#that song is a cover but nobody seems to care about that it's all about year 3000 for you people

[ichorai]

the wolf and the beast ; toji fushiguro.

part of the A SONG OF CURSES AND CROWNS collection!

pairing ; assassin!toji fushiguro x stark!f!reader

synopsis ; nobody told him that his target had a direwolf.

words ; 3.3k

themes ; fantasy, asoiaf au, assassin au, prisoner au, enemies-to-???

warnings / includes ; mentions of murder, descriptions of injury/blood, classism, foul language, toji hates your wolf, toji stealing from a whorehouse LMAO

main masterlist.

Lannisters paid good money for their dirty work to be done by someone other than them. Toji was more than happy to comply once he heard the price for your head was enough to last him a few years, maybe even more if he stopped betting on jousting events. He asked no questions, and didn’t bother dwelling on the reason why they wanted you dead. Though, if he had to guess, it might have been because you were the most eligible noble lady to be married off to the king (a white-haired cunt, Toji liked to call him). Being Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms was clearly a position the Lannisters were hungry to get their claws on. 

Toji didn’t really care. He was just happy to get the gold.

It was supposed to be a simple, easy task. After all, you lived in a cushy castle, draped in expensive furs and coats, eating the softest of breads and drinking the sweetest of nectars. The spoiled brats were always the easiest to take out. 

Getting into Winterfell went smoother than he’d expected. A few miles down the road leading to the castle, he’d killed two men driving a horse-led cart full of wine barrels—meant to be delivered right to Winterfell. 

And so he got through the South gate with ease. The guards interrogated about the wine, and Toji prattled on about the aging process of the alcohol, the special concoction of grapes and infused spices, the sweetness of the reds, the tartness of the gold wines, and whatnot. None of it was really true, of course. Toji just spoke out of his ass, pulled out product papers he found in the satchels of the men he killed, and smiled charmingly when the guard waved his hand to let him pass.

A gangly, young stableboy with red hair and blue eyes escorted him to cellars, where the wine barrels would be stored. And, after asking the little boy, Toji realized, to his utter delight, the Great Keep was just above him. 

Up the cobblestone staircase he went, far louder than a mouse, but Toji moved quick enough for it not to matter. 

There was one problem, however. He hadn’t taken into account the possibility of you not being in your chambers. Which, you clearly weren’t. The entire Keep was silent and vacant, save for a few handmaidens he spotted collecting soiled laundry. He made sure to keep out of their sight.

And so, Toji settled for waiting in the largest chamber—which he assumed was yours, being the Warden of the North and all. He glanced around, inspecting all the trinkets laid about on your desk: silver jewelry, shoddy wooden carvings of wolves, and, interestingly, various scabbarded daggers. He pocketed what looked to be of some value. He inspected some more, lazed around on your large bed, and rifled through the many furs and fine garments in your closet. Many of the dresses he held up to his chest spanned only half the width of his broad shoulders, much to his amusement.

Hours later, once footsteps echoed down the hall, Toji sprang up from the polished wooden chair (he totally hadn’t fallen asleep) and hid behind the door. 

You strode in, covered in dirt, snow, and dried blood. There were leaves clinging to your hair. It seemed that you’d just gotten back from a hunting party. You had yet to spot the tall, burly man in your chambers, your back still to him as you began to shirk off your boots.

That was when Toji moved. 

Curved blades in hand, Toji surged forward and aimed to stab you right through your heart—

You turned around just in time to see your direwolf lunge at the figure, her sharp teeth sinking into Toji’s shoulder. The man let out a startled cry of pain, the weight of the wolf sending him careening down to the ground, his head cracking against one of the posts of your bed. Stars danced about his vision as pain shot down from nearly every part of his body.

Its teeth tore through the musculature of his bicep and collar, its claws tearing through his tunic and the skin of his abdomen with each swipe. Toji landed a poorly aimed strike to the direwolf’s midriff, but she merely grew more aggressive in her ministrations. 

Nobody had told him you had a fucking direwolf.

If he’d known, he would’ve reconsidered taking the job. He still would have agreed, in the end, the gold was too much to turn down, but it would’ve been good information to know beforehand. 

Curse the Lannisters. Curse their gold. Curse you and your stupid pet—

“Down, Reika,” you ordered, which had the accursed beast backing away from him with snarling, bared teeth, dripping with what he assumed was his blood. “Good girl.”

Toji made a strangled noise of pain as he attempted to sit up.

“It’s been a long day,” you stiffly told him, eyes narrowed as you knelt down and pressed one of the daggers from your desk—now unsheathed—right over his jugular. The cold metal kissed his skin and he immediately stopped moving. He could see his weapon scattered an arm’s length behind you. There was no way he could possibly reach it without you slitting his throat first. “Hunting party gone wrong. I wanted nothing more than to come home and take a long, hot bath. And what do I have to deal with? A sad attempt at an assassination, and my carpets covered in your blood.”

Toji scowled, but said nothing in return. 

“Guards,” you said, strangely calm for someone who had nearly (if not for your wretched, overgrown dog) been assassinated. “Take him to the dungeons.”

As Toji was dragged away, leaving a dripping trail of blood in his wake, he caught a glimpse of you kneeling by your wolf, your hand shaking with adrenalized fear you hadn’t dared show in front of him. He was glad he was able to see it—just a glimpse of weakness was more than enough ammunition for him.

The dungeons were cold and dreary. Much like the rest of the North, Toji bitterly thought. It was hard to see as well, for the sparse few torches hanging on the walls only barely lit the walkway. 

He could hear everything, though. Dripping of water in the distance. A raven cawing outside. The torch’s flame whispering greed to the air. Footsteps growing louder—

Toji sat up against the wall when a figure stepped in front of the wrought metal bars, dark with decades of use and age. 

“Food,” came your voice. “I don’t usually do this, you know.”

The man, your prisoner, lazily tilted his head up from his position on the ground to look at you, his gaze dropping down to your hands where one carried a bowl of braised meat and the other held a chalice of wine. The chalice alone was probably worth more than anything he’d ever owned in his life.

“Bring food to a man? I can tell,” Toji dryly responded.

Your expression remained unchanged. “Bring food to a prisoner.”

It was then that Toji noticed a pair of glowing eyes by your legs, the beast’s tale curling over the back of your knees. The maester might have bound him up nice and clean (though not without pursed lips of obvious disapproval), but his wounded shoulder still throbbed with terrible pains. 

“You brought your dog,” he observed.

“Wolf,” you corrected. “Her name is Reika.”

“Wretched thing,” Toji half-heartedly snarled.

The beast snarled back at him. Its eyes, amber and sharp, only grew brighter with agitation.

You decided to ignore his comment. “Do you want to tell me what you were doing in my chambers?”

There was clear disdain in your features, from what little Toji could see of it anyway, but he could also pick up on the evident curiosity there—it wasn’t every day you had to deal with a Southern commoner.

“Won’t make much of a difference now, would it?” he drawled, kicking his feet out so he could rest his elbows over propped-up knees.

“Your choice of words could very likely spark up a war between houses,” you said. It was said as a jest, though you knew it was a large possibility. 

“Would be no fun to start a war if I’m not there to partake,” came his reply. His stomach cinched as he inhaled sharply, the warm smell of peppered venison wafting through his cell. “You came here to give me food and yet you’re still clutching onto it like a babe with its mother’s teat.”

“You have a foul mouth,” you said, now slightly amused. Who knew the Warden of the North had a sense of humor? “Tell me who sent you. Then comes the food.”

Toji glowered some more. For a minute, he considered what you’d do if he simply refused to say anything. But his tummy grumbled, and his resolve dissipated into mist.

“The Lannisters paid me a pretty sum to have you dead,” he said. 

To his interest, you didn’t seem a single bit surprised. “Ah. Yes, I suspected so. Jenna Lannister was particularly prickly to me last we met.”

“Are you going to give me the food or what?” Toji barked, words heavy with irritation. He really couldn't care less about your snooty endeavors.

“I don’t want the throne,” you went on, much to his chagrin. Though, you did lower yourself to his same position and slipped your wrists through the bars to place down the bowl and chalice. “Not the Iron one, at least. The burden is heavy… and the North is enough for me. Marrying the king means I’d have to sire heirs, and I have no interest in doing so. Winterfell is not short of Starks—my brother and his lady wife have had enough little children for our name to carry on the family legacy for centuries.”

Toji could have easily grabbed at your wrists and slammed your head bloody into the bars. Your stinking mutt made him pause, however, and you pulled away before he could make a move. 

Besides, he was hungry.

Toji tore at the meat like a rabid animal. It fell apart in a deliciously tender manner. Hot soup dribbled down his palms, which he ravenously licked away. You didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, you took a seat opposite his cell and watched him with clear fascination.

“How’d you get that scar?”

Toji chewed at a particularly large chunk of meat and swallowed it with little effort. “Not everyone grows up in a lavish castle eating pastries and meats and sucking squire cock.”

It took you a moment to respond, but when you did, your words were calm and flat. “I’ve brought you meat. If it is pastries and squire cock you require, you need only ask. Give you a taste of a lordly life.”

Now you really must have been japing. Mocking him, even. Toji didn’t find you all that funny. 

“Why are you here?” he gruffed around another mouthful after taking a long swig of wine. “Are friends hard to come by in the North? Or is it just you?”

That seemed to strike a nerve. You sucked at your teeth. 

“I saw you,” he pressed. “As your guards dragged me away. I saw you looking scared. Cowering by your wolf because I nearly got you. If that beast hadn’t been there, you would have been long dead. It would suit you.” Toji’s eyes gave you an intrusive onceover, despite all the layers you were wearing. “You’d make a lovely corpse.”

“Only a fool fights back fear,” you shot back, though it was quite obvious that your confidence had taken a blow. “Fear keeps us alive.”

Toji made a humming noise into the bowl that he picked up to slurp at the last remaining drops of soup. 

“More,” he demanded once he pulled his face away, tongue laving over his lips to catch what had smeared over his mouth. The portion you had given him was ridiculously small.

Perhaps that was a calculated choice. Toji only realized that when you spared him a cold little smile. 

“Hey!” he growled out when you pushed yourself back onto your feet. “I’m fucking starving here!”

Silent as a wraith, you strode out of the dungeons with Reika padding along beside you.

Much time passed. Each night (Toji assumed it was night, he could hardly tell since there were no windows anyway), you would come down with a bit of food and drink. You would sit and talk with him about the most mundane of things, the most asinine of topics, and the most boring of subjects. Toji yawned and yawned so you would take the hint, but you ignored him each time.

He was beginning to think you truly didn’t have any friends up there. Other than your stinky mutt, of course.

There was even one time where you had opened the grating. From what he heard, Starks were quite religious folk—slobbering all over their bloody trees and old gods. He’d told you he wanted to see the Godswood as he himself was devout (he, of course, was nowhere near devout and hadn't prayed a single day in his life), and you, with softened eyes, reluctantly agreed on the condition that he remained shackled and quiet. 

He killed a guard that night trying to escape. You struck him with a terribly strong blow to the back of his head, and your damned wolf sunk its teeth into his shin. The maester was none too happy to see him again. No milk of the poppy was administered, so he suffered through the pain. It was all worth it, though. He was outside of the dungeons for a grand total of two seconds, and the air had never tasted so clear and so sweet. 

You were angry at him for quite a while but still found it in you to visit nearly every day, which Toji found highly amusing. Then you grew soft on him again (which took many moons), and Toji oft wondered if you usually pardoned prisoners this quickly. 

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Toji asked on the seventh moon of him being your prisoner. Of course, he had asked this question multiple times before, but your answer seemed to always vary.

You may be of value. You do not deserve death. The gods smile at mercy. Reika likes you. 

Those were all reasons you’d given him before. Though Toji had a very hard time believing the last one.

You regarded him with knitted brows. “If I’m being honest… I’ve grown quite fond of you.”

Toji drew his head back in surprise. Then, an arrogant, flirtatious smile flitted over his scarred mouth. It was the same smile he used to use on whores in the Street of Silk so they would take him to their seducing chambers—he could never understand how the drawers and shelves of whorehouses seemed to always have an abundance of loose coppers and silvers. 

“But—” You began to continue but Toji quickly cut you off.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said, lifting a hand up. You frowned. “You’ve fallen in love with me. And you’re thinking that if the circumstances were different, we’d be pawing at each other’s bodies like there was no tomorrow. And you worry that your people wouldn’t approve. You needn’t worry about such matters—I’m sure Northern folk would regard me as your equal if you let me out of the cell and force me into marriage. That would make me their liege lord, wouldn’t it?”

An indignant look settled over your features, your skin flushed as if you’d downed a heady drink.

“Are you mad? Of course I’m not in love with you, you imbecile,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “Besides—I’m not looking to marry anyone. And if I was, you’d be the very last on my list, thank you very much.”

Toji didn’t even have the gall to look embarrassed at his bold assumption.

“I had to try, didn’t I?” He gave you that lazy smirk once more. “Being Lord of Winterfell sounds like a cushy life. Cushier than this one, at least.”

“Well…” You toyed with a frayed thread on your robes. “I can offer you a life cushier than prison.”

Toji snorted. “I’m not going to be a glorified stableboy or a squire. I’d much rather sit here and have you bring me food than the other way around.”

“I considered sending you to the Night’s Watch,” you admitted with a ponderous look. “There are plenty of men like you there—I’m sure they would welcome another good fighter.” Toji didn’t have time to snark about how you’d complimented him before you were already speaking again. “But then I realized that you might still be of use to me.”

“I’m a good bed warmer,” offered Toji. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laid on a plush bed. Not since yours, at least. He thought about your bed often. Usually without you in it. The times he did imagine you there, your wolf always came in and ruined his entire lovely daydream.

You spared him an unamused look. “I want you to be my spy. Ears and eyes for me down South. Particularly in the West, where the lands crawl with Lannister cock-sucking houses. I need to know what they plan so I can be five steps ahead.”

A moment of silence passed by. Toji’s upper lip curled into a sneer.

“No,” he began to protest. “Why in the seven hells would I—”

“I’ll pay you with enough gold to sink you to the bottom of the ocean. And once you have tired of gold, I’ll fill you with as much venison stew as your heart desires. And once you get sick of that, I will find you a Northern castle and grant you the title of a lord for your services. You’ll live the rest of your days comfortably. Granted you do as I tell you, of course.”

That made Toji pause and consider your offer.

“Why me?” he finally asked. He drew nearer to the bars, nearer to you. 

“You’re a Southerner, aren’t you? You know the lands better than any of my loyal Northmen. You’d… fit in.”

Toji wanted to laugh. He wasn’t ever very good at fitting in.

“How do you know I wouldn’t just lie to you and ally myself with the Lannisters?”

“Because,” you huffed, nose wrinkling. “You think they’re all cunts. You’ve said it yourself plenty of times. And—I’m not foolish enough to have you as my sole plant. If you lie, I’ll know. And I’ll have Reika hunt you down… and she won’t be held back this time.”

She was holding back the previous times? Toji distantly thought with a scowl. 

“What do you say?”

“It’s a far journey down South. You’ll miss me.” Toji’s cheek pressed up against the uneven metal bars. They were so cold it felt as if they were burning right through his flesh. 

“I’ll find another prisoner to entertain,” you replied, eyes glimmering. Another jape. You didn’t deny his words, however.

A moment of considerable silence passed. Toji bowed his head ever so slightly. The first time he’d ever done so to you.

“I’m in, Wolf.” It didn’t pass his notice how your eyes lit up, how your back stood a little straighter, how your fingers curled excitedly into the fabric of your riding cloak. You didn’t even seem to mind the nickname he’d given you. “When do I start?”

#toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #toji fushiguro fanfiction #toji x reader #toji fushiguro fanic #toji fushiguro fluff #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro angst #jujutsu kaisen toji x reader #toji fushiguro imagines #toji fushiguro drabbles #toji zenin x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[yxami]

happy nut or not November day 8!!!

description: Yandere popstar x gn manager reader, yandere themes, possessiveness, slight angst, love sick pop-star, obsession, this idea is deep from my drafts that I decided to use for nnn, he’s so dramatic I love him

When you went into the music industry, you expected to be managing a rock star, someone with your music taste and style. It would make perfect sense to be paired up with someone that was exactly like you right? Apparently not, not to him anyways.

You managed to sign someone after months of trying, you had no real connections to anyone and it was hard to find someone that would place their trust into a nobody with no history in the industry.

It stung for a bit, until you found him, Lynx was his name, and originally you thought that was a stage name, but he introduced himself and even showed his license to prove it to you, proudly beaming at your studio doorstep after seeing an ad of yours.

He was bright, and happy, a complete contrast to the dark look in the recording room behind you but you shook off the surprise and introduced yourself as well. He seemed excited to start and was quick to write lines down for his first song.

It honestly shocked you how good the numbers were when you looked at how fast his first song went in the charts, hitting ranks you’ve only dreamed to happen far into your career.

Everything went smoothly after that, he busted his ass and made more songs while you managed everything on the sidelines that would bore him almost immediately. He left you with all the things that he would hate to do, even his taxes.

It’s not like he was letting you do everything unappreciated. He’d cling onto you and cover you in every little affection you’d allow him to do before you’d make him sit on the opposite side of the couch for 10 minutes so you could have space for yourself before he was stuck to you again.

And now this was almost your everyday life as your manager for him, maybe a little too close to your now employer but he was the one who initiated everything so you couldn’t say much, you didn’t care either way.

“Are you happy! I got on the top chart again, 10th place! 10th!” Lynx cheers, happily jumping into your arms on the couch and he awaits your praise, batting his brown lashes at you, brown from the tinted mascara he uses.

“Good job Lyn” You ruffle up his hair, patting him as you let him sit comfortably on top of your thighs, he’s exactly like those microwaveable stuffed animals meant for your lap and stomach, but he was ten times bigger and way clingier than a normal person should be.

He practically purrs at your praise that he already expected, putting your arms to wrap around his lower stomach like he usually preferred, if not that then at his waist.

“What should I try hitting next? 5th place? Maybe even 1st? I think I’ll hit 1st place once I do my live concert” He stares at the TV playing some boring news until it pops up, talking about him.

You tell him to be more humble and try to be grateful about hitting 10th place before worrying about what he’d get next.

And soon comes the day for his live concert, he’s jumping up and down, a bit with anxiety and a lot with pure joy that he gets to see his fans in real life and not just as an online number.

He’s getting ready, finding it easier to do his own makeup instead of hiring makeup artists. You can see his vanity is already decorated in his favorite things to make him feel at home. With a few pictures you don’t even recognize showing him of yourself.

“Manager! Manager! Look, don’t I look nice?” Lynx gets up to hug you, only to be blocked with your hand, so he’s left with furrowed eyebrows and his arms out with nothing to grab on.

“Did I.. do something wrong?” His eyes soften, nose already turning a shade of pink as his bottom lip quivers, he already seemed to be on the brink of crying.

“We’re in public remember? Even backstage there’s people to worry about. I told you a week ago, Lynx” You hope he doesn’t take it to heart but you don’t want anything to ruin his career.

What would happen if his lovesick fans found out that he was so close to his manager? They would tear you and his career down just for assuming that the two of you had something, and their idea of having a chance with him would be ruined. Thus leading to his downfall because of the way his fans are.

“So? I don’t care if they see me with you” He insists, feeling his heart burn at your rejection to him wanting affection, something he’s never experienced and he hates it already.

“I’m not going to sit here and explain about what could happen again” You sigh, rubbing your temple at his stubbornness but understand it since you’ve spoiled him a little too much.

You decide that it’s best if you just talk to him after the show, then he’ll probably be more willing to understand.

“Let’s just relax until this is all over, okay?”

Okay. He thinks. Maybe when he’s done singing and enters backstage then you’ll be so proud you’ll hug him, that would be seem like a regular celebration right?

Then you’d be able to do it without worrying about others thinking differently.

And then you’d love him like he loves you, right?

Lynx step up on the stage, a bit anxious since his mind is still focused on you, you’re going to be watching him, he doesn’t care anymore about the rest of the fans lined up in rows cheering, just about you.

As he greets the crowd there’s just a gnawing thought that maybe you didn’t want to show him affection anymore, maybe it wasn’t just about the people and what they might think.

His heart hurts, it hurts so bad at these stupid thoughts plaguing his mind and he tries blinking away his tears. He’s on stage for gods sake! He can’t just start tearing up.

He manages to cool off and start preforming, but the second he finishes he sings his goodbyes and rushes backstage into his dressing room. Sobbing off his makeup as he puts his head down on his vanity. He’s so embarrassed, he knows that you probably saw him looking conflicted on stage.

Did he do okay? Did he impress you? Damn he hates this.

“Lyn, you did so—“ You pause as you step into the room, looking at the back of his head since he was still crying with his forehead pressed onto his folded arms. “You okay?” You quickly close the door and go up to him, brushing the hair out of his face after he looks up.

His makeup is running down his face, and somehow he still looks pretty, even when he’s crying, he’s still never fails to impress you.

“N-no, you’r— you’re” He stutters out between sobs, getting embarrassed that he can’t speak because of his loud sniffles that demand for air, so much so that he stops trying and puts his head back down.

“It’s okay, look im listening, what’s wrong?” You coo, extremely worried to what caused this reaction, he did so well on stage that it’s left you puzzled, what could’ve gone wrong?

“You s—still like me right?” He tries wiping the tears off his face but his palm just glides off his cheeks from how wet they were, he continued this useless movement until you grab a tissue and start wiping his face.

“Of course I do, what makes you think I don’t?” You purse your lips as you still try thinking about what invoked these worries out of him.

“You didn’t wanna hug me” He mumbles, embarrassed at how stupid it sounds but how can help it when he’s so in love with you? He’s always had this obsession.

“I was just worried about people getting the wrong idea, I still like you, we’re always going to be friends” You hug him as he stands up, he takes in deep breaths, inhaling your comforting scent that he’s always loved.

“Mm sorry, i was just really worried” He sulks, looking like a kicked puppy as he tightly embraces you. He’s so self conscious about his useless worries but so happy that you still liked him.

It did sting when you said friends but maybe you’ll see him as more if he proved himself. This just means he would have to try ten times harder to earn your love and he was prepared to do so.

#yxami’s yam #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #pls request #yandere singer #yandere idol #obsessive yandere #yandere obsession #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere preformer #yandere pretty #yandere clinger #clingy yandere

[kairiscorner]

Could you do a spoiled!f! Reader and Miguel as her bodyguard? She has a boyfriend who's garbage but she's not used to anything healthy?

hello !!! oh damn, i really like this idea >:D I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

it's my job to care — bodyguard!miguel o'hara x spoiled!fem!reader

summary: he was a hardened man and knew how to get what he wanted out of people, but when it came to you, that was easier said than done. he does his best to protect you from anybody that'd pose as a threat to you, but when he caught you crying about your asshole of a boyfriend... he feels like he failed to protect you like he swore he'd do. word count: 1,011

author's note: man i wanna write more about this trope, TEEHEE !! might make more of this in future, or not, but we'll see.

miguel looked at you through the rearview mirror and saw you gloomily staring at your phone, the glare coming from the screen illuminating your face and showing signs of you tearing up a little. "you might get car sick, don't go on your phone in a moving vehicle." he said as he shifted his gaze from you to the road. surprisingly, you followed him and put your phone away, then you leaned your head against the window and stared at the road and trees passing you by. miguel wasn't used to you not spitting out snarky comments at him or calling him an 'old man' when he was about your age.

miguel took in a breath and looked over at you again. "...did something happen?" he asked you in a softer voice as you shook your head and sighed. "just feeling shitty is all." you murmured as you lay down on the seats. miguel played some music for you, but you immediately groaned for him to turn it off. "what's wrong, you like it when i play that music for you." "i hate that artist." "not yesterday you didn't. you keep singing their songs all the time, wasn't it your boyfriend who–" "please. not another word about that... ugh." you muttered as miguel got the hint and stopped talking about him. miguel couldn't really take the silence as the car ride prolonged, it put him in an uneasy disposition. he sighed and pulled up at your favorite fast food place and parked the car in the parking lot. he got out of the car, and as you looked at him quizzically, he opened the door and extended his hand out to you. "you didn't seem like you liked the food at the party when i came in with you, figured you wanted to come here instead." he said as you took his hand and went inside with him.

you felt so out of place with the people in there, what with being at your boyfriend's party and dressing a little less modestly, but miguel was always a step ahead as always and gave you his blazer to cover you up. he buttoned it for you so nobody would see a thing. "sorry if it's too big." he apologized as you muttered a "don't worry about it". miguel asked you what you wanted, as you told him everything you wanted, he nodded and murmured, "i was right, it'd be the usual, huh." you were surprised he paid attention to what you liked and even offered you his blazer, you've never really had anybody else in your life do that for you before he did it for you.

before miguel ordered, he looked at you and quickly guided you to a vacant seat. "you don't have to stand and wait for me, it's fine." he said as he went back in line to order. as he came back, he sat across you and looked at you with a hint of worry in his eyes. "so... what's got you in a 'shitty' mood, princess?" he asked you without a hint of condescension or sarcasm, instead, his voice was filled with genuine curiosity and concern. you sighed as you debated with yourself whether or not to tell him what happened at the party when you insisted miguel could stay at the car. you fidgeted with your fingernails as you exhaled. "...my boyfriend didn't... keep his promise." you whispered, which miguel still heard loud and clear.

he folded his arms as he leaned closer towards you. "what was that promise?" he asked you as the food soon arrived. you sighed and slowly, as you ate, you began to open up to miguel about how your boyfriend promised to hang out with you more recently, but every time, he failed to do so, giving you the same stupid excuse and promise to make it up to you. but even at his own party, where you were the guest of honor, he couldn't even do that. but as you spoke, you found yourself complaining and ranting about how inadequate everything else about your boyfriend was, how he never showed excitement in anything you were proud of, how he keeps asking you why you can't be like the other girls he knows, why you keep seeing other guys and not him when he's trying to hang out with you more–he was awful.

miguel listened to you the whole time, never once butting in and offering an unnecessary opinion nor gaslighting you as to why you were so unsatisfied with your boyfriend. as the tears you were holding in started falling from your eyes, miguel hurriedly offered you a handkerchief from his pocket. "i'm so sorry to hear that, he's... a son of a bitch." he said as he looked at your eyes that were reddening and glistening. "he is..." you found yourself agreeing to him as miguel offered you his water. "i know i'm just a bystander here, but, don't feel compelled to stay with him if all he's been doing is hurting you." he said as he looked at you with kind eyes.

you looked at miguel from underneath your wet eyelashes, and you sobbed out a 'thank you' to him for, well, everything. before miguel could give you any 'you're welcome', he excused himself and went outside for a minute. he came back soon, though, with a small bouquet of roses in his hand. "for the prettiest, yet brattiest, princess i know. sorry today didn't go as expected, but i hope this might cheer you up, even just a little bit." he said with a quiet voice as he handed the bouquet to you. he had hoped the small gift he gave you was enough to make you feel at least a little bit happier, though little did he realize, he's shown you much more love than you've ever received from your boyfriend–or any partner–who's ever loved you, ever.

maybe he'll be the first one to ever treat you the way you deserve to be treated, maybe.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck @jrrantss @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0 @ophanimgold

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #atsv #atsv imagines #atsv fluff #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

[jaidens]

And When I Felt Like I Was An Old Cardigan

pairing [s] : spencer reid x reader

warning [s] : baby spencer | angst with comfort \ fluff | crying | mentions of spencers addiction |

a/n [s] : requests are open!! short imagine I guess

Spencer was young.

Spencer was young and had gone through more than any twenty-three year olds had. He was bullied and ridiculed throughout his school years, and was constantly working. His mind was on everything, how to be better and how to show people he wasn't some scrawny kid with some luck and brains.

It followed him into his adult life. In his work, if you didn't pull through you were pushed out. Spencer knew he had to continue to work on his information which led to him reading many books each week and never letting him do what he wanted. Whether that was binging Star Trek every night or eating cake and cookies while making fun of scientific facts in random television shows.

Eventually, after the Tobias Hankel case, he was at his all time low in his adult life. Spencer felt as if he had nothing to live for and he was shoved further down in his experiences. He felt like he was pushed on a shelf, and put away, for nobody to care or think about him. That was until he met you, an agent from a different branch of the F.B.I. You let him talk about his thoughts on the case and other facts that could travel along his sentences. It made him feel seen and that's all he needed.

After the case ended, you had called him, and asked if he wanted to get a cup of coffee and see a movie. He accepted it gratefully, meeting you on a frosty November morning. He's clad in a thick cardigan above a button up shirt and a bundle of feelings of worry. Spencer sees you in a small booth near the window, sipping on hot (what he learned to be) chamomile tea. There's a relaxing, acoustic song that's playing on the speakers.

He's gripping onto his leather satchel as he walks over to you. You look at him with eyes that he can get lost in through the dangerous labyrinth of the color. Spencer's hands go to his glasses and he readjusts them on his nose and stumbles to the table. His clothes seem to feel as if they're sticking against his skin as he sits down in the plush brown seat in front of you.

“Hi Spencer.” You say giving him a small smile and take another sip out of your steaming tea. Hes staring at you like you're a new book, the smell of a new book, and everything he loves about the sound of the first page turn. “...Hi.” Spencer responds letting out a breath he had been holding in, letting his shoulders drop and relax.

Spencer's eyes fall on the book that sits on the table that was aged and the spine wasn't in the best condition. He recognizes the name that's etched on the front. “Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë?” He asks you pointing at the book. You set down your tea and nod. “Yes! It's one of my favorites. Whatever our souls are made of...”

“...his and mine are the same.” Spencer finishes and you smile at him, the waitress walks over and Spencer tells her his order of a coffee with four sugars and two creamers. Whatever Spencer was doing, it was working. The soft charm he had to him whenever his dimples would show whenever he would smile, was working.

The same smile showed up the day he asked you to be his. He handed you a book with a note written inside with his messy hand writing. He can still remember the flash of happiness in your eyes as you ran up to him and kissed him. It didn't make sense to him for the first time in forever. It didn't make sense why he was terrified to look at you the next day as you wake up in his bed next to him.

He turns to the other side of the bed where you're laying, covered with his brown comforter. Spencer's hands suddenly feel sweaty and he's anxious, because that's his fiancee, laying in bed and the ring shines against the sun. If you would have asked twenty-three year old Spencer where he would be at 30, he wouldn't be able to answer you. Now, he knows. He knows that he's in complete and utter awe of his fiancee and that he's finally happy. This is what he's dreamed of for years, whenever he was a kid reading fairytale books over and over again.

Spencer finally had been seen and he was never losing it.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x wife!reader #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff

[lovelytsunoda]

twelve fractures // pierre gasly

summary: the four times that y/n leclerc almost called pierre gasly, and the one time that he gave in and called her

tell me, if I were to smile now, in the dead of the dark, would it even exist? i fantasize about those nights you sewed your lips to mine there were shortcuts into heaven through your eyes

pairing: pierre gasly x leclerc! reader ( brother's best friend ).

warnings: age gap ( reader is arthur's twin, which makes her 22 and pierre is 27 ), loss of virginity via a one night stand with pierre, hella angst, pierre is a little toxic at a few points in here. consumption of alchohol. descriptions of and allusions to sex. mentions of ferrari struggling in 2022. lots of miscommunication.

authors note: i hope you guys are ready for pain bc i think this one might hurt y'all a bit.

the first call.

she sat at the booth in the corner, her phone case warm against her hand as she stared numbly at the contact in front of her.

pierre 🍐. the contact photo was of the two of them when they were kids. the gaslys had always been family friends of hers, they grew up together.

so falling in love with him should have been inevitable.

y/n leclerc reached for her tumbler again, downing the last of her third glass of the night. she was well and truly drunk, and she was counting down the minutes until she was drunk enough to call pierre gasly and say all the things she wished that she had told him sooner.

tell him that she was sorry for making shit weird after that night in japan.

"what are you doing moping in the corner?"

she looked up from her phone, frowning at her twin brother as arthur leclerc slid into the booth next to her.

"the fuck do you care? you got into formula two, you should be celebrating."

y/n had never been the athletically inclined sibling. arthur and charles were thriving in motorsports. nobody was quite sure what lorenzo was doing but it seemed to be working for him. y/n just had half a draft of a manuscript sitting on her laptop that she was too scared to finish.

because she never finished anything. never saw it through.

"come on, y/n. you know that i can tell when something is wrong. how much have you had to drink?" arthur frowned, pushing the empty glass away as y/n shut off her phone, hoping that her brother wouldn't notice who she was about to call.

"can we leave, arthur? are you sober enough to drive me home?" her voice was quiet, broken as she looked over to where arthur should have been celebrating with the other prema drivers.

this had never been her world. what happened after japan should have just proven that.

a flash of panic shot through arthur's veins. "are you okay?"

"not really." she didn't trust herself not to cry. "just take me home, arthur."

once she was safely inside arthur's ferrari, her first tear began to fall, dragging a thick mascara trail down her porcelain cheek as she rested her head against the window, the grease from her hair staining the window.

"i hoped that if i got drunk enough, i'd finally have the guts to call him." she said quietly, the radio humming softly in the background with the kind of song she would have hated if arthur hadn't liked it so much.

"call who?" arthur asked, stopping at a traffic light and reaching for his sister's hand.

"pierre. things haven't been right between us for a long time."

arthur frowned, but he didn't say anything. he wasn't sure if there was anything for him to say. he never had been the sibling who dealt with emotions the best. that had always been lorenzo's job.

"i gave him everything, arthur. my time, my energy." she paused, covering her mouth as she felt a sob wrack her body, mascara tears dropping onto her fingers. "my virginity." she managed to cough out. "and he's been avoiding me ever since."

arthur paused, stopping the car in the shoulder of the empty monte carlo street, flicking on his hazard lights before he undid his seatbelt and leaned over the console to wrap his baby sister in his arms.

they may have been twins, but arthur was born exactly three minutes and forty-five seconds first, making him the older brother by default, and that was a job that he took very seriously.

he knew the weight of that statement more than he should have. while arthur and charles, and god, even lorenzo, had been sexually adventurous from the moment they turned sixteen, their sister didn't see life like that. she had barely even dated. she hadn't gone on her first date until she was nineteen years old, and there had only been three dates with him before she got scared and broke it off.

arthur knew how big a deal it was that she had felt comfortable enough with someone to give up that part of herself, to feel that vulnerable.

"when did that happen?"

"suzuka." she swallowed, reaching into the glove compartment for a box of tissues. "and it's not that i didn't enjoy it..."

"he didn't know he was your first, did he?" arthur said softly, tracing circles on his sister's shoulder as he held her. "let me guess, you got scared, and you shut down. maybe he was too rough with you for your first time. i was always scared that this would happen, i just never thought it would be with pierre gasly of all people."

"except i wasn't the one who stopped all contact when things got weird. that was all him, arthur. he was gone by morning and things haven't felt right since."

she sat there in arthur's arms, the hazard lights on the cherry red ferrari blinking in the dark night air as she thought about japan. how distraught pierre had been after the race, when he called her and said that he didn't want to be alone. she had shown up with a box of pizza and a case of japanese beer.

she thought about how she had ended up with his lips on hers, her bra thrown over a lamp. her fists clenching the sheets as pierre took her from behind, moaning his name until her throat was dry and her voice was hoarse. how aroused she had been when his large hands spanked her, leaving a red mark on her ass.

how the bed had been cold and empty when she woke up the next morning, pierre gasly's arms no longer around her.

she wasn't quite sure if she had been okay since.

the second call.

she had finally done it. taking the pain she felt after what happened with pierre, she hunkered down with her laptop and she finished her manuscript. every emotion, every shred of anger had been poured out on the pages, the words written in times new roman scribbled across the page.

and now, she was standing in the middle of waterstones, in the middle of london, stacks upon stacks of her book surrounding her.

and with the phone in her hand, her thumb itched to press the 'call' button next to pierre's name. he had been the number one supporter of her novel when she started writing. he had wanted an advance readers copy signed sealed and delivered to his apartment in milan.

she'd been watching the doors all night, hoping that he would walk in.

and she hated herself for being disappointed when he didn't.

his name had made it into the acknowledgments. trying to keep her brothers' careers separate from her own, all her acknowledgments had been done with initials. CL. PG. AL.

"you should be enjoying your party, y/n. is everything okay?" charles asked softly, passing her a glass of champagne. "you're waiting for pierre, aren't you?"

y/n coughed, trying not to let on to her older brother that he was right. "who told you?"

"arthur. you know that he can't keep a secret for shit."

"i didn't want you to know, charles. he's your best friend. i feel like i'm forcing you to choose sides."

charles shook his head, pulling his sister in for a hug, despite her protests. "there aren't any sides to choose, y/n. he's always going to be my best friend, but you're my sister. and the way he's been acting is unreasonable. in fact, if he had the nerve to show up tonight, we'd probably both end up in the drunk tank."

“but he should be here, charles. I probably wouldn’t have ever entertained this fucking fever dream without him.” she said quietly, resting her face on her brothers shoulder. “I don’t know what to do. I want him back, even if he doesn’t want me. why can’t I move on?”

"it's okay, y/n. it's okay." charles soothed, smoothing out his baby sister's hair. "being emotional is a strength, kiddo. one day, you're going to find someone who loves you back the same way that you love them. and if he hurts you, i'll break his knees."

y/n chuckled. "all you would need to do is put him in the car with mattia on the radio."

charles groaned. "don't even start! i'd break my own knees if it meant our strategy team pulled their shit together."

the third call.

the sun was setting over the sand and the palm trees in abu dhabi as y/n and her brother sat in the paddock, drink glasses in hand, sunglasses pulled over eyes. the paddock in abu dhabi had always been one of her favourites.

the last few months had been good to her. her book had made it onto the new york times' bestseller list, and she was trending on booktok. she had gone out with her high school best friend, taking a week in austria to just exist without expectations.

she finally felt like she was in a good headspace. her stomach didn't hurt when she thought about pierre gasly, and she didn't feel like crying when she thought about suzuka.

she was finally okay.

she looked out from the patio of ferrari's hospitality suite, her sunglasses on her forehead and her skin toned pink from the sunset, and that's when she saw him.

pierre gasly was walking through the paddock, his snapback on backwards and the top three buttons on his linen shirt undone. he looked every bit as good as he had when he was leaning over her, the metal of his cross necklace cool against her breasts as he kissed her.

"y/n." lorenzo said softly, poking her in the shoulder. "try not to think about it. you've made so much progress, don't let it all come undone now."

but she was in a much better place. now, instead of sobbing or yelling down the phone, she felt ready to have a proper conversation with the man who took every part of her and shattered it when he waited until she was asleep to slip out of the hotel suite.

she went inside the cherry-red building, ordering a hot chocolate before pulling her phone out of her back pocket and circling back to that same damn contact.

pierre 🍐.

and this time, she called him.

and he didn't answer.

even though it shouldn't, it stung.

she hung up without leaving a message.

the fourth call.

it was christmas eve, snowflakes falling past the windows of pascale leclerc's monaco home. all of her children were gathered in the living room, the lights on the christmas tree dialed up to full intensity as charles filled the small glasses with eggnog. in the living room, lorenzo and arthur were already buzzed, singing 'fairytale of new york' at the top of their lungs, arms over shoulders.

"charles, let me help." y/n insisted with a chuckle, taking two of the glasses from her older brother.

"i've got it, y/n." charles insisted. "go have fun with arthur and lorenzo!"

y/n snorted. "they're drunk, singing christmas carols at the top of their lungs. i think i'll take a hard pass on that one."

charles laughed. "fair enough. okay, you take three glasses and i'll take three, meet you in the living room?"

"sounds fair."

charles took the first few glasses and slipped out of the kitchen, leaving the last three on the island for y/n to take. as she reached for the first glass, her phone, which was sitting facedown on the counter, buzzed twice.

pierre 🍐: merry christmas y/n! sending my love to you and the family.

her heart skipped a beat as she read the message. the first communication with any feeling since that night in japan.

y/n: merry christmas pierre. can we talk?

she should have waited for him to text her back before she called him. the dial tone rang once before she was forwarded to his voicemail, the iphone buzzing again in her palm.

pierre 🍐: i can't talk right now, y/n. i'm with my family.

fucking fine, then.

she shut her phone off, grabbing one of the small glasses of eggnog and downing it in one gulp.

and the time that he called her.

it was saturday night in bahrain when pierre finally called her. he'd screwed up in qualifying with his new team, and he would be setting up at the very back of the grid the following day for the race.

she was already halfway back to her rental car when pierre called her, the keys to her bmw dangling from her fingers.

"we need to talk. there are some things i need to tell you."

"that's an ominous way to start a phone call, gasly."

"now isn't the time for jokes, y/n. i'm serious, we need to talk about suzuka."

"why now, pierre?"

"because i hurt you, and i'm sorry. charles told me what's going on with you."

charles marc herve perceval leclerc, you son of a bitch.

"fine. you can buy me dinner while you're at it."

the air was icy in the restaurant as pierre and y/n sat in the corner booth. neither wanted to be the one to speak first. drinks had been ordered and delivered while y/n worked out what she wanted to say to him.

how hurt she really was.

"y/n." pierre started slowly. "i'm so sorry about japan, and everything that happened after. i was acting like a jerk, and i shouldn't have shut you out like that."

"so why did you, gasly?" y/n said softly, picking at the pasta dish in front of her.

"i didn't leave you in bed that morning. i went to buy us coffee. i swear i left you a note on the bedside table. you were exhausted and," he hesitated. "when we were lying in bed together, you mumbled something as you were falling asleep, i don't even think you knew what you were saying. but you said 'that's one hell of a way to lose your v-card'. knowing that i treated you like that for your very first time, that i was the first person to have touched you like that. . . i don't know, i think a part of me was ashamed."

"i didn't see a note, pierre. there was nothing on the bedside table when i woke up. just think about how i felt for a minute, would you?" y/n scoffed. "i got vulnerable with you, i let you do things to me that no man had ever done before. i let you spank me, for god's sake!"

"keep your voice down!" pierre hissed, overtly conscious about the eyes on him throughout the resteraunt.

there were some things that the general public just didn't want, or need, to hear.

"and you never thought to call? never thought to check in with me later?"

pierre shook his head. "when i got back, the note was under the bed. i wasn't sure if you had read it and cast it aside, or if it had gotten blown off the table by the door or something. i just assumed that you didn't want to talk to me again."

"and then i texted you at christmas."

"and then you texted me at christmas." pierre nodded. "can we start over, y/n? i really like you, and it kills me to know that i fucked up."

y/n reached over the table, taking his hand in hers. "we really are shit at communicating, aren't we?"

pierre laughed. "so i've been told."

y/n laughed, withdrawing her hand. "hi, i'm y/n leclerc, nice to meet you."

pierre smiled. "what are you doing?"

"starting over."

"hi, y/n. i'm pierre. it's lovely to meet you too."

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #alpine f1 #pierre gasly x y/n #Spotify

[enchantingseer]

What is your role in the world?

'Not everyone is born to war, nor to love but we all are born to live for both at times, but what is the role we play at the backstage ; when we take off the costume and keeping the scripts at the table..a courage to face the mirror and walking out in the street full of people what are you then? Is what today's reading is about, I do readings only if it is channeled so let your intuition guide you well ; )

Pick a Pile

1.Supporting Character/Audience

'Beautiful eyes keep longing for deep and endearing sights of act, efforts and play..you enjoy watching, observing, you can look at the sky for hours without getting tired, you have a tough job but you do it with so much compassion and professional touch that nothing stays in your mind, the novelty of you lies in the subtle nuances of picking up on details which satisfies your soul, you have always been second in your life, be it rank, position, or in personal life this affected you to become more resilient and follow the lead of someone to give you a better space of stage where at least your seen and being seen, heard, and felt makes you feel enough'

Signs : White clothes especially scarf makes or one scarf which you treasure a lot, seeing strangers crying and tearing, and smiling at them, seeing 6:16, 888 and 11:11

Career for you overall : Film Direction, Photography, Anything that needs minimal attention keeps you sane, manager, designer.

These careers can give you the sense of purpose in life as it is your role nobody can do it like you do.

_____________________________________________________________

2. Main Character

'Breathe, easy the world will go on if you rest and go on vacation for months, being at the spot can be heating at times that idea of being answerable to everyone gives you sleep paralysis and sleep talking is what your side effects of burning out results into, you need pause but everyone remembers about work as soon as you arrive even your family comes like 'hey I had to ask did you paid the bills? ' especially when you leave your room and come for fresh air, you feel being consumed all the time you want to shed, shed the way people perceive as it affects you mentally to keep in touch with the real you because there is very rare events to act yourself not any character filling the gaps in others life is like stopping between looking for the perfect mask for today and the kind of people you will meet'

Let me sigh, your future spouse has a message 'Calm down love, I was trying to connect with you when you skipped on your favourite love song, as you were busy I had lost my ear plug cover at my workplace and it was not the best day'

Advice : Leave everything aside and listen to the songs you love and sing your heart out especially when someone talks work sing a song

______________________________________________________________

3.Background Performer/Actor

'Struggling days are the best right? Nobody cares so do you..since you enjoy your two minute shadow appearance and celebrate as if you won an award for it, the cheerful optimism melts the moment everyone leaves, your role begins when you are alone, you act really very well, especially when nobody sees, maybe because you fear the judgement the lights, the shout pressure coming by the action, seeing the main lead being called out in insults walls your dreams under a illusion of having enough and asking for extra even in food makes you feel as if you are begging, guilt, trauma and ignorance seems to follow you'

Messages from Your Guardians : Leave your worries to us, we will ease the agony you carry, leave them to us and move forward we want to see you grow, grow out of yourself.

Signs : You have two opportunities at hand, make decision which has no regret attached, showcase your talent on social media, do not give up, people are noticing you do not leave !

______________________________________________________________

It was very personal I felt, I hope whoever it was meant for has got their messages it can be you if it is, let me know in the comments !

#divination #pyschic reading #wisdom #divine guidance #intutive reading #channelled message #pick a pile #pick a picture #gratitude #mysticism #cosmic angels #holy spirit #ancestors #love

[gummiworm-writes]

dottore x gn reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

a/n: evil insane villain who hates everyone but you is my favorite trope ever so here you go <3

word count: 636

dottore has no need for love. love is a human weakness, something that would only weigh him down and cause him to fall. he abandoned the concept of love the second he abandoned his humanity. the fatui worship him as a god, so why should he feel as a human?

the whole concept was ridiculous.

and yet...there you were.

destroying everything he thought he knew about himself. all with a single smile.

that damned smile.

it would be his downfall for sure.

you are dottore's primary assistant. the only person capable of dealing with all of his deranged ramblings and cruel studies. despite the distinct lack of humanity present in the lab, you always managed to remain calm...maybe even a little compassionate.

dottore treated you differently than everyone else. he treated you...well, not as an equal. nobody is an equal to him in his eyes, not even his own segments. but...you came close.

he claimed it was because he appreciated your competence and respected your work.

and you believed him.

because why would a harbinger as powerful as him actually care for a human as weak as you?

the very notion was absurd.

but...even then, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked at you. the way his voice seemed softer when directed at you, the way his hands gently brushed yours instead of harshly grabbing them...

no, no. you were just thinking into it too much. that's all.

today you and dottore were studying a new automaton. something khaenri'ahn that you'd never seen before. dottore called it a "ruin tarragon." you, on the other hand, preferred to call it "ingrid."

you were carefully inspecting the mechanisms on its legs, humming a tune from your home nation. usually, dottore had a record playing. not today. ingrid took up too much space in the workshop.

dottore didn't seem to mind your humming. you often caught him glancing over at you if you stopped, as if he was disappointed that your song was gone.

it was endearing.

well, as endearing as dottore could be.

hours fly by, and it's now time for a lunch break. dottore claims that he doesn't need to eat, but he still spends this break with you, occasionally stealing some of your snacks.

"what do you think the purpose of the tarragon was?" dottore asked suddenly. "it wasn't for war, i found no traces of weaponry. not for agriculture, as there was no room for equipment. and definitely not transportation...that would just be ridiculously unsafe, and the khaenri'ahns were smarter than that."

"hm..." you hummed, thinking. "maybe it was simply made for companionship?"

dottore gave you a confused look.

"the hell do you mean, 'companionship'?"

"well...it doesn't seem to serve any other purpose that I can think of. plus, it has rounded edges, and what appears to be places where there used to be fabric, almost as if it were meant to have a padded exterior."

"...but it looks so powerful and imposing. i doubt that it would make a very good companion."

"...break's over," dottore said, standing up. "we need to get back to work. on...ingrid.

"you'd be surprised," you said with a smile.

that damned smile.

"and what is that supposed to mean?" dottore asked, raising an eyebrow.

"not everything that's strong and scary makes a bad companion. like...you. you're tall, powerful, intimidating...but I also enjoy spending time with you."

there was a pause. a long, long pause.

"...break's over," dottore stood up. "we need to get back to the workshop...ingrid's waiting for us."

you smiled happily at the name.

that goddamned smile.

he was lucky that his mask covered up the blush spreading on his face.

it didn't cover his ears, though.

and that only made you smile wider.

#dottore x reader #dottore x gn reader #dottore x male reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact #dottore #il dottore

[pinkkittysaw]

I DON’T SMOKE

pairing: adam stanheight x gn! reader

content: angst, grief & smoking | sfw but minors & ageless blogs DNI

a/n: inspired by the song “i don’t smoke” by mitski. i also threw in a part of adam’s tape in the mix cause i thought it fit pretty well

dividers by @/cafekitsune

“i don’t smoke except for when i’m missing you. to remember your mouth, how it tasted true”

You never used to smoke. To be honest, you hated everything about it. The taste, the way it suffocated your lungs, and its lingering scent on your clothes.

You always bugged Adam about quitting, huffing whenever he’d pull out a cigarette. “The stench is too much to bear,” you’d say as you covered the lower half of your face with your hand, trying your best not to let the smoke permeate. “It’s not that bad,” he’d always reply, smirking.

He’d always be sure to kiss you either during or after smoking one, enjoying the pouty face you’d make after tasting the smoke lingering in his mouth.

You never used to smoke. Until he disappeared one night seeming to vanish into thin air, the police doing little to fuck all in trying to find him. He’s just “Another nobody that the government doesn’t have to care about anymore,” as one of them so eloquently worded in an overheard conversation.

As days turned into weeks, then months, it began to feel as if he never existed. A distant memory lost to time.

In a fit of grief one sleepless night, you reach for the opened pack of cigarettes he left behind. The shittiest brand, of course; it's not like he could afford anything better.  

Putting one to your lips, you light it on the gas stove. As you inhale, you’re thrown into a coughing fit. The smoke burns your lungs, and the stale nicotine is repulsive on your tongue, but you endure it; cause for a moment, it’s like he’s there with you again. His lips on yours, breathing you in. 

His clothes stopped smelling like him after a while, and pictures can only do so much to ease the ache. This is the only real connection you have left with him. The same poison filling your lungs.

“now, i see you as a strange mix of someone angry and yet apathetic. but mostly just pathetic.”

He wasn’t perfect, by any means. Some days, it felt like you bickered more than anything else, but what you wouldn’t give to be able to argue one more time.

“if you need to be mean be mean to me i can take it and put it inside of me”

“if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room you can lean on my arm as you break my heart”

“just don’t leave me alone wondering where you are”

What you wouldn’t give to walk out on your shared balcony and see him sitting there, cigarette in hand, with a melancholy look on his face, not yet ready to muster up an apology. You’d sit beside him in silence, laying your head on his shoulder as he’d wordlessly interlock his fingers with yours, blowing the smoke into the night sky as the city bustled below.

The only thing that greets you now is the open air and the eerie silence. You plop down in your old spot on the balcony, lighting up a cigarette, staring blankly into the night sky.

#fics abt adam in the year 2023?????? #rewatched saw and missed my little scrunkle #was gonna add a section where reader curses out scott tibbs for being a fucking asshole friend but it didn’t really fit #perhaps i’ll write a one off of that #adam stanheight x reader #adam faulkner-stanheight x reader #blurbs #x reader #✰ミ angel writes

[sonicslushie]

When the Devil's Calling Pt. 1~P.P.

Summary: Y/n Stark is something of a nightcrawler, what happens when her antics become a little too much? 

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

A/N: we’re gonna say the reader and peter are both over the age of 18 in this for my sanity’s sake. slooooooow burn on this one and lots of angst, that’s just how Miley makes me feel lol. Based off of some songs off of Miley’s Plastic Hearts album.

part 2 is out now, also here’s a playlist to listen to as u read

TW: drinking and drug abuse, what reads like a suicide attempt but i promise it’s not (you'll see), peter doesn’t show up until the very end, probably some grammar mistakes

Word Count: 2.8k

“Did you hear about that Tony Stark’s kid? She was caught hooking up in a bathroom at some bar again. I swear she’s turning out just like her father.” 

“Junior Stark; arrested for public intoxication… What is this? The 4th or 5th time?” 

“I saw Y/n Stark down at the bar off 31st, and you will never guess what she was doing! Bumped a line then took a shot off of a stranger. I didn’t think the rumors were true.” 

“Stark’s kid is in the news again, knocked a guy out with one punch over a seat at the bar, she never fails to amaze, huh?” 

Rumors. That’s what it started with. Rumors that Tony Stark’s daughter was out almost every night of the week drinking or doing drugs, hooking up with strangers. Or at least, your father thought they were rumors, until he started seeing you headline the news or on the cover of scandal magazines looking like you weren’t even aware of your surroundings. Of course, you knew the so-called “rumors” were true. Honestly, the tabloids didn’t even know half of the truth. But to be frank- you didn’t care. 

You didn’t care that the media had this bad perception of you, if anything it aided you. To be one of the most well known billionaire and superhero’s daughters wasn’t exactly what you expected it to be. Everything you did from the time the world accidentally found out about you was scrutinized, giving your father all the credit for your accomplishments. If everything they were going to say was going to be bad, why not give them something to truly write about. 

That’s exactly what you did. 

It started around the age of 17, it was easy to come by a fake I.D. and a few extra dollars to slip any bouncer who might have known who you were. They say money doesn’t buy happiness, but it sure as hell buys booze and silence. The first time you went out was actually because your friends wanted to see this local band at a bar not too far from your place, so why the hell not? The music was what kept you going out, it thrummed through your veins, as did the alcohol, which might have had a positive effect for the mediocre band. Bodies moved together, nobody seemed to care who you were, or better yet, who your father was. Everyone was there for two reasons; to get drunk and dance. You lived for it. 

The feeling of drunken freedom took hold of you, filled every part of you that seemed to be lacking. No thoughts of living up to Tony Stark’s image, no thoughts of your late mother, nothing of the responsibilities you held in your everyday life. In those bars you were just you under a fake name, living through the music and kissing strangers and free to just exist. 

It was fun, so you kept doing it. Once every weekend turned into entire weekends, turned into every other day of the week, turned into every night. Sometimes you wouldn’t come home for days on in, night crawling turned into going home with a different stranger every night. You fed the media lies until they weren’t lies anymore. It was just the sorry truth that turned into your life. 

But the truth that was way deep down inside never surfaced when you were fucked up. So you kept doing it. 

That is, until one day your dad held an “intervention”. Really it was just him locking you in a room with him and scolding you for being so reckless. Lasted for hours. He even called Steve to lecture you- which if you’ve ever had a Steve lecture you know it’s the worst possible thing in the world. Every bit of old wise man slang was used, and had you not been high out of your mind, you probably would have crawled your own eardrums out just to stop the ridiculous mix of your dad and Steve scolding you about the only thing that made you feel better. 

Did it stop you though? 

Nope. 

Today was no different, you got ready in your nicest going out clothes, hair all done up and makeup on, even had a throwback playlist playing as you got ready. (Katy Perry and Taylor Swift are the best hype women out there.) Everything was normal, a few shots to pregame, then you were ready to see the night. 

That is, until you hit the first bar, one right around the corner from the Stark Tower, a locally owned gay bar that was one of your favorites. Now that you were 21, you didn’t even need your fake and most of the bouncers knew you from the various times they’ve seen you there. But this time, they didn’t let you in. 

“You’re banned,” one of your favorite bouncers, Jimmy, said to you as you were about to walk past him. You stopped dead in your tracks, they were playing one of your favorite songs and all you wanted to do was get a tequila sunrise and dance. 

“Huh?” Was all you could get out before another bounce- Brody- stepped in your way. 

“You’ve been banned. Sorry girl, but it’s from the higher ups.” Jimmy says, looking guilty. No this wasn’t going to stop you from having a good night, and honestly it’s not like it hasn’t happened to you before. If we’re going to be completely honest, you blacked out last time you were here, and when that happens it’s safe to say they probably had a good reason to ban you. 

So you sighed and walked away, no need to make a scene at the best bar in New York. 

You decided to go a little further, a few blocks away was another good bar. Not your fav, but it’ll definitely get the job done. You wait in line, and finally when it’s your turn to go in, you get stopped again. 

“Sorry ma’am, you’ve been banned.” The bouncer says, not even looking guilty this time. 

“I’m sorry, what?” You ask, this time your blood started to boil as the shots you took before you left started hitting. 

“You heard me.” He said, then started talking to the girls behind you, who recognized you and were starting to talk. Fucking great. 

But you tried to keep your cool as you ordered an Uber, this time you were going to go to Manhattan. You haven’t been there in a few months, there’s no way you’d be banned from any of those bars, right? 

Wrong. 

Bar after bar rejected you, and after the 11th one, you lost your cool. 

“You’re banned, get lost.” The bouncer said to you, the rudest out of all the ones you had spoken to that night. And after 11 attempts, you were beyond pissed. The mix of the shots starting to wear off, the bouncer telling you to get lost, and the music you aren’t able to dance to playing in the background just got to you. Before you could even process it, you punch the bouncer. Then you swipe his legs out from under him (a move Natasha taught you), then you kicked the man while he was down, shouting something about how you “just want to dance” and “you can’t do this to me” and “someone’s going to get their asshole ripped out of them and stuffed into their piehole”. 

In your rageful fit, the police were called and there in a split second, pulling you away from the bouncer who just got all of your wrath, and you were hauled away. 

Only you weren’t taken to jail, like many times before. You were dropped off at the Stark Tower, your father waiting on you right outside the doors. 

Oh. Oh. 

He had done this. He had gotten you banned from all the bars within a 30 minute drive, probably in all of New York. As the police unhandcuffed you and told you to thank your dad for not being taken to jail, all you saw was red. Completely sober you was not a nice you, and that’s where you were at now. And all of your anger was pointed at one person; your father. 

Once the police left, you stomped up to your father, “How dare you-” 

“We’ve already talked about this. Get inside.” He says, absolutely no emotion in his voice. Tony Stark was not an easy person to piss off, especially hard for his daughter to piss him off, but he was done. He had enough of you embarrassing him in the media, you were all his colleagues talked about while he was around. All you were doing was ruining your life when you had every opportunity to be successful and looked up to. This is what it had come to. 

“You’re not even going to listen to what I have to say?” You ask, following him inside the lobby. He shakes his head, “Honestly I don’t care what you have to say, Y/n. You’ve done enough. Tomorrow, you’re going to work with me and get your life together. This conversation is done.” 

“No it’s not- Tony!” You try to follow him onto the elevator but he closes it on you, saying something to FRIDAY about a meeting he has to attend and to not let you leave this building. You stand there, dumbfounded. He had never treated you like this, and all you could feel was rage. Somewhere deep down, sadness started to bubble up but you pushed it down. You had liquor in your room, that would do for the night. Maybe some kicking and punching a dummy in the training room would help too. 

You waited on the elevator, and finally it came back to take you up to your room. On the way up you try to plan your revenge but the only thing you could think of was the disappointment in your dad’s face when he saw you step out of the police car. Sure he had looked at you like that before, but never with so much sadness behind his eyes. You’ve never really seen sadness like that in your dad since your mom died, and it really just hurt. That sadness being because of you was never your intention, it hit a little too close to home. 

You stepped off the elevator, shaking the tears away from your eyes. Alcohol, that was the plan. You just needed to find your stash under your bed compartment and-

It was gone. It was all gone. 

At first you just stood there, once again dumbfounded. How many times in one night was this going to happen, I mean seriously? Of course he thought of everything he’s your dad, he knows you almost as well as you know yourself. And while you called it your “secret stash” it wasn’t so secret. For the daughter of a genius, hiding it under your bed compartment was not the best move. 

Before you could even move for the door, FRIDAY says over the intercom, “Mr. Stark has asked me to keep you in the Tower and away from any substance that will take away your sobriety. I have locked your door, it will unlock at 7 am. Have a goodnight, Ms. Stark.” 

“‘Have a goodnight, Ms. Stark,’” you mock the AI, spinning around and falling onto your bed. 

“I heard that and I did not appreciate it,” FRIDAY says,  you grab a pillow and scream into it. First your dad, now FRIDAY is disappointed in you. This was going to be the worst night of your life. 

You leave the pillow on your face, but throw your arms down like an angry toddler. The immediate escalation of your thoughts surprised you, the fact that FRIDAY seemed mad at you- if an AI can even get mad at a human- was a tipping point. You were used to everyone else being upset with you, but FRIDAY? She was always in your corner. It hurt that everyone in your life seemed to be disappointed in you, always had been in fact.

You moved the pillow, needing air as tears threatened to fall. Nobody cared to ask why you went out every night and got fucked up. Nobody cared to ask why you never attended “family” dinners, never made any attempt to be friendly with your dad’s friends and teammates, anything. If they cared enough to want you to stop, why didn’t they ask you how you felt? 

The fact of the matter was, you were never the same after your mother died. Your father was happier when she was alive, more attentive with you, made time. After, he fell into his work, leaving you- an 8 year old- to mourn your mother by yourself. He had Happy spend a lot of time with you, and you loved Happy, but he wasn’t your father. Your dad was the only one who truly knew how you felt, felt all the pain that you did, but he did nothing to help you. There would be days you wouldn’t see him, and little 8 year old you didn’t know how to get over the death of your mother. You ended up bottling it up because that’s what it looked like Tony was doing. It became hard to even talk about your mother, so you decided to pretend like it didn’t happen. It was like a flick of a switch, one day you were crying all day long, the next you were quiet, more reserved than you had ever been. You stayed like that until that fateful day you went to the bar with your friends. 

But it didn’t matter now. 

Everything that made you feel better was gone, everything made you forget and just live in the moment- done. Honestly it was worse than jail, you were locked in your own head with no way out. Everything just felt numb. 

You were moving towards your balcony without thinking, a tablet in your hands to turn off the cameras and FRIDAY’s access to your room. You stood on your balcony, looking at the city that laid in front of you. The lights were so pretty, the skyline dark and blissful. You wanted that bliss. 

Lord only knows how long you stood out there before you climbed up on the edge of your balcony, unrelenting tears streaming down your face. You stood, trying to keep your balance. Feeling the slight breeze on your body was nice until- 

You slip, a scream escaping your lips. 

Dear god, this was it, you were going to die. You didn’t actually plan on jumping off of the edge, you just wanted to feel something that wasn’t sadness or anger. A rush of something that might take your sober mind off of all the heartache. 

You screamed and screamed, you lived on one of the highest floors and in your terror the fall felt like forever. Of course even your death was going to take a long time, just your luck. 

Your screaming was cut off but something running into you, or rather catching you. Your eyes had squeezed shut, bracing for the impact of the hard concrete. You forced your eyes open as you felt your body going up, in the arms of someone. 

You were met with a masked man who you’ve seen in the media- Spiderman. He looked down at you, not saying a word as he swung you to a nearby roof. 

He lands, still holding you as if afraid that if he let go, you would go flying off this roof too. After a breathless second you say, “Thank you.” 

“I- you’re welcome, Y/n.” He says, saying your name like it was something sweet on his tongue. Of course he knew who you were, you were all over the media and your father employed him. You were just glad he didn’t say your name how everyone else said it, with disappointment or anger.

 He put you down gently, still holding onto as you wobble and shake from the anxiety of almost falling to your death.

“Look, I know what it looked like, but I promise I wasn’t trying to… You know.” You say quietly, looking down at his gloved hands still holding your arms gently. It wasn’t something you were used to; gentle. The strangers you took home were always so aggressive and full of lust, but you didn’t get that feeling from the masked hero. He did it out of the goodness of his heart. He was kind. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself. I’m just glad you're okay.” He says, his thumb rubbing your arm in a comforting manner. When was the last time you’ve been held like this? God it must have been years ago. It was a foreign feeling, but somewhat nice. 

“Well, thank you again…” You say, silently asking for his name. You know that he has a secret identity, but seeing as your father employs the guy, you figure it’s only a matter of time before you find out anyway. 

He takes his mask off to reveal a dude around your age, eyes locking with yours.

“Peter. Peter Parker. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

~

Part 2

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x stark!reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x you #spiderman fanfic #peter parker fanfic

[cloudcountry]

waltz of the flowers

Genre/Tropes: No notable ones.

Summary: After getting rejected by the person that asked you for a slow dance, you leave the school dance to take a breather. That was the best decision you made all night.

Author's Comments: Reader calls Riddle Housewarden but they are the Ramshackle Prefect! It's more of a teasing title than anything. Also, I used a prompt for this one, and the gist was "your prom date stands you up" and it got me thinking about NRC school dances. Also, Riddle looks so pretty in his suitor suit!! The title is a reference to the Nutcracker, if yk yk. Also there's a tiny dash of jealous Riddle which I didn't intend but it's there now!

~~~~~

You simply adored the theme they chose for this year's annual school dance—Midnight Meadow. The walls were covered with faux flowers, streamers of yellow twirling down from the ceiling, desserts on fancy tea tables with delicate vases filled with even more flowers. You’d picked out the nicest formal wear you could afford with Crowley’s allowance to go to your very first dance. Your friends at Heartslabyul had worked to style your hair and accessorize you on Cater’s request, which was how you ended up with a messy heart and spade drawn on your right cheek. You didn’t mind their additions, though—your outfit being slightly symbolic of the friendships you’ve made at NRC wasn’t embarrassing, even if those two did draw like children.

You’d lost Grim in the crowd a while ago, his pitchfork tail swishing briefly behind him before he disappeared into the crowd, no doubt heading towards the snack table. Deciding to let Grim go, just for one night, you spent your time socializing with the friends you’d made during your time here.

Ace and Deuce were naturally attached to your hips, with Ace making snarky comments about people’s outfits and Deuce leading you through the crowds when they got a little too dense. They roped you into a few dances (even stealing some from students who looked like they wanted to ask you) even though Deuce couldn’t dance and Ace was too confident. It was fun though, and that’s really all you could have asked for.

Then the unthinkable happened.

“Ehhh, Shrimpy?” a tall shadow was cast over you and your friends as a voice cooed out a very familiar nickname.

“Hello Floyd!” you turned around quickly, delighted to have a chance to talk to one of the elusive Octavinelle students.

“You’re so cute, Shrimpy. Say, would you mind giving me your slow dance? You’re the only one I could bear it with.” he said, crossing his arms over his chest in a pout.

You laughed, unaware of Ace and Deuce’s baffled expressions.

“Sure thing. Nobody has asked me yet, so the spot is yours.” you nodded, “Also, I love the seashell details on your suit. They’re very pretty.”

“You’re so cute, I could just squeeze you right here...oh well, see you Prefect. I’m looking forward to it, eh he he.” Floyd giggled, spinning on his heel and walking away.

“He’s so weird—anyways, I think I’m going to go find Grim. The environment is a bit chaotic but if I leave him unsupervised for long—”

“Prefect! You agreed to dance with him?” Ace yelled, his hands outstretched like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Well...yeah.” you blinked, “He’s not that bad, guys. Floyd likes dancing.”

“I’m not talking about the dancing skills of this guy! I’m talking about how dangerous he is!” Ace protested, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea either. Floyd’s unpredictable.” Deuce said thoughtfully, exuding far more care than Ace was.

“I promise I’ll be alright. I know how to handle myself.” you laughed, turning away from them to head to the snack table.

Song after song played after you found Grim, choosing to talk with your classmates instead of dance. You hadn’t gotten to do that much since the start of the event, your mind caught up with the bass of the music and the stellar playlist they had. Your classmates all seemed excited to see you, and you received many compliments on your formal wear and food recommendations (mostly from Kalim.)

You hoped there would be more events like this.

It was only until the slow dance that you decided to find your partner, ditching Grim once again and declining Kalim’s invitation to dance (and a short while later, Rook’s as well.) You found Floyd standing in the corner, staring off into space.

“Floyd? Do you want to dance?” you asked, gesturing to the people dancing, either solo or paired up on the floor.

“Eh? No, I don’t feel like it anymore. Go find another partner.” he huffed, turning away from you adamantly.

You blinked, feeling your heart breaking a little. You had really been looking forward to the slow dance, and you would have been happy with anyone. But of course, Floyd’s mood swings were unpredictable, and your luck had been historically bad.

“Okay. Thank you for offering though!” you waved and left him alone.

Deciding to clear your head instead of dance, you made the decision to step outside. The night air was refreshing against your cheeks as your gaze shifted towards the sky.

Staying out here for a few more minutes wouldn’t be so bad.

Five minutes into your impromptu stargazing session, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You jumped, expecting to see Ace or Deuce asking you what you were doing outside, but when you turned around you saw Riddle.

“Prefect, what are you doing outside?” he cleared his throat, his posture as straight as ever.

“I didn’t have a partner for the slow dance and honestly...I was getting a little tired.” you laughed, patting the patch of grass next to you, “Come on, Housewarden. Sit down.”

He cleared his throat, pink dusting his cheeks. Well, at least it wasn’t an angry shade of red. You didn’t want Riddle mad at you right now...or ever.

“May I have this dance?” he held his hand out, bowing his head to you.

You inhaled sharply as the breath was simultaneously sucked from your chest. He’d asked you in such a serious and regal way—not only did it make you feel special, it made you feel like royalty.

“Well...I suppose my dance partner did ditch me tonight.” you mused, placing your hand in his.

Riddle didn’t miss a beat, resting his hand on your waist as the muted song from the school drifted out into the courtyard. He held you gently, his grip firm but tender. You let him lead you through the first few steps on the dance, staring into the big gray eyes.

“Who would pass up a chance to dance with you?” Riddle murmured, completely engrossed in you already.

“You won’t like the answer!” you hummed, drawing out the last syllable of answer.

“I’m the one that asked. I swear I won’t collar them, if that's what you’re worried about.” Riddle winces, but it looks like he’s trying to smile.

Ah, the Housewarden is trying to joke with you. Cute.

“Floyd Leech.”

“What?! You were going to dance with him?” Riddle nearly yelled, his face turning that bright shade of red you were sure Ace was used to by now.

“He asked before anyone else did!” you protested, choosing to not comment on Riddle’s stumble after you revealed who you would have danced with to him.

“You could have asked someone.” he huffed, and you swore he pulled you just a little bit closer.

“Oh yeah? Do you want me to dance with Ace or Deuce instead? Because Ace would do something weird and embarrass me. I love Deuce to bits but he’d step on my feet and-”

“Prefect, do I have to spell it out for you? You should have asked me!” Riddle blurted out, his face slowly turning red.

Okay, Riddle was definitely holding you closer. It was not your imagination.

“I’m the only one in this school you can trust to actually know how to dance. I’m well versed in every form of waltz.” he murmured, brow furrowed, “And...well, I won’t step on your feet or do anything weird.”

“I know Riddle.” you hummed, tilting your head so it rested against him, “Isn’t that why I’m dancing with you and not them?”

He sucked in a breath but said nothing more. You laughed, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“You’re adorable, Housewarden.”

Just when you thought Riddle couldn’t get any redder, he proved you wrong.

#auburn's fics <3 #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader #fluff #dancing with riddle >>>> #his mom probably made him learn #at least hes putting it to good use sigh #fuck riddle's mom #she sucks

[jamalsbae]

Nct Dream with Idol gf

A.N: I made this so quick, like lightning cause I wanted to post something, I swear im working on something and its coming soon so here what you get so long 💀💀

Mark

- deff your biggest hype man, like he’s always acting like a fan girl, like his reactions when you come on screen would be so funny.

- he also knows what its like to be over worked so I feel like he’d know how to deal with you when your feeling tired.

- he’d keep your Photocard with him all the time. Like maybe in his wallet or something like that.

- When it comes to you guys in public I feel like he’s surprisingly not obvious, yeah fans ship you but I don’t mark would make it AS OBVIOUS as people expect.

- he’ll definitely just steal some glances but he’d won’t do it often when your at events together.

Renjun

- both of you guys have a passion for being idols so I think you’d bond about that really well

- he would cover your groups songs on live

- like you’d sing and dance together for fun

- I think he worries a lot when your getting overworked, but would help you relax in a subtle way. Like he wouldn’t push you about it. (Idk if this makes sense but it does in my brain💀)

- when you guys are in public he’ll treat you like how he treats other female idols

-LIKE HES NOT OBVIOUS AT ALL

Jeno

- Jeno is very caring about you. (He’s so boyfriend it’s crazy, like nobody can tell me he isn’t university boyfriend coded)

- like he’d always text you after your practice and ask about it

- or send you food when your at music shows cute stuff like that

- he does your typical boyfriend things

- I think jenos neutral in the public eye, like nobody would speculate a thing, but he won't ignore you

- like if your performing on stage he’ll smirk or give the most subtle reaction but he’ll always tell you that you did amazing after

Haechan

- he’d either be very VERY competitive or YOUR BIGGEST FANGIRL

- idk I just imagine him being competitive about silly things like who makes TikToks with the most idols, just silly things

- but he’s always bragging about you when speaking about you to his members of friends

- if your overworked he’s probably overworked to so you’d rest together. (like your twinning 😭)

-I think Haechan would act like a fan boy of your group in the public eye

- like he’d talk about your songs or how much he loves your group, like he's a certified fan boy.

-people would find it funny how much of a fan he is

- there might be a few dating rumors but nothing serious

Jaemin

- he would watch you practice all the time and adore you as an idol

- I think he would have a lot of respect for you and your career

-he’d collect your albums and flex his collection to people

- I have a strong feeling that Jaemin is obvious af

- I dont know why but I legit feel it in my gut that he’s always staring at you at events or always finding a way to bring you or your group in the conversation

Chenle

- Just like Haechan he would deff brag about you to people when talking about you

- He’d watch the content you post when he can, especially if your not around

- I think Chenle is like Jeno in the public eye, like he’d give a reaction here and there but it wont be OBVIOUS

- I think he’d mention you like once on live but nothing crazy, like talking your new song or something like that

Jisung

- YOUR NUMBER 1 SUPPORTER

-he collects your albums and if he’s bored would learn some of your choreo

- Another one that keeps your photo card in his wallet or somewhere like that.

- the type to practice with you alone late at night

- I think he would do something obvious but fans wouldn’t speculate a thing cause he always seems nervous and awkward around female idols

#mark lee #renjun #jeno #haechan #jaemin #chenle #park jisung #nct dream #nct #nct 127

[do-it-jakey-baby]

An Unlikely Encounter

Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: implied physical assault, alcohol consumption, allusions to smoking weed, explicit sexual content, jealousy, praise kink, dominant Jake

18+, MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: @torniturntomyarrow @ignite-my-fire

A/N: I’m so sorry, I wrote this in my drafts and can’t seem to figure out the word count now… but I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 4

You woke up screaming from the horrendous dream you’d just had, but the panic subdued quickly as you felt Kat’s arms around you.

“Hey, hey. Shhh… it’s ok. I’m here. I’m here.” She whispers softly, smoothing your hair gently with her fingertips. You begin to sob and she squeezes you tightly.

“Do you think you can tell me what happened last night now?”

You prop yourself up onto your elbows and lean against the headboard, cheeks puffy and tear-stained. Kat passes you a tissue and you loudly blow your nose into it.

“I guess…” you trail off. Kat places her hand on your thigh and looks at you, her face a picture of pure empathy. You honestly don’t know what you’d do without her.

“I thought you’d forgotten your key, like you always do. So I opened the door not even bothering to check through the peep hole. Connor was there.”

“That son of a bitch!! I’m gunna kill him!” She spits, eyes filled with fury.

“He was wasted Kat, fucking stank. He started saying some really vile things about me and Jake. When I tried to shut the door he lunged at me. If those men hadn’t been walking past I dread to think what would have happened.” Fresh tears spill from your eyes at the recollection.

Kat whips her phone from the bedside table and begins searching for Connor’s number, but you put your hand up in protest. “Please, no. I want to forget he exists.”

She frowns, but ultimately respects your wishes. “Ok, but if I see that waste of space, good for nothing mother fucker EVER again, I’ll rip his fucking head from his torso.”

Her brutality elicits a small giggle from your lips and she immediately softens her scowl, laughing along with you.

“What was your dream about?”

You sigh. “I dreamt that Connor got hold of me, and he hurt me really bad. Jake came back, but he saw me lying there beaten black and blue and just walked away. I screamed for him, but he kept walking.” Tears welled in your eyes again, threatening to escape and roll down onto your cheeks.

“Y/N, he would never. If he saw what happened, I don’t think Connor would be able to walk again… Jake cares about you.”

“I just don’t understand why, I’m a nobody. He could have any girl he wanted. I’m so damaged, I find it hard to let people in.” You grimace, picking at the skin around your nails.

“Because you’re a fucking worldie, babe.” Kat grabs your shoulders and looks you straight in the eye. “I wouldn’t be best friends with you if you weren’t special, you twat.”

~

The weeks went by quickly as you busied yourself helping Kat with her work, you’d even found time to record a few covers that you’d been meaning to do for a while. You loved to sing, but your ex couldn’t stand it. He always complained about the noise disturbing him. Slowly over the course of your relationship, your confidence dwindled to almost zero. You no longer found comfort in performing, only singing along to songs in the shower or as you worked. You had promised yourself that you’d get back into it when your relationship ended, so you sat there in Kat’s flat, fiddling with your mic and connecting it to the interface. It had been a while since you’d done this, so you played around with the settings on your software and took the time to familiarise. Once you were happy, you adjusted your headphones began to sing into the mic, a rush of euphoria hitting you as you perfected each vocal run. You’d settled on ‘Dreams’ by Fleetwood Mac, something you could easily grasp for your first song back. You made sure to record yourself with your phone whilst you were singing, so that you could add the audio to the clip. When you’d finished and were satisfied with how it sounded, you saved the clip and sent it to Kat.

Guess who’s finally back?

A few moments later, your phone pinged. OMFG, Y/N! You’re insane!! Post this, now.

You chuckled, shaking your head. Not just yet…

You packed your equipment away and wandered into the kitchen to make a snack. You swung the doors of the fridge open, spotting a rosy, red apple. You sliced it into segments and put them into a bowl, then cut up some mature cheddar cheese into cubes and popped them alongside. As you settled down onto the sofa and flipped the TV on, your phone pinged again. This time, it was Jake.

How is my gorgeous girl today? I am so excited to see you this weekend.

You instantly smile to yourself. Hey, Jakey. Really good thanks, had a productive day. How are you? I’m so excited to see you too.

A few seconds after you press send your phone screen lights up with a FaceTime call.

“I never get tired of seeing that face.” He beams. “What have you been up to that’s so productive?”

“Oh, you know, just helping Kat out with her admin and stuff.” You didn’t want to tell Jake that you sang, not wanting to draw attention to that part of your life.

“Nice, well we’re heading to the arena soon.”

“You’re in Denmark now, right?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful here in Copenhagen. I’d love to take you sometime.”

You and Jake speak for the best part of an hour, about the tour so far, and where he’d take you when he had the chance. He learnt about the places of the world you’d been to and where you aspired to go.

“I’d love to visit the States. I’ve never been.”

“I’m sure I could show you one day.” He spoke with such a genuine smile, which made you feel like he really enjoyed your conversations. His eyes sparkled as you bared your soul to him, his heart growing fonder with each revelation.

“Come on man, we’re late!” You hear Josh’s voice boom from the screen. “Hello, Songbird.” Josh directs to you. “How is my favourite girl?”

Jake’s face visibly changes, his brows knitting together. You and Josh had formed quite a solid friendship over the last week, you almost spoke to him as much as Jake. He even called you a few times, once whilst your favourite Fleetwood Mac song was playing. You softly hummed along to “Songbird” whilst you listened to Josh talk, and ever since that’s been his pet name for you.

“Hi bestie, I’m good thanks.” You giggle.

“Fantastic! We miss you” He looks away and points at Jake “Dude, we’re leaving! Now! Bye, Songbird, I’ll call you later after the show?”

“Sure thing, Josh. Break a leg!” You respond. Jake looks back at the camera, his face still crumpled.

“I’ll talk to you later, bye beautiful.”

~

A few days later you were rushing around Kat’s flat, throwing clothes and toiletries between you.

“You have to wear this to the show, you’ll look so hot!” Kat winks, chucking a garment at you.

You pick up the white leather mini dress and hold it up to your chest. It’s strapless and skin tight, adorned with small, silver sequins and tassels hanging delicately across the hemline.

“Kat, this is STUNNING! I can’t wear this, I’d be too scared that I’d ruin it!”

“Well, tough shit. I made it for you.”

Your mouth falls open. “Katrina Chiara Romano, is that why you’ve been spending so much time in your workshop?!”

“What? I had to make sure my bestie looked fire when she watches her boyfriend play live.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” You smack her arm playfully. “Thank you so much, you sly dog!”

Once you’ve both packed, you haul your suitcases outside and into the taxi. As you settle into the car and the driver moves off, Kat grabs onto your hand and squeezes it. You both squeal in unison, both incredibly excited for what lies ahead. You make it to the airport and the whole process goes smoothly, which is never usually the case with you and airports. You hate flying, but the excitement bubbling in your chest takes your mind completely off the journey. You both board the plane and you run down the aisle to nab the window seat. Kat sits down next to you and you immediately pull your phone out to snap a selfie.

“Say, Greta Van Fleet!” You cheer, throwing up a peace sign and pouting.

When you land in Portugal, the temperature is a far cry from the frigid London air you’ve been used to. Even though it was Winter, the climate was balmy and you’re glad you didn’t pack all woolly jumpers and scarves. You and Kat retrieve your bags and walk through to collections, both of you scanning the open space for any sign of the boys. A wolf whistle pierces through the silence which makes you both jump, you follow the sound and your eyes land on a huge cardboard sign that reads “Greta’s Groupies”. You both run over to the boys with open arms, Sam swiftly enveloping Kat in a tight embrace. Josh darts out ahead of Jake and scoops you up in his arms, twirling you around as you shriek with laughter.

“Songbird!” He trills.

“Joshua! I’ve missed you so much.” You smile, then look over his shoulder and yell “I’ve missed you all! Yes, even you Sammy!”

Josh puts you down and Jake is at your side instantly, taking you in his arms and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Hello, beautiful.” He smiles.

“Hi, Jakey.” You breathe, your head spinning with emotion.

The reunion continues with the boys handing out warm hugs to both you and Kat, rejoicing in your company. Sam takes Kat’s suitcase from her and begins to wheel it towards the door, signalling that it’s time to get going to the hotel. You turn to grab the handle of your suitcase and notice that it’s no longer behind you.

“Hey, where’s my suitcase?”

“I’ve got it, Songbird.” Josh smiles. Jake walks to his brother and reaches his hand out, which causes Josh to raise his eyebrow.

“Dude, I’ve got it. It’s fine.” Josh mutters.

“No. I’ll take it.” Jake pushes Josh’s hand, snatching the suitcase from his grip. You frown, confused at the situation. Josh mirrors your confusion, but shakes it off with a laugh and extends his arm out for you to take.

“Shall we?”

You all pile into the back of a limousine, which is far fancier than you expected.

“Guys, was this necessary? A limo? Come on.” You giggle.

“Only the best for our girls.” Josh winks, playfully elbowing you. Jake audibly huffs.

“Hey, man. What’s up with you?” Danny probes.

Jake shakes his head “Just tired, I guess.” You extend your arm out and squeeze his knee, provoking a small smile.

~

Once you’ve unpacked in your hotel room and have freshened up from your journey, you make your way along the hall to find the others. You’re not sure why you’ve been given your own room, you assumed that you’d be staying with Jake for the duration of the trip. As you reach Jake’s door and go to knock you hear raised voices from inside.

“What the fuck is your problem, Jake?”

“My problem is that you’re getting really fucking cosy with her, Josh. What are you doing? You know I like her and you know she likes me!”

“Will you get your head out of your ass!”

“You always do this! Why can’t you just let me have the limelight for once?”

“I’m sick of your attitude, she’s a friend, Jake! A friend of mine, a friend of yours, a friend of Danny’s, a friend of Sam’s. Stop it with the jealousy!”

“She’s not just a friend to me and you know that!”

You bolt out of the way quickly as you hear footsteps approaching and hide around the corner, not wanting them to know you’d heard their conversation. Jake slams the door shut and storms down the hall, thankfully not noticing you. You gingerly approach the door and knock. Within a few seconds, Josh answers.

“Hey, sorry, Jake isn’t here.” He rubs his hand across his face, smoothing his facial hair downwards.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, do you want to come in?”

You follow him inside and sit down on the sofa. The room is big, with a sizeable bar section. Josh walks over and points at the plethora of liquor.

“You want? I’m having one, so it’s only fair that you join me.”

“Sure, whatever’s best.” You smile. Josh busies himself making your drink and you look around the room. You spot several crumpled up pieces of paper on the desk, but your eyes are averted away by Josh placing a glass in front of you. He sits down beside you and takes a long sip from his glass.

“How was your flight, Songbird?”

“It was fine actually. I’m not the best flier, but I was so excited that I completely forgot I was in the air.”

“I used to hate flying, but when you’re on tour as often as we are you get accustomed to it pretty quickly.”

You smile at him, your gaze falling to your hands as you pick at your fingernails. “Where’s Jake?”

Josh looks like he isn’t sure what to say, he bites his lip and begins to speak but he’s cut off by the door swinging open.

“Hey, man. Look, I’ve had a breather and I think I-” Jake pauses as he spots you both sitting there. “What the fuck is this?” His eyes dart between you and the glasses on the table.

“She came looking for you and I invited her in to wait.” Josh stands, brushing his hands across his slacks. “I’ll leave you to it, need to get ready anyway.” He pushes past Jake and disappears through the door. You look up at Jake, titling your head. He immediately softens and comes to sit next to you, as he brushes past your legs you’re hit with the overwhelming scent of weed.

“Have you been smoking?”

“Yeah, needed something to take the edge off.” He stifles a laugh, then clears his throat.

“What is up with you two today?”

“Nothing. Why, what did he say?” Jake straightens, clearly uncomfortable.

“He didn’t say anything, it’s just obvious there’s some kind of… tension.”

Jake sighs and runs his hands through his hair “There’s nothing wrong, beautiful. Just pre-show nerves, gets to us sometimes is all.” He pats your knee. You know he’s lying, but you can’t let on that you heard their argument earlier, so you place your hand on top of his.

“You don’t have anything to be nervous about, I’ve seen you all play countless times and you fucking own that stage.”

His eyes turn dark, as if your praise has washed away any memory of his current feelings. He brings his hands to your face and pulls you to meet his lips. You accept his advances hungrily, allowing his tongue to lap against yours. He moves his hands to your waist and pulls you on top of him so you’re straddling his hips. As he manoeuvres you, you make slight contact with his belt and can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips at the friction.

“Don’t you praise me and then make those noises, I’ll have to cancel the show so I can fuck you into my mattress.” He breathes against the shell of your ear.

You inhale deeply, suddenly extremely turned on. It’s been weeks since you last had any contact with Jake, and you’re already wet just thinking about the dirty, awful things that you’ll both do together later.

“You can’t cancel the show, as much as I want you inside of me right now.”

Jake groans, pulling you into him harder. You gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Jake, don’t start something you can’t finish.” You whine, your chest heaving with arousal.

“Oh, I’ll fucking finish you later, sweetheart. I’ll show you just how much I missed you.”

~

The boys were ushered off for soundcheck and that left you and Kat to get ready. You both did your hair and makeup, sharing a bottle of pinot noir between you.

“You look fucking hot, Y/N.”

“Says you, Sam’s eyes will pop out of his head!” You giggle. Kat was wearing a black lacy corset that cinched her tiny waist, enhancing her curves. She paired the corset with a pair of silky high waisted electric blue trousers which contrasted her auburn hair perfectly. She zipped up your dress and handed you a deep burgundy lipstick.

“This will finish the look.”

You swipe it on and look at yourself in the mirror. You do look good…

“Time to go!” You grab her hand and squeal. The two of you make your way over to the arena, your VIP passes swinging around your necks as you canter along. The security guard at the door checks your passes and gives you the all clear, and another member of the security crew escorts you backstage. Sam is the first to notice you both, bobbing his head with his mouth agape.

“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes! Two fallen angels!” He hollers, wrapping an arm around you both.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Kiszka.” Kat winks.

Josh rounds the corner and theatrically falls to his knees, placing the back of his hand on his forehead.

“Be still my beating heart. You are exquisite, my darlings.”

He’s wearing one of his famous jumpsuits, with his chest exposed. Rhinestones adorn his cheeks, sparkling in the light with every movement. He’s so beautiful that it takes your breath away.

“Joshua Kiszka, look at you. Prettier than a picture.” You giggle, opening your arms out to him. Just then, Jake and Danny appear.

“Lauren, Kat, you both look stunning!” Danny beams.

“You look fucking hot, Danny.” Kat raises her eyebrows, smirking.

“Well, thank you. I’m blushing.” Danny playfully covers his face with his hands.

You meet Jake’s eyes, he’s looking you up and down like he would devour you right now in front of everyone if he could. He’s wearing his signature black suit, the jacket open and showing his tanned chest and silver chains. He beckons you over with a curl of his finger. You excuse yourself and walk over, and his hands find your hips instantly. He pulls you close and whispers into your ear “You look fucking beautiful, that dress… I can’t wait to take it off you later.”

“Sorry to cut this short, but we need to head backstage. Brian will take you to your seats.” Josh points across to the crew member. “See you on the other side!”

You and Kat wish them good luck and follow Brian out into the arena to your seats. They are by far the closest you’ve ever been to the stage, right opposite the walkway that you know Josh and Jake will both use during the show. It was so odd being here on this side, with a view of the space that would be filled with thousands of screaming fans. You were once one of them, and you’d been swept up so quickly on this journey that you hadn’t had time to process it yet. You sat, expressionless, staring into the void whilst your mind whirred with endless thoughts. Kat notices and snaps her fingers in front of your face.

“You good?”

“Yeah, just thinking about how crazy this all is. A few weeks ago they had no idea who I was, now we’re like… besties.” You laugh.

“I honestly have no idea how you pulled this off, but I’m glad you did. You’ve been happier than I’ve seen you in years, and that’s all I care about. It’s been shit watching the life be sucked out of you, you have your glow back now.” She smiles, wrapping her arms around you.

“What would I do without you?”

“Fucked if I know!” She giggles.

The arena begins to fill up and you watch the fans sprinting towards the barricade. It feels like just yesterday that was you. After around 30 minutes, the opening act appears on stage and starts their set. You sway along, enjoying their vibe. It’s the same band that opened in London, but this time you were able to remain focused and listen to how talented they were. A part of you felt a spark of envy, this was something you’d always wanted to do yourself but never had the confidence to pursue. A few songs in you feel a tap on your shoulder. It’s Brian.

“Miss Y/N, I’ve been requested to bring you back stage for a moment.”

You look to Kat. “Will you be ok for a minute?”.

She nods and ushers you towards Brian. You follow him down the steps and backstage. He leads you down the corridor and into a dressing room, where Jake is sitting. He stands as you enter.

“And what exactly do you want with me then, sir?” You smirk.

“I wanted to see you one more time before we go on.” He grabs hold of your hands and pulls you into him, his hands snaking around your waist. “You’re my good luck charm.”

“Is that so? I don’t think you need a good luck charm.”

His hands find their way to your face and he cradles it, then sweeps his fingers into your hair as he kisses you softly. You mirror his actions and entangle your hands into his chestnut locks, kissing him deeper. He gasps into your mouth and you feel his cock harden against your hips.

“Someone’s gagging for it.” You tease. He whips you around so your back is to him. With one hand on your throat, the other slips in between your legs. Your breath hitches in your throat as his fingers dance over your clothed clit.

“Keep teasing, sweetheart. You’ll be sorry later.”

The door swings open and you swiftly part, both looking sheepishly at Josh who has burst into the room. His face glows red and he averts his eyes.

“Uhhh, sorry… Thought you were alone. We need to head to the stage.”

Your hands fly up to your mouth as you attempt to muffle the laughter spilling from you. “Sorry, Josh. I’ll get back to my seat. You guys are gunna do great! See you after, my rockstars!”

~

The show is absolutely phenomenal. Just like you predicted, both Jake and Josh make full use of the walkway in front of you, strutting down it like they own the place. They steal the spotlight in their own special ways. Josh is flamboyant and eccentric in his movements and seems to glide across the stage, oozing charisma and charm. Jake, on the other hand, is just animalistic. The way he throws his head back and grinds into his guitar is quite frankly obscene, but you and every other girl in the room are completely mesmerised by it. If his mission was to arouse his fans, he was certainly fulfilling it. The way he locked eyes with some of the fans had you feeling a pang of jealousy, which you tried to keep buried deep down. It wasn’t until you saw him lean over the barricade to whisper into a fan’s ear that the jealously abruptly bubbled over. You saw red, balling your fists beside you until your knuckles were white.

“Hey, you ok?” Kat reaches down and puts her hand over your fist, and you immediately relax them.

“I don’t know what came over me, sorry.”

“Is it seeing Jake with those girls?”

“Yeah, but I’m being stupid. I’m not his girlfriend…”

“He’s sure treating you like you are.”

The night plays on and you witness a few more of these encounters between Jake and his female fans. Each time you feel your temper boil over, until you’ve finally had enough when you see him hand a pick to a pretty blonde. Luckily for you, the show is ending and they are finishing up their encore. You propel yourself from your seat and don’t even think about Kat as you storm down the steps. The band is making their way off stage as you round the corner. Jake calls out your name but you ignore him and keep walking down the corridor. You find the dressing room with Josh’s name on it and let yourself in, collapsing onto the sofa with a thud. A few moments later Josh appears.

“There you are, Jake was going out of his mind. I’ll go and-”

“No. I came in here on purpose. I don’t want to see him.”

Josh frowns and sits down next to you. “What’s happened, Songbird?”

“He’s been practically throwing himself at the girls in the crowd all night.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Josh places his hand on your thigh.

“I really don’t think that changes how he feels about you, it’s just for show.”

“It might not, but it’s still pissed me off. The worst part is, I don’t even have the right to be upset with him. I’m not his girlfriend, I don’t even know what this thing is between us. But he brought me here, and I thought…” you trail off, tears glistening in your eyes.

“Hey, he’d be a fucking fool to lose you, Songbird. Please don’t let it ruin your time here, and anyway, you have me.” He tilts your chin up to look at him and flashes you his signature toothy grin. You throw your arms around him and squeeze him tight. “God, I love you, Josh.”

“And I love you, Songbird. Come on, pick yourself up, we’re going out to celebrate.”

The whole ride to the bar you avoid eye contact with Jake, though he doesn’t stop trying to get your attention. As you’re mid conversation with Sam, Danny and Kat, you spot Jake and Josh having a hushed but heated conversation out of the corner of your eye. You just about make out Josh tell Jake to “not fuck it up, because Y/N is an angel walking the earth”. Your heart melts at the way he is standing up for you.

You’re the first to exit the cab and enter the bustling bar. There’s a live band playing and there are many people up dancing along to the rhythm. You walk over to the bar and immediately order a tequila soda, but as you go to pay Jake’s hand appears in front of you and hands the bartender a note.

“I said everything would be taken care of.”

You remain cold, not acknowledging his existence. You bring the straw of you drink to your lips and take a long sip, feeling the burn of the tequila slip down your throat.

“You gunna give me the cold-shoulder all evening?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” You respond, still not meeting his eye.

“Y/N. Look at me.” You ignore his request, taking another sip from your drink. His hand shoots out and grabs your chin, manoeuvring it so that you’re facing him.

“Talk to me.”

You shake your head. “I think I’m gunna go and dance.”

You remove the straw from your drink and down the rest, slamming the glass onto the bar and push past Jake to make your way to the dance floor. You find the rest of the guys there already, dancing along with Kat. You join in, shaking your hips to the rhythm and eliciting a wolf whistle from Sam.

“Damn, girl. You’ve got moves!”

With the tequila now in your system, your inhibitions are significantly lower. Your hand finds Josh’s and you tug on it until he’s face to face with you.

“Dance with me, pretty boy.”

He laughs and spins you around, then dips you down low. Your hands loop around his neck and his find your waist as your bodies move together to the music. You both shriek with laughter as you grind up against each other. You throw your hands up and slowly sway your hips side to side as you sink down onto your knees and back up again. Josh watches you, licking his lips. It’s clear he’s also under the influence, as usually it’s a lot more PG between the two of you. His hands find your waist again and he pulls you closer this time, his eyes darting between your eyes and lips. Suddenly, as if you both simultaneously realise what’s happening, you part. Josh rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I’m- I’m gunna go to the bathroom.” You mutter before exiting the dance floor. You hastily locate the single unisex stall and shut the door behind you. You lean against the sink and inhale deeply. What the fuck are you doing?

As you’re gathering yourself, the door swings open. Shit, you forgot to lock it. You spin around to find Jake standing there, nostrils flared.

“You wanna tell me what the fuck that was?”

“Jake, I’m-”

“My brother, Y/N?! I knew something was going on between you two!”

Suddenly you see red. “I beg your fucking pardon, Jake? There’s nothing between me and Josh! He’s my friend! And anyway, what about you and your fucking bimbo in the crowd?!” You spit.

He looks taken aback, not expecting that response from you, but quickly reverts back to anger.

“Is that what this is about? That’s nothing! I was being nice to my fans, Y/N. That’s all that was. God you sound just like her.” Before he’s finished speaking he already regrets the words that have fallen from his mouth. His eyes widen and he rubs his temples viciously.

“I sound like who?” You glare.

“Forget it. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not letting that go, fucking speak up.”

He sighs “My ex-girlfriend. I swore off dating when we ended things. She got so jealous of the life I lead, even though she knew what she was signing up for. I loved her, and she broke my heart. When I saw you with Josh, I thought history was repeating itself.”

“Her… and Josh?”

“No, it’s not like that. She tried it. Tried it with each of the guys. They didn’t do anything, so she just fucked the first person she could find instead. She did it all to get back at me, she thought I was sleeping with my fans. That’s not something I do, and not something I ever intended to do… until you. There’s something different about you, and although it scared me because of how badly my heart was broken, I couldn’t let you walk away.”

Your face falls. You’d been so stupid, thinking he’d drop you for the next girl that looked his way.

“Jake, I’m so sorry. I would never do that, I’m sorry that I got too close with Josh. That was never my intention. Maybe I wanted you to feel a bit jealous, but I would never ever cross that line. It was just harmless fun, or so I thought.”

“I really like you, Y/N. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t. I think… I think I’m falling for you and I can’t stop.” He closes the gap between you and caresses your cheek, his lips ghosting over yours.

“I think I am too.” You latch onto his shirt and pull him into you, your mouth melting into his. It feels like time slows to a stop, your lips on his and the way he’s holding you is all that matters. He’s like a shining beacon of light in a pitch black room. You break away at the sound of a knock at the bathroom door. A voice from the other side is speaking in Portuguese, a customer clearly needing to use the room for its intended purposes. As you exit the bathroom, the customer mutters under their breath. You don’t speak a lick of Portuguese but you’re certain they are complaining about the two of you being in there together. Jake walks ahead of you and re-joins the group who are now situated in a booth.

“Y/N and I are going to head back to the hotel, she’s not feeling too good.”

You begin to protest, but Jake flashes you a look. “Yeah, sorry guys. I hope you have fun.”

Josh shoots you an apologetic half-smile and you mouth don’t worry at him, then you bid your goodbyes and follow Jake out the door.

When you arrive at the hotel you expect Jake to split from you and go towards his room, but he walks behind you as you enter your room.

“I guess you’re coming in here then?”

His demeanour shifts as soon as the door is shut.

“Get on the fucking bed.”

You freeze, unsure of the change in atmosphere.

“I said, get on the fucking bed. Don’t make me ask again”

Your body goes into autopilot at the low boom of his voice, dripping in authority. You position yourself at the head of the bed.

“You’ve been a fucking brat tonight. Do you know what happens to brats?”

You shake your head, suddenly feeling like a deer in headlights.

“They get punished.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, his dominance causing a gush of arousal to pool inside of you.

“Turn around.” He barks.

You obey his command and he begins unzipping your dress, exposing your bare chest and thong. He twirls his index finger, signalling you to turn back around, then uses the palm of his hand pressed between your breasts to guide you back. He pinches your nipple between his finger and thumb, then rolls it slowly. You hiss at the sensation. He takes your nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue around the hardened bud. Your back arches off the bed, it’s been weeks since you’ve felt him touch you like this and you need him like your lungs need air. With your nipple still in his mouth, he slinks his hand between your legs and begins to rub agonisingly slow circles over your pussy.

“So wet already, and I’ve only just begun.”

He releases your nipple with a pop and removes your thong. He pushes your legs apart so that you’re spread wide for him, then runs his fingers through your folds. Your hips buck up, so he uses his free hand to anchor your hips down. He dips his finger into your entrance and curls it up into your g-spot. You whine needily.

“More, Jake, please.”

“Uh uh, only good girls get to beg for more. You haven’t been a good girl, have you Songbird?” The use of Josh’s pet name for you in such a filthy way makes your eyes roll back into your head. He stops and withdraws his fingers from you, and you let out another whine.

“Answer me.”

“No, I haven’t been a good girl. I’m sorry Jakey.”

“Apologies won’t work on me tonight.”

He pushes his fingers back into you and begins to circle his tongue around your clit, picking up the speed until all you can hear is the sound of his fingers driving into your dripping cunt.

“Jake, I’m gunna cum.”

As you reach your peak and begin to pulse around him, he stops and sits up to watch the mess he’s created with the biggest, shit-eating grin on his face.

“Jakeeeeee!” You squeal. “Please, please. Let me cum!” Tears are forming in your eyes and you feel ridiculous.

“Cry all you want, princess. This is your punishment.”

“Please, I’ll be so good for you. Jakey, please.”

“You wanna be a good girl for me now then, hm?”

“Yes, I promise. I’ll be good.”

He stands and unbuckles his belt, letting it drop to the floor. He unzips his pants and removes them, along with his boxers. “Better put that smart mouth to good use then.”

You immediately drop to your knees in front of him and he sighs.

“Aren’t you a pretty picture, down there on your knees for me?”

You open up your mouth and swallow him whole, eliciting a moan from his lips.

“Fuck, baby girl.” He whispers through gritted teeth as you bob your head back and forth, taking his entire length into your throat. You want to give him your best, to prove to him that you’re willing to be good. His hand finds the back of your head and he grips onto your hair as you take him into your mouth. You can feel your eyes watering but you keep going, pushing through. Seeing his face contort with pleasure has you dripping down your thighs. You can feel he’s close when his cock begins to twitch in your mouth, so you quicken your pace, flattening your tongue and letting it slip along his length.

“Baby, I’m gunna cum.”

You rake your nails down the back of his thighs and he groans, his hips sputtering as he paints the back of your throat with ropes of his cum. You swallow it down and lick your lips, then rise to your knees and pull him into you. You kiss him and lap your tongue against his.

“You taste so good, don’t you baby?”

He grunts and guides you over to the bed, motioning for you to get on all fours. He pulls his shirt off and moves behind you, slipping his fingers inside of you.

“So fucking wet.”

He uses your slick to lube himself up and then pushes his cock inside you until he’s bottomed out. He thrusts into you at a delicious pace, his hand snaking around your hip to play with your clit.

“I wanna try something, just let me know if you are uncomfortable at any point.”

“Ok, I will.”

He brings his hand back around and sucks on his fingers, collecting his spit and then begins to rub circles around your back entrance. You jolt slightly, not expecting the sensation.

“Is that ok?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’ve just never done this before. But I’m willing to try.”

He massages into you and then leans in and lets his saliva drip from his tongue onto you, then pushes a finger gently inside. It stings at first, but once you get used to the feeling you enter a new realm of arousal.

“Holy fuck” you breathe. “More.”

“Are you sure baby?”

“Yes, more. Fuck me harder too, please.”

He gently inserts another finger into you and picks up his pace, thrusting deeper. You let out a string of moans and curses, rocking backwards to meet his thrusts. He curls his fingers up inside you and you feel the white hot coil in your stomach tighten, threatening to unravel.

“Fuck, fuck. Jake that feels so fucking good.”

He drives into you faster, flicking his fingers up with every snap of his hips. Your whole body is trembling with pleasure, you didn’t think it was even possible to feel this level of ecstasy after your initial experiences with Jake. It felt so dirty and wrong, yet so right at the same time.

“Jake, I’m gunna cum!” You barely make out the words before you’re plunging into the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. The dam inside you bursts and you gush around his cock, soaking everything in sight. As he pulls out of you, you hear him moan and he cums for the second time. You collapse onto your chest, still riding out your high. You lay there, chest heaving as you catch your breath. Jake sits on the bed next to you and brushes your hair from your face.

“That was… fucking amazing. I didn’t think you could make me cum any harder but, fuck.” You giggle hazily.

“You drive me crazy, Songbird.” Jake chuckles back. He tilts his head to the side and smiles softly.

“Shower?”

You prop yourself up and grin back at him.

“You know me so well.”

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #jake greta van fleet #jake lane #jacob thomas kiszka #greta van fic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #jake gvf smut #jakedown #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka gvf #jaket kiszka #jacob kiszka smut #jacob kiszka #gvf smut #josh greta van fleet #josh kiszka #josh gvf #twin lane #jtk

[0509-brainrot]

POST THE DOUBKE PARALLELS PLSPLSPLS

HNGH OKAY SO,

First of all just some General Visual Parallels (ones that while I don't have any particular Thoughts or Deep Analysis on they're Neat :) (also they fit more into the overarching smoking trio parallels since Kazui has a matching one too) I'm sorry Kazui my blog is so biased orz)

Mfs when they hold the left side of their face while forcing out a pained smile (Although with Mikoto it's just his general lying/trying to brush off his own suffering while with Shidou we're looking at him at his most painfully honest) ((Also they both have phone calls in their songs which I think is Great))

Cool eye shots :) (Am I the only one who thinks Mikoto's eyes are very pretty :sob: ((Also now the entire smoking trio has one of these close up eye shots, I also love that Mikoto and Orekoto both get individual shots nobody gets left out (Ignoring the fact that they Disbanded)))

Okay but time for. My Actual Shitty Parallels Analysis bear with me guys here this is gonna get Messy,

Idk if I talked about this Before but Shidou and John (I'm sorry guys I Need to adjust to it I'm gonna call him John here) are both obviously extremely tied to their "purpose" of protecting people, specifically their loved ones (Shidou's Family/Mikoto). However they obviously go at it very Differently, John's method Is harmful (violence/killing) while Shidou's is supposed to be the complete Opposite (treating/healing).

There's also something interesting about their victims. I can't say for sure from Double if Multiple people were Actually murdered, but it seems to be portrayed that way by John at least; he and Shidou both portray themselves as having multiple victims, and they're also portrayed completely differently than their loved ones (Flowers/Tags, Mannequins, they're not entirely portrayed as people and have little to no identity, their lives were set aside to protect/save the ones they cared about)

(The environment in Shidou's MV is also very sterile and clean looking while John's is covered in blood. They're both surrounded by their representations of the lives they took)

From what we've seen this purpose is currently what basically makes or breaks their will/reason to live, these people are their entire worlds, if they can't even save the ones they care about they may as well have nothing, and what happened with that purpose of protecting?

Well. They failed.

Shidou's fails to protect/save his family and John fails to protect/save Mikoto, and their arcs with how they go Forward with this failure completely Kills Me

I fucking. Hrmghsdflbds these shots at the ends of their respective mvs are the shots that pretty much prompted this post. Shidou reaches out and, despite his failures, tries to push past his self-hatred and resolves to continue living and protecting others. Meanwhile, John closes in on himself with renewed self-hatred, and decides that it would be better off if he disappeared/went dormant.

Just. Aheem aheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeem

GOD, GOD (while the shots themselves don't exactly parallel, the lyrics. Oh The Lyrics)

"So hey, prolong my life" / "If only I were never born, if only"

"I'm Dispensable" / "I'm So Sorry"

Minus the "Why, why" in Double, these are the Last Two Lines for both of their songs and,

I'M GONNA HIT SOMETHING,

We see John with the most Openly Distressed expression we've seen on him meanwhile Shidou has almost Cold Resolve

Shidou and John's arcs are going in completely opposite directions and that Breaks my Fucking Heart Man oh my God get me Out of here Get Me Out (I hope these shots also helps articulate that parallel I tried to make earlier about the different ways they go at protecting people? Shidou puts on new white, clean gloves meanwhile John's hands are completely coated in blood and just. Man,).

Just. Yeah. Yeah,

Pain

God I hope this makes sense to Someone I'm going Insane

Most miserable guys ever I love them so much </333

#milgram #milgram project #mikoto kayano #shidou kirisaki #0509 #0905 #0509 ramblings #admittedly i'm very apprehensive about posting this to the main tags #while all the Real theories are rolling in and stuff #i'm kinda worried about people looking at me like i'm Insane and like Yeah I Am but also orz orz #praying this stays with my audience you guys see the Vision Right #they make me So Ill i'm gonna Throw Something Goddddddd #guys pleaseplaspelape if you have thoughts or a response to this Let Me Know we Need to feed each other Thoughts me thinks

[weaselle]

actually after adding this story to another post i got so mad i'm making it a separate post

when i was a kid in a musical production of Peter Pan I got a largish role which was awesome, but i was already self conscious about my voice and during rehearsals for one of the songs the director came up onto the stage squinting like he had a mouth full of lemon juice and stalked up and down in front of us until finally he zeroed in on me and had us all stop singing and then had just me alone sing a couple lines and nodded and said "yeah, you don't sing anymore, just mouth the words silently" and then told the kids on either side of me to sing a little louder to cover it...

and no amount of knowing logically that he was wrong for doing that has helped me overcome my fear of singing in front of people after that

and there have been some other times people (looking at you, mother) have said things to similar effect

the real hell of it is, i'm like... i have a lot of songs in me. i'm constantly writing original songs that i'm too afraid to sing for anyone

here are a few. they each have a specific melody.. I wish you could hear them

i don't feel like complainin' 'bout my life today and i ain't got a lot to brag about so i'm just usin' this music to keep movin' and i don't mind if i'm a part of your show so look at life all over and it can be rough if gettin' is your goal you won't get enough but i got me and i'm free an' warm spinnin' and grinnin' in the eye of the storm

i don't need to be winnin' while i'm gamin' and i don't feel like a losin' man no winnin' or losin' i guess that leaves playin' and i don't mind if i'm a part of your band

they say this race of rats is crazy it's dog eat dog they need a sheep to be a workhorse and go whole hog well i'm no genius most of the time but at least i can be nobody's fool but mine

at least i can be! nobody's fool but mine

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

I don’t care … I don’t care if this minute is our last you can bet I’ll be living it before I let it past

(repeat)

Plan in command like a band with a marching tune, dooming our duo when you go embarking soon, damn I’m just glad that we had this hot interlude, hoping we’ll pause and not stop ‘cause I’m into you! checking the phone when alone for the text – that gives me this feeling I’m reeling I’m blessed – the sex is appealing for real but the rest of the sum of your parts makes my heart beat its chest

I don’t care … I don’t care if this minute is our last you can bet I’ll be loving it before I let it past

(repeat)

a decade ago we met lost and were friends christened our roads and then crossed them again we played and we dated like it ain’t a thing but lately our hook-up is more than a fling the two of us truly unduly effected - direction of goals that we hold gonna wreck it but check it I’m with it I’m livin’ it reckless to be where you’re breathin’ is leavin’ me breathless

I don’t care … I don’t care if this minute is our last you can bet I’ll be loving you before I let it past

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

I went to bed lonely, found waking I’d only held dreams of you… In Dreamland I dwelt, but those feelings I felt still seem so true… I dreamt you still wanted me, that’s what’s still haunting me deep in my heart… though awake I believe in the many good reasons we’re keeping apart…

I cry diamonds! I weep songs of may never be I cry gemstones! each one a good memory each action taken, all of the fine bad and more I’d never trade them, these tears are my dragon’s hoard

I’m happy to see you, I knew that would be true our love never could end… I would swear an oath, this is best for us both and you’re still my good friend… but some nights my soul just doesn’t feel whole when I’m not by your side… so I add to and hold, all the jewels and the gold that I’ve already cried…

I cry diamonds! I weep songs of may never be I cry gemstones! each one a good memory each action taken, all of the fine bad and more I’d never trade them, these tears are my dragon’s hoard

So I’ll seek out adventure, eventually enter a time. when. I… leave this treasure heap, spread my wings and leap into the sky… I’ve dreams I believe in but please know that even when I. reach. them… I’ll visit these memories, loving and tenderly holding each gem..

I cry diamonds! I weep songs of may never be I cry gemstones! each one a good memory each action taken, all of the fine bad and more I’d never trade them…

these tears are my dragon’s hoard

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

i wanna go off… i’ll go on the run- i wanna go big… go off like a gun they tell me come on just do as i’m told stop dreaming of hot find joy in this cold but i want the heat (oh yes) i want to feel warm! don’t want to repeat (this mess) don’t want to conform

still i pay my taxes i jump through the hoops it never relaxes: life lived in a loop

I want to go off… go off like a gun! a bright shooting star- as hot as the sun

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

my best my best is what i give i never rest i never live but i don’t die i try to grip this liquid life inside my fist is this a test what must i learn if this is hell oh well i’ll burn and use my body as a meal is this what godly beings feel?

so come the worst i’ll curse and taaaake it if i don’t try this life is waaaaasted I’ll struggle puzzled cold and naaaaaaked and hold to hope that i will maaaake it and if i don’t then may my bones out in the garden over-grown be turned into some little home for those as lost and as alone

the stars all wheel over head it’s always heal or be dead i must i know let go of dread and trust my questing steps instead

the day will play and i will daaaance it i’ll set my bet down and i’ll chaaaaance it with danger hurtful flirt romaaaaaaantic make my own wish, insist i graaaaant it

my best my best is what i give i never rest but do i live still i don’t die i try to grip this liquid life inside my fist…

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

i said i'm a tramp hobo and bum an' one mean son an' that's okay i said i'm a tramp i know but lovin' keeps on comin' my-y way

some times i'm just a drifter who's down on his luck but a smile from the Lady tips my own lips up!

down and out i ain't got nothin' but my laugh and my tough an' my-y name down and out my main skill bluffin' it's enough in thi-is game

my rhymes are just a whistle i'm hummin' along but with some help from the Lady i can sing this song!

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

maybe i'll find a singer or some musicians to partner up with

#song #songs #song master list #poem #poetry #all songs are poems i guess

[chrollo-lucilfers-chains]

Chrollo x gn!reader

His s/o gets taken.

Warnings: Kidnapping, stalker behavior, reckless driving, violence, murder (This one's kinda heavy kids, be careful).

Part 2

Oh boy, I sure hope there's no mistakes in this one cause it longggg...

The two of you had met at a formal ball, organised by the city where the troupe was going to steal an entire array of diamonds. He hadn't been planning to socialize that evening until you quite literally ran into him. Before you could fall he'd caught you with an arm to keep you steady, intending to keep his cover and not draw too much attention.

You had stared into each other's eyes for a few minutes until your face erupted into a bright red blush as you started apologizing multiple times and promptly began to ramble about your clumsiness.

After the seventh time he'd told you that yes, he was really fine and that it was okay since nobody got hurt, you excused yourself.

After you had left Chrollo duly noted the lack of your parfume in the corridor. He'd liked the scent from the start, he remembers.

Later that fateful evening of the ball, when a slow song had come on, a hand had been extended towards him, attached to your bashfully smiling form as you asked him if he'd like to dance with you.

Chrollo had found himself agreeing so easily that evening. And when he'd taken your hand and wrapped an arm around your waist to guide you to the dance floor it was out of genuine interest.

That evening, shortly before the troupe members were going to slaughter the balls other participants Chrollo took you to the roof. Without you knowing what was going on downstairs, you and him watched the city below in blissfull conversation.

You had trusted him so easily it was laughable.

And when you'd shivered a bit he'd even lent you his jacket in a facade of gentleman-like behavior.

It had been easy to find you after that night. He'd tracked you down and the next few weeks he would 'accidentally' meet you on your way to work until you asked him for a real date.

And before you knew he'd had you trapped like a butterfly in his spiderweb.

Right now, sitting in the car he wishes he could have you with him so that your calming scent would be wafting in the air.

You have so little free time and yet you always make some for him.

How often has he slipped inside a room when you are alone, locking the door behind him only to trap you in his arms and have his way with you.

He doesn't know how often. He hadn't counted, as it didn't matter.

You were a toy for pure amusement... at first.

Oh, but that perfect reaction of yours whenever he seems sad to you, brooding in a chair while he's actually just thinking about new crimes to commit.

But you don't know that so you climb inside his lap and take his face in your hands to smile softly and kiss his forehead through the bandana.

As if that would take away all of the pain.

It probably would, Chrollo thinks, if there was any pain of his to take.

He chuckles lowly, you give so much and you don't even know.

His personal, little angel. The nickname had slipped out one time when he watched you bake something for him. The light of the kitchen lamp behind you illuminating your form like a halo and he'd said it because that's what you'd looked like. But your surprised face was nice he thought and so he'd kept the nickname.

Immediately after, his face darkens as he imagines you, his angel in the hands of your captors.

How can a person like you, both physically and mentally weak have so much power over him?

Chrollo huffs. He doesn't care how you've done it but somehow you have worked your way into his head.

You've infected him with a hunger and infuriation he's never felt before.

It makes him want you all to himself and now they want to take you from him?

When had you become more than just a puppet to him? You used to be a toy of his, something to play with when he was bored or craved stress relief. He'd always been so busy with taking from you that he hadn't even realized how far he'd fallen.

And then he hears your trembling voice, from minutes ago in his head again, telling him you're scared, he hears your pained scream when the bastard hit you and suddenly he sees red.

It's in that moment that the ideas in his head of what to do with the people who hurt you instantly become more graphic, as he imagines all the ways to make them pay tenfold.

He'll have to make sure you're not there to witness that part, of course. When that happens you'll be secured and taken home already. He'll make sure of it.

Never again will he let you get hurt by anyone else. You're his precious angel after all.

"We'll find her", Pakunoda tells him. It's not said to be reassuring. More like a side comment.

He nods his head.

"Of course we will!", he says, the tone of his voice not betraying any kind of emotion. It's simply a statement of absolute.

The trees outside the window fly by faster as Pakunoda speeds up. No further words are necessary between the two of them. His face says enough for her to know the urgency of this mission.

Your safety is top priority.

"Waahh!", you exclaim as someone shoves you into a chair and you let out a sob.

Tears are streaming down your face.

When the guy had noticed your phone you'd desperately tried to hold on to it, not wanting to be separated from Chrollo. But the man had been much stronger and even hit you, taking the phone and with it your connection to your boyfriend.

After the call with Chrollo had ended you'd tried to run towards the door in a feeble attempt only for another one to catch you and hit you as well.

Not used to physical violence you'd started crying only for them to scream at you to shut up.

After that, your crying had turned into silent sniffles as you tried not to provoke them further.

Your captors had blindfolded you and tied you up before they'd shoved you inside a car trunk and you started moving.

Tired, scared and confused you had been shoved around for at least half an hour until they got you out of the trunk again.

You were almost relieved until a click was heard and something hard poked your back. Was that.. a gun?! Your eyes went wide under the blindfold.

"Move!", a deep voice said and suddenly you were shoved forward. You nearly fell but the guy yanked you back by your hair.

The pain made you let out a surprised sob as you quickly scrambled forwards.

After seemingly endless corners somebody shoved you onto a hard stool.

Now you're alone.

At least that's your guess since the guy had left with a slam of the door and nobody else has made themselves known.

Finally you let your tears fall as you sob into the blindfold. Why is this happening to you? You don't have money or important relatives so what could they possibly want?

You tug at your ties again. If you can just find a way out of here and get to an open street somebody can safe you. But it's no use. The rough rope cuts your hands with every tiny movement but it doesn't budge even an inch.

"Come on... ", you curse quietly. The situation seems helpless.

All on your own you're left with your thoughts.

You don't know how long you've been sitting there... It must have been at least an hour.

Your thoughts drift to Chrollo. Is he searching for you right now?

He'd told you once that him and his friends were 'collectors' and that he had connections in nearly every city. That was also the reason he was home so little.

But you don't mind.

Of course you miss him whenever he goes on his 'business trips' but he more than makes up for it when he shows back up so you don't really question it.

Once he had even introduced you to a beautiful woman called Pakunoda who apparently worked with him. She had told you that her and Chrollo had known each other for years.

You like Pakunoda. She has this aura of strength around her. It's the same one Chrollo has that makes you feel safe whenever you're with him, like nothing could shake him.

You wish he was with you right now, holding you in his strong embrace, kissing you slowly instead of you being tied in an incredibly uncomfortable chair.

Another stray teardrop rolls down your cheek as you imagine his arms wrapping around you like so often and giving you that feeling of complete safety.

Suddenly you hear a loud noise. It sounded very much like a gun and you start trembling. What's going on? Has someone finally found you?

The door is kicked open with a loud sound and someone storms towards you.

Please, you think, let it be someone good.

But you're disappointed as the person roughly yanks off your blindfold and you see the face of one of your captors.

"You bitch! Who is your contact?!", he screams at you.

Your breathing speeds up as the confusion and fear from before wash over you again.

"W- What are you talking about? I told you I had no important relatives", you stumble over your words.

The man roughly grabs your hair and yanks your head back. Then something sharp presses into your neck. It's not enough to cut you but you definitely feel the sharpness of a blade.

"Then why is the fucking phantom troupe here?!", the man snarls at you.

"Who is-?" ,you start but he slaps you so hard your head turns to the left side. You cry out loud.

"Listen here, bitch. Either you tell me who your contact is or I'm going to shove this knife into your neck and see for myself when they find your dead body!"

"But I really don't know!", you cry in terrified hysteria.

You can feel him press down the knife harder as it cuts into your flesh. You trash in your ties as he lifts the knife for a final blow. You close your eyes and scream as it comes down on you.

You wait for the pain and agony to strike you but it never comes. Instead you hear a cough. Slowly you peel open one eye, then the other.

Your eyes blow wide. Crollo is standing infront of you, face filled with disgust as he watches the body of your captor who is now laying on the ground, coughing up blood.

"Chrollo!", you let out a whisper in relief and his eyes flicker over to you.

Shortly you're afraid of the face you see. His eyes are colder than you've ever seen, his brows furrow. But only for a second.

Immediately he moves over to you and pulls you up. Stumbling on your wobbly legs you nearly fall but one of his arms shoots out to catch you against his chest.

Then he presses you against him and you let out a first sob. His arm around your waist holds you steady as the other cradles your head against his shoulder.

Finally you break down in relief as you start sobbing in his arms, which tighten around you in response. All the stress and fear of the last hour catches up to you and makes you cry even harder.

"You're here!"

Suddenly Chrollo's one hand leaves your head in a rapid motion and he turns swiftly, taking you with him. You yelp between sobs, eyes widening.

Chrollo had caught something in midair you realize. He stands up straight again and holds up his hand which is holding the knife from your attacker, who seems to have thrown it in a last motion of rage before his body went slack.

Clicking his tongue, completely unfazed at the sudden attack Chrollo turns the knife in his hands and tugs at your restraints.

For the first time since the phone call he speaks.

"Don't. Move.", he says in a warning voice. You furrow your brows in confusion but comply until suddenly the blade is flat against your arm.

You cry out as panic takes over and try to escape his arms but he traps you flat against him with one and holds your arms away from your back in a way that makes you unable to move. Before you can let out a cry of fear a ripping sound is heard and suddenly your hands are free.

Then you understand that he'd only cut your restraints with the knife and throw your arms around his body in relief. Any more shocks today and you'll probably faint...

Of course he wouldn't hurt you. How could you even have thought that?

"I'm sorry Chrollo! I don't know what I was thinking, it's just-", Chrollo stops your rambling by letting the knife fall to the floor.

It hits the concrete with a loud thump and makes you wince.

Cradling your cheek in his hand Chrollo carefully turns your face upwards to look at him. He studies your face with his cold, grey eyes, seemingly looking for something. You hold the eye contact, not even daring to blink.

The color of his eyes always reminds you of the stormy sea. Looking at them you get lost in the beauty of it, if you weren't paying attention.

Whatever it was that Chrollo had been looking for must've made him reach some kind of decision because in the next second he leans down to capture your lips with his own.

His arm secures itself around your waist and the hand that held your face moves to the back of your head as he pulls you incredibly closer.

You're surprised for a second but then you melt into his arms. Your hands that are flat against his chest for some sort of stability fist into his clothing to pull him closer to you.

He complies and you wind your arms around his neck to cling to him as his lips take your breath away.

Tears are running down your face as he kisses you breathless and you sink deeper and deeper into his embrace.

After what feels like hours but was really just a few minutes he pulls away. You try to chase his lips with yours but the hand, that had been in your hair now holds you by your neck. Not nearly tight enough to take away the air flow but enough to ground you and come back to earth.

"Later", he tells you softly and you nod, trying to catch your breath.

"Can you walk?", he asks, his eyes holding a silent question wether you're okay.

Your legs still feel like jello after what you've been through so you shake your head.

"I don't think so...", you admit shamefully but he shakes his head.

"That's okay, I've got you now", he says in the soft tone of voice that makes you feel so protected with him. He puts your arms around his neck and bends down, picking you up with ease.

You've always admired his strength and how easily he can carry things that are far too heavy for a normal human. It has come in handy many times since the two of you have been together.

Not to mention that it was just incredibly flattering to be picked up like you weighed no more than a feather sometimes...

Chrollo starts walking towards the door. He completely disregards the man on the floor and leaves the room with you. Cuddling into his neck you inhale his calming scent as he struts down the hallways.

He's here, you're safe, you tell yourself.

You close your eyes as the exhaustion kicks in. Slowly you let yourself drift off in his arms, not caring wherever he carries you. You feel almost like you're floating.

Finally falling asleep after all of the stress your body goes slack in Chrollo's arms who pulls you closer to him, carefully making sure you wouldn't wake up.

Had you been awake maybe you would've seen the countless corpses on the floor. Maybe you would've even been afraid of him and yelled at him to explain.

But you don't see the bodies. You're asleep in his arms. Chrollo had saved you. You're safe.

Tags: @lil-baby-nor

#chrollo lucilfer #hunter x hunter #chrollo #mine #my writing #chrollo x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #hunter x hunter x reader #gn!reader

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

Fuuta T1 Cover - Mozaik Role

This song's a bit more odd than some others, but I think it fits Fuuta quite well! Let's see what the connection is, though obviously this is all just my opinion and my view.

CW Online harassment, harmful relationships, sex

Mozaik Role can be read in a few different ways, but the interpretation I'm going with is that it speaks of a romantic relationship between two people which is beginning to break down, as they don't feel satisfied with it. The main reason why is that they feel the connection doesn't go beyond sexual attraction, it's superficial.

Lack of sympathy and superficial sex seem to perfectly describe the unbreakable bond between you and me Saying things like, "Either way, I still love you..." (lol) [...]

In the end, I got tired of you Since I don't know if it's love or lust, what should I call this relationship I'm about to end?

(Translation)

(Note: Purely sexual relationships can still be meaningful and aren't inherently inferior to romantic relationships. But sexual attraction isn't enough to hold up a healthy romantic relationship, the same way romantic attraction isn't enough to hold up a healthy sexual relationship)

Staying together and pretending to be in love only hurts them.

Certain words pierced through you I described the fluid flowing from your wound as "love" [...]

Wouldn't it be better to say you used to love me? We're intertwined, so nobody can touch us Isn't this fate, too? It's just a certain world of love that disappears [...]

Can we say we used to love each other? We were hanging on and struggling Wouldn't it be better if you just killed me, since I hate you?

In fact, in the video, Gumi regains her colors when the other person disappears.

That's the idea. I believe the 'mosaic' in the title refers to a scattered and broken up relationship.

So what's the connection to Fuuta? Well, I believe he's essentially talking to his old 'friends' here. The idea is that their connection is completely superficial, though the 'sex' would refer to as he puts it:

(T1) Q1: What is a friend?

F: Folks you can get hyped over the same thing with.

Basically, their relationship doesn't go further than 'those guys I talk to online to cancel people together and hang out to have fun'. It's all superficial, held together by the shared enjoyment of playing videogames and going on online witch hunts-

(Oh my God that's why Killcheroy is represented by a witch it's because it's a witch hunt-)

Not only that, but they're all bad influences on each other, which is obvious given what their 'friendship' led to. That's why it'd be best if they leave each other behind, if they said they used to 'love' each other. Not to mention that Fuuta's friends do abandon him after Killcheroy dies.

So yeah, a completely superficial relationship. Again, other readings exist, but in my opinion this is the one that best fits Fuuta.

Well that was pretty short. Hope it made sense! Take care!

#milgram #fuuta kajiyama #mozaik role cover #honestly this cover goes hard #fuuta sing a boring song challenge level IMPOSSIBLE #bangers only when *looks up va* arthur lounsbery's on the mic #anyways