreme cherry-knotting abilities, he steals the stem and sticks it in his own mouth.

My eyes are wide, but I don’t have time to ask what the hell he’s doing before he pulls it out.

Unknotted.

“Impressive,” I repeat, actually meaning it. “How’d you do that?”

“I’m good with my tongue,” he says immediately, obviously having been lying in wait for the question, and I huff a laugh.

If I called my sisters and told them what I’m going right now, they’d probably try to have me committed. I’m sitting in a billionaire’s penthouse apartment, drinking expensive wine and watching him untie cherry stems with his tongue.

“How was your week?” I ask to get us back in semi-normal territory, grabbing a cracker off the plate.

He answers vaguely and asks me about mine, and just like that, we fall into easy conversation.

It’s honestly strange to me that after one date, we can talk like this. With my ex, it took weeks before I was really comfortable around him, and yet I feel completely at home with Rhysand.

He tells he’s from the south side of Chicago and asks about my hometown, and I it feels natural. It’s just... easy.

“By the way, you can just call me Rhys,” he tells me as we finish off the platter. “Using my full name reminds me of when I got in trouble in grade school.”

I drain my wine glass, a slight buzz in my veins, and ask, “So I only call you Rhysand when I’m about to spank you?”

He howls with laughter, then surprises me by asking, “What’s your middle name?”

“Adalene. Why?”

“Just trying to figure out what I’ll call you when we get around to spanking.” I blush as he continues, “Feyre Adalene should do.”

He puts the empty wine bottle in the trash and runs a finger over my red cheek. I bat it away, embarrassed, but he just laughs and asks, “Ready to go downstairs?”

For some reason, I get a little nervous, but I put on my big girl pants and nod, taking his hand when he offers it.

Then we’re back in the elevator, coasting down a floor, and just before the doors open, he says, “Close your eyes.”

Anticipation makes it difficult to follow the request but I manage, and he guides me out of the elevator and turns me slightly. “Open.”

I open my eyes and come face to face with something I never thought I’d see.

“You... you have a...” I whisper, not quite able to get the word out.

“Meule.”

One of eight left in private collectors hands, Monet’s Meules--or Grainstacks--are some of the most recognizable, renown works of art in the world. The last was sold four years ago for over $80 million.

Amren Valenta is a very, very rich woman, according to her art collection.

I’m standing inches from it now, mildly unsure of how that happened, looking at the sunset colors bleed into the shadows of the grain, taking in the easy lines and brushwork.

Turning to look at him, I see he’s leaned against the wall next to the painting, head tilted as if I’m the most interesting thing in the room.

“I can’t believe I’m here right now,” I say honestly, my voice airy and light.

He just smiles and motions to my right. “The collection goes in a loop.”

I nod, and after a few more minutes staring at the Monet, I start to walk.

Or more like mosey.

If he’s irritated with how long I’m taking, he doesn’t mention it. He follows me as I stare after pieces of art I never dreamed of being close to. Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Klimt, Pollock, Munch.

And then, at the edge of my peripheral, I see it.

Dancers in Pink hangs besides a smaller Degas, but it’s all I can look at. The dancer’s skirts are so bright in person, the tulle layers seeming to come off the canvas. The gold in the background is vibrant and metallic, in sharp contrast with the dark wall it hangs on.

Gods, it’s beautiful.

I know there are more famous paintings in here, but I’ve spent three years going to look at Dancers in Blue, never imagining I’d see one a similar work.

Tears slide down my face and a laugh bubbles out of me, the two reactions complete opposites but both somehow feeling right.

Strong arms wrap around my waist, and I feel Rhysand’s chin settle on my shoulder as he hugs me from behind. “You know,” he whispers, seeming to not want to disrupt my moment with loud noises, “I never understood how important this is to people.”

“Oh, Rhysand. It’s... wonderful.”

It’s an inadequate way to say what I want to say, but it’s all I can come up with at the moment. I lean into him, and we stand like that, me staring at the painting, him at me, for a long while.

When I start to get tired, I turn in his embrace, wrap my arms around his shoulders, and kiss him softly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

I somehow finish the loop, and by the time we’re in the elevator again, I’m so emotionally spent I can’t hardly breathe.

“Inspired?” he questions, linking our hands and pulling me closer to his side.

I nod, but inspired doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m grateful and overwhelmed and so happy I could burst.

A professor once told me that art is a gift that lasts forever and never stops giving, and I never really understood what she meant until now. Over a hundred years after Dancers in Pink was completed, it still brings people to tears.

It’s a powerful and beautiful and eternal way to send a message, and it makes me feel like a small piece of the puzzle, but at the same time, so important and alive.

We glide smoothly back up to his apartment, but neither of us move once the doors ding open.

Because technically, there’s no longer a reason for me to be here.

I’ve seen the art, drank his expensive wine. I should get my bag and go.

I should... but I don’t want to.

Rhysand’s perfectly quiet and still beside me, patiently waiting for me to make up my mind.

The angel on my shoulder tells me how sweet and considerate he’s being. The devil tells me to reward this behavior with a few sinful ideas.

Running a hand through my hair, I debate my options. Be smart and leave, or stay and try and fight the urge to throw myself at him.

“Oh, fuck it,” I mutter, dramatically taking a step forward like I’m going into war.

He laughs as he follows me off the elevator, strolling back to the kitchen. “More wine?”

I nod, because at this point, I’m already a lost cause. He opens a new bottle and pours me some. “How much was this one?”

“Ten dollars,” he lies, fighting a smile. “On sale at Walmart.”

“I’m surprised you even know what Walmart is,” I laugh, taking my seat back at the bar.

“You forget I’m from the south side. All this,” he motions around us, as he takes the seat next to me. “Used to be nothing more than a dream.”

“How’d you do it?” I ask, genuinely curious. Most people with his kind of wealth were born into it and given every advantage possible. “What’d you do?”

He looks down at the floor, but there’s a sudden set of his jaw, a tightness in his shoulders. “Whatever I had to.”

I don’t point out he’s given me yet another non-answer. Instead I say simply, “I find working for something makes you value it more, anyway.”

His eyes find me again, and there’s something I can’t read in his gaze. “Yes, it does. And it makes you do whatever it takes to keep it.”

I swallow and nod slowly, trying to figure out what exactly he means.

He takes a deep breath, then drinks the wine in his glass in a single swallow. There’s a story there, and it’s easy to see it burdens him, but it’s his to tell in his own time.

Just to get that strain out of his gaze, I switch topics completely. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out how you untied that damn cherry stem.”

Rhysand smiles, a full one that showcases all his pretty little teeth, and leans in, the intent clear in his eyes.

“Come here and I’ll show you,” he whispers.

I press my lips to his and open them immediately--for the lesson, of course--and his tongue meets mine in a slow glide.

Where our first kiss was all heat and drifting hands, this one’s slow and sensual and like ice cream melting on a summer day.

His mouth fits mine perfectly, and his hands seem to be made to hold me, sliding up my thighs to settle on my hips. The hair at his nape is soft against my fingers, and I lean on the stool to get closer and wrap my arms around his neck.

I suck on his tongue, and he makes a low sound, then his hands are tightening and lifting, and I’m being settled on his lap.

Both of us on one stool isn’t ideal, but I wrap my legs around his waist and hope we don’t go crashing over.

Gravity comes into play and I start sliding, so he turns the stool and traps between him and the counter. The granite digs into my spin, but I can’t be bothered to care, because the new position gives his hands freedom to roam again, and he slides them over my thighs, across my ass, up my sides.

His thumbs brush the sides of my breasts, and they become heavy and aching against his chest.

His mouth slowly drags down to my neck, and I sigh as he finds that one spot that drives me crazy. His nips the skin, tongue smoothing the small hurt, and his name slips out of me in a quiet moan.

Everything seems to change at once.

Cursing creatively, he sweeps me into his arms and stands, then walks us into his living room and plops onto a plush couch.

My ADHD kicks in and I’m momentarily distracted by how soft the leather is, but then his tongue runs across the seam of my lip and I snap back into focus.

My hips are churning against him, desperate for some friction, and I kiss him without restraint, abandoning our slow, peaceful rhythm from earlier. I hadn’t realized I’d been working on the buttons of his shirt, but then a band of tan skin is exposed, and I dip my head to press my lips against it.

He tugs my hair to bring my mouth back to his, and I practically attack him, biting his lip and pulling his hair and generally acting like a depraved cavewoman.

He doesn’t complain, though. His hands drag my hips closer, then slip under the hem of my sweater.

The scrape of his callouses on my sides snaps me back to the shocking reality where I’m--yet again--making out with a man I hardly know, and I gasp, then curse, then practically jump backwards off his lap.

Standing in front of him, I put a hand over my mouth like that’ll stop me from using it and look him over.

He’s all sprawling legs and swollen lips and beautiful eyes, and I force my eyes to the ceiling. “You look like a hot, virginal dork I just deflowered in the back of my minivan,” I tell him.

“I feel a bit like that,” he laughs, running a thumb over his bruised lips almost in shock. “Although it’s always nice to be desired.”

I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so distracted by him looking so thoroughly messy.

But I know that despite what just happened, I can’t do this with him yet.

I mean, I definitely could, and it definitely would be enjoyed by all parties involved, but I would regret it.

Rhysand isn’t someone I can just sleep with and forget. I’ve known him a week, and I already feel a strange sort of bond with him.

If we slept together, then never spoke again, it would hurt me more than I’d care to admit.

“I think I should leave.”

He nods like he was expecting this, but asks, “Why?”

Putting my hands on my hips, I repeat what I said earlier. “Working for something makes you value it more, remember?”

He smiles and stands, taking a minute to straighten the clothes I’d pawed out of place.

“It also makes you do whatever it takes to keep it,” he reminds me, a shiver sweeping over me at the words. “Come on; I’ll walk you out.”

We go to the elevator and stay on opposite ends the entire ride down. I’m a little proud, because I most certainly thought about crossing over to his half.

Stepping outside, Rhysand motions for Beefcakes to open the door. “He’ll drive you home.”

“Thank you,” I say, starting towards the car.

I take two whole steps before he’s somehow in front of me, blocking the path. “Two more things.”

He kisses me, gently but firmly, then pulls back and slips a piece of paper in my hand. “It’s your turn to send smoke signals.”

I look down at the paper and see a number written in a slashing scrawl, intelligently putting together that it’s his phone number. I look back up to respond, but he’s already back at the entrance to the building.

Rhysand looks over his shoulder, winks, and disappears inside.

I get in the SUV and tell Beefcakes my address, and off we go. I study the piece of paper the entire way there, mind reeling with everything that happened today.

The easy conversation, the art, the kiss.

Is this how it feels to be swept off your feet?

And how long, exactly, do I have to wait before calling him?

________________________________________________

This took me so long to edit holy FUCK. Part 3

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @elorcan-trash @emikadreams @alpha-omegas @joyceortiz13 @sapphic-beauty @meowsekai @ahappyhistorianreader

#feyre #feysand #feysand fanfiction #rhysand #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #feyre archeron

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

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Addicted to You

Part 1: The Chain

Summary/Author's Note: As the sister of veteran turned freelance for hire Santiago "Pope" Garcia, you grew up close to his friends and ex-military squad. Frankie Morales always had your heart, in the same way you always had his--the two of you just never seemed to get the timing right. Trying to escape the violence of a military career based family, you turned to journalism and humanitarian work in war torn countries. But three days ago your crew was ambushed and after three days without any contact, Pope is getting the guys back together for a rescue mission. (Follows Canon events very closely with added character and liberties) Thank you to @winters-buck for headcanoning with me about Frankie and getting me pumped up enough to write this.

Pairing: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Pope's sister!Reader Word Count: 4.6k (idk what happened...) Warnings/rating: (NC-17)/18+ Language, smoking, implied drug use, PTSD, sex/smut, kidnapping, blood, violence, threats, fluff and feelings

MASTERLIST

Present Day Somewhere in Texas, USA

Santiago "Pope" Garcia had always had a talent when it came to lying, but never had that talent been used so willingly on his closest friends. He was a good bluffer. It had helped his career in the military with his superiors, it had helped him on their weekly poker nights, but he had never planned on getting the five of them back together to boldly lie directly to their faces. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the locker room as Will looked him over skeptically.

"What did he say?" Will asked, straddling the wooden bench and crossing his arms to mirror his friend.

"He's taking a look at it," Pope sighed, taking off his hat and running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. "He may not be up for this."

Of course he was talking about their friend Tom. Tom, code name 'Redfly' had been their captain back in the day, their leader, and his brutality and no bull shit attitude made him a good one. Pope knew if he wasn't on board with this, then Will would be out, and the rest of them would drop like flies before this even began.

"You know he's the best with something this complex, and he needs this right now," Will said and Pope agreed with a silent nod.

Beyond the concrete walls of the locker room a cheering crowd could be heard albeit muffled. Both men turned and looked in the direction of the noise before Will shook his head and leaned forward on the bench.

"This shit is fuckin depressing," he said.

"Come on let your brother have some fun. Support him." Pope offered with a wave of his hand like Will's brother getting the shit kicked out of him for a couple hundred bucks wasn't a big deal.

"I've been supporting him since the day he was born." Will pointed to the wall that stood between them and the mixed martial arts arena. "That kid's a one in a million talent, going out there playing the fucking clown to a bunch of hillbillies."

Pope started to respond but the door opened and a man dressed in nothing but loose fitting shorts and the med tape wrapped around his hands entered.

"Where are my boys at?!" He yelled in a deep voice like an announcer and threw his hands in the air.

"Benny! There he is!" Pope embraced him before patting him on the back and passing him off to his brother who stood up from the bench.

"Hey, shithead," a familiar voice said in Spanish and Pope turned around to see Frankie, a wide grin on his face.

Frankie "Catfish" Morales, known mostly by 'cat' or 'fish' to his friends, was probably the closest thing Pope had to a best friend. Even though it had been two years since they had last seen one another, Frankie looked exactly like he always did. His dark curly hair stuck out under his trademark, ratted, ball cap. His lips held a full mustache while the rest of his face had what was probably week old scruff and the brightest smile of the group. It didn't hit him until they were embraced in a tight hug just how much he had missed the man.

"How' you doing?" Pope asked, patting him on the shoulder.

"Hanging in there, I guess." Frankie nodded, finally letting go and moving to sit on the bench opposite of Will. "Is Tom coming?"

"Yeah, he said he would be here," Pope nodded looking at all of them in front of him. "You assholes get my texts?"

All of them looked in various stages of guilt, rubbing the back of their neck, adjusting their ball cap, not meeting Pope's eyes. Of course they had gotten his texts and by the tension in the room none of them had responded.

"Yeah," Frankie finally broke the silence. "Yeah I got your texts."

"And? I need a pilot." Pope looked at his best friend.

"I don't do that anymore, man." Frankie shook his head and sighed. "Besides, I lost my license."

"I don't need a pilot with a license, I need a pilot I can trust. And that's you." Pope pointed at his chest and held his gaze.

Frankie rubbed his hand over his face and stood up, leaning back against the lockers and looking up at the ceiling. "Will, you in?"

"I told Pope, if Redfly was in, then so was I." Will turned his sights to his friend and shrugged.

"And what about you, Benny?" Pope said, asking the man who had been quiet the longest.

"Of course I'm in."

Pope ruffled his short, dirty blond hair roughly with a smile and a word of praise and Benny shoved him away with a grin.

"Fuck," Frankie sighed and shook his head. "So, what's the job?"

"Can we talk details later? It's fight night--I got other shit to think about." Benny pleaded, looking around to the other three as the crowd cheered again through the concrete walls.

"Sure, wouldn't want you to be late," Will scoffed and stood, offering a hand to his brother and helping him up off the bench. The three men left the locker room and started down the concrete tunnel that led out to the arena. Benny was in front, holding his fists out in front of him like a true heavyweight and mumbling what sounded like a well rehearsed pep-talk to hype himself up.

Frankie and Pope hung back a few steps beside the other two, falling into step with one another like they shared the same brain. The other boys often joked that they did. Frankie put his hand on Pope's shoulder and rubbed his own beard in thought before he broke the silence.

"So, I got busted. That's why my license lapsed. It's not a big deal." He let the sentence hang in the air before he shook his head and sighed. "Okay, so it is a big deal."

Pope turned and looked at him. "Coke?" When Frankie nodded in agreement Pope rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Cat."

"It's still pending. But I'm clean now--I swear."

Pope nodded as they kept walking. He believed him. Frankie was a man of his word, and he knew he didn't have to prove anything to him. If he said he was clean, then he was clean. And cocaine or not, Frankie was the best damn pilot he had seen in his entire career, he wanted him for this job. No one else was going to cut it. Not when the objective was this important.

"Hey," Frankie said, trying to act casual but sounding anything but. "Have you talked to (y/n) lately? How--uh, how's she doing?"

There it was. He had to hand it to him, it took him longer to ask than he would have thought, but where it was normally endearing how much Fankie was still in love with you, this time it made Pope sick to his stomach. Did he tell him? He should tell him--even if it was just him. It was the right thing to do. Instead, as they approached the arena, the lie fell from his mouth.

"She's uh--she's good. Took a job down south, but I haven't heard from her this week." It wasn't a total lie. Pope didn't look at him and he could feel his friend staring intently at him.

Frankie let it go, even though his expression said he didn't want to. "So, what is this job really? What aren't you telling me?"

Pope looked over his shoulder, "It is what I said. Simple recon. We can talk details after the fight."

"Sure, whatever you say, man," he shook his head as they walked into the crowd and Benny greeted Tom with a cheer and a hug as the taller man started passing out beers he had just gotten from the concession stand. "I'm in." Frankie said flatly and walked passed Pope, taking a beer from Tom and giving him a clap on the shoulder.

Pope stopped short and watched the other man smile and interact with the rest of his friends. Frankie was his oldest friend, and lying to him hurt worse than that time he was shot down in Peru. Frankie had been in love with you for as long as he could remember, and if Pope was being honest with himself, he was the only man that deserved you and that he trusted to take care of you. He thought you guys would really make it work, and the day you called it quits hurt him too. Why wouldn't he want his best friend to take care of his sister? Protect you when he couldn't? Make sure you spend the rest of your life happy.

The four of them sat in the front row as Benny walked up the steps to the raised fighting platform, ducking under one of the ropes and bouncing around like there were springs on his feet. Pope looked back at Frankie and when the other man smiled, Pope returned it but it was a lie. He knew he was going to be crushed when he found out why the gang was really back together. When Frankie found out you were missing, nothing was going to stop him from getting you back--that's the real reason Frankie was the most important part of this crew. Because just like Pope, Frankie would get you back...or burn the whole country down trying.

Two years earlier

It was just supposed to be drinks and pool, maybe some darts if he talked you into it--you were a terrible shot and it made him laugh until his eyes watered. Frankie had asked you to go to the bar while he was in town and you had happily said yes. You missed him. And by the look on his face you knew he missed you too.

It was never awkward when you were with Frankie. No matter how much time had passed, as soon as the two of you were back together it was like picking up right where you left off. Gentle touches, knowing each other's drink order, holding hands, it was all so natural. He opened every door for you, bought every seven and seven you ordered, and paid for every round of pool, shoving more quarters into the metal slot and racking up the balls the second the previous game ended.

The first part of the date ended when Frankie tried to teach you how to do a trick shot in the corner pocket. He leaned his pool cue against the table and stood behind you, wrapping his arms around yours and putting his large hands over yours on your own pool stick. He smelled like fresh air, like the woodsy smell of recently cut grass, clean earth, and just a hint of campfire smoke--musky and comfortable and safe. He spoke in your ear telling you where to aim, and even though he had to speak over the other patrons and the juke box it felt like he was whispering just for you. When he pressed himself against your ass, your body erupted in goosebumps. He must have felt it too because he asked, "Wanna get out of here?" And all you could do was nod.

The both of you fumbled into your apartment, he barely got the door closed by kicking it, as you dropped your purse and keys on the floor and started unbuttoning his shirt. Of course all of this would have been easier if either of you could pull away from each other's lips, but that wasn't happening.

"Bedroom or couch?" You said as you shoved his shirt off of his shoulders.

He grabbed the hem of your own shirt and pulled it over your head in one smooth motion. "Both." The two of you laughed and kept kissing as he walked you backwards towards the hallway. "Kitchen. Floor. Shower." He kissed you after each word and you blushed, laughing again at his suggestion. This was the Frankie you remembered. This was the Frankie you fell in love with.

"Got big plans for this weekend, do ya?"

"Yup," he bent slightly and gripped the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. "And they all involve you."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him hard on the lips. His tongue slid into your mouth like it had so many times before, exploring, tasting, moaning softly into you. He knew where your bedroom was, walking down the hall like he lived there and nudging the door open with his hip. Some summers, back when both of your lives were simpler, it was almost like he did live there. He had his own drawers, his own side of the bed, and you made sure his favorite coffee was always in the cabinet.

"Frankie," you breathed against his mouth and his grip tightened on you. You slid your fingers into his hair, removing his ball cap and tossing it behind you.

"Tell me, baby," he mumbled back, putting you down on the bed and crawling over your body.

"I missed you," you said and he froze, looking down at you with those enchanting brown eyes.

He swallowed hard and tried to slow his breathing. "I missed you, too."

The both of you took a moment just staring at one another. He leaned down and gave you another soft kiss before moving to trail his lips down your jaw, moving to your breasts and unclipping the snap in the front. He took each of your breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading them as you closed your eyes and carded your fingers through his hair again. When he took one of your nipples between his teeth you gasped, arching your back off of the bed and holding him against you.

"You still like that?" He mumbled, moving to the other nipple and repeating the motion, sucking it into his mouth along with as much of your breast as he could. The feel of his teeth against your skin was exquisite and you could have let him do what he was doing all night.

"What do you think?" You laughed as he moved from your breasts down your stomach, biting and kissing his way to the edge of your jeans. "You always were a boob man."

"For your perfect tits? Absolutely." He undid the button and zipper, grabbing opposite sides of your pants and underwear, shimmying them off of your hips.

"Charming." You scoffed, raising your hips to help him as he stood and did the same to his own.

"You always thought so."

He knelt on the bed, stroking his half hard cock before he fell on top of you, making the mattress bounce gently. You gripped his shoulder and rolled him over onto his back, enjoying the surprise on his face and the absolute adoration as your breasts hung directly in front of his face. He started to raise up to put them in his mouth again but you pressed his shoulders back into the bed.

"My turn," you grinned and he nodded, letting you move down his body, kneeling off to the side.

As soon as you wrapped your hand around his dick, his eyes fluttered closed. You worked him slowly before bowing your head and letting some saliva pool in the front of your mouth and letting it drop slowly onto the head and down the shaft. Your hand worked the liquid down, making it slide easier as you pumped him.

"Fuck, (y/n)," he sighed as he watched you. "You're killing me."

"You still like that?" You asked, playfully, mocking his earlier question and he chuckled.

"Smart ass."

You smiled again before taking him in your mouth and you revelled in the way he moaned softly and slid his hand into your hair at the back of your head. You bobbed in tandem with your hand, working the entire shaft as you sucked the head of his cock and his grip on your hair tightened. You took as much of him into your mouth as you could, your lips meeting your fist and a small sound escaped you as he hit the back of your throat. He thrusted up involuntarily and when you gagged slightly, he opened his eyes and looked at you worriedly.

"I'm sorry," he breathed and you shook your head, continuing to suck him off, running your tongue along the large vein that ran the length of him. There was no apology needed, you were just as desperate to remember his body as he was yours. He held out for a few more pumps, rock hard in your hands before he sat up and grabbed you by the arm. "Come here. Come here, baby."

You let him pull you to him as he leaned his back against the headboard and pulled you into his lap. He reached his hand between the two of you and ran two thick fingers along the slit of your pussy.

"Shit," he cursed quietly as he felt how wet you already were. He loved how quickly you were ready for him, it had always been like that. He could have you dripping for him before he even got you undressed and he loved reaching up your skirt or your dress and feeling you against the lace of your thong. "You're so wet."

"You love it," you said as he continued to stroke you and you straddled his hips, putting his arms around his shoulders.

"Always have," he said and it was in a voice tender enough that you weren't sure if you were talking about the same thing any more.

You leaned up on your knees as he took his cock in his hand and lined it up between your thighs. You lowered yourself on to him, sinking down slowly and letting your body adjust to his length. He throbbed inside of you as you paused, letting yourself adjust to his girth. The stretch was intense and you wanted it to last forever, feeling every inch of him as the bottom of your thighs touched the top of his and you settled in his lap. Your fingers found their way into his dark, soft hair. It was a little longer at the ends and you liked the way it curled around his hat, but that hat was currently on the floor with the rest of your clothes so you could touch the soft locks as much as you wanted.

"You ready, baby?"

You nod and hold him close, your breasts pressing against his chest, your foreheads coming together as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Fuck me, Frankie. Please, please." You whisper the last few words over his lips as he started to thrust up inside of you.

You both released a contented sigh at the same time and it made you smile. Even in your worst days, it always felt like you and Frankie were in sync, two halves of a whole. How your body had missed him, missed the soft way he said your name and the way he held you close to him like he wouldn't be satisfied no matter how close you were.

"I missed you," he said, closing his eyes as he guided your hips up and down, rocking against him as your stomachs brushed together.

"You said that already," you smiled, moaning softly as he hit a particularly sweet spot deep inside of you.

"And I'll say it again," he grinned, pressing his nose against your cheek and kissing your lips.

"Charmer," you kissed him back, soft and slowly.

He dipped his head and kissed your neck, sucking along the soft skin of your throat. You wanted him to leave marks like you both were in grade school, making out in the back of the movie theater, kissing in the bed of his truck, back when things were simpler. His arms tightened around your back as you nosed his hair, breathing him in and kissing the top of his head.

"Fuck," he cursed quietly as you ground your hips down on his lap. "You feel so good, baby."

"Don't stop," you moaned softly in his ear as he picked up the pace. "Harder, Cat, harder, please."

He held you tightly as he looked up and put his hand on the back of your neck. "Look at me." You opened your eyes and leaned back slightly to look down at him with heavy eyes. "God damn, you're so beautiful," he whispered and it made you blush. You kissed him hard and slid a hand between the two of you, frantically searching out your clit as his thrusts started to get sporadic and uneven.

"I'm gonna cum, Cat-" you watched as he looked at you and nodded encouragingly.

"Come on, baby. Give it to me. I got you," he panted close to your face as his cock hit the end of you, pumping up inside of you.

Your orgasm took you suddenly and completely. Your mouth opened but no sound came out as you clenched around his cock and squeezed your thighs around his lap. You felt the heat rise up from your core to the rest of your body in a way that made you curl your toes against the bedspread. You threw your head back and groaned out your pleasure to the ceiling, his name falling from your lips with sweet ecstasy as you clung to his shoulders.

He followed right behind you, spilling himself inside your cunt, the feeling of him hot and wet around his cock and starting down your thighs. He thrust hard, and spaced out, a few more times, grunting a mixture of his pleasure and your name with each movement.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, leaning back against the headboard and pulling you against him.

You pressed your cheek against his chest, breathing hard as you ran your hand up his neck and played your fingers against the scruff along his jaw. He was still inside you and you clenched your thighs again, an afterthought of a muscle twitch left over from your orgasm. It made him groan again and tighten his grip on your hips.

"Sorry," you laughed softly and he chuckled.

"We still got it, don't we?" He asked, looking down at you with a boyish grin.

"I never had any doubts." You crossed your arms on his chest and laid your head on top of them, looking up into his eyes. You shivered as he lifted your hips slightly and his softening cock slid out of you and you both got more comfortable. It was definitely quicker than the two of your normally liked it to be, but after being apart for so long, you had a feeling anything that happened tonight would be desperate and fast.

He dipped his head and kissed you softly, each kiss punctuated but a soft pop in the silence of your bedroom. He brushed your hair away from your face and smiled.

"You want me to head out soon?" He asked, trying to hide the fear in his face of the possibility that you would make him leave.

"No," you said quickly, shaking your head and staying firmly planted on top of his lap. "No, stay the night. Please." You added the last word sweetly and his face relaxed.

"Sure thing, sweetheart." He nosed your hairline and kissed your forehead.

You knew this couldn't last. You knew he was leaving tomorrow for another mission, another pilot seminar, and you were headed upstate for your job as well. You loved Frankie Morales with all of your heart and he felt the same way--life just always seemed to have other plans. And yet, life was just as cruel as it was sweet because somehow, someway, it always brought you two back together.

---

Present Day Some where in the jungles of Columbia

You weren't sure how long you had been traveling. In fact, when you thought about it, you didn't know much of anything. You twisted your wrists in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure the zip ties were leaving on your skin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you whispered, leaning your head back against the side of the van. The bumps and potholes in whatever shitty road you were on caused the back of your skull to bump against the metal. How had this happened?

The last few days had been a blur. You and a group of journalists were having dinner in a local village. You had teamed up with a group of doctors and, in between travel, were lending a hand providing basic medical care to anyone who needed it in the surrounding towns. You cut bandages, gathered clean water, played soccer with the children, and took photos to add to your collection and publish when you got back to the States. It had been a pretty uneventful trip, enjoyable actually, until Lorea's men had shown up. No one seemed to know what the dangers narcos drug lord would be doing in a place like this.

Before you knew what was even happening, there were guns pointed at your crew, men yelling in Spanish that you only vaguely understood, and you raised your hands above your head shouting back, pleading them to calm down. Did they want money? No, that would have been too easy, and as a traveling journalist that dabbled in humanitarian efforts, money was not something you had a lot of anyway.

A rather large man grabbed you by the wrists and even though you struggled, even though you screamed, it didn't make any difference. A hand on your head made you duck as you were shoved into a van along with a few of the others on your crew and the door slammed shut behind you.

"Stop, stop," you tried as the van revved and pulled away down the street. "You don't have to do this--" The man who grabbed you ignored your words, if it was because he didn't understand English or because he didn't care, you weren't sure.

He jerked your wrists in front of your body and wrapped the zip tie around them, pulling it tight. Your heart was beating way too fast and you could feel the blood rushing in your ears and on instinct you pulled your hands away from him and screamed again, turning towards the door. He yelled something in Spanish and pulled his arm back before punching you in the side of the face. Your world exploded into flashes of white as you hit the floor of the van. With the wind knocked from your lungs, you gasped for air and coughed, your eyes burning with hot tears.

The man driving turned and yelled something over his shoulder, obviously upset at his partner for roughing up the merchandise. Your stomach felt nauseous and the last thing you remember was some kind of scratchy material being put over your eyes and the rest of the world went black.

Tag List: @stevieharrrr @zeldasayer @winters-buck @seawhisperer If you wanna be tagged, lemmie know!

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro character fic #santiago garcia #frankie catfish morales

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letsdiscoverkitty · 3 years

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Treatment/Recovery Update - May 2021

Okay, I will try to ramble less in this one (so sorry!) ^ well that didn't happen!

In terms of when I did leave hospital, as I mentioned a tiny bit in the last post, my EDP was completely AWOL. A month before I was due to be discharged she came to a meeting with myself and my consultant, during which we set up 4 appointments that would be over zoom before I was discharged to help with relapse prevention and the transition home, as well as setting out, in principle, the therapeutic support that I would be getting once home...it all sounded great, so great. But as usual when it comes to my team, it was too good to be true (should have called it). I attempted to contact her when our appointments never happened but I kept being met by a brick wall; no one knew what was happening, all I got told was that she was "off"... Time passed and I was discharged with only a phone call booked in from someone from the general team to check I was safe a few days later (it was literally 5 minutes, long if that) and an appointment to do physical monitoring the next wee....a far cry from the original discharge plan *sigh* Coming home was a bit of a whirlwind. We were approaching Christmas but we were still under a lot of restrictions with COVID, so it was a very strange/messy/weird few weeks.

Time continued to pass and there was still no confirmation around therapy or support, even the ED team didn't know what was happening with L, I just continued to go to two weekly physical monitoring. In the end, with nowhere else to turn, I contacted my consultant from hospital. To say that she was mad that nothing had been in place/I had no support would be an understatement and I thank my lucky stars that she was able to get involved. It took a couple of weeks but I finally had my first session with a therapist in February. In total it took about 8-9weeks from discharge to see someone, which, well, was hard.

Upon reflection, I think one of the biggest things I struggled with with coming home was that I had literally no leave to practice beforehand. This meant that I unfortunately slipped back into old habits very quickly as, well I know it is no excuse but coming back to the same environment your brain easily slips into automatic mode and you find yourself doing what you "used" to do without realising it.

I was in, I would say, quite a vulnerable state when I left hospital (the last few months there were pretty rocky to say the least) and the day before I was discharged (as I mentioned in a previous post somewhere) I was handed 3 different, very conflicting, meal plans and the nutritionist who had previously been very horrible to me and who had been away for a number of weeks, told me that she did not think I could continue to recover at home and that the best possible case would be if I only lost a bit of weight over the next 6 months....I think you can probably guess how badly this was taken and how messy my mind was. So with 3 meal plans in hand, none of which I had practiced, with little to no support from the ED team, I was, essentially, crisis managing, simply trying to get through each day.

I know, I know. Classic kitty - stuck record. failure. mess. making a million and one excuses. trying to make out like she is fine to the rest of the world when in fact inside she was falling apart. sigh.

In terms of my weight recovery I was not discharged at a healthy BMI/weight, which my consultant was sad about, however I was in a much better place than when I was admitted (I think I had gained about half the weight I would have needed to from when I was admitted to get to a healthy weight). I will admit that part of me does wonders whether staying would have been beneficial, because on a very basic level yes it could have helped in some ways. However if I stretch my mind back to when I was still on the ward ,it actually still floods me with anxiety and fear because of how UNHELPFUL the environment had sadly become. It is hard to explain to someone who has not experienced an EDU, but the patient groups can and do make a massive of differences. I was vvv lucky that when I was initially admitted, and for the first good couple of months, it was a v supportive and recovery focused environment. However, by about late Sept/early October ,things turned completely upside down (which was not helped by the fresh COVID lockdowns either) and even staff were saying how terrible it had gotten and how they could not believe the things that they were being asked to manage on the progression ward. There were times when I felt incredible unsafe on the ward and feared for others patients, which is not "okay". I genuinely believe that staying any longer would have likely made my mental health decline further; I had already found the massive shift was negatively affecting me and I think staying would have been unwise. I had also gained quite a lot of weight and was, I hate to admit, struggling with both coming to terms with that along with dealing with everything that you are continually facing when going through treatment/recovery alongside working on trauma stuff. I know none of that is any worthy excuse, but that was how it was...At this time I was struggling a lot with my meal plan and had quite a few lapses whilst on the transition phase of the unit however despite screaming out for help/support from staff, because of the acute situation on the ward, I was just left. They knew I was struggling, I was told time and time again that they had not forgotten me, but did I get help? no. It was actually made worse by the then nutritionist who sat me down like a naughty school girl and basically told me that I was a failure and that I would never achieve anything in life blah blah blah (please see a past post if you want to know more) which made me even more scared to reach out for 'help'/'support'. So no, I don't think staying would have helped much, which is a real shame.

Therapy wise I had a bit of a rough ride in there (god I'm really selling this aren't I?!). When admitted I was not in a place for 'traditional' therapy what so ever; looking back I honestly have no idea how I was even 'functioning' (was I functioning? probably not) and even the group therapies were a struggle but my consultant stuck with me and with time I was able to process a little more. One thing that helped me beyond words was 1:1 Art Therapy. This was not something I had accessed before, only ever doing group sessions in the past which was mostly about getting away from the ward and doing a bit of art. I cannot reiterate enough how different and HELPFUL the 1:1 sessions were. The art therapy, who I knew from the last year and is an absolutely GEM, helped me to begin to process and work through the trauma that I had experienced with dad. It took a lot of time and persistence but I was able to use those sessions in so many ways and I will forever be grateful to P for supporting me (I was so lucky to be able to have 1:1 sessions for the majority of my 8 admission).

The more traditional therapy initially took the form of 30min sessions with my consultant once to twice a week (as much as I hated them, she was bloody good). I also had a review and a few sessions with the lead therapist via zoom (she was heavily pregnant so was working from home) not long after being admitted, but she soon went on maternity leave. This left me to be picked up by her student, who was actually incredible. We did a long extended piece of work on my perfectionism which, again, was SO helpful but she sadly left (for bigger and better things) and I was left hanging for a while as there were no other openings. A new lead therapist started and after a while he did a few sessions with me before leaving suddenly (I think even staff only had a weeks notice, which was ridiculous), so I was back to twiddling thumbs for a few weeks. I then met with a therapist who worked 2 mornings a week that I saw a bit during my last admission but we didn't do many sessions and it just fell away. This was mostly my fault as by this point I was questioning my admission and whether I would self discharge as there were some not good things going on on the ward, so I wasn't really in the headspace to explore things deeply and had been picked up and put down so many times that I just couldn't do anymore. Throughout that time though I continued to see my consultant weekly, mainly focusing on mindfulness and other therapy styles thrown in there too at times.

I will forever be thankful/grateful for the admission I had, especially to be under a different consultant (for COVID reasons they had to split things differently as they would usually do it by area but that wasn't possible at the time I was admitted) as her approach made a huge difference. I still remember one of the first things she said to me was that she couldn't believe/was that I had been placed on the SEED pathway and that she believed that I could be more than that, which honestly, gave me a little bit of hope (something that had been ripped apart and shredded by my usual consultant multiple times).

But back to now.... I have now been seeing a new therapist weekly (when possible) since February and, in a backwards way, I am so glad that L disappeared off the grid because the "support" I was going to be getting under the original plan was just sessions with her to do some self guided self help stuff, whereas with this therapist we have actually been doing some HELPFUL work. In terms of L, I think the last I was told she never returned to work and has now left the team (we have a sneaky feeling that she either had a complete break down or that it was due to too may complaints (mum called this a long time ago as she was not qualified for the role at all and was utterly useless), which, yeah, was strange to not get an ending as I had worked with her for a few years. Anyway, I've been doing SCHEMA therapy with this new lady (I'd not heard of it before) and at first I was a bit reluctant but it's been incredibly insightful. I continue to learn more about myself and the reasons why I may have gone down certain roads each session. HOWEVER. and this is a big however. There has been a bit of a snag in the rope.

In short, yes I have been engaging really well with the therapy side, my weight and physical health has only continued to deteriorate since i was discharged. We are talking classic kitty of slowly slipped backwards, nothing dramatic, nothing to make alarm bells go off or warrant a review, but it's not been good. Anorexia is screaming at me for saying all of this, it shouts "but you weigh so much more than when you were admitted, you are a complete fraud blah blah blah" which is all the same old boring drivel it always spews out. But basically Im in dangerous waters now in terms of losing therapy/not being able to engage with therapy properly if things dont improve. Ive been in classic stuck mode, getting so absorbed by the numbers and the bubble that AN offers, that I have been numb to it all. The HCA I was seeing was really trying to help me to make changes but she left a while ago (she was going back to train as a nurse) and since then I have had the odd appointment here and there (I think it fell to every 3 weeks for a while as there were no available appointments) with people trying to cover the clinic until someone else is hired for the role, which is far from ideal as they literally just do the necessary obs and send you on your way.

Okay that sounds like yet another excuse, which is probably is, but it's not been an easy ride since I left hospital to say the least.

BUT this past week things have begun to shift a little. I was honest with my therapist about the whole food/meal plan side of things and we actually spoke about how we can't focus on therapy things until I am in a more stable place, which is both really hard to hear but also exactly what I need to hear. I am actually being more open to change, which is a shift from where I was just a week ago. It is bloody painful, even just thinking about it all hurts/is exhausting and I am still very much in the darkness /struggling with it but there is now a little part of me that is screaming out and trying to be heard. There is a little part of me that WANTS to get out of this endless messy limbo that this relapse has been and wants to start stepping back into "recovery". There is part of me that wants a chance. And I've got to start listening to that side a little more.

I promise, the next update will be a little more positive Stay tuned.

#personal #update #If anyone actually reads this you deserve a medal #im sorry #this is a crappy update #I promise there are more positive things to come #I have things to tell you all!!!

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redsector-a · 3 years

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AO3 Ask Game

I was tagged by @themarshalstale which, thank you so much! I feel like I always get missed on these (I know why, it’s been 84 years since I published anything but still). 1. How many works do you have on ao3?

46 it seems. Which...look I’m slow man so that’s not surprising. lol Also crippling depression does not make for much production, at least for me.

2. What’s your current AO3 wordcount?

309662 according to the stats.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

So do I could only AO3 or in like life? lol I suppose it should only be on AO3 since this is an AO3 ask game. Hrm. Basically AO3 can be summed up as: Marvel (in several iterations - all Avengers related) Torchwood Highlander But isn’t it more fun to consider my entire fandom life, which, I’m sorry, I’m old so...yeah. Not all of this is was published and beyond that a lot is not available anymore...which is likely for the best. Highlander Star Wars Babylon 5 Ronin Warriors/Samurai Troopers Marvel (again, several iterations also of note Avengers and X-Men both count) Torchwood Star Trek LOTR Stargate (SG-1, SGA) Mortal Kombat I dabbled with the idea of Potter fic but never got past the ideas stage.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1: You rearrange me till I’m sane Clint finds himself spiraling into a deep depression after the Battle of New York...until the Winter Soldier ends up saving him and inadvertently giving him a new purpose – to save the man that the Soldier had once been – Bucky Barnes. Not one to be outdone, the Soldier decides that his new mission is to ensure that Clint remains alive himself. Protecting a blonde man with a self-destructive streak is somehow very familiar to him. Through the back and forth of who is saving whom they cross the country and learn more about themselves and each other – and perhaps find a reason for living. 2: Five Dates Bucky Didn’t Realize He Was on And the One He Planned Himself To say that Bucky was surprised when Clint kissed him was an understatement. But it was nothing compared to the shock he felt when he learned they'd been dating for months without him realizing it.Clint gets whisked away for a mission before they have time to talk and Bucky is left to figure things out on his own - hindsight being 20/20 he can't help but wonder how he missed things the first go around.

3: Puck Luck Bucky Barnes is used to the ups and downs of an NHL season. He's used to the unpredictability of the game, knows that bounces don't always go your way, but that doesn't make a broken hand in the final third of the season any easier to deal with. Especially not when he ends up with an impromptu roommate/personal assistant in the form of one Clint Barton - his agent, Natalia Romanova's (rather attractive) friend he hadn't known existed before his injury.

It's just for six to eight weeks - what could possibly happen in that span of time?

4: Loose Lips Launch Ships

Based on the following prompt: “We go to school together and I think you’re cute and apparently you’re also the pizza delivery guy and my little sibling opened the door screaming hey sibling! you know that kid you’re in love with? you really weren’t kidding when you said his jawline could cut steel holy shit-” Bucky is the pizza delivery guy. Clint's younger (foster) brother has a big mouth.

5: Indelible Bucky Barnes has a pretty decent life – a good job, good friends, a cat that adores him - but something is missing. He’s always found body art to be beautiful and inspiring, and on a whim (and with the hope that maybe he can find what he’s missing) he decides to take the plunge and get a tattoo. That's how he meets Clint Barton. Clint's talented and compassionate and there is an instant spark between the two of them. It's not long before Bucky finds himself wondering and wanting more from the relationship despite the ghosts of the past that crop back up. Because Clint makes him feel normal in a way he truly hasn't for years...

(this was pre-Alpine so I was totally chuffed when canon confirmed Bucky’s status as a crazy cat lady (affectionate).

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not.

I really really really want to do it but I often times don’t end up doing it. There are a few reasons. First, I am akwward AF and bad at interaction adn I feel like just saying thank you would be...not enough? Second - I often times tend to like...turtle (aka retreat into myself) when life gets Too Hard/Busy which happens a lot to me (sigh) and then I miss the vague window in my mind in which it would be okay to respond and then it’s even more weird. I do love and cherish all of them. Like there was one months ago that made me go “hmm...I didn’t think I was going to do a sequel to that fic (You rearrange me till I’m sane), timestamp glimpses sure but a sequel hadn’t come to mind” but then the comment made me think! So...who knows? lol Anyway, I literally have been rereading some in an effort to try and get myself going again. Know that if you have commented, I love you.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

At the moment? Probably: Look at you look at me Bucky's in love with Clint - problem is he's really not supposed to be. For Winterhawk Week 2019 - Forbidden Love (I really don’t want to give away the spin in the fic but...if you’re familiar with the Secret Avengers Vol 2 run circa 2013ish (aka when SHIELD initially ‘took control of the team’) that’s a bit of a hint as to the spin). Were it done, Torch Song would be up there. ;) Torch Song Clint is sent back in time, via an alien device, to 1938. While he tries to figure out how to get back home, he takes up singing and entertaining to make ends meet and does his best to not disrupt the timeline.Then he meets a 21 year old Bucky Barnes. --- A torch song is a sentimental love song, typically one in which the singer laments an unrequited or lost love, either where one party is oblivious to the existence of the other, where one party has moved on, or where a romantic affair has affected the relationship.

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Does *wanting* to write crossovers count? lol I want, so badly, to do more crossovers and fusions (which...are kinda deeper versions of crossovers in a way). The only one I do have posted is a crossover between Highlander and Torchwood -

The Immortal Mr. Jones A series of vignettes (some long, some short) in the life of the newly immortal Ianto Jones. My most ambitions project that I have been working on since late 2011/early 2012 is a fusion of the Avengers with Stephen King’s the Stand. I will get that done at some point *shakes fist* The Stand, for those who don’t know it, is an epic 1000+ page novel about a flu epidemic (I know) that wipes out over 99% of the population and then two figures representing Good and Evil pull the survivors in two directions for a showdown. So basically it’s a non-powered modern AU set in that universe. It’s a passion and comfort project. lol

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. Well, minor bitching back when I was in a prior fandom because I tagged a pairing in a fic but it was pre-slash and not labeled as pre-slash. I got hate on...I think it was Torch Song? And I’ve gotten hate on tumblr re me and my fic in general as well. Fandom! *jazz hands* Oh! And I’ve also been hit by those reviewers within Winterhawk (among general Clint pairings actually) who like rate you on either number scales or the “meh” scale. Which isn’t hate exactly but...it’s passive aggressive bullshit because I can’t believe none of them realize at this point that the authors can see their bookmarks - you know?

9. Do you write smut?

Yes. Do I write it well? I have no idea. lol

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of. Well...there was, I think, one of those reposting sites that had a few fics on it but I don’t think it was being passed off as someone else’s? I can’t quite recall. It’s why I have a note on AO3 about reposting my work anyway.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not entirely, but sort of. Let me explain - I am part of a PBEM game; which for those unfamiliar since it’s a term that was most heavily in use 15-20 years ago, in which you basically do a round robin type writing thing but rather than everyone writing the same characters you write your own characters and you play off what other people have done. Another way of looking at it is it’s basically DnD without dice and written down rather than done out loud. You also don’t have to all be around at the same time. It’s a lot of fun and yes I have been in it for 20 years even though there aren’t many of us left but they are some of my dearest friends and fabulous writers. Wins all around. One of the other writers and I have actually toyed with the idea of doing a co-written fic actually, mostly because we work super well together and keep getting ideas for things but can’t really do them as rpgs since the pbem style isn’t used much anymore.

12. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Winterhawk probably. Though, let’s be real - Han & Leia are epic and amazing as are John & Delenn (from Babylon 5).

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Does wanting to expand The Black Stallion books as a wee child count? lol Not much of that was written save for world building ideas but there was a great oral tradition of telling stories to my friends. Otherwise...maybe a tie between Star Wars and Highlander. Star Wars was a love since I was super young but the writing bug didn’t hit me until around the same time Highlander was a thing as well.

14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? You rearrange me till I’m sane for sure. Though Torch Song, if it were finished, would be tied I imagine (I suck at picking favorites). Honorable mention to Puck Luck and Indelible. Tagging: I have seen this like a million times (okay 5) so I feel like everyone has been tagged already that I know. But...I guess... @vexbatch @crazycatt71 @heartonfirewrites and @disruptedvice sorry if anyone has been tagged before.

#icyredfics #writing #winterhawk #long post

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annetteblog · 3 years

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I got a very long ask and wrote even longer reply, and now Tumblr for some reason doesn't want to publish it through asks. So I'm making a separate post, because what else can I do? 😀 I hope Anon wouldn't mind

Hi!

Thank you for such a long ask! I really enjoy replying those, although it may take some time to actually write whatever I have on my mind 🙂 However, I feel like for every question that you posed, it's possible to write its own big reply or even an essay, so this piece of mine probably won’t give them justice (but I’ll try my best.)

As usual, one big IMO.

1) Ethics, “gueer coding” and discussions

I believe I’ve already partly touched this subject here. Shortly, I think that everything the boys did (and still do) had its own purpose. They decided to put these "undertones" (or whatever one may call them) in their art. They made some statements with a very small room for interpretation. And it didn't happen once or twice. More like, it's been a consistent behaviour throughout years.

I don't buy this excuse some fans write - "oh, he just didn't know about this/didn't understand how it looked like/didn't..." So apparently, JK wasn't able to figure out shit about Troye, didn't give a damn about his GCF, didn't think how his tattoo looked like; JM didn't realize to what conclusions could lead his quite bold words about 4am or waking up and seeing JK; both of them didn't have second thoughts about the Black Swan dance; Bang PD is just a CEO who pays zero attention to BTS in general and KM actions in particular (which sometimes actually backlash, e.g. that stop gay fanservice thing after the Seoul concerts), because he clearly just doesn't care AT ALL; whatever PR service they have in BH is just asleep all the time... Etc etc etc, you got the idea

Well, if one wants to perceive JM, JK and BigHit as a group of complete morons with no brains, this "oh, they just didn't know" explanation may work. But if all of them were idiots, how would BTS become the biggest group on a planet? They are smart enough, deal with this.

And YET. KM still do what they do. It's their choice, so apparently they have their motives. You wrote it yourself too - "Jikook and BH put out all that stuff for a reason."

Keeping this in mind, I truly think it's fair to discuss queer undertones or KM's bond. It's meant to be discussed and speculated. They made it public, and they continue to make it public (and quite obvious, to be honest). Why? Well, I guess they want us to speculate.

From here comes the second point

2) Art and its interpretations

In general, I believe that any good art should allow various interpretations. That's what a good piece of art is supposed to do - provoke a thought. As well as it's quite customary to analyze and (sometimes) overanalyze art. Thousands of universities worldwide have programs which are focused on fine art, literature, theater, music, film, etc.

And why is it okay to write about Avengers or Madonna or whatever weird art you're able to find in the closest Contemporary museum (like a banana taped to a wall), but not okay to interpret BTS' songs and/or performances? Again, I strongly believe that art is meant to be discussed. Especially as cool as theirs 🙂

Actually, some popular fandom theories turned out to be true here. Since Spring Day release on Feb 2017, fans speculated about its connection to the Sewol ferry tragedy based on the song's lyrics, MV and choreo. We got this confirmation like when, December 2020? But before it was also just an interpretation.

Coming back to KM. Combining these with the idea that JM/JK/BH clearly know what they're doing and how it may look like, I don't see a problem in having various interpretation of their art. Including queer ones.

3) Escapism

Isn't all art targeted to escaping in a sense? We want to take a break from reality and/or mundane life or just gain some new experience. In this sense what's the radical difference between staring at pictures or sculptures in a museum, watching a movie, reading a book or scrolling through Tumblr reading BTS/KM centric posts? All of these are means to escape and entertain ourselves.

As for this "if they are a queer couple, is it okay to derive pleasure and 'what a beautiful love story' feelings from two members of systematically oppressed minority?" - and you would prefer doing what - ignoring them? pretending that they don't exist? 🙃 In case if they are a queer couple, I guess showing support and benevolence is even more important. Exactly because, as you mentioned, they are a part of the oppressed minority. And the hatred is/would be definitely in place.

4) Fanfiction

Oh my, what a controversial theme these days.

Firstly, some forget it was not invented in the 21st century. Even slash fanfiction (cough Star cough Trek). As for incorporating real people, it's been a part of literature for like what.. always? There are millions of different writings about emperors, nobles, military figures, lives of saints, etc. And it's not like personal opinion of people in question bothered those, who write or wrote about them. I clearly remember a scene in Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace, where Alexander I [Russian emperor 1801-25] after losing a battle against Napoleon, hits a birch tree with his sword while crying hard and just being kinda hysterical. Would real Alexander be satisfied with such image if he read the book? Idk 😄

About having "the right to comment on such [different from your own] experience". I suppose, if authors wrote only about what they had experienced, our literature would be 95% poorer than it is. How can one write books in historic settings if they didn't live there? How do books about future and space travel exist, if we live in 2021? Is it needed to be a part of mafia to write about mafia? What about other cultures? Should an American author write only about American people and American lifestyle or it's fine to have characters from other countries?

Writing is not about experiencing something and then making a fanfic or a book, it's more about research and compassion. If you have reliable info on your theme and are able to look at the world using different lenses, why not?

I don't perceive fanfiction as a worldwide evil. Sure, there are creepy examples as well as authors, who write fetishizing weird shit. But it doesn't mean that all fanfiction=bad and all slash fanfiction=objectification of male homosexuality. Fanfiction is just one form of fiction, it can be good or bad based on how it's written. But the label itself doesn't define anything, as well as reading it should not be a reason to accusations.

5) Jikook, shipping and politics

I'm among those, who perceive pretty much everything as a part of politics. We all exist within some political conventions and have certain political laws over our heads. And yes, it includes art. Even if an artist says something like "oh, I decided to stay away from politics, my work is beyond it". The decision to stay away from politics is also political, because apparently there was something within the political structure what made this artist say that and forced them to make this distinction between them and some institutional conventions.

And that makes me believe that shipping/supporting KM is also political. But I don't think it's necessarily bad? Basically, you decided to support potentially queer people from a country, which doesn't really approve LGBTQ+. It puts you in the opposition towards a particular government. You made a choice. You could google some SK stuff, read all that you mentioned in the beginning of your ask, and say something like "oh, that's not okay there? well, fair enough, I guess their government knows better"🤠 and forget that this KM thing even exists. But apparently you didn't

Imo, is it politics? Yes

Is it bad that it's politics? Well, no? 🙃

P.S. I hope I was clear enough with my ideas. Thank you again for the thought provoking ask, and I hope I'll hear from you again 🙂

And honestly, I don't think that you're problematic in any way :)

#annetteasks #jikook #kookmin #long post #jeon jungkook #park jimin #jimin #jungkook

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grxceblqckthxrn · 4 years

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TDA characters as types of tiktokers

y’all KNOW i’m bored when i’m doing this shit lmao

i’ll get around to doing the other TSC characters eventually TDA was just the first to come to mind also if you’re not actively on tiktok some of what i say might not make sense ahaha

also i named some tiktokers who yall can use for reference for some of them and from what i’ve seen they’re all fairly unproblematic so you should check them out!!

EMMA CARSTAIRS

okay so she’s DEFINITELY super popular and she uses her platform for good

she’s really funny and a lot of her audios go viral posts videos of her dancing saying that she cant dance but she’s actually really good at it

6M followers and growing fast

hypes up her boyfriend’s account ALL the time

calls out misogynistic/racist tiktokers through duets and KEEPS THEIR TAG IN THE CAPTION

she is not afraid of starting drama lmao

occasionally hops on POV and transition trends but its usually satire

emma can’t act for shit lmao

super active on tiktok and has a spam account

people are always asking her to drop the skin care routine but she doesn’t have one??

*pushes Zara down* “and no one’s gonna help her?? WOW some world we live in”

JULIAN BLACKTHORN

there’s no way he doesnt have an art account lmao

a lot of his paintings go viral but 90% of his comments are 14 year old girls thirsting over him

yall know that pottery guy on tiktok?? the cute one?? (i searched up his account just for this post he’s @/daxnewman769) that’s the best way to describe him

literally all the famous tiktokers commission him

probably has like 4M followers lmao

will occasionally make about how respecting women doesn’t make you a “simp”

doesn’t get into tiktok drama tho

posts candid videos of emma and all his jealous 14 year old fans get so pressed but he shuts down anyone who says anything bad about her

sometimes does painting or drawing tutorials and he’s really good at teaching stuff lmao

CRISTINA ROSALES

omg okay so like yall know those really pretty girls on tiktok who are literal models and are always dropping tips on how to frame your face for pictures and best clothes and poses and whatever ( @/ameliezilber is the first person that came to mind as an example)

thats her

alot of her content is just for the aesthetic

BLING EFFECT

GRWM’s all the time

10 step skin care routine

GOOD VIBES

has a pretty decent following?? like at least 2 million

has a spam but it’s exactly the same as her main lol

also calls out problematic tiktokers but not by name

her entire account is full of body positivity and does a bunch of stuff on loving yourself

sometimes does POVs and all the comments are like “@ netflix hire her rn”

sometimes posts crack videos with emma and cute vids with mark and kieran

MARK BLACKTHORN

does a lot of reaction videos and duets

a lot of his videos go viral but he doesn’t have a huge following like maybe 800k

everyone still knows him

gets at least twenty “are you wearing only one contact” comment about his eyes every post

he’s really funny without even realizing it

sometimes goes inactive for weeks at a time and just forgets that tiktok exists lmao

shows off kieran and cristina ALL THE MF TIME AND EVERYONE IS SO JEALOUS LIKE HOW ARE ALL OF THEM HOT

KIERAN

doesnt have a tiktok lmao sorry

but shows up so much on mark’s and cristina’s that a lot of people know who he is

DIANA WRAYBURN

unironically does POVs but is actually good at them??

lots of videos talking about the struggles of minorities like LGBTQ+ and POC and women

posts a lot of those vidoes that are like “what to do if you ever get kidnapped” “red flags in relationships” “most powerful parts of the body” etc

probably has like 500k followers

at the end of the day she doesn’t really use tiktok that much tho ahaha

LIVVY BLACKTHORN:

does a little bit of everything??

posts dance videos sometimes

omg her transitions are SO good

everyone is in love with her and she has to remind them that she’s a minor (i’m just a kid plays aggressively in the background)

posts videos that are just vibes?? like her skating at night, dancing in traffic with dru/her friends, walking through the city at night etc

lots of lip syncing videos to whatever sounds are popular and all her comments are like “i wish i looked like this” “guess im not eating today” and she gets so upset :((

she wants everyone to know that they’re perfect the way they are!!

also posts POVs sometimes and she’s not that bad at them ahaha

probably has like 1 million followers

doesn’t even need a spam just posts everything on her main

shouts out her sibilings accounts all the time

overall just great energy

TY BLACKTHORN

never posts his face on his main but he does on his spam

yall know those accounts that post fun facts or psychology facts?? his is like that except he talks to explain them and everyone finds his voice SO calming

he posts a lot of content of animals and everyone is in AWE with how good he is with them

his username is probably theanimalwhisperer or something djkfskjd

every single time he posts Kit on his account all the comments are like “OOH ICU” and “SHIP” and “ASK HIM OUT ALREADY”

he gives 0 shits about popularity on tiktok he’s just posting for fun because he likes teaching people about his interests

so he has like maybe 500k followers

lots of philosophical questions that has everyone questioning their existence

ugh i love him

KIT HERONDALE

be honest this is what y’all were waiting for

yall know those unproblematic ppl that everyone refers to as the “king(s) of tiktok”???

yeah thats him

SO FUNNY

LIKE HIS CONTENT IS GENUINELY HILARIOUS

lots of sarcasm and satire

think @/adamkindacool ?? (one of my favourite tiktokers lmao)

does reaction videos for those “pov: im the annoying hot cheeto girl sitting next to you in math class” videos

dark humor (not like rude humor but actual dark humor)

like “i put the baby in the oven and the pizza in the bed” type of jokes back when those were a thing

has like 4M followers but almost every single one of his posts go viral so he’s gaining fast

lots of pranks

starts a bunch of trends

any video he posts of Mina goes viral

sometimes he posts some really weird stuff that has everyone laughing so hard irl (@/benoftheweek)

he NEVER thirst traps but still gets a lot of those weird sexual fairy comments on his posts (iykyk)

TO BE CLEAR I MEAN THE FAIRY EMOJI ONES NOTHING TO DO WITH HIM BEING FAE

reacts to the comments with a video of him just staring at the screen with the “oh to see without my eyes” or “im just sixteen” audio going on in the background which only encourages them to make more weird comments

anyways everyone loves him

any of his povs are pure jokes meant to make fun of pov’ers

posts maybe one serious tiktok every 5 months that talks about being respectful and using your platform for good

“i miss old tiktok”

posts a lot of random videos of Ty where, again, all the comments are shipping them except even more so on his account because everyone can see his heart eyes for Ty

collabs with Dru a lot and does a bunch of duets of her videos

everyone loves him bye

DRU BLACKTHORN

SO many memes

she deletes any hate in her comments bc she honestly doesnt care to respond to them and doesn’t need that kind of negativity in her life

but one time she got a “the f in women stands for funny” comment and she WENT OFF

does really dark povs sometimes that are really interesting

CLOWN MAKEUP + SCARY CLOWN TIKTOKS ( think @/avani ‘s clown make up posts

REALLY good at makeup and sometimes gets julian to do scary makeup on her for tiktoks and povs (like those ones with stitches over the mouth or skin peeling off)

huge ally!! posts a lot about minorities struggles and white privilege, and acknowledges hers

does movie reviews and stuff sometimes

“types of” videos

pulls a lot of pranks on her sibilings with livvy and sometimes with Kit

lots of body positivity + self love

calls out back-handed compliments

also has a lot of content like Livvy’s of just vibing in LA

julian and emma and mark go off at anyone who sexualize her in the comments

probably has like 650k followers

posts a couple of times a week

BONUS:

JAIME ROSALES

lots of skateboarding videos idk he just gives me that vibe

doesn’t post that often but is super popular

like maybe 1.5M followers

really passionate about systematic racism

HATES all those privileged white boys using the “this is america” audio to pretend they’re oppressed ( this is a may 2020 thing so it probably wont make sense to anyone who sees this after lmao)

POSTS A LOT OF THIRST TRAPS LMAO

also posts lots of videos that’s just him yelling about stuff but they’re really entertaining to watch ( like that guy sebastian @/sauceyogranny)

everyone thinks he’s super hot he always shows up in those “hottest boys on tiktok” videos except sometimes he’s just the token POC boy and it makes him mad :(

DIEGO ROSALES

HIS ACCOUNT IS SO PRACTICAL LMAO

lots of tips

“what to do if you’re trapped in the desert” “what to do if you’re kidnapped and stuck in the trunk”

doesnt reply to comments EVER unless it’s to clarify a point he made in the video or answer a question

has like 200k

okay thats it lmao im done bye this took me like an hour to make

i’ll get to all the other characters from the other series’ eventually

also if yall are wondering abt the lack of f*ckbois in this post they’re coming dw

TMI CHARACTERS AS TYPES OF TIKTOKERS

TID CHARACTERS AS TYPES OF TIKTOKERS

TLH CHARACTERS AS TYPES OF TIKTOKERS

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