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muchosbesitos · 1 month

Text

congratulations

i bet on losing dogs (part two) series masterlist

pairing: college miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: one year age gap, angst (?), smut, unprotected sex, doggy, and mentions of masturbation (m) pls lmk if i missed anything 🥸

synopsis: after going through a toxic cycle with his ex girlfriend, miguel learns that maybe he does deserve some type of love in his life.

author’s note: DADDY’S HOMEEE 🗣️ anyways so i sorta based this off mac miller’s song ‘congratulations.’ i hope y’all aren’t tired of me posting angst 😪 (i haven’t forgotten ab the poll btw 😭)

word count: 6.3k

The sun don't shine when I'm alone

Miguel was stuck in a cycle of getting together with Dana, spending a couple months of bliss by going on dates with her and exchanging sweet gestures to having a messy breakup over something completely minute. It was toxic, he could admit that much to himself. But he didn't wish to stop it. If his own mother couldn't provide him with love as a child, why should he expect for someone else to love him?

He was an anomaly.

Or at least, that's what he's been led to believe for most of his life. A being that was incapable of being loved properly, of being the odd one out in every situation he was in. From being the tallest one in every single room he stepped in (often having to crouch his head) to being the black sheep of his family.

He stayed with Dana as a method to prove to himself that he was worthy of loved by someone, even if it wasn't expressed in the healthiest of ways. But even he was starting to get at his ending point. "No, I told you about a week ago that robotics was starting back up again and that I'd be busy with the meetings," Miguel explained for what seemed to be the thousandth time this week. Think about the good moments.

"So are those meetings more important than spending time with me now?" Dana's voice was starting to get annoying to his ears, the tiny whine in her voice starting to irritate him. He was sure she was putting up that pout that she thought got him weak at the knees every time he saw it. Really, he only ended up relenting to whatever she said so he couldn't have to see that awful expression on her face for much longer.

"No, they're not. But just try to understand that I have different interests outside of this relationship. We can go out this weekend if you want to do that," he was running out of options to keep her happy. It seemed like the more that he wanted for this relationship to work, the more that she kept slipping away from his fingers. "It's just.. I don't know if I want to be in a relationship where my needs aren't being seen."

She'd be back within the week. Maybe even less if she got up to that point of loneliness. She'd come back over to him with an apologetic smile on her face, expressing how she was willing to forgive him for his past transgression. "It's okay, I know you get busy sometimes but as long as you're willing to change, I want to give this another shot," she'd whisper in his ear, the two making up in an empty janitorial closet. An exchange of empty promises slipping from Dana easily forgotten with the heat of the moment.

He came back home from a robotics meeting that had run late, a small sigh escaping his lips as he stepped inside. There was no one to welcome him as he stepped in through the door, no one to ask him how his day had gone at school today. "How'd your day go?" he asked out loud, pretending that it was his mother's voice instead of his own echoing through the living room. "It was good, thanks for asking," he felt like a fool for talking to himself, rolling his eyes as he set down his bag on the couch.

Or at least, he'd thought he was alone. He heard two voices coming from the basement, his brother's and someone else's. He made his way downstairs, his eyes widening slightly upon the sight. The spaceship model that he'd spent every available second of last week building was now crumbled by a basketball. Gabriel's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, moving closer to Miguel as you stood in the corner.

"Look, we're sorry. The game got out of hand," Gabriel started off but he released that all his attempts to apologize would be futile upon seeing the glare Miguel was shooting in his general direction. "So if you knew, why'd you come downstairs to come play?" Miguel answered back quickly, seeming to have his comebacks ready at any moment. Part of you started to feel guilty, needing to take some kind of responsibility for this as well.

"Hey, it's not his fault. I'm the one who suggested that we play down here," you could sense the tension from a mile away, deciding to ease the situation a bit. Even if that meant you had to take the fall for Gabriel's mistake. You could see the gratitude in Gabriel's expression upon seeing you walk over to them. "So? That doesn't change the fact that my project's still in shambles."

And almost as if on cue, one of the pieces that was barely hanging on fell to the ground with a dramatic thud. You could see the vein on Miguel's forehead get closer and closer to popping the more he looked at the remnants of what was otherwise, a perfect model rocket. The only reason the two of you had even come down here in the first place was because Gabriel wanted to show you the design that his brother was working on.

You'd expressed some interest in wanting to join the stem club at school, but you eventually decided against it after seeing that it was majorly ran by guys. Guys that had a reputation for being overwhelmingly misogynistic. You decided it'd be better not to join and just wait until next year, if you even wanted a chance of getting your ideas being heard out.

Most of them didn't even bother to listen to you outside of school so you didn't delude yourself into thinking that being in a club would magically change that. As much as you really wanted to join.

So you settled for observing from the outside, walking into the robotics classroom when it was deserted to look through the different parts modeled and the different things that were presented. And occasionally, Gabriel would let you sneak a peek at what the club president, Miguel, was up to.

"I can help you with the project if you want," you suggested, hoping that it would detonate the situation. The two brothers had been on thin ice since Miguel managed to get with Dana, leaving you to comfort Gabriel as he cried about the loss of his girlfriend. Miguel's face relaxed instantly, his gaze flickering over to you instead. "I'll do it myself. You'd probably just end up messing it up," his tone came out cold, dismissing the two of you out of the basement.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to slice with a blade. You stepped away from the table where the model rocket had once been set up, choosing to go stand by Gabriel instead. You would've figured that was the last of the discussion but you heard Gabriel mumbling underneath his breath as he headed out. Miguel's ears instantly perked up, his teeth gritting against one another. "You have something you wanna say to me?"

Miguel had practically given Gabriel a loaded weapon now. The two of you collectively knew that Gabriel wasn't one to keep his mouth shut. But maybe Miguel just wanted to keep the argument going? You weren't completely sure how this family dynamic worked at all. "Pinche amargado," Gabriel spoke up, a scoff escaping from Miguel's lips. (fucking bitter)

"Amargado porque tu no puedes dejar mis putas cosas en paz." (bitter because you can’t leave my stuff alone)

"Igualito a ti, cabron. Tu con Dana y yo con tus cosas." (just like you. you with dana and i with your stuff)

"Vete a la puta v-"

Their voices rose with each retort that they gave one another, the two almost at a brink of yelling at each other. You looked around to try to create a diversion, opting to just flicker the lights on to see if they'd calm down. You didn't have much hope in your strategy but Miguel fell silent after the lights had been turned off. Two pairs of eyes were directed towards you when you turned the lights back on, both expressing some form of disdain.

"Look, it was my fault for ruining your project so allow me to take some kind of responsibility and help you rebuild it. It's not going to be done on time tomorrow if you do it all by yourself," you spoke up after they both had a couple seconds to calm down, reluctance visible all over Miguel's face. Though, he seemed to be actually considering the possibility now. His brows furrowed as he stayed quiet for a couple seconds, eventually huffing out what sounded like a 'fine.'

"Just call me when you're done here," Gabriel relented as he walked over to the basement door, paying once last glance to you over his shoulder. You nodded to his words, looking back over at Miguel. He was already hunched over his desk, starting to take out the pieces of the rocket that had been affected. Maybe you'd get lucky and he wouldn't continue with his angry rant?

I see your eyes look through my soul

The two of you worked in silence for the most part, a couple mutters escaping from Miguel as he worked on taping the pieces back in their correct order. "Irresponsables," he muttered to himself, gluing one of the small pieces together. He wasn't too keen on having you around, his body turned away from you as he worked. But yet, you also had some kind of urge to help him out after you'd aided in the destruction of his project.

"How'd you get into aerospace?" You decided to break the ice and ask a question, looking up from the piece that you were assembling back together. His expression seemed to lose the original intensity that it once held, his body relaxing in the rolling chair he was in. "I didn't. I pursued robotics at first and then there was this competition to build rockets. I started to learn about them, about the different space missions from the past and eventually my interest grew from there."

You nodded along to his answer, going back to working on the piece you were reconstructing. His gaze travelled over to where you were working, a bit surprised by how well you were doing. He'd expected for you to make an even bigger mess of the situation and excuse it with 'just trying to help.' "Are you into aerospace as well?" You hadn't expected for him to actually engage in the conversation but it was a question that you liked getting asked about. While most of the conversation revolves around aerospace, you couldn't deny that he was fun to talk to.

"If you like it that much, you should join. A couple members apart from myself are graduating this year and a couple chairs are going to open," he noted, handing you a wrench to tighten a bolt. You tightened the bolt, grabbing one of the nuts that scattered through the floor when the wing fell off. "I'll think about it," you told him, though your voice held no conviction towards it. He wouldn't push the topic further but he could see just how excited you were to be working on the project.

So much that you didn't even demand to be credited as one of his partners for the project.

Much as he hated to admit to himself, he found that it was quite nice to spend some time with you. Especially when it came to do something that he enjoyed doing. It was a sharp contrast from his time with Dana, going from having surface level conversations about each other's day. Maybe a relationship shouldn't have to involve so much work? Maybe every conversation didn't have to end in a fight after all.

Instead of trying to fix things over with Dana by following her like a lost puppy, he decided to fix things up with Gabriel. Because a part of him secretly wanted to see you again. The modified rocket ship had gotten a couple compliments from the other members, some of them even claiming that it could go to nationals. He wasn't completely sure if they were sucking up to him for a recommendation, but he knew that you'd appreciate the feedback.

So, he decided he'd stop being so strict with Gabriel and lend his stuff over whenever he asked. To which he got a couple of surprised looks and hesitation at first. The next step in the process was for him to work out an apology. But how does one exactly go about apologizing for stealing a partner? Especially when said person had brought up concerns to feeling inferior in every shape and form to himself? He'd dug himself into a hole he had no idea how to get out of.

Miguel awkwardly stood in front of Gabriel's room as he heard the thud of a couple tools inside, his younger brother being more into mechanics than robotics. He decided to swallow the last bit of pride that he had, stepping inside the threshold. He could sense the surprise seeping out of Gabriel as he sat down next to him, grabbing one of the screwdrivers. The two worked in silence for a while, working in perfect synchrony as they focused on building an engine.

"I'm sorry for what happened with Dana, by the way. I know it's not worth much but I am. I shouldn't have taken your trust for granted and I shouldn't have done that considering how you feel about me," Miguel spoke up after they were getting close to finishing, looking over at Gabriel. He saw a frustrated expression all over his brother's face, something that he wasn't particularly used to seeing. "You know, you keep saying what you shouldn't have done but the fact remains that you still did it. But thank you for that apology, I guess."

Miguel started offering to take the both of you to places, choosing to tag along just to hear your laugh whenever Gabriel would make a joke. Even if he wanted to be the one telling you these jokes. "Hey, what do you call a Drosophila who likes to drink?" he decided to break the silence as he drove you two to the movie theater, looking over at you through their rear view window. "What do you call it?" You decided to indulge in his 'joke,' if his attempt could even classify as that. "A bar fly."

You let out a laugh more so out of how bad it was, your eyes crinkling as you did. The look on Gabriel's face made the laughter escape from your lips much louder. "Can't believe you're actually laughing at those bad jokes," Gabriel muttered, staring at you like you were a creature from outer space. "Shut up before I leave you on the side of the freeway," Miguel called out from the front seat, biting back a smile of his own upon seeing that he'd managed to make you laugh. Maybe it was worth it looking for those corny science jokes last night.

Miguel had quickly forgotten about the void he was trying to fill with Dana, only reminded of it when he saw her leaning against his car. Her glossy lips were wrapped around a lollipop, her brown hair combed back into a bob. All he could think about was all the dirt she was probably getting on his car now. "You haven't answered any of my calls," Dana whined as he approached, getting off his car to go over to him. "For good reason," Miguel grumbled, opening his car door to toss his backpack inside. He could see Dana trying to scramble for some kind of logical answer, a slew of curses thrown his away once she realized what'd he meant.

The cycle was done. They were done this time, for good.

"How come you're not out at those graduation parties and stuff?" Gabriel mused as he took a bite out his burger. "You think he's type of person to get invited to parties?" You decided to tease Miguel a bit, taking some of his fries before dipping them into ranch. No he wasn't. Not that he'd ever admit that to you though. "The scent of weed just irks my nose, man," Miguel responded, a small scoff coming from the younger brother in response.

Empty cans of beer and articles of clothing washed up to the surface of the bay, the sight making you grimace in disgust. But this was where Miguel had decided he wanted to go after graduation. "I'm gonna head to the car, it smells like ass out here," Gabriel told the both of you, tossing the final rock he had in his hand out into the water before walking off. To be fair, it really did smell like ass. The contamination from the water and the ships around mixed in together, overall just providing an unpleasant scent.

"I'm gonna head back too," you told Miguel, starting to get up from your spot. Before you had the chance to dust yourself off properly, Miguel had stood up and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Just wait a second, please. There's something that I have to ask you," he seemed fidgety, looking everywhere else but you as he talked. You stayed silent, giving him the chance to speak whenever he was comfortable enough to. "Do you want to go out on a date with me?"

He was starting to prepare himself for the upcoming rejection, making a mental list of all the songs he'd add to his breakup playlist later on. He'd probably end up blasting those at full volume in the basement while taking out his anger on a model robot, bracing himself to ignore the yells from Gabriel coming up the stairs. "Yes," the words didn't register in his mind at first, his eyes drifting over to your mouth as he made out the syllables.

Wait, what?

"You're actually being serious?" he had to ask. Had to double check that this wasn't a prank or something that Gabriel had set you up to as some kind of revenge for what he did with Dana. Then again, Gabriel hadn't exactly mentioned anything about you towards him. Not that they talked a lot nowadays, but he figured that Gabriel would've at least expressed some kind of concern if he knew. So.. there was really only one possibility left.

You actually wanted to go out with him.

The time that the two of you spent together that summer was much more than the time you actually spent apart, from going out to exploring different museums to different science conventions. Your main concern had been how Gabriel would take it, not wanting to overstep your boundaries as his best friend. "Be careful, okay?" was all that he said when he saw you walking out of Miguel's room with a borrowed shirt on. Gabriel was more concerned about you than Miguel throughout this exchange.

The transition to when the school year started was difficult, given that the two of you had somewhat conflicting schedules. Despite all this, Miguel was sure to schedule a minimum of two dates for each month. Miguel was determined to put the effort into making this relationship work now that he managed to get with you. He'd make sure to pull all nighters the day before he had a date with you to get his assignments done on time, wanting nothing more but dedicate the time designated to you fully.

You didn't know who else to call when college decisions went out, choosing instead to call Miguel. You knew he'd been swamped with lectures and research essays as of late, but you didn't want to share this moment with anyone else. Not when he was the one to calm you down with each mini panic attack you got after hitting the 'submit' button on your applications. "Hola princesa, what's up?" his voice drawled out like the sweetest honey, your breathing slowly starting to calm down.

"Hey, I hope I'm not bothering you too much but I was wondering if you could come over. College decisions came out and I can't get myself to click through the messages alone," you told him, your leg bouncing as you awaited for an answer. "I'll be right over. I'll bring some burritos," he answered, the line clicking to an end shortly after. You waited with anticipation for the doorbell to ring, practically jumping off your bed when you did hear it thirty minutes later.

"Just open it, I'm sure they accepted you. They'd be dumb not to," he sat down next to you as you scrolled to the last one you had left to open. The one you'd saved as an attempt to keep your hopes up from being too high. You had four acceptances, two from out of state and two in Nueva York. "I can't. What if I just have my hopes up?" you had your face hidden behind your hands, your words coming out muffled. "Even if they did reject you, it's not the end of the world. Just look for yourself."

UC Berkeley had been more of a reach school for you, the other four being your safety nets. Your grades hadn't exactly been up to perfection but you held out the hope that the extracurriculars you got involved with and the volunteer service you did was enough. As well as the robotics credential that Miguel encouraged to go after. You let out a sigh, trying to calm yourself down before clicking on the letter. The words blurred together as you read through it, a bunch of gibberish registering in your brain. Miguel had his hand on your thigh, gently rubbing small circles on it.

The touch was slowly bringing you back to earth, your breathing starting to calm down. You didn't have to say anything, he just knew what you needed before you even had the chance to realize that you even needed it. You directed your attention back to the monitor upon calming down, reading over the letter. "I got in!" you exclaimed as you look over at Miguel, his hands immediately wrapped around you. "I told you so. They'd be stupid not to have you in their school."

They'd even offered you a scholarship! The only downside was that it was in California.

The thought hadn't even registered in your head when you were applying for a spot, the only thought in your head being that of fulfilling what you wanted. You looked over at him, the same look of realization upon him as he saw 'Berkeley, CA' almost taunting him through the screen. The idea of doing long distance wasn't something you were quite fond of, given the fact that it just seemed like a slow way to prolong the fact that the end of the relationship. And yet, you didn't really want to break up with him.

"Would you stay in Nueva York if I asked you to?" Miguel knew he was being selfish by asking this, he knew that he had to let you go and pursue what you wanted to do. But he didn't want to. He wanted you to stick by his side and pursue your dream here. "I would stay if you did. But I think a part of me would also end up resenting you for asking that of me," you responded, your hand tightening its grip slightly around him. It was a gesture meant to comfort him but your words carried more weight than that simple squeeze did.

He knew how much you wanted to go, he'd been there when you filled out the application. From the process of setting your information in the system to reassuring you that you were qualified enough to get in, despite how much his heart ached at the thought of having to be without you. "It was just a hypothetical. I wouldn't ask you to do that for me," he quickly told you, taking a bite from his burrito to busy himself with doing something. Your happiness was much more of a priority than his own.

You were inclined on just leaving without saying goodbye but the thought of him thinking you abandoned him was almost too much for you to handle. You ran over to his house after you'd finished packing, hoping that he hadn't gone back to campus yet. "He's upstairs," Gabriel told you upon taking note of your sweat covered forehead, his nose scrunching up. "Thanks!" you called out as you made your way inside, almost tripping your two feet when you rushed up the stairs.

Baby, you were everything I ever wanted

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Miguel asked you, his lips barely grazing above your earlobe. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his lips move down to your neck, his lips parting as he kissed the side. "Yeah, I'm sure," you responded after you managed to regain your composure, your head lolling back to give him more access to your neck. He took that invitation eagerly, his lips pressed on every inch of your neck that he could access.

His teeth sunk down just hard enough to leave a mark on your skin, his way of making sure that you'd remember him. At least for the following week that the hickey lasted. He'd settle for that much. The night never progressed from a couple heated kisses exchanged between the two of you, a wanton need keeping your bodies pressed against one another. For a moment, it was as if nothing else in the world really mattered. You were just two people, not college students that would inevitably have to talk about what their future would be.

"I don't think I could ever just be friends with you. It's better if we just end things here," Miguel spoke up in the middle of the movie the two of you were watching, a boring scene from a movie about how robots took over the world. As if you weren't living through that now in the year 2079.

"Yeah, I guess so. Thank you for the time together," The breakup had been amicable, easy. There were no harsh feelings between the two of you, only simple understanding that the relationship wouldn't work out if the two of you dragged this on. However, as friendly as it had been, that didn't stop you from shedding a couple tears when you got home to finish packing. You almost wished he had given you a reason to hate him so that it would replace the sense of yearning you felt at the notion of leaving him behind.

That was supposed to be the end. You'd go on about your life without having to be around Miguel again, Without feeling his beefy arms wrap around you in the mornings as an attempt to keep you in bed for a little longer, or having his lips pressed against your forehead whenever you needed a bit of reassurance. That was until you found yourself in his bed when you came back to Nueva York to celebrate Gabriel’s birthday. It was the only time you allowed yourself to come back.

How Miguel allowed himself to fall into another cycle, he wasn't sure. Maybe because this one wasn't beaming with red flags. Or maybe because this one didn't leave him feeling like an unlovable mess the next day. Despite how many times he told himself that he wouldn't repeat what he'd done with Dana, he still found himself picking you up from every trip at the airport. Then again, this wasn't anything like the situation with Dana. Your relationship with him was healthy, you were good for him.

You'd usually end up at Miguel's apartment rather than your hotel room for most of the nights. The pent up frustration that had accumulated throughout the past year was unleashed on another, the sex all just that much more intense. "Couldn't stop thinking about seeing you again," he whispered against your skin, the words turning you into putty in his grasp. His kisses could follow soon after, his touch almost burning with how much desire he'd pent up. "Oh? And what were you planning on doing when you did see me again?" he would spend all night giving you the answer to that question.

On most occasions, you'd end up with your face buried in a pillow while he fucked you from behind. Your muffled moans would fill up the room, combined with the sound of rustling sheets underneath you as your grip tightened. "I missed you, princesa," he bent down to whisper in your ear, his lips trailing down your shoulder blade. The action in itself was sweet enough, but you couldn't focus on that with the way that his cock was stretching you out. "Missed you too," you barely managed to babble, your voice coming out hoarse.

Your hips rocked back into his, your ass jiggling with every thrust that he made. The grip he had on your hips would tighten, his balls slapping obscenely against your wet cunt. Your walls would clench around his cock, milking him for all the cum that he had in his balls while simultaneously coating his length with every drop of your slick that you could offer. "Fuck, right there!" he could make out a couple words of what you were saying from time to time, but he couldn't help but want to tease you about it. "Yeah, right here?" he mocked, his rhythm never faltering.

You were so drunk off his dick that you didn't realize he was mocking you half the time, simply nodding in response to whatever he told you. "Yeah, right there!" He loved the way your voice rose whenever his finger came down to play with your clit, the way the nub throbbed beneath his fingers for some kind of stimulation. These little breathy moans that you were letting out, the whispers of his name, they'd all remain imprinted in his memory as material whenever he needed some kind of release. That is, until the following year when he would have new material to work off of.

Miguel loved the way you looked whenever you were excited to share something with him or the way your eyes lit up whenever you saw him at the airport waiting for you with a bag from your favorite fast food place. But the way that you looked whenever you unraveled underneath him was something that just simply couldn't be topped. Your legs shook violently as your orgasm approached, your walls tightening all that much more around him before unclenching to coat his cock in your release. His orgasm would follow suit, his cum filling up your cunt up to the brim.

Despite the fact that the two of you were completely able to and sometimes were even encouraged to, the two of you stayed loyal to one another even if this arrangement had no need to. As much as you wanted to try dating someone else, you knew that in the back of your head you'd just try to find Miguel in another person. And that you'd ultimately end up disappointed by the end of the affair. The two of you provided a sense of comfort in one another that wasn't easily replicated by another person. Or at least, you hoped that he felt the same way about you.

And as much as he tried, he couldn't get his hand to simulate the same pleasure that he felt while fucking you. It felt like a cheap replacement if he was being completely honest. His fist couldn't clench around his cock the way that your walls did, pulsing as your cunt milked him for all it could. His spit couldn't compare to the way your slick coated his shaft completely, the loud squelch that bounced off his walls whenever he pulled out. As pathetic as he felt for being looking forward to your yearly appearance, nothing could give him the same satisfaction you did.

You came back to Nueva York with a mission this time around. The office that you'd been working at after getting your degree had expanded throughout most of the east coast, a shiny job opportunity appearing right at your doorstep. You were going to tell Miguel that you planned on staying this time around, that you wanted to rekindle the old feelings you'd both been trying to suppress. You'd even resorted to practicing what you were going to say to him while you were on the airplane instead of clicking on one of the stupid Hallmark movies available on the flight.

Bought a wedding ring, it's in my pocket

You'd practically been bubbling with anticipation for the entire plane ride, different thoughts of how Miguel would react rummaging through your mind. Would he be excited? Would he leave the party to be with you? You felt all the breath leave your lungs as you stepped inside the party hall, your attention immediately going to Miguel. He wasn't wearing something too fancy, a white button down shirt and a pair of black slacks. Even then, you couldn't lie to yourself that he looked like sex on legs.

You set down the small gift bag you'd brought over for Gabriel, a new set of tools you heard him mention he needed on a FaceTime call last week. You made your way over to Miguel, a small smile appearing on your face as a look of recognition flashed across his features. "Hey," you greeted him once you were close, your hand up in a wave. Before he got the chance to say something, a woman came over to the two of you and handed him a drink before remaining by his side.

"Are you one of Miguel's friends from around here?" you asked the woman, given the fact that you hadn't heard any mention of her from Gabriel.

"Uh, no. This is actually my fiancée, Tempest," Miguel spoke up for the first time this night, your eyes widening as you did a double take on the pair standing in front of you. They'd even color coordinated their outfits tonight.

You could've sworn your heart dropped to your chest at the word fiancée. You forced your face to remain neutral despite the conflicting emotions rummaging inside of you. Your gaze flickered over to the woman, her ring finger accentuated with a pretty silver band, an expensive-looking diamond plastered right in the middle of it. Your throat constricted the longer that you stared at the ring, the sight eventually blurring into nothing until you forced yourself to look away when she pulled her hand back.

Your mind began to swarm with different thoughts, wondering when exactly did Miguel find the time to get engaged. Last year when you saw him, he hadn't even mentioned having any sort of commitment towards anyone. It was funny, thinking about it now. He'd taken you to the airport, his head tilting down to give you a small kiss on the cheek as he bid you goodbye. "I'll see you next year," he told you before you went through airport security. Now you wish you would've went back to his apartment instead of back home.

"Nice to meet you," you forced the words to roll out of your mouth, an unnatural smile taking place on your face. The type of smile that had your cheeks hurting from how hard you were forcing it. you shook her hand with just a little too much force before reminding yourself that it wasn't exactly her fault. If anything, this situation had been your fault. your fault for being so used to this comfortability, of the knowledge that he'd always be here waiting for you.

You'd gotten so used to coming to Nueva York to find Miguel at your beck and call that it didn't even cross your mind he would find someone. Someone who prioritized his happiness as much as he prioritized theirs. "Nice to meet you as well, Miggy here's told me a lot about you," she responded with a warm smile, unbeknownst to the internal struggles that rummaged through your head. Miggy? He'd gotten so pissed off when you called him that, but now he was acting casual about it?

"You mentioned that there was something you wanted to talk to me about?" Miguel's voice broke you out of your train of thought, making you realize you'd just been standing there awkwardly for a couple seconds. You looked away, the sight of him too painful to bear. Just the fact that the woman's arm was wrapped around his, the intimacy of the situation reminding you of what you'd never have again.

"Never mind, just forget it. I hope the two of you have a good time at this party. Congratulations once more," despite the fact that you had a million questions regarding the situation, you decided that it would be better not to ask them. At the end of the day, a couple questions wouldn't change the fact that he was still engaged. You forced yourself to remain polite before excusing yourself to go to the drinks table. You really needed to get fucked up right now.

You felt pathetic as you stood alone in the corner of the room, your fingers gripping the glass of beer as if it was your lifeline. All you could do was look out into the people smiling and having fun, a part of you wishing that it would be you instead. You tried your hardest to pretend when Gabriel came around, trying to dance with you, but the ploy fell through as soon as he dragged you to the dance floor. Your eyes met Miguel's for the first time that night, a flash of concern across his features after seeing your attempts to hide your pain.

But maybe, if you would've looked hard enough, you would've been able to see the same sense of longing lingering behind his eyes.

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theehoneeybee · 6 months

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i’ve never made a fic request before but here goes! could i get a mike schmidt x reader request that’s something like….

reader is an old friend who fell out of touch with mike but they stumble into each other. one thing leads to another and they besties again <3 but both of them are like ‘wait oh NO they’re HOT’ but both are also too emotionally dense to realize each others feelings. fluff + some angst where one or the other or both think they don’t like each other but they work it out in the end??

+ bonus: abby loves reader and reader is just so good with her (maybe they draw together and reader just older sister’s abby or maybe reader emergency babysits abby and they get along perfectly or smth?) and mike is just *heart eyes*

(sorry if it’s too much… i just love this man oml… the movie was so good ;w;)

thanks~ 🧡

You really slayed with this idea. I'm obsessed. This ended up being longer than I anticipated but I'm not mad. I'm gonna write the bonus one as well in a separate post so keep a look out :) lmk if you liked it!

Word count: 1.9k

.・。.・゜✭・.

"Mike?"

It was unmistakably him. The last person you expected to run in while grocery shopping was Mike Schmidt. The grocery store was always quiet this early in the morning, most people were still asleep. Your hands gripped the handles of the cart tighter as you stared at the familiar stranger.

The last time you saw Mike was not long after his brother Garrett was taken. He wasn't the same after that. The outgoing boy you once called your best friend had disappeared. The loss of Garrett tore his family apart. You tried your best to be there for him but he shut you out, shut the world out. You kept calling him to check in but after months of silence, your calls slowly came to an end.

Even a decade later, Mike looked the same. He had the same curly brown locks and beautiful hazelnut eyes, but now they were accompanied by heavy bags. He slowly turned around, clearly not expecting any recognition today. You watched as his eyes narrowed for a moment, examining you before widening in shock.

"[Name]?"

Mike couldn't believe his eyes. His childhood best friend was standing in front of him, in a random grocery store at 6:30 in the morning. He clumsily shoved the box of cereal back on the shelf as he turned to fully face you.

"It's been a while," Mike says awkwardly. "How have you been?"

"Quite a while." A decade to be exact. "I've been doing alright, nothing special. How've you been, Mike?"

Hearing you say his name again after so many years was surreal. "I'm fine, y'know, same as always."

The two of you stood in awkward silence for a moment. "I have to keep shopping, but," you grabbed a notepad, scribbling down your number and handing him the page. "I'd like to catch up sometime. See you around, Mike."

You strolled down the isle, leaving Mike standing in silent shock. He stared down at the numbers of the page, years of childhood memories flooding his mind. He pocketed the page and promised himself he would call you.

Mike stared at the phone, the numbers staring back at him in anticipation. He was more nervous than he'd care to admit. Mike was going to call you but he kept putting it off. One day led to two, then almost a week later he finally decided to man up. He took one last look at the handwritten number before dialling it in. Mike held his breath as the phone rung.

Ring... Ring... Ring...

He blew it. He'd left it too late and now you're weren't going to pick up-

"Hello?" Mike couldn't speak. The words wouldn't make their way out of his mouth. "Hello?" you repeated again.

"Hi, it's uh, it's Mike."

"I thought you were never going to call."

"I'm sorry," Mike apologies. "I was going to but, I-... I'm sorry," he said with a guilty chuckle.

"I forgive you."

Mike cleared his throat. "I was thinking we should catch up." He twirled the cord of the phone between his fingers like a love-struck teenager. "We could meet at Sparky's tomorrow?"

"Does 11 suit you?"

He nodded before realising you couldn't see him through the phone. "Yeah, 11 is fine." His attempt at being nonchalant was embarrassing.

"Great, I'll see you then Mike." He could hear your smile through your voice. Mike hung up the phone and let out a breath of relief, slouching back into the uncomfortable kitchen chair.

"Someone's got a daaaaate," Abby sung in a sing-song voice from the living room.

"It's not a date!" Mike yelled back defensively. Of course it wasn't a date. Just two childhood best friends meeting up after a decade apart. Completely normal.

Mike stood at the doors of the diner, nervously fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone, he changed his outfit three times in anticipation. Of course he landed on his usual hoodie and jeans combo, but he couldn't understand why he was so nervous.

"Fuck it," he whispered to himself and pushed open the diner doors, the bell chiming invitingly as they swung open.

He nervously walked through the diner before he spotted you. You were sat at one of the leather booths, head resting on your chin as yo gazed out the window. The bright winter sun shone through the window, gently illuminating your face. You brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face. You looked so beautiful. He hadn't mentally prepared himself for that. In his mind, you were still the thirteen year old with braces that he remembered. You looked so different now, but you were still so remarkably yourself. He almost spun around and ran out the diner back to the safety of his car, but he didn't.

"Hey," Mike said quietly as he took a seat in the old leather booth.

You turned to face him and a sweet smile formed on your lips, sitting up straight. "Hey yourself. Here I was thinking you had forgotten about me again," you were serious but you looked at him with a sly smile. Your eyes darted over Mike's face, taking in his features. His curly brown hair shone in the sun. You may have had a little, well, rather big, crush on him when you were younger, and felt similar butterflies in your stomach.

Mike looked down sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I never meant to cut you off like that. It's just after Garrett was taken, I- I couldn't handle it. I shut down."

You held your smile, but your eyes shone with sadness. "I know. I forgive you Mike." He couldn't help the feeling of guilt rising in his stomach. "Now," you said, grabbing your menu. "What are we eating?"

The server who took your order was lovely. While he commented about how great the breakfast menu was, he insisted that the lunch one was nicer. It was the most important meal of the day after all. You ordered a simple meal of bacon and eggs on toast. Mike chose something a little different. Pancakes with ice cream. He always had a sweet tooth. You remembered back to when you would make cupcakes together as kids. Of course, it always ended with one of you smooshing frosting in the others faces.

You dug into your food and the awkward small talk slowly evolved into a conversation between friends. Mike's tired and closed-off demeanour melting away to reveal the talkative, happy kid he once was. The hours passed by in what felt like minutes as you caught up on years of life. Years you had missed out on spending together. He told you about his sister Abby. You never got to meet her since you fell out of contact before she was born. But from what Mike described, she sounded like a lovely girl. The way he talked about her with such compassion warmed your heart. He always was the best big brother.

"Did they every find out what happened to Garrett?" you quietly asked, scared you were pushing a boundary.

Mike solemnly shook his head. "No. They never found him or the guy that took him."

Your expression fell. Some part of you was holding onto the hope that they would have gotten some closure. For Mike's sake. You knew he blamed himself for Garrett's kidnapping. You gently placed your hand on top of his. It was comforting and familiar. "I'm so sorry, Mike."

"Thanks. I've accepted that they're not going to find him." The two of you sat in silence for a moment. "I never stopped thinking about you, y'know?"

Your heart skipped a beat and you felt your cheeks burn. You were certain that after all these years you had faded from Mike's memory. Hearing those words made your heart soar.

"I know you think I forgot you," Mike continued. "But I could never."

The two of you smiled, staring into each others eyes as your friendship rekindled.

"Gosh! They like you Mike. You're so stupid sometimes," Abby insulted, barely taking her eyes off her drawing.

You and Mike had been seeing each other non-stop for the past week. He felt himself longing for your company, wanting you to be by his side. The feeling scared him. He wasn't used to that kind of intimacy. Mike had convinced himself that there was no way you were interested in him. Slowly, he began to distance himself from you. The occasional missed called turned into cancelled plans. He felt guilty about it, just as suddenly as you shit back into your life, he was pushing you out. It was for the best.

Mike groaned and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the couch cushions. "I don't need dating advice from a ten year old."

The knocking of the door drew Mike out of his misery. Sluggishly, he got up and answered it, immediately standing up straight when he saw you waiting outside for him.

"Hey, um, what are you doing here?" Mike asked with a nervous smile.

"Just stopping by," you said calmly. "Can I come in?"

Mike slowly nodded and let you inside. His house was modest, in need of a few repairs, but it was loved. Abby's drawings were strewn around the place, with even the occasional crayon mark on the wall.

"Don't you have homework to do, Abby?" Mike turned to look at her, shooting her a knowing look.

She smiled. "Nope," but skipped off to her room regardless.

"She looks just like you," you said with a small smile as you watched the girl go.

Mike stared at you anxiously, waiting for you to yell at him, to tell him how terrible he was, but nothing came. You wandered into the living room, kneeling down to look at Abby's drawings. Mike was in almost all of them.

"Did I do something wrong?" you couldn't hide the crack in your voice, not looking at Mike as you spoke. He felt a pang in his chest.

You thought the two of you had something special. You wanted him back in your life for so many years and when you finally had that opportunity, he pushed you away yet again. You wanted Mike back, not just as your best friend, but more this time around.

Mike sighed and stared at you guiltily. "No, of course not."

"Then why are you pushing me away again?" You turned to face him, eyes glossy with tears. Mike frowned and walked over to you.

He brushed a fallen tear off your cheek and you leant into his palm. "I'm just an idiot." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I like you and I don't want to lose you, but that thought scared me. I didn't know if you felt the same so I did what I knew best. I'm sorry."

You sniffled, laughing softly through your tears. "God, I thought you didn't like me! Every time I tried to make a move you completely ignore it."

The fact you had been flirting with Mike this whole time went straight over his head. He thought you were just being nice.

Mike let out an embarrassed chuckle. "I'm just dense I guess. But I do like you, [Name]. I really like you."

"I like you too," you whispered. Mike hand drifted from your cheek, gently tilting up your chin so you met his gaze. In a moment of confidence, he lent in, his lips softly meeting yours. You lost yourself in the kiss, your hand resting on his shoulder as you melted into him.

After a moment, you slowly pulled away. "Promise not to leave me again?" your lips brushed against his as you spoke.

"I promise."

#🧡#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf x reader #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #william afton #abby schmidt

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crepesuzette2023 · 5 months

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Hi! Because someone just asked me, I'd love you hear your Top 5 favourite McLennon fics!

You made my day! Nothing could have made me happier than this ask.

I'm not going to evade your question. I will post my top-five, even though it hurts to choose. But you inspired me to finally write a longer (okay: very long) post about some (not nearly all!) of my favorites, which will be under the cut.

(Sorry for not knowing every writer's tumblr, by the way. Please feel free to let me know, so I can tag authors where appropriate. Thank you!)

My Top 5:

MIRACLE WORKER by @scurator. What can I say. Every time I need my heart broken and to feel an inkling of what grace truly means, I go to this masterpiece about Paul and Robert Fraser finding each other again at Cavendish in 1981.

COAST STARLIGHT by bookofapril is "Miracle Worker's" cosmic twin. The sun to its night. Paul and Robert Fraser on Fire Island in 1974. Nothing I can say will do it justice, so I won't try. This is the "other world" conjured in "Tug of War," so powerfully and joyfully imagined, it's real. (I'm always thinking of this story, but I did so extra hard when I came across a prompt recently: 'They aren't each other's first love, but they're each other's true love'.)

SAME AS IT EVER WAS by RedheadAmongWolves. My favorite Outsider's POV. An ageing newsstand owner from Liverpool remembers John and Paul as boys and young men. There's something magical about the relationship coming alive in these glimpses. A story filled with tenderness that reminds me to always look closely.

AN ORGASM OF SOUND by @pauls1967moustache. The insanity of John and Paul in 1967 got the tribute it deserves. I sleep easier since I read this story. It feels cosmically right that it exists.

PLANT A SEED by @eveepe. Paul in his slutty sailor outfit in Miami. He and John are into each other, and happy, and fuck slowly. Afterwards, Paul has an idea for a new song. That's it. Tender, glorious, hot perfection. Apply at least once a week for best results.

For more thoughts about some of my favorite stories, sorted into very much defined-ad-hoc categories, read under the cut.

Young Love:

I love the myth of their first meeting, and stories that speculate about the sexually loaded creative fireworks/gritty jealousies/tentative hand-holding/topping and tailing during the first years. Here are some faves:

Paul finds music, and John, and his life is changing. In STREETS OF OUR TOWN (@with-eyes-closed) you can taste the upheaval and promise of first love and growing up. Deeply sensual, even without on-page sex. The shaky, sweet, and all-consuming fire of John and Paul’s first kiss is immortalized in ALL I KNOW SINCE YESTERDAY (RedheadAmongWolves). In NON NOBIS SOLUM (@downtothe-lastdrop), art student John simply has to know how far grammar school boy Paul will go to please him. But Paul matches him play-by-play. In THE CAST IRON SHORE (@m1ssunderstanding) Paul earns extra money through music and sex. John finds out. They fall in love, and hide their mutual pining behind transactions—but in the end, they man up to pair up, and get their band back on track. (The first part is finished; I can’t wait for part 2.) John and Paul’s ’61 trip to Paris has been honored in fiction many times; WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG THEY ASSUME YOU KNOW NOTHING (@lilypadd23) is a slow-burning, blessedly long story that blossoms sweetly. DON’T THINK ABOUT IT is the concept by which Paul measures both his pining for John and their deeply satisfying (but surely not really queer?!) sex life. Perfectly realized Paul POV by @merseydreams. Finally: I NEED YOU DARLIN’ (verse) (by @beatlessideblog) would have fit many categories, but I put it here, because in the end, it’s about young John and Paul becoming friends, making music, having sex, and falling in love. No more, no less. Embedded in a late 50’s/early 60's Liverpool omegaverse in which there's a place for their bond. But, surprise (?!): It’s still complicated. I can’t overstate how charming and satisfying and funny and hot this work is.

Old John and Paul:

Is there anything as lovely as imagining John and Paul growing old together?

In HERE TODAY (@herspecialagent), John and Paul found happiness with each other in Scotland. On 8th December 1980, they invite friends for a party, and fight an inexplicable sense of doom. A reminder that our other lives can be closer than we think, and to keep our loved ones even closer.

GROW OLD WITH ME (@inherownwr1te): Old farmers and husbands John and Paul enjoy domestic bliss, deal with a broken arm, and make sweet love.

HAVING COFFEE (@feathersandblue): John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “one of the most iconic gay couples in history,” look back on their early love, the Beatles, and being outed in the 80’s, in this oh-so-glamourous, well-written 2020 portrait…

Magical re-tellings of J/P and/or the Beatles Story:

No matter where you come down on the blessed vs. cursed continuum—they were living through something magical.

In KISSING THE BLARNEY (@zilabee) the Beatles draw love and music from kissing Paul, and each other, until the stupid world interferes. But fear not, all ends well. How to tell the truth through whimsy: this story demonstrates it.

In WE ARE ALL TOGETHER (also by @zilabee), John and Paul switch bodies. It helps.

I WAS A YOUNGER MAN NOW (THEN) (POST HOC) BY @fingersfallingupwards: Paul is a time traveler and braids his life together with John’s, out of order, through the years. And yes, they do grow old together—but not without losing each other first. I’m in awe of this story.

A darker time-traveling story is A MATTER OF TIME (D12Fan), in which John and Paul love each other, over and over, and never manage to make it work—but Paul won’t give up.

FOR THOUGH THEY MAY BE PARTED (@downtothe-lastdrop): The misery of the 'Get Back' sessions and memory-stunting technology imported from “Severance” are not enough to kill off John and Paul’s attraction and longing for each other. Again, this is basically what happened, so.

John and Paul without the Beatles?

Yes, please! Sometimes, the best way to dissect and celebrate (and fix?) this mesmerizing and exasperating partnership is to lift it from its context and drop it elsewhere. Anything goes.

WHATEVER FATE DECREES by @dailyhowl: A gorgeous, finely spun, securely handled, self-contained vision of how John and Paul could have worked as artists in love, without a band to 'legitimize' and constrain their bond. I love this homage to their deep and complicated love that needed trust and breathing room.

1967 by @walkuntilthedaylight: What if John and Paul had gone to Spain together and not come back? This story not only explores their relationship layer by layer, it also dives into the the feelings of those who knew them 'before' and who now meet them again, as a couple. A fascinating alternate history. Not a fluffy one.

TOMORROW I'LL MISS YOU (@pauls1967moustache): Paul abandons John in Hamburg—or John stays behind without bothering to write, depending on who you ask. This "Before Sunset"—AU reunites them, years later. They ride a bus and write a song, and the love and tension are sweet and painful.

DOUBLE FANTASY (by @javelinbk): Modern AU in which John and Paul meet at John's flower shop and manage to ignore and creatively re-interpret their feelings for one another for a surprising amount of time, before fate has mercy. I love how their sweet, well-matched eccentricity makes the world a warmer place for both of them.

WE ARE STARDUST (Unchained_Daisychain): AU. John and Paul meet at Woodstock, fall hard and fast for each other, and have to decide what to do with it: Paul's life is back home in England...except...

Angst, darkness, and courage:

Pain, fear, grief, and other dark emotions are part of the real J/P story, so it makes sense to honor and harvest them in fiction. One of my favorite brands of McLennon angst is the one triggered by their feelings for each other, and the thing they become once they're together™. When they're scared of how much they need each other, and of what will happen next.

ONE AND ONE AND ONE IS THREE and MANAGING EXPECTATIONS (both by @pauls1967moustache), for instance. The first is a terrifying threesome with Yoko (at John's instigation, of course), in which trust is never rewarded and sex resolves nothing. The second is Paul wondering, in thoughts both messy and crystal clear, whether he exists independently of John. He turns to Brian for answers. They fuck. It feels like a human thing compared to what is going on in Paul's mind. Just astounding.

SUNDAY DRIVER (@boshemians) dives into the theme of Paul and John being afraid of themselves in the aftermath of Paul's accident (moped, sexual) with Tara Browne. This one, like "Managing Expectations," ends on a lovely grace note.

MACABRE (@dovetailjoints). Lennon and McCartney go too far.

OPEN HEART (@paisanas). Paul drinks John's blood. John lets him. But Paul starts to hate himself for how much he needs John, which John feels as rejection. I love how this story ends on Paul embracing his need. You can see the painful, bare bones of their malnourished love under the lush sensuality of the vampire sex. Raw and rich.

SILENCE (@ohjohnnysblog). Short and piercing. If there is someone you love—tell them. Don't wait.

THE LATE, GREAT JOHNNY ACE (@midchelle). Reeling with grief, Paul is recording an album in 1981. George and Ringo are there. John is not. But in the end—he is. And they touch. I've always admired Paul's resilience in the face of having to perform or "prove" his love of John in public, and this story showed me, without sugar-coating, where this resilience comes from.

Light, hope, and fixing things:

There is also much lightness and brightness in McLennon, because John and Paul were ridiculous, and horny, and weird. And also: they deserve a laugh. They deserve the fluffiest of happy endings. They deserve high-quality, life-affirming smut. They deserve silly, because silly is what they were. You know their names, look up their number.

1980. John is in BERMUDA (@scurator), Paul visits. Paul comes prepared, John just comes. Sometimes, it can be this simple. This story always leaves me in such a good mood. Paul is the (more) experienced one, and it...really works for me.

GOT TO GET DOWN (@eveepe): In praise of John's obsession with Paul's...precious. His small and perfect prick.

ADVENTURES IN TOTAL HONESTY (@merseydreams). Pithy and sexy, and, I quote from the tags: #Excessive Margarita Mixing.

ANINUT (@pauls1967moustache): The Beatles heal, together and separately, after Brian's death. Once more, I quote the writer: "The Beatles did not follow any of the Jewish mourning traditions, and frankly, they should have."

The unhinged weirdness of the Mad Day Out, with John and Paul escaping and Francie, Yoko and Mal not missing them...much, is rightfully celebrated in one of the insaner stories I read: JOHN, I'M ONLY DANCING (@skylikeaflame)

FAIR'S FAIR (@javelinbk): John and Paul are being silly during a press conference, resulting in acute arousal requiring John's skilled intervention. I love the unexpected care and tenderness in this one!

WHERE THE POETS WENT (RedheadAmongWolves): Tender and enchanted story in which Paul and John go to a bookstore, where they're not as famous as everywhere else. As delicate as the chiming doorbells and the pages murmuring around them.

TAKEN AWAY (@crumblingcookies) Extraterrestrial Intelligence intervenes to reunite John and Paul.

CAN I TAKE MY FRIEND TO BED? (manhattanvalleys). Paul fucks the band in sequence and gets off in the end, as is his due. This is a story like Prince's KISS. No filler, all effect.

THEY SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY (@ohjohnnysblog). Warm and nostalgic phone sex in the 70's.

KEEP THE LIGHT WE'RE GIVEN (@backbenttulips). Amidst the rise of Beatlemania, Paul and John expect their first child. This is Paul's 1962 diary.

More Outsider POV's:

STILL MATES (@pauls1967moustache): in 1968, Peter Asher takes the leap to act on his feelings for his sister's spiraling ex fiancé. This isn't about Paul as much as about Peter, and who he wants to be. Gutting character study. It made me love Peter.

ANOTHER GIRL (@boshemians): Astrid reunites with the Beatles during the making of AHDN and registers their words and deeds with the same stark objectivity as her camera. I love how she seeks the shelter of obscurity while they are being dragged into the limelight. But she sees them, wherever they are. J/P in this story feels incredibly real to me.

WHY BUY THE COW (RedheadAmongWolves). The milkman sees everything on his early morning rounds: the arrival of a nice new family, the McCartneys, the mother's illness, the sadness after her death...and the arrival of a new love in the older son's life. He shouldn't approve—should say something, in fact. But a small inner voice holds him back.

SLEEPLESS IN WALES (thinkpink20). Mike overhears Paul and John whisper in bed. He doesn't understand everything they say. I do. Adorable.

Not each other's first love, but each other's true love

THIS YEAR'S FOR ME AND YOU (@skylikeaflame): After a long life, after deep and loving partnerships with other people, John and Paul, encouraged by their grown-up children, finally meet their mutual love head on. A festive story about waiting the perfect amount of time.

THERE ARE ALWAYS FLOWERS (tarenas): The Beatles are in the past; John and Paul's love is in ashes. Paul, who is fragile and bereft, lives with George, who is content. The four ex-Beatles unite for the second wedding of Mike McCartney. At times, the aching grief in this story is almost unbearable. But the love between George and Paul is unusual and real. This is unfinished. I'll keep waiting for the final chapter.

Beyond J/P

WANT ME WHEN I'M NOT THERE (@backbenttulips): Linda catches Paul cheating on her with John. She divorces him. Finally: a story that puts her most likely reaction front and center, with no mercy for the messed-up geniuses.

In the Rebecca-AU LOVE LIKE GHOSTS (@backbenttulips), Yoko becomes Mrs. Lennon. Soon, she discovers that her husband is haunted by the ghost of his first love. It's pleasing how well this re-telling matches the events as they (alas) (almost) happened. The ending is chilling. Genuinely horrifying. I love seeing Yoko as the sensible one and as the focus of empathy.

THE BASS LESSON (@aquarianshift). Paul and Stu fool around without letting go of their mutual resentment for even a moment. And it works. "Let's never do this again." I don't think so.

TELL ME ALL MY LOVE'S IN VAIN (@midchelle). Forget about quote unquote platonically obsessed male rock stars: This about about Maureen and Patti through the years. The web weaving continues.

SPOTLIGHT ON JOHN AND STU (@dailyhowl) A love story in letters—too brief, like Stu's life, but sounding as if the writer transcribed their dictation. Some of the best descriptions of what it must have been like to play on stage with the Beatles during the mania are in NO I IN THREESOME (@with-eyes-closed). George finds himself in the beam of attention between John and Paul, and nearly loses his mind. But he's determined to stay and become part of them. Paul is daddy and "fucks like music" as seen through George's eyes. The whole story is vicious and hot and uncomfortable—until there's the love and quiet at the eye of the storm.

Not for the faint of heart! WHAT THE CIGGIE CARTON SAW (@waveofhand): Paul McCartney having his way with cigarettes.

This is getting out of hand...but I'll stop here. There are so many more stories I love. And I can think of many other categories that would deserve their own post.

So, who knows: To be continued?

#fic rec #mclennon #mclennon fanfiction #mclennon fic #asks #fic recs #overall favorites fic recs

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ikigaisvt · 10 months

Text

A good job kiss and red roses.

in which you are jealous of jeonghan giving out roses to his fans during his concert and he catches on quicker than you think.

pairing: jeonghan x gn!reader words count: 883 content: fluff, domestic, idol au warnings: extremely self indulgent im so sorry, a little bit of angst? reader is jealous for like 2 seconds, petnames (for reader: angel, love, sweetheart / for jeonghan: my love), skinship (hug, backhug, talk of kiss, implied kiss), reader is smaller than jeonghan note: hi everyone! i didn't thought i'd post something tonight but today's concert and jeonghan's selca on twt ruined me,;;,;,,, so i have been deluluing! shoutout to @homerunhansol for deluluing with me all day,, this came to be because she told me jeonghan is my bf and he is giving me flowers. i haven't recovered yet! i hope everyone likes it, don't be shy to send feebacks and reblog! (and yes i made a reference to jeonghan's solo song during ideal cut,,, @ jeonghan perform purple rose again pls)

Tonight is one of those night I wish I wasn’t dating an idol, you think to yourself. Of course, you love your boyfriend, Jeonghan, more than words could ever say. You don’t know why it pulls at you heart strings so much to see him give flowers to his fans – maybe it comes from the fact that he gave you flowers only thrice in your 2 years of dating. You know deep down it doesn’t have the same meaning when he gives flowers to his fans between when he gives you flowers – and yet you can’t stop the jealousy seeping in your bones and the pout forming on your lips.

As you wait for him to come home, you continue to scroll down through all the photos and videos you see of fans getting a flower from Jeonghan tonight. I am not going to be jealous; you say to yourself. Once he comes home, this stops. As you look at the clock, you realize he should have come home at least an hour ago but you don’t even have the time to worry that you hear the front door opens and the familiar sound of his steps – just from the sound, you know he is trying to get his shoes off without bending down. Typical Jeonghan.

"Jeonghan?" you call out to him.

"Angel? You waited up for me? Wait- I’m just trying to get this off." you hear him mumble to himself.

You set down your phone and get up from the couch to greet him – and give him his congratulation kiss for a good job. As you make your way to him, you remind yourself to stop being so jealous – and to stop pouting. You don’t even get to the entry that Jeonghan appears in front of you, pretty as ever – and carrying a bouquet of red roses, a little withered.

"I’m sorry I came home so late", he tells you, "I- I had to pick this up", he says as he holds out the bouquet in front of you.

"Is this for me?" you ask him, taking the bouquet in your hands. I can’t believe I doubted him even one second, you tell yourself.

"Of course, love", he says, "who else could it be for?" he says with a teasing tone.

Oh, he knows.

"Your fans, I guess", you mumble more to yourself than for him.

"What was that?" he questions as he follows you into the kitchen.

"You know it all, don’t make me say it again", you answer as you fill a vase with water for your roses. They really need it.

"Yeah, I do, sweetheart", he tells you, his voice getting quieter and not so teasing anymore, encircling your waist with his arms and his chin finding rest on your shoulder. "I can promise you that this doesn’t mean the same. To give them flowers and to give you flowers."

"I know", you say as you work on putting the roses in the vase correctly. You set it down on the counter delicately and put your hands over Jeonghan’s. "I’m not mad, I promise", you almost whisper. "I was a little jealous but now I’m okay. Thank you for the roses, my love", you tell him as your turn around in his hold, your arms resting on his shoulder. "But how did you know I would need this?"

"I realized when I was getting my makeup done for the concert", he tells you, his thumb making circles on the exposed part of your skin – between your shorts and your shirt. "I begged my manager to go buy a bouquet of red roses and drop it off at the dorm. I guess neither him or Seungkwan thought about putting it in water hence why they look so sad", he explains as his hand reaches the roses behind you, your gaze following his movement. "I went directly from the concert hall to pick it up but the traffic was insane so I got here late."

"You didn’t have to do all that, Jeonghan. Especially after that insane concert."

"I know", he says, gazing at you, "but I truly wanted to. Did you watch it?"

"Yeah, I did, you were all amazing. I was cheering for another Aju Nice round", you chuckle.

"We might have died if we kept going", he chuckles. "Thank you for watching it, angel. But I think we’re forgetting something here."

"We are?" you say with a smile, having a pretty good idea of what it is. "And what is that handsome boy?" you say, your fingers playing with his hair at the nape of his neck.

"Where’s my good job kiss?" he asks in a pout.

"You will get it on one condition", you tease him.

"Tell me anything and I’ll do it."

"Yoon Jeonghan, you are tempting me right now", you giggle. "Can I choose the color of the next bouquet of roses you’ll get me?"

"Oh angel, of course", he says, "what color would you like?"

"Purple roses", you whisper as you get on your tiptoe to kiss him. After all, he did a perfect job tonight – at both being a boyfriend and an idol.

thank you so much for reading, i hope you liked it! if you did please don't forget to reblog

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dbnightingale24 · 4 months

Text

The Dog House Isn’t The Best, But It Can Still Be Our Home

Final installment to 'Pavlov's Dog'

Part 3

I told you guys I'd post it at some point 🥴 I'm honestly so sorry this took so long to post, but last year got really dark for me and everything just kind of took a backseat. Thank you so much for your patience, and thank you to all of you who checked up on me. It means more than I'll ever be able to express. Thank you @fuckingbye for being an amazing friend, and for also making this amazing moodboard. You are a saint and I love to the ends of the earth. Without further ado, here's the final chapter!

Word Count: 71,942 (yes, you read that correctly)

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY), Public Sex, Semi Public Sex, Drinking, Smoking, Swearing, Daddy Kink, Angst, Heartbreak, Mild Violence, FLUFF, Lying, Betrayal...I think that's it?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: Will You Take Me Back In The Morning If I Promise To Never Act This Way Again?

I do not give consent/permission for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

“You can’t keep going on like this, babe,” Daisy sighs sympathetically as she takes a seat next to the bathtub.

“It doesn’t matter,” you shrug as you take a drag of your cigarette, “none of it fucking matters.”

“Babe, it’s been two weeks. You do the same thing every day. You get up, eat the smallest bit of food, you sit out on your back deck and smoke until you decide to start drinking, then you draw yourself a bath and drink and smoke in it until you decide it’s too cold, or I come and get you. You can’t keep doing this.”

“I don’t even have a reason to be mad at him, do I?” you scoff incredulously before taking a drag from your cigarette, “it’s not like he lied. He didn’t even know, so I have no reason to be this upset, do I?”

“He was a complete and total asshole,” she states firmly, “and you have every reason to be upset with his actions. Yeah, it was a shit show, but he definitely could’ve handled it better.”

“The shit he said right in front of that child, even if it isn’t his, were so fucking cruel! No child deserves to be spoken to like that, and he of all people should know that!”

“Babe-”

“After everything we talked about on that trip...it’s like it didn’t even matter to him. He didn’t even care.”

“I’m sure he was just shocked-”

“That’s not an excuse, Dais.”

“I never said it was, but c’mon: it’s Ransom. You really think he was thinking clearly? Linda and Marta were there and I’m more than sure he was afraid of losing you, then Marta drops a fucking bomb on him, and it sounds like she did it on purpose, if I’m honest. Just to fuck him over.”

“Daisy, I just-”

“BABY, PLEASE ANSWER THE DOOR AND TALK TO ME!” Ransom calls desperately as he bangs on your front door.

Like clockwork.

“Why can’t he understand that I need time? I don’t owe him shit,” you start to sniffle as your tears fall, and you grab the bottle of tequila that lives by the bathtub now, and take a long drink from it.

“I’ll get rid of him, just please...please get up and do something,” Daisy begs desperately.

“Ya know, you’re wrong,” you say as she reaches the doorway, finally looking at her, “I put on makeup today,” you smile weakly.

She lets out a humorless laugh before disappearing and you hear her footsteps quickly making their way downstairs.

Since everything that took place on his doorstep, you haven’t spoken to or seen him. You don’t know what to say or how to handle the situation. He’s been calling and texting non-stop since it all happened, and every two days he comes by to visit, and Daisy tells him to leave you alone every time.

But you can’t keep avoiding him.

No, you don’t know what the right thing to do is, but you know that avoiding him is the wrong thing, and you can’t keep letting Daisy handle these issues for you. You have to at least speak to him, but say what? Do what? It’s not like you have any real right to be mad at him. It’s not like he cheated on Marta with you, he didn’t cheat on you with her, he clearly didn’t know he had a child so he didn’t keep it from you, and he did defend you to Linda. However, that doesn’t change the things he said to that child.

Possibly his child.

“He’s not my son and this isn’t fucking funny!”

“We can take a test if you want, but he is your son!”

“Well, I don’t want him! You wait...however many years to tell me about him, and you sure as shit don’t need any money, so why now?!”

“He deserves to know who his Father is, Ransom! He’s a Drysdale and-”

“Watch it,” Ransom warns with a foreboding tone.”

God, how could he be so cruel to a child, after all of the talks you two have had? He’s always cruel though, isn’t he? To you, to Marta, his own son (the resemblance is too strong for that boy to not to be his child), and fuck it, even Jack. He can’t ever seem to control his temper and, if he can’t do that, what chance do you two have together?

Still, he owns your heart and you don’t know how to get it back at this point. You don’t know and you don’t wanna know.

“Ransom, you have to stop coming around!” you hear Daisy yell, and you sigh before taking another drink from the bottle.

“You can’t stop me from me seeing her, Daisy! She’s my girlfriend!”

“Bullshit! You two never made it official-”

“Daisy, stay out of it! Let me see her!”

“No! She’s not ready to see you and you can’t force-”

“I’m not forcing anything-”

“What do you think this is?! Showing up because she won’t answer your calls or texts, and demanding to see her?! Leave her alone!”

“You can’t stop me-”

“Let him in!” you call, lighting a cigarette as you use your tip toes to turn the water back on, and heat up your water just a bit.

Who the hell knows how this is gonna go?

You hear the both of them speedily stomping up the steps, but Daisy get there first and says, “are you sure? You don’t have to-”

“I can’t keep letting you fight my battles,” you smile weakly at her as you turn the water off.

“Babe-”

“I have to deal with this at some point. I can do this,” you all but mumble not believing yourself as you take a drag of your cigarette.

“I’ll be in the room over,” she sighs softly before turning, “fuck you Drysdale!”

“Fuck you!”

You hear her slap him and shake your head. Nothing can ever be simple, can it?

“Sweet Thing, please-” he starts as soon as he makes his way into your bathroom.

“Ransom...don’t,” you quickly interrupt. “This isn’t just some small disagreement.”

“I didn’t even know I had a child!”

“I could’ve dealt with that, Ransom! It would’ve taken some time, but I honestly could’ve dealt with that! It’s the way you spoke about him in front of him!”

“I don’t want him!”

“You didn’t have to say it in front of him! Jesus, it’s not his fault that you’re a selfish bastard! He didn’t ask to be born, and Marta-”

“She did this out of spite! Not because she wants me to be apart the child’s-”

“Be that as it may, he didn’t do anything! Basically telling her that she has no right calling him a Drysdale, when he is in fact a Drysdale! Ransom, I know you’re rough around the edges, but for fucks sake! All the talks we’ve had about our own fucked up childhoods and you do this?! You just...I don't fucking get it with you, Ransom!”

“What is there to get?! We fucking talked about this, Y/N! I’m not-”

“That’s no excuse for this! You took it too far and I...Ransom, I can’t-”

“Don’t you fucking say it,” he warns as his eyes start welling up with tears. “Don’t you fucking say that to me!”

“Ransom...I love you, but I can’t be the only good thing in your life. The only person you like,” you sob, sitting up and ashing your cigarette in the ash tray resting on the little table near by.

“WHY NOT?!”

“It’s too much fucking pressure! It’s too much pressure, and I can’t keep watching you be terrible to people because you had a rough childhood! You having a rough go of it doesn’t mean you get to walk all over people for the rest of your life!”

“Listen, give it a few days and you’ll see-”

“No, Ransom. This is done. I can’t do this with you anymore. You have to grow up at some point, and I refuse to mother you.”

“Y/N...you’ll see...you don’t mean it. You always say you’re done and you come back-”

“I can’t anymore. All of this just hurts too much. You keep finding new ways to hurt me, even when you don’t mean to, and I just...you’re cruel, Ransom. You’re cruel, you’re a bully, and you will hurt anyone by doing anything. I know there’s good in you, because you’ve let me see it time and time again, but you refuse to let others in, even in the slightest and I just...please don’t call me anymore,” you sob pathetically. “Don’t call, don’t text, don’t come by...we’re done.”

“You don’t mean this-”

“Don’t make it harder than it has to be, please. Just let me go,” you beg softly as you wipe your eyes.

“You’ll see. In a week or so, you’ll see and I’ll be waiting. I’ll wait and everything will be as it should, again,” he smiles weakly, wiping his own eyes.

“Ransom-”

“I’ll call you in a few weeks, okay, Sweet Thing,” he promises, making his way over to the bathtub. “I love you and I’ll talk to you.”

He cups your face and kisses you passionately and you’re so tempted to pull him into the tub with you, but you know you’ve got to stop. You left one toxic relationship just to jump into a different type of toxic relationship.

“Ransom,” you breathe once you two break apart, “please-”

“I’ll talk to you in a few weeks,” he promises with a sniffle before standing up and walking out.

“Ransom-”

“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” he repeats, his voice cracking as he continues on his way out.

Daisy is back inside and by your side instantly, climbing into the tub and holding you close as you cry uncontrollably, as you try to come to terms with the choice you’ve just made. Yeah, he’s right in saying that you always come back, but that’s not the case this time.

You need to stay away from him for good.

The fact that he has it in his head that all of this will be sorted out in a few weeks, lets you know that this is only the calm before the storm. As both you and Daisy lean back into the tub, and she holds you close while you cry into her shoulder, there’s only one question going through your head:

How the hell are you supposed to quit the love of your life?

4 Years Later...

You can read the rest of the story here

taglist: @whiskeytangofoxtrot555, @companionjones, @autumnrose40, @fuckingbye, @pono-pura-vida, @nomadstucky, @mazda098, @chemtrails-club, @bree-lyrie, @mjey12, @charlottiedawson, @fenixstar , @thickania

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sightofsea · 5 months

Text

end of the year reclist

well!! the year is winding down and I read some good stuff on ao3. here are the highlights.

Good Omens:

Ut It Tempus (Or: Muriel's Wet, Wild, and Very Hot Summer Weekend) by Oatmeal Addiction

just recently read this one so it goes on the top of the list!! incredibly funny, great muriel character study, some of the funniest prose out there. it genuinely feels like you're reading a continuation of the book, which is just such a cherry on top of everything this fic has to offer.

a rarer height by @hyruling

this was the first fic I read post series 2 that scratched that itch i get for good go fic. the atmosphere it creates is lovely, like a little blanket to wrap yourself up in. the way it jumps back and forth through time is amazing. the characterization is so good--I'd been waiting for a fic where the way they fight felt natural and HOOOOO boy did this deliver like a swift kick in the nuts. absolutely a post series 2 classic.

puttin' on the ritz by @moonyinpisces

what can I say that hasn't been said already. it's funny it's hot it's glamorous they are so unbelievably stupid for each other it's amazing. I think about it every time I order a drink with a maraschino cherry.

Just Once More by NaroMoreau

TIME LOOP FIC!!!! that's all I can say. what a great character study and what a great means of utilizing time loops for character development. absolutely lovely.

Drinking Buddies and Diaries by dove_dove

on my life this is probably one of my favorites of all time. perfectly imagined series 3. perfectly imagined muriel and crowley shenanigans, perfectly bitchy aziraphale, with a wonderful small study on food symbolism to add to the cherry on top. lovely.

I'm the treasure baby, I'm the prize by stereobone

crowley works at a brothel and hypnotizes men into thinking they're having sex with him so he can therapize about aziraphale to them. that's it. that's the story. it's perfect

come as you are by fruitygoblin

this one made me cry buckets for very personal reasons but also I think it's a very good character study of aziraphale and it also does something lovey stuff with food symbolism.

Sherlock:

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords

I finally read this one after meaning to get to it for years (I love the author's other works) and uh yeah. yeah. great exploration of grief and somehow successfully makes things make sense after whatever all that was.

House:

Old machines by applecrumblecore

I love fucked up middle aged men and I love how this seems like a totally plausible way for them to get together.

Howler Tone by baffledbear

I love fucked up middle aged men and I LOOOOVE fucked up codependent self destructive tendencies displayed through impromptu phone sex. Or whatever.

Red Dwarf:

Learning to Lose by komodobits

listen. technically I read this last year and technically I made myself promise not to put any WIPs on this list. but it started updating again and also this fic was made for me. Its a blades of glory au and it's so deliciously funny and sucks you in so fast. it's crazy. I've pulled all nighters over it. it's literally the two stupidest things I love with all my heart smashed into one. it doesn't get better than this.

#fic recs #hiiiii for the love of god hello

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doyoulikethissong-poll · 3 months

Note

Sorry if this has been asked before, but what's your process for selecting songs to create polls for? I have an extremely wide music interest range, but I feel like even I would have massive blindspots for a lot of stuff, just because of the sheer amount of music that's available, difficulties with search engines, and the user-reinforcing nature of algorithms on most sites.

So far, I'm extremely impressed. One particularly-niche artist I love has appeared on here before, which absolutely made my day. If there's a random-selection tool you're using, perhaps selecting from a massive, community-built database of song listings, then I'd be very interested in knowing about it. If not, then once again I'm really impressed by the range you've been finding so far, just based on genres alone.

Hope you're having a great one!

asfkjfdhr i just really love music? :'D it's my autistic trait, I think.

I have siblings who are up to 20 years older than me so I grew up with their music as well as my parents' music while the other kids my age had never listened to that stuff but i made them, i got to listen to music from "the other side of the world" through foreign family members, I was pretty much glued to MTV, and Eurovision can be quite a good source as well. And then there's the movie soundtracks....!!!! and there were a few anime years as well with all that music, too. It all have been a great way to expand the interest range without even being aware of it, i think? There have been some fantastic new discoveries to me amongst the submitted songs but i've also been lazy and chosen submissions that's already been in my mp3 collection. I am slow with working my way through the submitted songs but there's gonna be more of them, I promise!

idk i just thought this whole music hoarding thing was normal when growing up and then I realized it wasn't and I guess I've finally found a use for it now lmao 😂

The process of picking songs pretty much goes like "I love this one! And this! I don't love this but it's cool and different so in it goes! But I love this! And this! And thi- no wait that is too similar, I'll hold it for a while. And this! Oh and a submitted one! And this!"

That said there's only one song i've actively searched out and it was by googling "2024 number one" for something brand new from this year.

Which artist of yours was it that was posted? :D

Thank you so much, and I hope you have a great day too!! 💖💖💖

#other

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farfromstrange · 3 months

Text

Lizzi’s Valentine’s Special & Follower Celebration

Dear Everyone,

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, and I thought, since this silly little blog hit over 1.1k followers yesterday, I want to give you something special.

First of all, though, I want to thank you. I’ve been on here since (and I checked with the archive) July 19, 2022. I can't believe that it has been almost two years. I started watching Daredevil after watching Spider-Man: No Way Home in December of 2021 and hearing Matt Murdock say, "I'm a really good lawyer," after catching a brick. So, I started watching the show, and that was during a time I was really miserable. Mentally and physically, I wasn't in a good place, but after watching Daredevil for the first time and falling in love with Charlie Cox as a genuine person and an actor, it felt like I found a reason to keep going.

I started writing fanfiction again, which I kind of neglected because I felt like this hobby of mine wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't inspired at all until I watched the show. If I hadn't, I probably would not have gotten back into writing and using it as an outlet for my feelings, and I probably wouldn't be where I am today. Thanks to Charlie's portrayal of Matt Murdock, and watching his interviews, I felt like I could do the things that I love again and follow my dreams. He's the reason I chose to major in English. And while I owe him that much, I owe you guys here on Tumblr and AO3 even more.

When I first posted here, I didn't think people would even be interested in what I had to say and write. But then more and more people started visiting my profile, you guys started following me, and it kept me motivated to keep writing, even when I'm miserable, and I sometimes only post once every blue moon.

I feel so honored that you guys chose to follow a silly little blog run by a silly little 20-something-year-old whose first language isn't even English (but made it her entire personality), and who chose to write about traumatized dark-haired characters portrayed by Charlie Cox. I'm overwhelmed by the love you continue to show me, and every time one of you chooses to reblog or comment on one of my works, saying that it resonated with you, I feel like I'm doing something right. I'm sharing my ideas, my own experiences, my wishes, and even my deepest, darkest dreams through my writing like it's a fucking diary, and you eat it up every single time.

I'm just so glad that this community exists, as chaotic as it sometimes is, and that you chose to stick around, even when I suck at keeping promises sometimes. You keep teaching me new things about who I am, my writing, and how important it is to put myself first. I don't know if you've heard it lately, but you guys are incredible and I appreciate the hell out of every single one of you.

Thanks to Tumblr, I made lifelong friends (especially looking at you, @blackshadowswriter) and found like-minded people that made me feel less alone. That alone was worth making this account and continuing to post on here.

You may think that I'm being dramatic, but for someone who has never really experienced the kind of validation this community gives me, I want to celebrate this milestone. It means more to me than I can even put into words. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I love you all so much! Please, don't ever forget how amazing you are.

That being said, I've got some exciting things planned.

The other day, I found a folder in my Docs titled "the vault". I completely forgot about it because I usually keep my WIPs in a different folder. As it turns out, I made that folder for fics that I originally never planned to post, or ones that I'd finished but wasn't happy with. It’s many, but it’s a few. Some are deeper than others. I also jotted down rough ideas and outlines last year that I stuffed in there, some of which I've actually shared with you but never started working on. Until now. And the contents of that vault are what I want to give to you now.

INTRODUCING: The Vault

6 stories from the vault. 1 bonus fic. 7 days.

I went through a myriad of emotions while I wrote these. For some, I actually bled my soul onto paper. For others, it was merely a brain fart that led to their existence. They're sad, horny, and at times angry, but some of those were originally written for me, and only me. Those that weren't started as a few sentences in a folder before I forgot they existed. Either way, I don't want them to catch dust. And I wouldn't want to share them with anyone else.

Starting February 14th, I will be posting one fic every day until February 20th. My “The Vault” works are Matt Murdock x Reader works, but I've made an exception for the bonus fic. I won't tell you what they are about, but I will give you a list of installments and what kind of fic they are so you know what to be excited about (and maybe which ones are not your cup of tea).

-> The number at the end tells you the date I will be posting it on, but I put it in chronological order as well.

INSTALLMENTS:

1. If You Need To Be Mean (angst, hurt/comfort) 14.

2. Mismatched Bridesmaid (fluff, smut) 15.

3. Weed Cookies (humor, fluff, cw: accidental drug use) 16.

4. the grudge (songfic, angst, hurt/comfort, cw: death of a parent) 17.

5. Halloween (Smut) 18.

6. I Want To Fuck A Priest (Smut, cw: priest!Matt) 19.

BONUS:

7. Now That We Don’t Talk (Part 2 of Is It Over Now?) -> Frank Castle x Reader (smut, angst) 20.

A few more words: You are free to send me an ask if you want to know more, but be prepared that I won't be answering in much detail. I don't want to spoil the fun. I would, however, not mind talking about them as vaguely as possible (if you’re interested).

Thank you all. For everything. And I hope you stick around to read these little gems.

With love from yours truly,

Lizzi <3

#lizzi writes #follower celebration #valentine’s day #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x you #frank castle x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #charlie cox

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mrsgiovanna · 10 months

Text

Fighting Imperfections (Don Giorno x Wife!Reader)

I'm sorry, this is just me projecting. I can't remember if I posted this before, but here goes.

Word count: 1.2 k

Warnings: sad, self depreciating reader.

You sighed heavily as you walked out the last of Giorno’s guests. Normally the murmurs of how beautiful of a couple you two are would make you beam with joy, but today it annoyed you because it only amplified your insecurities. Another day… of smiling through the alternating pain and emptiness. Your cheeks hurt, but the physical pain was welcomed, it was so much easier to bear than the ache that thumped in your chest with every heartbeat- a painful reminder that you were still breathing. As the last car rounded the corner away from your luxurious home, your shoulders finally slumped and you trudged away from the door. The master bedroom was one of the few places where you felt safe enough to let your tumultuous emotions wash over you, so there you went.

You had struggled with these negative emotions for many years, losing chunks of time to this unshakeable melancholy. They were difficult to predict or counter. You had locked the door behind you, wanting to try and restore some semblance of calm to your demeanor before facing Giorno again. You threw off the gorgeous designer dress and took a shower before throwing on something soft and comfortable. You had every intention of rejoining your husband but just getting yourself through that little routine had drained whatever energy you had left. He'd be better off catching up with your shared associates though, you mused, feeling as though you wouldn't add anything valuable to their video conferences. Firmly tucked away, drawing your knees towards your chest, you allowed the floodgates to open and let everything out. Usually, a good cry would take care of some of the negative emotions, but this time, it didn't seem to work.

Intrusive thoughts about the worst scenarios plagued your mind despite trying to push them aside. You tried thinking about the good things and how much you had been blessed with but it always morphed into a scenario in which you would ultimately be left alone… so you thought about Giorno and how he makes a daily promise to never leave your side. But you had lost so much, what if he was just lying to you and you'd eventually have to deal with losing him too…

No…

You took as deep a breath as your constricted chest would allow you to and tried to focus your attention on something positive.

Giorno… you thought of him more and your heart ached for a different reason. He loved you, you knew that, but your mind had always managed to convince you that he would be better off with someone else, someone beautiful and vibrant, someone worthy of him because beneath it all you're just a broken doll. The repair is near perfect and nobody can see the fault lines where you cracked, but you feel every fracture, constantly reliving each event that put the cracks there in the first place.

You felt the bed sink on one side as a large comforting hand rubbed your back in circles before pulling back the covers you had buried yourself under.

"You know I'd end anyone who hurts you?"

"I know…"

"So what do I do when you're the one hurting yourself?"

Giorno's glassy eyes didn't leave your face, searching for an answer to his question.

You met Giorno's gaze, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and love in his eyes. His concern was evident, and it touched you deeply. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you reached out and held his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice filled with raw emotion. "I don't want to hurt myself, but sometimes it feels like I can't escape these thoughts. They consume me, and I can't help but doubt myself, doubt our love."

Giorno's grip on your hand tightened, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "You are not a broken doll, my love," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "You are the most beautiful and resilient person I know. I fell in love with every part of you, including the cracks. They are a part of your story, a testament to your strength."

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words resonated with you. It was moments like these that reminded you why you fell in love with him in the first place. He saw beyond your insecurities and loved you unconditionally.

"I'm trying, Giorno," you replied, your voice wavering. "I'm trying to believe in myself, in us. But sometimes it's overwhelming."

Giorno leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "You don't have to go through this alone," he assured you. "I'm here for you, always. We'll face these demons together, and I'll do whatever it takes to help you heal."

Feeling his love and support envelop you, a glimmer of hope sparked within your heart. With Giorno by your side, maybe you could overcome these insecurities and find the peace you longed for.

You snuggled closer to Giorno, seeking solace in his comforting presence. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "I love you."

Giorno smiled softly, his eyes filled with warmth. "I love you too, more than words can express," he replied, his voice laced with sincerity. "Remember, we are a team, and together, we can conquer anything."

Giorno's gaze held a mixture of tenderness and longing, mirroring the emotions swirling within you. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, seeking permission and reassurance. You met his gaze, the unspoken understanding between you palpable.

With a gentle nod, you closed the remaining distance between your lips, initiating a kiss that conveyed both vulnerability and passion. It was a kiss that spoke of shared burdens and unyielding support, a tangible connection that transcended words.

The kiss deepened, as if pouring all the love and reassurance you both felt into this single act. It was a moment of solace, a reminder that you were not alone in your struggles. Each brush of your lips conveyed a promise—a promise to heal together, to support one another, and to cherish the imperfect beauty of your shared journey.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the tenderness of the moment. The world outside your bedroom faded away, leaving only the two of you, entwined in a cocoon of love and understanding.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and yet more at peace than before, you found solace in Giorno's eyes once again. There, in the depths of his gaze, you saw unwavering devotion and a fierce determination to help you find happiness.

With a small smile, you whispered, "Thank you, Giorno. Thank you for loving me."

Giorno's voice was filled with sincerity as he replied, "Always, my love. Always."

And in that moment, you believed him. You believed in the power of love to heal and overcome and to create a future where your insecurities would no longer hold you captive. Together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, guided by the strength of your bond and the depth of your love.

As you lay in his arms, you allowed yourself to believe in his words, finding solace in the love and support he offered. The journey towards healing would be challenging, but with Giorno by your side, you knew you could face anything that came your way. In the sanctuary of his embrace, his presence soothed your troubled mind, and a moment of quiet intimacy enveloped the room. The weight of your insecurities and pain began to fade as you focused solely on the love between you, knowing that in this imperfect existence, you had found a love that was flawless.

#giorno x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x you #giorno x y/n #giorno giovanna x y/n #don giovanna x reader #jojo x reader #jojo x you #jojo x y/n #giorno giovanna #don giovanna #giorno #don giorno #giogio #jojo's bizarre adventure #golden wind #vento aureo #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba

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cuffmeinblack · 7 months

Text

Coming Home

Andrew Larson x f!reader

Collaboration with @written-in-cheese 🖤

9k words

ao3 link

Summary: An unwanted secondment to the Ministry's research division comes with an unexpected perk; a chance reunion with your quiet classmate that leads to much more than a professional relationship.

A/n: How could I resist collaborating on something with @written-in-cheese ?! I've never written anything for Andrew so I thought I'd give it a stab. Spicy turned unexpectedly sweet and much longer than I'd planned. I love the boy now.

⤍ Andrew Larson masterlist ⤎

You groaned at the large and ostentatious fountain in the lobby, rolled your eyes at the marble floors and pillars, the gold filigree and starchy suits. Sitting at a desk didn't suit you at all, and the dress you wore felt restrictive even without the whalebone corsetry—now that would have been a step too far. Tugging at the collar of your silk blouse, you stepped into the elevator along with a dozen other harried-looking Ministry workers. Was this your fate? To come into work each day with a sullen expression and shadows under your eyes, to feel the life force being drained from your body with every dull meeting and annoying memo? A tawny owl messenger clutched one such purple note stamped with the intricate 'M' and hooted balefully by your shoulder, ruffling its feathers in disdain as more bodies crammed into the already cramped space.

So far, your career has been nothing short of thrilling, every day more exciting than the last. Exactly what you'd expected when signing up for the role as a Gringott's curse breaker. The lavish flyers dotted around the Hogwarts library had promised generous commissions, hoards of treasure, exotic locations and the chance to test one's mettle. Three years later and you'd not grown bored; a great feat for your easily distracted brain. So, why, in Merlin's bloody name, were you now stuck in this stuffy office building for the next six months? You'd pleaded with Gordok, offered to forgo your next commission, asked again and again whether you'd proved a disappointment, all to no avail. Your performance was exceptional; this was just a secondment you'd have to endure for the benefit of career progression.

"What floor, miss?" the strangely cheerful attendant asked.

Perhaps he'd been cursed into submission.

"Erm…research…I think that's…"

"Basement," he interrupted, pressing the bottom button.

Of course it was.

Gods, as if this assignment wasn't bad enough, you were apparently not to see the light of day, either. You spent the arduously long trip down to the bottom of the building thinking over every interaction with your bosses—had you accidentally insulted their mothers? The pressure on your chest relieved as the elevator slowly emptied and your arms fell to your sides, no longer pressed so tightly against your body. There was only one other person remaining for the last stop, as well as the glazed-eyed lift attendant, and you were shocked to discover that you recognised him.

Andrew Larson looked much the same as you'd remembered. His jaw was sharper with a slight shadow though he was clean shaven, his hair the same neat coiffure he'd worn years before. He was even wearing blue, though gone were the Ravenclaw robes—instead, he wore a navy blue pinstripe suit, complete with starched shirt, tie and waistcoat. The tailoring seemed to hug his slim frame perfectly. The right word for him might have been dapper, and it was at that point whilst you were mulling over the correct term for his appearance that you realised you were staring.

"Andrew?"

"Hello," he greeted, as the elevator stuttered to a stop.

He held out his palm to indicate that you should precede him, and you did so, stepping into the surprisingly inviting basement room. Instead of the dank cellar you'd envisioned, it was a large atrium with a glass ceiling, the large panes allowing a warm light to flood onto the marble floor. Above your head there levitated a sign with gold engraving, reading 'Ministry of Magic Research Division.' Well, you were in the right place, then. You stood still, stunned, allowing the magically-conjured sunlight to warm your face.

"I thought it was you, but wasn't sure if you would remember me…," Andrew said, startling you out of your reverie.

"Oh! Yes, of course I do, Andrew. How are you?"

"Well, thank you. Yourself? What brings you down here?"

"I'm actually going to be working in the Department of Magical Artefacts for the next six months," you replied, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

"Ah, so you're the new research assistant. Well then, erm…welcome to the department," he smiled shyly. "I can help you get settled, if you'd like."

Andrew gestured to a large mahogany desk that sat in front of you, manned by a severe looking witch whose face immediately softened upon seeing your companion.

"Good morning, Victoria. This is the artefacts department's new research assistant, it seems."

"So I've heard. Here's your pass, keep it with you at all times. Oh, and Mr Larson, the Minister is doing the rounds next week."

"Thanks, Victoria," Andrew said with a blush for the lady now openly ogling him.

"We get all sorts down here. I imagine your boss thought you could stand being exposed to our collection. Experience, is it?" he asked as you fell into step.

"So he says."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic."

You answered with a shrug as Andrew walked you down to your home away from home for the next half a year, though you didn't quite have a home to start with. Not when you'd been travelling so much. Home to you was currently a barely furnished flat in one of the rougher parts of London, and you didn't relish having to return back there at the end of the day. Along the long corridor of offices, you finally found your destination, through a door no more interesting than a broom cupboard. Inside was a different matter entirely. Whilst this cavernous room didn't have an impressive glass ceiling, it was absolutely packed full of bookcases, display cases, cupboards and tables, all groaning under the weight of their contents and sealed up tightly.

Almost all of the Ministry's precious and culturally significant artefacts were housed here, and as such the space practically hummed with magic. You followed Andrew deep into the room, to a cluster of bland offices. There wasn't much to see in your assigned space, merely a chair and desk and a stack of stationery.

"You'll spend most of your time out in the main archive, don't worry," Andrew said.

You flashed him a grin for sensing your thoughts, and he returned a soft smile before turning away. He'd not changed much at all in his demeanour, apparently—always shy and reserved, it appeared he was still so, though he seemed to manage to make it look endearing. Perhaps it was his gentle voice and handsome face that made him appear so charming and non-threatening.

After spending all of ten seconds glancing around the office, you were back out the door and following Andrew to meet your new supervisor. In fact, much of your first day was throroughly dull formalities and introductions that left you more exhausted than your trips abroad. Something about the bureaucracy was stifling, and you wondered how Andrew managed to not go insane whilst still finding the joy in his job. With any luck, you'd find out, and hopefully soon.

Your first week at the Ministry of Magic had proven to be more interesting than you’d given it credit for, even if half of that amusement was due to your new colleague. The other half was admittedly because of the array of magical artefacts now tantalisingly within your grasp. You were to be cataloging as you learned the ropes, but even such a dull task was made less so by simply being in their vicinity. Your favourite item thus far was a tiny gold hourglass strung on a chain long enough to wrap around you tenfold—at first glance, it appeared to be a very pretty necklace, but in actual fact it had the power to take the wearer back in time. Gods, what you wouldn’t give to tell each and every one of your friends about this little charm, but the reams of paperwork you’d signed on arriving last week forbade it.

At least you could talk to Andrew about it.

“Why in Merlin’s name don’t we just make more of these?” you asked, placing the box securely on a shelf.

“Time travel is risky, dangerous…I wouldn’t want to end up in a time loop, would you?”

“Depends what the time loop was. If it meant talking to you all day every day, I wouldn’t mind,” you said.

Andrew chuckled and looked at his feet, cheeks turning a delicious rosy pink. You’d found that he was very easily embarrassed by little flirtations, and you simply couldn’t help yourself—not when his reaction was so adorable.

“There is a whole stash of them, though…this is just for our collection,” he said after clearing his throat.

“What? Where?”

“The Department of Mysteries.”

He mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key, and you nodded your understanding. Top-secret stuff.

“I suppose you can’t talk much about your job, either?” he asked.

“Not too much…”

But then again, you felt compelled to tell him, to gush about the work that you loved so much. With a quick nod of your head, you indicated that he follow you down the rows, out of earshot of any nosey colleagues. The air seemed cooler at the back of the room, amongst the dustier shelves that appeared to house some of the older and more forgotten objects. The privacy was perfect for such a conversation, though, and other things besides.

You told him all about your travels, the adventure, the treasures that awaited you. Not so much the gold, but the rare and powerful artefacts that not even the Ministry housed, or so you surmised. Many of them were filled with dark magic, protected with curses that it was your duty to break. Sometimes you were able to keep your winnings, other times you regretfully watched them pass into the hands of the Gringotts goblins.

“It sounds incredible. I’d love to…well, I wish I were cut out for such a career. I’m not exactly the adventurous type,” he said.

“I’ve made it sound perfect when it hardly is. There’s some pretty awful stuff that comes along with it, but to me…to me, it’s worth it.”

Talking about your work seemed to break down a wall between you. Perhaps it was seeing your enthusiasm that prompted him to open up to you more. He told you exactly what he loved about his job, and something that you hadn’t expected in hushed tones.

“I like the uh, the darker artefacts, you know? Not that I condone dark magic at all,” he stammered. “But it’s morbidly fascinating.”

As he leaned casually against a tall, ornate cabinet, you regarded him with curiosity. You’d expected his love of reading and perhaps even the fact that he enjoyed to paint, but you realised then that he was capable of surprising you and wondered what other secrets he had.

A couple of days later, you decided to show him something that might interest him, though you had quite the time getting it into the building. The spot at the back of the archives room had become a frequent meeting place for you, and you dragged him down there with a cheeky grin, practically skipping with excitement. He looked bemused but followed at a pace, waiting with bated breath as you produced one of your most treasured possessions.

The tiny glass orb was something you’d procured on your travels, and had no real practical use beyond the macabre curiosity it invoked. You placed it in Andrew’s hands, a slight fluttering in your chest surprising you as your skin grazed.

“What is it, exactly?” he asked, turning the sphere over.

“I don’t even know if it has a name, truthfully. I’ve not come across it anywhere else. It echoes the last words of the dead.”

“Really?”

There was that illuminating smile, that spark in his eyes you'd noticed when he'd told you of his interest in dark artefacts. A typical Ravenclaw through and through, you thought, but the comment was by no means derogatory. The curiosity reminded you of another boy from Hogwarts, though Andrew certainly didn't seem the type to be lured by the promise of their power.

“Fascinating…”

You could practically see the cogs in his brain whirring as he stared into his palm. That might have been the moment you realised just how attracted you were to Andrew, and the overwhelming urge to press him into the cabinet and capture his plush, inviting lips was hard to subdue. Besides being inappropriate, he didn’t seem the type for a workplace fling. Not only was he a gentleman, you were sure, but his shyness would surely translate to his romantic relationships.

Luckily, you weren’t so easily put off by a challenge.

He was certainly bashful when you flirted with him at any given opportunity, but you saw a fire in his eyes amongst the doubt that excited you. Every day you grew bolder, firm in the belief that he was just as attracted to you as you were to him. Why else would his big brown eyes widen whenever you crossed your legs a little too fast so that your skirt rode up your thighs? Why else would his cheeks flush pink whenever you bit your lip in deep thought? Barely three weeks into your reintroduction, you’d decided to up the ante and pull off a little sabotage in the name of finding out once and for all. Perhaps one of your stupider ideas, it was certainly ballsy, and would prove disastrous if he in fact didn’t share your affections.

But where there was risk, there was reward.

A little overnight tampering with the atmospheric charms had made the entire department a good deal hotter than was usually, much to the annoyance of your colleagues. Victoria was even more surly than usual, using a folded piece of parchment as a fan as she sat flush-faced at her desk. You shot her a smile which she didn’t return as you arrived that morning, already sweltering but in high spirits.

You found Andrew amongst the rows, already working diligently and still disappointingly fully clothed. His neat hair fell onto his face, which had a slight sheen. He licked his lip as if parched, and your stomach churned whilst you wondered if your carefully laid plan had backfired, after all.

"It’s rather hot, do you ever take your jacket off?" you asked.

"Not if I can help it," he replied, surreptitiously smoothing the fabric with his palm.

"You're so well put together for someone who spends most of his time hidden amongst inanimate objects."

"Well, you never know who will turn up, I suppose," he replied with a shrug.

You smiled and pulled off your cardigan, discarding it over the back of a nearby chair before turning your attention to your hair, gathering the stray strands and pinning them to your head. Whatever breeze that might find its way down here would be sure to cool your neck now. You took your time, bending your neck to expose as much skin as possible just to see Andrew's reaction. Pleasingly, he was tinged a pretty pink when you turned to face him again.

“I promise I’ll let you know if the Minister decides to turn up so you can put your jacket back on.”

Andrew chuckled and sighed, admitting defeat as he shrugged off his suit jacket. He looked even better in only his slim fitting waistcoat; his biceps flexing against his sleeve garters as he positioned himself to lean over his table again. The lewd thoughts that entered your mind were proving harder to banish the longer you watched him, and you had the distinct impression he could sense your gaze.

With a practiced ease, you undid the top button of your blouse and walked around to his side, mirroring his pose to catch a glimpse of what he was reading.

“What are you working on?” you asked.

You saw the obvious bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, the dead stare of his eyes that were quite clearly not reading the parchment between his hands. He mumbled something in answer, barely audible, and you leaned in a little closer.

“What was that?”

“Nothing interesting, monthly departmental report,” he said, shaking his head and fiddling with his shirt collar.

Gods, he was adorable when flustered. It made you want to slither into the space between the table and his delectable body and pull him on top of you, to rip his tie from that damned clip, wrap it around your fingers and tug him into a searing kiss. Amongst the heat of the room, your body now struggled to keep cool whilst white hot arousal rampaged and settled a throbbing ache between your legs.

“It’s so hot,” you sighed.

That just about did him in, it seemed, as he stood bolt upright and stared at you before excusing himself. If you didn’t know any better, you’d bet he was sporting a growing bulge in those tight trousers of his. He’d just made this little game so much more fun, and he didn’t even know it.

To your great surprise, Andrew asked you on a lunch date not soon after the incident. Once the charms had been fixed and the temperature and tensions cooled, he’d plucked up the courage the next day to ask. You shouldn’t have been so excited by the mere prospect of lunch with a colleague, but you were practically giddy by the time the clock struck twelve.

“Shall we go for lunch?” you asked a bemused Andrew.

“It’s a little early isn’t it…?”

“I’m feeling rather peckish today.”

He’d picked a table at the tea room nestled down the end of Diagon Alley. It was quiet, not the usual haunt of Ministry workers and thus afforded a little extra privacy from prying eyes. The fact surprised you, though perhaps it shouldn’t have—he was a gentleman, after all. Rather than a mug of butterbeer in the Leaky Cauldron, you were treated to delicious sandwiches and a cream tea, served in delicate bone china and exquisite silverware. This truly was a date, if you weren’t mistaken.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you said, taking a sip of your tea.

“You’re welcome, it’s quite a nice spot. Sometimes I come here to people-watch.”

“You don’t bring other girls here, then?” you teased.

“I…well, no, not really. I hope it wasn’t too forward of me to ask you, but I thought…”

“No, it wasn’t. I like you, too.”

There was that soft smile that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. He was so sweet, almost saccharine, but you knew he held that fire that ignited behind his eyes when you caught him staring. What did his fantasies consist of? He was a hot blooded male, after all, with all the desires that came with it. Would he be a gentle lover, or was there a caged animal waiting to be released, to claim its mate? For all you knew, he could be a sexual deviant. You licked your lips at the possibilities and gazed over your cup of tea as you sipped, taking your time to let the thoughts roll around in your head.

"If we're to be courting, I suppose I'll have to let work know," he said.

Oh, you really were courting.

"How frightfully dull."

"It is, rather," he agreed.

"We could always be ever so discreet," you suggested.

Andrew chuckled, his melodic laugh tugging at your heart. It may have sounded like a jest, but you were deadly serious, and adjusted your expression accordingly. The dawning realisation made him smile wider.

"Okay, then," he agreed in barely a whisper.

You had the distinct impression you were bringing out the naughty side of him, ever the bad influence, and you loved it.

His restraint was mind-boggling. He had a tell, whenever he thought about doing something what he'd deem untoward. He would glance at your lips and lick his own. The small inflexion made your head spin, and even the chaste kisses he bestowed upon your hand sent a flurry of butterflies to your stomach. After weeks of courting, it was made abundantly clear that if you wanted more, you would have to claim it. You silently cursed his upbringing every time he ran a hand through his hair or glanced your way at work. Such a gentleman.

After so many weeks, you'd finally become accustomed to the nuances of office work, and even Victoria had become almost civil towards you. She might not have been if she knew of you involvement with her favourite colleague, but so far you'd been as discreet as you'd promised. Every time the surly receptionist complimented Andrew, you smirked, silently floating and revelling in your victory. He was a prize, to be sure.

That particular morning was a busy one in the department, drawing more spectators and visitors than usual. Some days, a particularly interesting artefact was sent to your team for research and cataloguing, and the more nosey employees would congregate around your office, blocking your path and irritating you to no end. Apparently, something had arrived to bring a larger crowd than usual, as you could barely squeeze through the bodies blocking your door. Gods, what you'd give for a cup of tea, but apparently that would have to wait. You saw the familiar ash blond hair making its way towards you before you'd had a chance to search for him.

"What's going on?" you asked, observing the hubbub from the sidelines.

"We've got a new artefact, said to be Merlin's," he shrugged.

"Ah. I don't suppose we'll get to see it anytime soon."

"Not likely…," he replied, considering.

You gave him a sideways glance and you caught him looking again, his gaze flicking away as soon as your eyes locked. With a smirk, you moved a little closer to him and felt his fingers twitch as the back of your hand brushed his, but he didn't pull away, only swallowed thickly and remained raptly interested in the throng. You wondered how deeply you could make him blush. Whilst everybody's attention was diverted you had a devilish plan to make him flustered beyond anything you'd tried before. Such a thought was more exciting than anything Merlin had to offer.

Your hand slipped into your pocket to retrieve your wand, your usually dexterous fingers fumbling the instrument and sending it clattering to the floor. With feigned shock, you bent down to pick it up as your periphery tracked Andrew's eyes following you. He did so enjoy it when you bent over, but this time you had something else in mind than merely showing the shapeliness of your behind. Your knees bent, lowering yourself until your face was practically level with his crotch. Gods, that was tempting in itself.

You watched through your eyelashes with an exaggerated tilt of your head and parted lips, subtly running a hand up the inside of his trouser leg as you returned to stand. His eyes bulged as your fingers slipped under his trouser leg, grazing his socked calf until your hand was forced above fabric. Further upward you roamed, over the bump of his sock garter that filled your head with salacious images—did he keep them on during sex?—around the curve of his knee and up his inner thigh. That's as far as you took it, because Andrew looked fit to burst already. As you stood at full height, peering up at him while innocently clutching your retrieved wand, you were thoroughly satisfied with the deep crimson shade you'd managed to paint on his cheeks.

"Mm…I…you shouldn't have done that," he muttered, glancing around to check nobody had seen.

"Didn't you like it?"

"I did," he said quickly. "I want it, I do."

His chest heaved as he took a deep, wobbly breath and ran a hand through his hair. There was that surreptitious glance to your lips, tongue darting out to wet his own. Just a little more teasing and then you'd be ready for your agonising workday spent wishing to fuck the poor man's brains out. You moved your body to his side, with an exaggerated pause by his ear to whisper.

"It's the thrill of being caught that makes it exciting."

"Godric's heart," he muttered almost like a prayer; a desperate plea for someone to end the torment of this seductress.

The thrum of excited onlookers became an irritating background noise to your tantalising game. Only when you heard your name being called did you pull yourself from the allure of his pleading eyes. Andrew turned to busy himself with a stack of paperwork, hiding his obvious arousal as your department head stalked towards you. She was dripping with irritation, clearly unimpressed at the amount of attention the artefact had garnered. Whilst a short woman, the witch was formidable and commanding, reducing a room full of wizards with not so much a raised eyebrow or clearing of her throat.

"I've called security to deal with this, I want you and Larson to take the tome down to examine immediately. Check it over for curses, will you?"

You nodded at her instruction as a group of uniformed wizards poured into the room, barking commands and corralling the visitors back out towards the elevators. Andrew still had his back turned, only facing you once the last straggler had been banished from the room. Any hint of the flustered young man was gone, replaced with one of slick professionalism, though a lingering shyness remained when he smiled at you whilst walking past. Finally, you could see what all the fuss was about—a very plain book, encased in glass and shielded with countless protection charms, the magic shimmered and pulsed as you approached. Andrew circled it, taking in every detail of the cover, of which there was very little. Merlin really did know how to draw a big crowd—his smelly sock could have been on display and doubtless hundreds would congregate just to get a whiff.

"It doesn't look like much, does it?" you asked.

"Not so far. I wonder what it contains? Hidden knowledge?"

"A diary?"

"Perhaps it's his favourite recipe book," Andrew said with a smile.

"I suppose there's only one way to find out."

As it turned out, deep amongst the stacks, the faded book revealed personal accounts of his time at Hogwarts. You'd checked it thoroughly for jinxes and curses, finding it safe to open, though you held your breath as Andrew turned the cover anyway. It would likely take a team of researchers months or years to translate much of the garbled language—clearly one of Merlin's own making. Whatever secrets lived on in his frantic scrawl wouldn't be yours to see. Your job was now to store it away safely, cataloguing and reapplying charms. All rather dull given its significance, making you all the more susceptible to distraction.

As you twirled your wands and let your magic knit together before your eyes, there was a palpable tension in the air. The space between you and Andrew seemed to reverberate with every subtle wrist movement, every timid glance and whispered incantation. It was strangely intimate, almost erotic, the way your subtly different charms melded in a deep hum of energy. The unspoken anticipation drew you closer, quickened your pulse and pulled deeply in your abdomen. The heat between your thighs and swell of blood was certainly diverting; it was incredible that you managed to complete the assigned task without succumbing to your arousal.

Once the priceless artefact was stored away under lock and key, now that was a different matter entirely.

You made the first move, but Andrew was quick to respond; quicker than you'd expected. You'd guided him into the shadows, back pressed against the hard shelves of receipts and ledgers. Nobody ventured this far if they could help it, and thus was the perfect place for a steamy rendezvous. So far, Andrew had only placed delicate kisses on your hand, your cheek, never allowing himself to claim your lips. As you dared to press your lips together, he moaned softly into your mouth at the first contact, an outpouring of relief straight into your throat that rippled through your chest. Oh, the wait had been worth it, and seconds later your hands were in his hair, so soft and silky, and his gripped your waist with a strength that made your knees weak.

A slip of tongue parted his lips and met with his own; warm, wet and firm pressure as they delved and dared to explore. A hint of peppermint lingered from earlier that morning, and you could smell it, too, mingled with the warm spices that seemed to coat his skin. You followed the scent down, along his jaw, placing slow and sultry kisses along the path to his neck.

"Fuck…," he whispered.

You smiled against his neck using your exposed teeth to nip at the delicate skin, pressing your tongue to his pulse to relish in every raging beat of his heart.

"I didn't think you were much for swearing, Andrew."

He responded with a quiet whine and a pull of your waist, driving you right into the path of his raging erection. All sense of propriety seemed to have vanished as his hips ground against yours in rhythm to the slow tugs of his hair.

"Tell me to stop and I will," you whispered.

"Please don't…don't stop."

You were lost then, the soft pleas sending shivers up your spine. It was no longer a case of fulfilling your own needs, despite the painful throbbing in your core; you needed to hear him say those sweet words again. To bring him to the edge and have him beg for release. His glazed eyes already pleaded with as you pulled back to look at him, arching your back just far enough to deprive him of that friction he so craved.

“Maybe later? After work? It’s hardly appropriate now,” you said, failing to keep the shakiness from your voice.

Andrew looked mortified before the sensible side of his brain kicked in, his fingers releasing the bruising grip from your waist with a sigh. He attempted to smooth his hair that you’d so thoroughly ruffled, until you swatted his hand away to take care of it and he tended to the problem in his trousers. No amount of repositioning was going to hide that, and you blushed furiously at the straining bulge.

“You’re right, of course. Sorry, I got a bit carried away,” he said.

“Don’t apologise, Merlin knows I wanted to…”

When you re-emerged from the shadows, you were convinced your colleagues must have sensed the tension or noticed how unkempt you both looked. If they did, they thankfully turned a blind eye and kept their mouths shut. The thought of what you'd be doing after work proved to be quite diverting, neither one of you quite sure what it would involve. What you did know was that you were slowly losing your mind as the hours dragged by, with only small touches and lingering gazes to sustain you. Even your usual lunch date felt more heated—you almost jumped out of your skin when his foot slid up your calf under the table. Quite unexpected, but very welcome, even if he couldn't quite meet your eye when he did it.

You got your own back for that, at least—his shudder was visible as you trailed your fingers down his back whilst he talked to his supervisor. So visible that the poor, oblivious man had asked if Andrew required a sick day.

"Coming down with a cold, Larson?"

He'd shaken his head and you'd stifled a giggle, only to find yourself being teased under your desk not an hour later. This game you played was excruciating in the best way, and Andrew grew bolder and bolder as his frustration mounted. You wondered how far you could push him until he burst, but by the time you'd formulated an idea, the work day had ended. As people filed out of the department, you sat filling out paperwork that wouldn't need finishing for weeks. Andrew was busy reading a ledger with glazed eyes, chewing his lip and muttering distracted goodbyes to bemused colleagues. Victoria was the last to leave, and as her ungainly form retreated down the hallway, you dipped back into the office to find Andrew.

He was already waiting, wide eyed and practically dripping with anticipation. You weren't sure who moved first, only that the end result was your lips fused together and tongues tangled as you backed deeper into the room, disappearing amongst the stacks. You found your favourite spot of solitude next to the towering wooden cabinet after some tripping and fumbling, neither person able or willing to loosen their grip on the other. Andrew's slim fingers stayed respectfully on your waist, though the grip was bruising as he kneaded your flesh. He hesitated for a second when you brushed a hand over his behind and you seized the opportunity to wrangle him back against the cabinet.

The groan he made as he made contact with the wood was little to do with the force of impact and more so a titillating sound of arousal as you took control of the situation. He pulled you closer, melding your bodies together as you struggled to pull off his jacket. He was wearing too many layers for the kind of fun you wanted tonight. The smart suit jacket was unceremoniously discarded on the floor, and you struggled free from his grasp, placing a palm against his chest. The fire in his eyes ignited, and your own chest blazed in response.

"Hands above your head for me," you muttered in his ear.

Andrew raised his arms tentatively, your hand traced the seams of his shirt to find his wrists obediently crossed above him. With a little pressure, you gripped them in one hand, pinning him back against the cabinet as you withdrew your wand, taking your time to trace the tip across his ribs as it moved upward. Once aligned with his wrists, you muttered the incantation to bind him in rope, controlling your charm as best you could amongst your heavy breath and thundering pulse. You didn't want to be rough, after all. Andrew whimpered slightly as the rope tightened, his back arching far enough to press his hardened length against your hip. The moan he let out from the brief friction was ear-shattering, and you thanked the heavens that your colleagues had long since left.

"Naughty boy."

"Please…"

The throbbing in your core had reached unbearable levels, your underwear already damp with arousal, and yet giving in wasn't an option. Andrew was so deliriously wound up, you could have asked for anything in return to be touched that he would have given it gladly, no questions asked. You weren't cruel, though—all you wanted was for him to have a mind-blowing orgasm whilst screaming your name. The better the buildup, the better the result.

You stowed your wand and turned your attention to the buttons of Andrew's shirt, unpicking them slowly to reveal the fair skin of his torso, a smattering of the ash blond hair around his chest disappearing in a thin trail beneath his trousers. A moan slipped from your lips as your lips delved to press against his collarbone, hands roaming his heated skin, slowly tracing the curve of his ribs and delicious jagged edge of his hip bones. Andrew was practically writhing beneath your touch, chest heaving beneath your agonisingly slow descent. By the time you reached his nipple, his hips had settled into a rhythm that pushed against the steady grip of your hand holding him in place.

You glanced down to watch him rocking, desperately seeking friction. His cock was straining against the fabric of his trousers, and you noticed the deep pink of his head poking out of his waistband, squeezed by his tightly fastened belt. A glistening bead of precum caught your eye, and you were suddenly dizzy, almost overcome with lustful desire. Andrew was in a daze, every movement he made causing his cock to bulge and squeeze against the leather, bringing him closer to climax without so much as a graze of your hand or lick of your tongue.

"Andrew…fuck, are you going to come for me?"

"Y-yeah," he answered shakily, his big brown eyes meeting yours and momentarily robbing you of breath.

Returning your attention to his chest, you kissed back down to his nipple and enveloped the tiny pink bud, swiping your tongue across with a soft moan. You felt Andrew twitching and shaking underneath your hands, all manner of expletives now leaving his beautifully soft lips as you teased and kissed, flicked and sucked the sensitive little nub. It took all of your self restraint to keep yourself focused on his pleasure, but it was worth it for every moan and whimper. Your hands still caressed the skin around his hips, now rolling faster and faster against your fruitless attempts to still him.

"Oh, Gods…I'm gonna-"

You didn't have time to respond—with a whimper and shaky moan of your name, he finished without you laying a hand on his erection, until then. You gripped his length and palmed him through the fabric as he came, his cock throbbing and pulsing against the restrictive leather band. As your hand felt the damp warmth spreading from his release you turned your attention to his neck, kissing gently and humming against his skin as he rode out his orgasm. You didn't think you'd ever seen anything so erotic as the gasping, blushing, dishevelled mess of a man now limp against the cabinet behind him.

"That…amazing…sorry," he panted.

Trying to steady your own breath was proving futile. Just looking at him made you crazed, your own desperation growing as the seconds ticked by. Despite Andrew's own fucked state, he tugged your blouse and you fell against him; against the mess of his trousers and his bare chest flushed red and heated. His bound hands came over your head to hold the back of your head firm against the ropes as he kissed you, hard. A kiss of thanks, perhaps; and you melted.

"Can you…let my…wrists free?" he asked between kisses.

"Hm? Oh, right…," you said distractedly, pulling out your wand to reverse the spell.

Once he was free, his fingers flexed before slipping into your hair at the nape of your neck, and another hand slid down the length of your body in one swift motion. He hesitated again at your hip, pulling back to ask permission with a look.

"Please touch me, Andrew."

He moaned again into your mouth, satisfied enough with your answer to gather the fabric of your skirt and manoeuvre you around to pin you against the cabinet. It was your turn now, and Gods you needed it. His leg slid between yours to prise you open, his hands were shaky and touch so delicate as he slid his fingers up your thighs. Your head fell back with a whine falling from your lips as he found your aching centre, pressing firmly against the saturated fabric with more confidence than you'd expected.

"Yes…oh, Andrew…"

"There?" he whispered as his fingers slipped past the seam of your underwear to the pool of slick at your entrance.

You whimpered in reply, grinding against his hand with no inhibition, desperately seeking your own release. Andrew kissed you gently before resting his forehead against your own, breath still heavy as he concentrated his efforts on the movement of his hand. The cotton of your underwear stood no chance as he pulled it to one side, delving inside you with one finger, then two. You took him easily, so wet and prepared from an entire day of teasing.

"Yes, like that. More," you demanded.

He did as he was asked, curling and pumping his fingers until you were reduced to a writhing mess, on a precipice and waiting to fall into sweet oblivion. Another finger almost ended you, and when he whispered your name, you let go. Your orgasm ripped through you so strongly you gripped his hair for dear life, filling the room with your wails. If anyone had come back for a stray piece of paperwork, they would surely hear but you didn't much care in that moment. Your walls pulsed around his fingers as his movements slowed, fingers gently stroking inside you to tease every second out of your climax. He certainly knew what he was doing, or he'd gotten incredibly lucky.

"Fuck," was all you managed to say before the pair of you burst into laughter.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Of course. That was incredible. Are you okay?"

"Never better."

He smiled and kissed you again as his arms enveloped you in his warmth and you allowed your eyes to close and head loll against his shoulder. You could certainly get used to this, perhaps somewhere more comfortable next time.

Had you gone too far? Pushed too fast? The questions raged through your head as Andrew failed to turn up to work for the second day in a row following your…encounter. You'd asked as soon as the first hour passed without him and was told that he was simply off sick. The Ministry had received an owl explaining that he was too unwell to come to work, return date unknown. An uncomfortable heaviness had settled in your chest and hadn't budged since.

You were finding it harder to concentrate as the morning dragged on, only made worse by having to manage Andrew's workload as well as your own. After two cups of tea and countless rereadings of a dull memo that refused to make sense, you gave up your show of indifference and left your office. Stalking through your room, you found your target in her usual spot, reading a housewitch magazine under her desk.

"Where is Andrew?" you asked as soon as her face was in view.

"Good morning to you, too," Victoria said. "He's off sick again."

"Can you give me his address so I can visit? I can check he's okay…"

"Shouldn't you already know his address since you're ever so close?"

Perhaps you'd not been quite as subtle as you'd thought, but were in no mood for her bitter jealousy.

"Victoria, I swear to Godric if you don't tell me his address right now I'll hex you."

"Alright, alright…feisty, aren't you?" she said, with a hint of admiration.

She folded her magazine and placed it on the desk as she searched for a quill and parchment to jot down the address. Your fingers tapped impatiently on the wood, eyes glancing over the article she'd been reading about scrubbing charms. The thought of finding that riveting made you recoil.

"Here," she said, handing you a scrap of paper with a scrawled note.

"Thanks, really."

She nodded curtly as you skipped off. At least you'd be able to see Andrew later, and with any luck, set things straight. The address in your pocket stayed there throughout the day, your palm patting it nervously every hour to ensure its safety. As soon as the clock struck five o'clock you were rushing out of the door, ignoring the curious glances and raised eyebrows from your colleagues.

Once clear of the department, you pulled out the address and reread it, committing it to memory as you approached the floo fireplaces. Waiting for your turn impatiently, the green flames enveloped you the second you stepped into the hearth and pulled you through the network with a squeeze. You were deposited seconds later outside a neat two-up two-down terraced house in a quiet suburban street. The frontage felt very Andrew; understated, clean and respectable. You wondered what lay inside as you pressed the doorbell, waiting with bated breath. As the seconds ticked by your nerves grew, foot tapping nervously on the brick pavement.

Finally, the door creaked open, revealing a very tired and very unwell looking Andrew, whose eyes widened upon seeing you.

"What are you…is everything okay?" he said, wrapping his arms around himself.

He was dressed only in pyjamas, clearly having been woken from a much needed rest. You bit your lip, guilt bubbling in your stomach.

"Sorry, I just wanted to check on you since you've been off work…wondered if there was anything I could do."

Andrew smiled softly and shook his head, stepping back to open the door a little wider.

"Would you like to come in? Sorry I'm not very presentable."

"I'm sorry for just turning up. But yes, I'd like to come in, if you're feeling up to it."

He guided you inside his home, through the handsome hallway with tiled floor and delicate cornicing, to the living room. The cosy space was sparsely furnished but dotted with photographs, ornaments and a collection of paintings. Some were landscapes, painted by a talented hand, many of the canvases leaning against the wall were facial studies. Portraits. Portraits of you. It wouldn't have been arrogant to say so, as the resemblance was striking. Andrew hadn't noticed you looking, instead busying himself attempting to straighten the creases in his cotton shirt. He truly was adorable.

"So, you've just been feeling under the weather?" you asked.

"Of course, why else would I be off work?"

"I just haven't heard from you, that's all."

"I'm sorry, I managed to send an owl to work and then I admit I've been asleep much of the time…did they not tell you I was ill?"

"Well, yes…," you said, feeling a little stupid.

What had you expected, really? A heartfelt letter detailing his ailment and wishes to see you soon? Well, perhaps, but that was unrealistic. The truth was, you'd just missed him terribly and assumed the worst.

"You don't regret what we did, do you?" you asked, holding your breath for the answer.

"Merlin, no! How could I?"

His shock dissipated as quickly as it had come, features settling into soft reassurance. He held out a hand to guide you onto the sofa, still looking weak as his fingers squeezed your palm tightly.

"I thought maybe I'd been too…too much," you admitted.

Andrew shook his head but took a while to reply, thumb stroking the back of your hand whilst he formed the correct words.

"Honestly, you've helped bring me out of my shell. Before you, I've never…I'd been so terrified to do anything with a woman," he admitted, blushing with embarrassment.

"You've never been with a woman before? I'm sorry, you must think I'm some sort of harlot…"

"Absolutely not."

"You certainly seemed experienced," you said with a smirk.

"Well, let's just say I'm well-read," he shrugged.

"You can get that from books?"

"Some of it, at least. There's still much I've not yet experienced."

"I'd be more than happy to demonstrate," you said, sliding your hand onto his thigh.

"That wasn't a hint! I'd never ask you to…"

"I'm offering."

If he'd been about to stutter another reply, he was silenced by the tug of his pyjama bottoms being pulled down his hips. You positioned yourself between his legs, knees on the hard wooden floor whilst you eased the fabric down, placing kisses to his abdomen as you did. His cock twitched and swelled, and another press of your lips to his length had him standing at full attention. He was impressive, much more so than you'd imagined from the sizeable bulge in his trousers. Unrestrained, he was magnificent, and you salivated at the thought of taking him in your mouth, tasting him.

By all accounts it was likely one of the quickest blowjobs you'd delivered, but one of the sweetest. He tugged your hair gently and muttered your name as your tongue worked him gently and slowly, never taking your eyes off of him. He never looked away either, and the connection made it all the better.

As Andrew lay slumped on his sofa, recovering, you wiped your lips with a satisfied grin and straddled his hips to hold him close. He was so warm and gentle, and you nuzzled into the crook of his neck with a sigh that he echoed along with a kiss to your temple.

"Andrew?"

"Yes?"

"Those paintings…"

"Ah."

"Are they of…"

"You? Yes. I didn't think it was such a bad artist that the resemblance wasn't clear," he chuckled.

"Just making sure," you smiled. "I'd have offered to pose for you if you'd asked."

Of all things you'd just done, that simple statement had made him blush.

"This might be far too forward to ask, but would you like to stay with me tonight?" he asked.

You smiled and nodded, allowing him to guide you to his bedroom, from which you didn't return for the night.

You'd fallen asleep in his arms wearing only a spare nightshirt, after being curled up reading a book whilst he rested. He was exhausted and needed the sleep, but the night hadn't been a disappointment at all. Being able to hold him close was a blessing, and you'd slipped into unconsciousness with a smile on your face. When morning came, you startled at the unfamiliar surroundings, but the gentle stroke of your hair soon calmed you.

"Good morning. It's the weekend," Andrew's quiet, croaky voice came from behind you.

You were laying on your side, book tucked underneath the pillow, as Andrew enveloped your back in his warmth. The tickle of his breath on your neck made you giggle as you stretched your limbs and blinked into the hazy sunshine flooding the bedroom.

"It is the weekend, isn't it," you sighed happily.

Despite his sleepy voice, you didn’t fail to notice the very obvious hard length pressed against your behind. With a smile, you shuffled back further, pressing your cheeks against his arousal with a little wiggle that made him groan softly against the back of your neck. His lips found your pulse, pressing gentle kisses below your ear as his free hand responded to your tease. The nightshirt put up no resistance to his swift ascent, fingers skimming your curves and exploring every inch of your body.

You rocked your hips gently, not only for his benefit but for the delicious friction as you squeezed your thighs. Andrew took his time caressing you, flicking and circling your peaked nipples as his mouth travelled down your neck to nibble at your shoulder. Soft pleas fell from your lips as you lost yourself to his touch, and his dexterous fingers repeated what they’d achieved that fateful night amongst the magical artefacts. By the time you’d finished squirming around his digits, you were soft, malleable, and so utterly enamoured by the man now towering over you.

Andrew looked down at you with parted lips, the nerves showing on his beautiful face. You reached up to cup his cheek, spreading your legs for him to settle between as your other hand wrapped around his swollen cock. He gasped at the touch, moaning softly as soon as you started to stroke him. His thickness was daunting, but you knew he’d be gentle, and so would you. There was no place for teasing here, only finding each other for the first time, and opening up a world for him.

“I’m ready, if you are,” you said.

He nodded, letting you guide him, rubbing his weeping tip over your clit before sliding him between your folds to your entrance. He pressed into you slowly and stretched you with only a little resistance, enough to make you gasp and grip the bed sheets below. Inch by inch he filled you, until he could go no further and you felt fuller than you’d ever been.

“Andrew, you feel amazing,” you sighed.

“So do you. Absolutely incredible.”

He kept his eyes on you through it all, gazing down at you with adoration as you returned the same, your fingers laced in his ashy hair or tracing the curve of his jaw. He kissed your fingers with plush, swollen lips as he found a rhythm, pulling out almost to the tip before pressing back inside with steady, deliberate strokes. He built your orgasm with ease, the constant caress deep inside your core pulling soft moans from your throat, harmonising with his own.

“Can I finish inside you?” he whispered as his breath grew ragged and shallow.

“Yes, oh please yes.”

Andrew groaned his approval and shifted on the mattress, pushing your legs further back as he leaned down to kiss you. Your tongues intertwined amongst breathy sighs as he hit you deeper than ever, resuming his previous pace with harder thrusts. Your knuckles grew white as you gripped the pillow behind your head, looking up at him with begging eyes as you approached your climax.

“I’m so close….”

Those words were enough to send Andrew over the edge, and he gasped your name as he exploded and pulled you along with him. His pulsing cock filled you completely as you rode out your releases together, tightly entwined in each other’s arms. You only stilled once the last wave ebbed away and Andrew stilled, his seed coating your legs and thoroughly ruining his bed sheets, though that didn’t seem to worry him in the slightest. He held you and kissed you, noses brushing, both of you wearing giddy smiles that didn’t appear to fade for the rest of the day.

The thought of starting this new job had filled you with fear, unease, even boredom—but you’d never been so happy to be proven wrong. For what might have been the first time in your life, you didn’t relish the thought of continuing your travels. For once, you had something keeping you rooted; someone and somewhere to call home.

#andrew larson #andrew larson x reader #andrew larson fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfiction

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allmoshnobrain · 3 months

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 33 of 35 | masterpost

word count: 2597 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

I could feel his heart tapping against my fingertips, a bit quicker now, a subtle blush coloring his cheeks. His blonde eyelashes looked almost see-through in the sunlight, his blue eyes sparkling and locked onto mine, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. I brought my hands up to his face, running my fingers over it slowly. He let out a sigh, lightly shutting his eyes like he'd been waiting for my touch his whole life.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, romance

✦ a/n: Hi, everyone! I posted this chapter a little later than usual because I was too busy today, but it's here! Sorry for the delay. Also, some of you may have already seen this, but: I missed writing about Dave and Nore happy together a lot these last few days, so I posted a small extra chapter set somewhere between chapters 16 and 17 for all my Dave and Nore enjoyers 🖤 You can read it here. Hope you liked reading, feedback is welcome!

✧ you don't have to leave, you could just stay here, with me / forget all the party police, we could find comfort in debauchery ✧

“I should've been there with you,” James's voice, annoyed and concerned, crackled through the phone pressed to my ear. “You shouldn't have dealt with this on your own. I should've been right there beside you.”

“James, it's alright,” I mumbled, sparking a cigarette, propping myself against the payphone stand. It was late afternoon, and I’d dialed James to tell him all about my disastrous mission in Los Angeles. If I wasn't in tears at the moment, it was only because I'd already exhausted my supply in the hours before.

“Of course, it's not okay!” he burst out, matching my frustration. “Did you check with the neighbors? Wasn't there some dude you knew living downstairs?”

“Yeah, Ellefson. He bailed too. Apparently, they moved out together last week. Left no trace for anyone to follow,” I finished the sentence with a tremor in my voice, eyes burning with fresh tears, but I wasn't going to break down now. Not while James was on the line, his concern clear in every word he spoke.

“Fuck. What a mess,” he muttered. “Hey, it's gonna be alright. I think I've got his mom's address; I can try reaching out to her. We'll find him, Nore.”

“Thanks, James,” I said, feeling a bit better knowing that even if the day had turned to crap, he still had my back.

“I'm sorry about all this Pat shit. Had no clue she'd pull a stunt like that.”

“It's fine…”

“No, Nore, it's not. You know, you said the right thing to her. I never want to see that girl again. But I can hop over to Los Angeles if it means making her apologize to you,” he declared, his voice carrying a slightly menacing edge that hinted he might have wanted to go beyond a simple apology.

“James, you really don't have to do that. It'd be just playing into her drama,” I let out a heavy sigh. “All I want is to find Dave and sort this mess out once and for all.”

“We'll track him down, Nore. I promise. Everything's gonna be fine,” James tried to assure me, and I managed a small smile. There was something kinda sweet about how he was going all out to cheer me up, genuinely putting in the effort to help me out, just because it'd make me happy.

James was just impossible not to like.

“I know, Jamie,” I replied, letting the warmth of my smile show in my voice. “Thank you.”

The rest of February breezed by quickly; I suddenly realized that the one-year anniversary of my move to San Francisco had quietly passed. It seemed pretty wild how everything that had unfolded in the last few months had managed to cram into a year, shaping me in more ways than I could express. It was like I'd been a part of the boys’ life forever, like I couldn’t quite picture who I was without them in the frame.

March rolled in, bringing the end of winter closer and closer. As the days lit up and warmed, James and I kept our long-distance communication going. The phone calls from San Francisco to Long Beach, initially a bit spaced out, soon became almost a daily ritual, and I found myself eagerly anticipating those moments in an entirely new way. Sweet words of affection began to find their way into our conversations more frequently. I had to admit, I missed James more than I'd care to confess — not just the tour moments but also his touch, the sound of his voice and laughter, the blue in his eyes, and even the warmth of his kisses and the feel of his body against mine.

Being back at my parents' house had its perks: with no job on my plate and studies yet to kick in, I found myself drowning in free time. I dedicated most of it to diving into my studies and building up a solid portfolio in visual arts, gearing up for the application grind at the San Francisco Art Institute. The prospect of being in the same city as Cliff and the guys again had me stoked, but in a genuinely good way — I could barely contain my excitement for things to click into place.

Another thing gobbling up my time was my newfound camaraderie with Charlotte, one of my old high school friends. She’d been pouring her heart into her debut starring role in a theatre play, and I'd been chipping in as an unofficial production assistant, giving me a reason to hang out with her and break free from my parents’ house for a bit. On a bright Wednesday morning, the moment I stepped into the auditorium where the theater troupe was fine-tuning their craft, Charlotte threw me a curveball with an unexpected ask.

“Nore!” she squealed with excitement upon spotting me, rushing over and grabbing my hands in hers. Her green eyes looked almost teary, and her lips formed a small pout. “Thank goodness you're here. Everything's going haywire today, and I'm not sure if we can sort it out!”

“What’s going on, Charlie?” I inquired, intrigued, as I shrugged off my jacket, tossing it onto one of the chairs in the vacant audience area. “Did the dressing room light decide to bail on us again? You know I'm useless with those things.”

“Of course not!” she retorted, indignant, and I released a low chuckle.

“Just pulling your leg. What's up?”

“I need you to act in the play.”

I blinked, puzzled, furrowing my brow as I crossed my arms.

“You... Hold on, what? Charlie, the play is in two weeks.”

“I know!” she sighed, slumping into one of the chairs, defeated. “Why do you think I'm so desperate? One of the actresses can't perform anymore. And now the director wants to cancel the play because we won't be able to find a replacement on time!”

“And you want me to step in.”

“Yeah!”

“In a play that's premiering in fifteen days?”

“Nore, you've always been fantastic in our school's Drama Club…”

“No way, Charlie! How am I supposed to pull that off?”

“Nore, please, please, please?” she clasped my hand in hers, her eyes pleading. “It's my first lead role, I've been rehearsing for months! I promise to help you with the lines, I'll do anything!”

I sighed, resigned.

“Fine. But you owe me one,” I replied, and she let out an excited squeal before hugging me.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! You won't regret it, I promise!”

Well, she was right — I didn't regret it. Actually, practicing for the play turned out to be a lot more fun than I thought. Plus, scoring some free tickets to hand out to my friends and family made me care a bit less about the crazy deadline to cram all those lines into my brain. Charlie and I basically lived in that auditorium for the next few days; I'd roll in there in the morning and wouldn't bail until way into the evening.

When Saturday rolled around, I decided to escape to San Francisco. Stuff for the band was picking up speed after those European shows. After snagging a deal to record the second album at a studio in Denmark, the guys figured a bash was in order to toast to the good news, and obviously, I had to be there. I arranged with my parents to spend the weekend over at Cliff's place with the boys. Luckily, they had some San Francisco business on the horizon, and agreed to drop by and give me a ride back to Long Beach when it was time to head back home.

I let out a sigh as I hit the old house where I used to live with Cliff, Dave, James, and Lars. It was like nothing had changed, memories still stuck in every nook and cranny; the first chats with the guys, James getting less shy as we got tighter, my first kiss with Dave, the first time we slept together, drinking together, smoking together, laughing together, loving together. And it stung, a sharp and dry ache deep in my chest, with the gut feeling that things would never, ever be the same again.

I mixed with the crowd, strolling into the living room; the first familiar face I bumped into was James', whose eyes lit up seeing me, a grin breaking out. He hustled over, grabbing my face and planting a surprise kiss on my lips, leaving me gasping, my face heating up in a flash.

“James!” I blurted out, pupils dilated in shock as I took a step back.

“My bad. Was that a no-go?” he mumbled, a persistent grin suggesting he had no regrets about the kiss. “Just damn happy you showed up.”

“I’m happy to be here too,” I whispered, my face still warm from his gentle touch.

“Geez, you two are such a clingy couple,” Cliff chimed in, coming over. I blushed, pulling James's hands off my face and avoiding eye contact.

“We're not a couple, Cliff,” I muttered, voice low, his comment knotting something strange and uncomfortable in my chest. “Excuse me, I need a drink,” I spun around, heading for the kitchen.

“Nore, hold up,” Cliff tagged along, standing by my side as I raided the fridge for a beer. “What was that just now?”

“Nothing,” I grunted, popping the kitchen door open and stepping into the backyard. Cliff sighed but joined me, leaning against the porch railing.

“Nothing? Seriously? You're not gonna start keeping secrets from me now, after 19 years?” he came closer, tilting his head to be right in my line of sight, impossible to ignore. I sighed, rolling my eyes at his persistence. “Hey. You and James weren't, like, a thing or something?”

“It's not like that,” I grumbled. “It's just... There's just too much going on, Cliff...”

I told him everything then: how James and I had decided to give in to our feelings during the tour, how I’d tried to find Dave after coming back, how everything went wrong, and now I had no clue where he was. And maybe involving James in all this was a mistake because, frankly, with each passing day, I found myself liking him more while still stuck on my feelings for Dave.

“Well, that sucks,” he remarked after I spilled my story, prompting a nervous little laugh from me. “So, you do like James, then?”

“Of course I like him,” I replied, with a resigned sigh.

“You like him, and yet you were upset because he kissed you just now?” he pressed on, and I rolled my eyes.

“Cliff, it's not that simple…”

"No, I get it ain't," he said, sparking up a joint, taking a slow drag before locking eyes with me, dead serious. "I get you still love Dave. I get you're on this quest to find him, and I'm betting it's gonna happen, Nore. You and him, you'll cross paths again 'cause I know you're head over heels for the guy. I'm pretty damn sure you two will work things out. But..." He hesitated, and I shot him a puzzled look. Cliff usually had his words lined up tight. It wasn’t like him to be unsure about anything.

"But?" I prodded, curious. He let out a sigh.

"But things are changing at warp speed for us, Nore," He handed over the joint, and I grabbed it, taking a slow drag. "We're growing up, for crying out loud. I mean, we're about to cut an album in Europe, can you believe that? A year ago, who would've thought? Things are moving quick, do you really wanna skip the chance to catch some happiness along the way? You don't know when you'll stumble upon Dave. No idea how long it'll take to straighten things out with him. Are you gonna keep dodging happiness till then?"

"Cliff, what are you getting at?"

"What I'm getting at, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but fine, what I mean is maybe you should quit fighting what you feel for James. I mean, you liked him before, but let's be real, you rolled back from Europe completely in love with him, didn't you?"

In love. Those words set my face on fire, my heart doing a marathon, and a zillion butterflies doing somersaults in my stomach. My first instinct was to argue with Cliff, but deep down, he wasn't totally off, was he? If I already had a soft spot for James before, now it was more like a full-blown obsession. It felt like a hunger, like I needed him to fill some kind of void inside of me. And somehow, this crazy feeling coexisted with the love I held for Dave, for the empty space he’d left behind. Everything was so damn new that I could barely wrap my head around it, let alone figure out how to handle it.

"I'm not in love with him," I mumbled weakly, and Cliff chuckled, giving me a shoulder hug.

"You're a lousy liar, you know that?" he said, and I rolled my eyes.

"Hey," a familiar voice called, and I glanced up, blushing when I locked eyes with James, propped against the door frame with a beer in hand. "Nore, everything cool?"

"I'm gonna find Lea," Cliff announced, sidestepping and shooting me a suggestive look before leaving me solo with James. I watched him saunter away, feeling my face heat up, and then turned my attention to James, his blue eyes zeroed in on mine.

"You alright? Sorry about that kiss earlier. Didn't mean to upset you," he said, his voice low, stepping close enough for me to sense the heat of his body. His attentive eyes studied my face, as if trying to decode my feelings from my expression. I sighed, my heart racing in a totally new rhythm when he gently cupped my face, resting my hands on his chest as he leaned in.

"James," I murmured, my voice shaking, almost like I was saying his name for the first time. He gave me a slight smile, his gaze zeroing in on my slightly parted lips with poorly disguised desire.

"What?"

"I don't want you thinking I'm here with you just 'cause I haven't tracked down Dave yet."

"I'd never think that," he whispered, edging even closer.

"James," I murmured again, almost like a prayer, and the way I said his name seemed to light up something hungry in him. He yanked me closer, his mouth crashing onto mine with a deep, needy moan. I sighed, trembling, my fingers tangling in his hair as I surrendered to his kiss, the dawning realization that I couldn't resist him any longer.

Actually, that I didn't want to.

He backed off, peppering soft kisses on my lips before resting his forehead against mine. His hands clung to my waist, tugging me close enough for our bodies to touch.

"I think we should head to my room," he murmured, flashing a smile. I chuckled softly, throwing my arms around his neck, and pulled him into another kiss.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9

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marbleboa · 2 months

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Mukai Speculation: The Hell is Up With the Divine Wood

So. I've been thinking about potential avenues for Mukai's backstory lately. She is one of those characters that is given very little characterization-wise, however her very existence in her role as a Scar is one of those things that give a lot of people pause. Often with the question 'hey uh what's that 11 year old doing there'.

As such, I thought I'd put down some rambles about the matter here!

One common route I've seen taken is that Mukai was kidnapped by Claw, and it makes sense! Claw’s basically got child kidnapping down to a science, and apparently brainwashing to boot.

Though in regards to the later, I was thinking about Shou's comments in the 7th Division Arc immediately after Ishiguro suggests brainwashing the protags. He seems to imply the process dulls an esper's abilities, turning them into trash/mindless slaves. As such, I think it's safe to assume none of the scars are brainwashed in an unnatural sense, but rather succumbed to Claw's ideals due to personal weakness and/or vulnerability

Back to Mukai, if brainwashing wasn't in the picture I'm thinking either she was kidnapped at a young enough age where under Claw's indoctrination her cooperation never was an issue, or she entered the organization a different way. But if she wasn't kidnapped, then how did this kid end up in the role of a Scar? Well, I'm basing my speculation here primarily on this scene from the manga:

Quite the info, as it both comes out of nowhere and is never mentioned again. Not unheard of especially for the World Domination Arc in the manga, where the readers get so much thrown at them at once. On its own, there's only a bit we can glean from Mukai's reaction: 1. this was a place she had a lot of attachment to, and 2. it was important enough to be noted by Claw and later destroyed after the 7th Division's defection.

The whole 'divine wood' thing brings to mind an element of spirituality, some spot of nature that's deemed as sacred. This brings me further back to the beginning of WD arc. Prior to Toichiro’s speech, the other Division Leaders are kind enough to grant us some exposition on the extent of Claw’s influence:

So. Religious cults. It paints an interesting, unseen picture of these different organizations vying for a place at the table when Claw takes over the world. Thinking about it, I had an idea--what if Mukai came from one of these cults?

Probably a bit of a stretch, but I could imagine those special tree(s) she talked about being one of the main fixtures of the group's beliefs, something believed to aid those who paid tribute to it(you know how we love tree cults here). A place that Mukai was taught to be special ever since she was little...it's no wonder her powers would resonate with objects made from there, belief's a powerful thing. And if it was involved in Claw, they would certainly have information about all that on record to dispose of it later.

What's more, it seems pretty common for upper level cults to make things a family affair--and child with powers like that would be sure to grab attention. Money's well and good of course, but what better way to make your organization stand out than to give up an offering of power instead? What if Mukai was given to Claw willingly? And Mukai, well, she's not made privy to any of that of course. But with all the praise for her powers and the promise of freedom to use them, plus her family's pride...it's not hard to imagine how she'd be easily entangled like that.

In regards to her post-Claw life, I think this could open up some interesting possibilities for different dynamics and conflicts to say the least. It's of course a horrible thing for a child to be taken from their family, but maybe in that situation there could be a bittersweet reunion in the end. For a child to grow up realizing they were given up as a bargaining chip, one that the other side didn't even end up wanting to keep(marked as damaged goods, remember?)...that has to be a trial on its own.

Obviously I doubt this is what ONE intended to be gleaned from the whole thing--but hey, it's interesting to think about.

#finally got around to finishing this. time for bed goodbyeeee #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #mukai kirari #mp100 mukai #claw 7th division #long post #text #scarposting

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nervousladytraveler · 1 month

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“Well then,” Prudie said and set a steaming cup of tea down next to Demelza. She’d come to do this most afternoons (with only a little prompting) while Demelza worked on a new piece for The Post or chipped away at Dr. Enys’s manuscript. This attention was mostly given because the woman wanted company and not because she anticipated her mistress’s needs.

“Hmm?” Demelza asked absently while she banged away on the typewriter keys, then paused to check her spelling of Streptococcus.

“Easter’s so late this year, Mister Ross’ll miss the daffs,” Prudie lamented.

Demelza had collected a cheering yellow bunch and put them on the dining room table so she could see them while she worked. The crocus bulbs from weeks earlier had since been returned to the earth, just as she’d promised she’d do.

“Oh they might linger on, they’re hearty blooms for sure,” Demelza laughed. “All the spring flowers are really, they are required to be. And even if Ross misses the daffodils, there’s always bluebells. Come Prudie,” she said and rose to her feet. She tidied her papers and put the cover on The Companion. “Let’s go out to the garden while the sun shines. We have much to do to get this place in order before Ross arrives.”

“I'd say it's someone else’s arrival we should be worryin’ ‘bout,” Prudie huffed.

“Yes, well…in good time,” Demelza said.

“You keep sayin’ that but time do have a way of creepin’ up on a body!”

Prudie was right but since Demelza had more urgent pulls on her purse like fixing the leaking roof, it was best to put nursery furnishings out of her mind at present. Afterall, what did poor folk do, those who had more babies than bank notes?

Needs must…

When Demelza was a girl, the neighbours across the stairs kept their baby in a bureau drawer set on the floor. It served perfectly well as a cot until the little fellow grew big enough to climb out. Then it seemed he never slept again but ran amok forevermore chasing the birds--and rats-- that dwelled in their dingy courtyard.

His name was Tommy, wasn't it? And he’d be seventeen by now, she thought to herself. I wonder if he’s joined up and now chases Wehrmacht soldiers.

Odd that she remembered the neighbours but had no recollection whatsoever of where her own brothers had been stashed as babes--she only remembered them older, all sharing one messy, stinking bed, wrestling and laughing well into the night.

“We’ll think of something,” Demelza shrugged. She’d talk it over with Ross, though she hated to ask him for anything.

“Come, let’s finish our garden work before it rains.”

#lucretiassister #poldark #poldark fanfic #demelza carne #ross poldark #poldark modern au #wip wednesday #duty

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curio-queries · 4 months

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FACE, LETTER, & CLOSER THAN THIS

Disclaimer: The following post is full of my own opinions and interpretations. I do not share this with the intent to convince anyone else that this meaning upholds for all. My interpretations are also limited to English and that is an important distinction to make when accessing art from another language and culture. There are absolutely intentions and meanings that won't translate. Art is beautifully subjective, and I hope you all find your own reasons to love Jimin's music.

This is quite a lengthy post. Thank you to anyone who reads. I'd love to hear your thoughts as well, so don't feel shy to share! 💜

So FACE has been out for nearly a year, why am I making this post now? Honestly, it's all because of Closer Than This and the few nuggets we can glean from the music video. The very first clip of the mv is of Jimin's team discussing the lyrics and then Jimin's recording session. Honestly, I was quite surprised CTT was written at the same time as all of the FACE songs.

So the question then rises: Why wasn't CTT included in FACE? The answer I've arrived at is because CTT is not part of the journey Jimin was describing with FACE. More on CTT below but first, we need to revisit FACE:

TIMELINE

(US dates - I have to do too much timezone manipulation in my job, I'm not spending the time here):

30 DEC 2018 : Promise Release on SoundCloud

21 FEB 2023 : FACE announcement

16 MAR 2023 : Set Me Free pt.2 Release

23 MAR 2023 : FACE Release

22 DEC 2023 : Closer Than This Release

And here's the FACE schedule:

MOTTO-THEME-GUIDE

These phrases are ALL OVER the FACE project! They're in the digital media that was released, on pretty much every side of the physical albums, on the back of the photocards and postcards... They're pretty much on everything official connected to FACE. They're not just fluff included to fill up space; these words have MEANING in this project. I've been using these phrases as guide posts to help me interpret some of the meanings behind FACE recently, and I would encourage anyone interested in Jimin's deeper message to do the same. I've highlighted my references below.

Circles of Resonance Reflection of vulnerable minds and unexposed wounds. An echo, tremor and small movement to reach you. Face of facing the deepest part of inner-self. Face, the reflection of myself in an unfamiliar appearance. Waves originated from the deepest invisible inner world, pass through the face on the surface and reach others to resonate while transmitting the inner voice. Waves spread beautifully, finding its own flow despite wounds and distortions from a smallest scratch. The face of unwavering effort despite repeated falls and pain.

When asked what the album was about, Jimin freely shares that it relates to the events during the pandemic...and then the conversation usually moves on without any deeper discussion. This interview is probably the most verbose Jimin was any time he described the meaning behind FACE. If you haven't watched it recently, I highly recommend it.

youtube

We know that Jimin rarely shares the problems he's having whilst he's going through them (with us at least). He always waits until after he's moved on so that he can tell us not to worry, that it's in the past. (This concept comes up again in this post so keep it in mind.)

The distinction that I think is important to make is that, yes, FACE is about the pandemic, but it's not a straightforward diary of events. It's about how those events affected him. How the waves caused by the pandemic RESONATE, ECHO, and TREMOR through him - effecting the UNEXPOSED WOUNDS. Jimin found something in himself through this experience and had no choice but to FACE it. There were no distractions anymore, no pushing it to the side to deal with later. And he was able to share that journey with us in such a tragically beautiful way.

THE TRACKS

I made the below gifs for each track but I think they look best as a set without the tags so you can get the full effect of the differing ripples. Check out this post to see what I mean. ☺️

FACE-OFF

I know everyone likes to meme about Face-Off and trying to find who hurt Jimin to make them pay...but I really don't associate Face-Off with an external person. You can betray yourself in much worse ways than anyone else can because you know exactly all of your own weaknesses. You know exactly what pretty lies to tell yourself. And honestly, the source of the event doesn't really matter in the context of FACE. I view Face-Off as the initial incident. The SMALLEST SCRATCH that pushes the waves to spread.

There's also a lovely bit of foreshadowing with the lyric "Like crazy, everyone shout out, yeah yeah". CIRCLES OF RESONANCE. Not singular, multiple; we are in for a bumpy ride.

INTERLUDE : DIVE

I admit, I only listen to this track when I'm doing a full album listen. I love instrumental tracks but this isn't instrumental to me, it's sound effects. And I just personally have a sensory issue that comes out to play here BUT it's important to include in our discussion so don't skip it when you're trying to delve into the meanings!

The message I glean here is just how pervasive the issue is becoming. Jimin can be going about his life, trying to disregard it but the UNEXPOSED WOUNDS are there lurking underneath it all.

The pretty music overlaying the track may sound like glitz and glam, but this is just the beginning of the WAVES SPREADING BEAUTIFULLY, FINDING ITS OWN FLOW DESPITE WOUNDS AND DISTORTIONS...

LIKE CRAZY

I've been promising a post on Like Crazy for ages and this may be the closest I get to it. Let me know if any of you are interested in a more in-depth discussion on how the movie and the song work together. My short summary for both is this: there are moments when you willfully take actions that you KNOW are against your best interest. Not in a fleeting eats-too-many-cookies way. In a I-know-putting-my-hand-on-the-stove-and-turning-it-on-will-burn-me way.

I hope none of you experience this to such a damning extent. I have. Despite being the kind of person who I thought would never venture down such a path. It's not something I wish upon anyone. This is the WAVES ORIGINATED FROM THE DEEPEST INVISIBLE INNER WORLD, PASS THROUGH THE FACE ON THE SURFACE...

ALONE

Have you ever repeated a word enough that it starts to sound bizzare? What if you got the point where you thought the weird sound was reality? And then you were confronted with the truth. This song is that point. Where you are left with the sober understanding of yourself. FACE, THE REFLECTION OF MYSELF IN AN UNFAMILIAR APPEARANCE.

SET ME FREE pt.2

The rise! Jimin was able to find a way to push himself beyond the betrayal of himself. It absolutely wasn't easy and there were setbacks, but this is a clear call to any who find themselves in similar circumstances: you CAN overcome. THE FACE OF UNWAVERING EFFORT DESPITE REPEATED FALLS AND PAIN.

Remember when I said earlier that Jimin only tells us about his struggle once it's over? I honestly believe that's why SMF was the pre-release track. He needed us to know that there was a happy ending before he would tell us about the pain he went through.

LIKE CRAZY (English Version)

As I mentioned my sensory issue above, I cannot talk about Like Crazy without mentioning the whispered English at the beginning/end. I HATE it sooooo much! It just twigs my brain in all the wrong ways. It's a huge part of why it took me a long time to appreciate LC. As much as I hate it though, it's absolutely necessary for the interpretation of LC. It firmly gives us a landmark into where and how the song relates to the movie. It also creates a bookend structure that gives the original and the English versions their own rightful places to exist.

LETTER

My very first post on this blog was a simple comparison of the lyrics in Like Crazy from the translation on the original music video to the english version. There is absolutely a difference here and I think it's a very important distinction that there are two versions of Like Crazy in the album. One is AN ECHO, TREMOR AND SMALL MOVEMENT TO REACH YOU. This phrase is for us, the audience. None of the other phrases use "you". Even though Jimin has set himself free, there are still CIRCLES RESONATING.

If you have seen any of my posts prior to this, you likely know how obsessed with Letter I am. I have the hardest time naming anything as a favorite (even favorite colour, there's just sooo many good uses of different colors) so I hope you understand how revolutionary it is for me to unequivocally state that Letter is my favorite song. Like ever. For all of my (cough*decades*cough) of music-listening, opinion-having life. Letter is THE ONE. Letter is it. I probably have stronger feelings about Letter than any relationship I've been in (but I'm aspec so take that with a grain of salt...)

I listen to Letter A LOT (sometimes on literal repeat - there's a video on YouTube that loops it for over an hour and I've definitely contributed several of those listens) and while working on this post, I would still get emotional hearing it at the end of FACE. This song is the absolute definition of the beauty that can only truly be understood after utter tragedy.

To me, Letter is about how this experience has effected Jimin to the point where there's a noticeable difference in the way he interacts with and appreciates those he loves, in all interpretations of the word love. WAVES...REACH OTHERS TO RESONATE WHILE TRANSMITTING THE INNER VOICE.

I am not using this post to debate the merits of exactly who Letter is for: a significant other, ARMY, or Jimin himself. Frankly, I don't think it matters to the meaning of the song. Use whatever flavour most appeals to you. That's the real genius and gift of Jimin's music imo. He creates it in such a way that we can fold it around our own personal stories and needs.

WHAT WAS THIS POST ABOUT AGAIN?

Right, so rewind to the release of Closer Than This. I'd had very little sleep as I traveled for the holidays and was absolutely feeling the timezone difference. But I stayed up to hear Jimin's new song. I listened to it first in Spotify and thought it sounded like a beautiful, happy, well-produced gift of a song - perfect for the end of the year and to comfort us with his departure for military service. Then I watched the mv to read the subtitles... Y'all, I absolutely was NOT expecting to see clips from the time covered in Jimin's Production Diary! I wouldn't have been surprised if it was the same team that Jimin worked with before but at a later time - he trusts them artisically after all. BUT these clips were the same angles and same conversations we saw from the development of FACE.

So I started my due diligence. Is it possible CTT was supposed to be part of FACE but they held it specifically to release when it did? I listened to FACE multiple times trying to insert CTT into the narrative. And it just doesn't fit this journey...at all. Like not in the slightest. I thought maybe immediately after Letter or even replacing Letter but no. I even tried inserting Promise as a bridge and it just doesn't work in the context of FACE.

CTT has a pretty literal storytelling narrative. It describes the journey WE have been on with Jimin. It lists his promises to US going forward. The music video being an album of memories, supports the nostalgic and loving viewpoint of the song. It has absolutely nothing to do with how Jimin was affected by the events of the pandemic or anything he found inside himself because of it.

Both songs have been described by Jimin as a 'fan song' and as I described in this post, there are many reasons that support both of them falling into this categorization. To me, Letter is more about Jimin having a deep intimate conversation with us because he trusts us. While CTT is literally about the relationship between ARMY and Jimin.

Anyway, I think that's all I've got to say about it for now. What are your thoughts? Should Closer Than This have been included in FACE? Was it just a marketing ploy to keep generating our interest after Jimin left?

(BTW I'm really happy with those FACE gifs and how the ripples look when they're together. They took some time to figure out. I just wish I had some better software to turn them into gifs so the colours display better, but alas, beggars can't be choosers. They look really great in the ppt that I made them in but I guess that's just for me to enjoy!)

#park jimin #jimin #FACE #Face-off #Interlude: Dive #like crazy #alone #set me free pt.2 #like crazy (english)#Letter #closer than this

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