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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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Sherlock Holmes - Kiss Me, Mr Detective

A/N - Season 1!Sherlock, the cutie. And friends to lovers. Two of my favourite things. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, the character, the universe, the adaptations or anything: this is a work of fiction set on the BBC adaptation of Sherlock. Did I still write 8.2k words (exactly) for it? Yes. I also don’t own the song or the lyrics used within, and if you fancy it, listen to ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran while reading.

Warnings - Bad language. Mentions of murder and drug usage. Mild angst. Smut, loss of virginity, masturbation, oral m receiving, penetration, unprotected sex, so 18+.

Summary - After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night...

TO SHERLOCK, it’s just another normal day, whereas to John? He’d rather not admit how regularly these awful days roll around. Sure, the case didn’t go as well as it could’ve, and Sherlock admittedly could’ve made much more of an effort to comfort John after the apparent ‘heartbreak’ he endured. He just could not understand it. Why the hell was John so emotionally responsive to a case they’d been on for less than twenty four hours which turned out to be a bust anyway?

“You are absolutely unbelievable!”

“People die every day, John. You’ve killed people, as have I. It isn’t that great a surprise.” Sherlock deadpans, picking up his teacup, raising it to his lips, drawing a long sip from the warm liquid.

“Oh, yeah, of course. The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.” John mocks. “Do you not even care that people are still dead despite the fact you solved the case?”

“They’d be dead either way,” he reiterates, “at least we got to them before they completely decomposed. Will me caring about them stop them from being dead? No, Dr Watson, it will not.”

“Sherlock!”

“John!” He mimics.

John slams his hands down on the desk, shaking the wood and everything resting on it, surely sending the vibrations through the floor and notifying Mrs Hudson of their ‘domestic’ as she so likes to call them. The buffalo even begins to swing. John’s tea is long forgotten, but Sherlock’s is keeping him grounded, calm, as John waggles his fist in Sherlock’s passive, blank face.

“You-” he pauses, gulping down breath. “You are a fucking machine, I can’t even deal with you right now. How dare you be so cold hearted and untroubled by this. You’re a disgrace.”

As if he hasn’t heard that one before, Sherlock scoffs.

Placing his teacup back down with a clink, he stands, the darkness of the night, of the room, closing in on them both. Nights like these really are danger nights, any night John leaves him. That’s what's coming next, but there isn’t a thing he knows to say or do to prevent the inevitable. He’ll simply just text Her instead, she’ll keep him grounded.

“Why? Emotional context? Emotion, whether of ridicule, anger, or sorrow, whether raised at a puppet show, a funeral, or a battle, is your grandest of levellers. The man who would be always superior should be always apathetic.”

With a huff like a bull, John viciously turns on his heel, blaspheming under his breath, cursing Sherlock out. He reaches for his coat and snatches it off the stand, slamming the door open.

“MACHINE.” John screams before pulling the door shut with a great slam, seething, the coat stand still rocking in his wake.

John’s footsteps thunder down the stairs, but before he’s even gone, Sherlock’s phone is withdrawn, and he’s tapping out a message.

Can you come over? Please? SH

It wouldn’t usually bother him as much. The case didn’t phase him, at all, but John’s opinion did. It always does. But today was a particularly long day of being brutish and rude, cold and distant, his usual and true self, but John’s more and more impatient with him now.

Being called a ‘machine’ is, again, nothing unusual, but this time it stings a little more than usual, especially after his recent arrest, and a fallout with Molly. He only has one person left, right now, who doesn’t hate him. His longest friend, the one he keeps away from it all so as to not tarnish her life with his misdeeds; Y/N, the one he can always rely on.

He knows she’s arrived by the sound of his window crashing open. Crawling up the bricks, skimming the drainpipe, latching onto the ivy; it’s her usual manner of entry. She never uses the door.

Putting his cups and saucers into the sink, he makes his way through the house, opening his bedroom door to find her already sitting there on the bed, her coat hung up on the hook, her work clothes clinging to her body.

“Hey there Mr Detective, you okay?” she asks as jovially as she can muster.

The way he ambles across the room, his dressing gown floating behind him, and slumps down onto the bed, instantly tells her he’s not okay at all. She can’t help but to look upon him sympathetically, edging a smidge closer to him, until he’s prompted enough to wrap his arms around her torso, finding his rightful place tangled around her. She knows him well enough - his past, and his current life - to realise she’s the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do this with, and that brings her a certain swelling pride in her bosom, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock as he feels her skin heat up against his cheek.

It doesn’t take long, either, for his head to follow suit, burying into her chest. He’s always, always had a thing for her boobs, ever since they were in uni together.

That’s something so special about the two of them, he doesn’t have to say anything for her to know he’s not okay the way he does with everyone else. And naturally, he can read everything about her in a split second.

“I’m here, bud.”

Above all else, he just needs to know someone is there for him in moments like these. The world is cruel to him, and Y/N wishes more than anything that it wasn’t. Upon instinct, her hands stray, one to his back, pressing against the silk of his dressing gown, the other cradling his long neck, fingers knotting in the dark curls there.

She isn’t sure how long she stays there, simply holding him, feeling every twitch of his muscles, every breath of his against her skin, but she likes it. Of course she does, every time she likes it. Sherlock brings her an inordinate amount of comfort at the best of times, today is no exception, especially with what the day has held. Even when she’s the one comforting him, he doesn’t realise how much he helps her too.

His flat is so familiar, his bed as comfortable as her own. She knows his sock index, she’s studied his periodic table over his shoulder more times than she’d care to admit, and she even has her own toothbrush in the bathroom in case she has to pop over for an emergency freshen up. Sherlock has, and always will be, her first port of call, and that she remembers as she shifts further onto the quilted bedspread, her phone on his oak bedside locker.

His head begins to stir against her chest, his curls tickling her collarbones, small hums escaping his lips as he pushes himself up, his elegant yet trembling hands still splayed on her waist.

“I could feel your heart beating weirdly, what’s wrong?” he asks, quirking his eyebrows.

“Just the usual.” she vaguely replies.

Sherlock isn’t having it, though, and scans her a little more. “You’re still in your work clothes.”

“Great deduction. I was hoping you’d go a little deeper, though.”

“You hate wearing work clothes longer than necessary, which means you had plans straight after work, considering you finished… five hours ago? That’s your usual time for today. Counting overtime, forty five minutes, walk to your car, another ten, but your umbrella wasn’t working, round that up to an hour, leaving at 6. You arrived home, no, not home, at your boyfriend’s house for dinner. However, you’re not comfortable enough with one another yet for you to use his shower, or perhaps you are, but you elected not to, and stay in damp clothes that only had seventeen minutes to dry with the heater on in your car for the journey there. You ate dinner, Mexican, had a glass and a half of five percent wine, realised you couldn’t drive, but you didn’t particularly want to stay. Nonetheless you sat and watched the telly with him for hours, football, I can see the dreariness in your eyes. I know how much you hate it, and frankly, same. You stayed for almost all of the match, seeing as you’re now sober, but something else happened.” She lulls her head to the side, prompting him, her smile not meeting her eyes. “As soon as the match ended, he tried to make a move on you, he pressed his mouth to yours, he tried to push his hand up your skirt;” his throat bobs with a vicious gulp; despising the thought of anyone else laying a finger on her, “you swatted him away, rightfully so.”

He pauses a minute, his harsh tone of voice and his sharp face softening. He can see the vulnerability in her eyes, her walls about to crumble. This woman he appreciates so much. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Smiling melancholically up at him, she brings her hand back to his hair, her fingers carding through the soft curls. His face buries back into her chest just as her voice offers a broken whisper, “I broke it off. I was the one who couldn’t commit this time.”

And as she lays her head on top of his, her breathing more shallow, resounding in her chest, he dwells over those very words. The way she said them, not to mention the words themselves, hold a myriad of meaning. What could she possibly-

Oh.

The subtext, yes, impeccable. She’s always had a way with implications and subtext, always knowing that the likelihood of him actually picking up on it is little to none. But now, now he’s become trained to her, her way of life, her way of thinking, her way of speaking. This is too good an opportunity to miss. If she means what he thinks she means, ever hopeful, then this is completely unfamiliar territory.

Gathering all of his courage in one deep breath, he begins to pepper kisses on her skin. The faintest brush of his lips on the tops of her breasts, all that’s available to him with her shirt the way it is. He feels her heart flutter, her breathing stutter, but despite the chemical flush of her chest, he still isn’t quite sure she likes it. Not until he feels her grip on his hair increase, and he glances up to see her head thrown back. Her spine delicately arches against his hand, thrusting her chest further into his face.

His nimble fingers reach for her buttons, undoing the top two, giving him space enough to find the valley between her breasts. Lathering kisses there, licking the swells of her boobs, his tongue pulsates with the increased thrumming of her heart. The sensation is new, so unbridled, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the stirring in his loins right about now. That unknowing is only further amplified by the sound that rips from her chest when he involuntarily bites down on the supple flesh. It couldn’t be… a moan?

Sure, he understands the chemistry of it, the reactions that occur in the synapses of the brain, the pheromones and hormones released when one is aroused, but this is all new to him. And, from his embarrassingly basic level of theory, surely that doesn’t start until some more stimulation on other parts of the body commence? Nipples, perhaps something lower down… then again, what does Sherlock know?

Of course it’s an intimate moment, the closest he’s been to a woman before, and maybe that’s why he freezes, stops, and she tugs his head up by his hair, her gentle, pleasured smile with her lips softly parted deepening the look of bewilderment painted onto his face. Her eyes are twinkling, alight with an excitement he hasn’t seen for far too long.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

He shrugs his shoulders with a sudden force, his dressing gown falling off a little. “I don’t know. But now I feel like I read your pining words all wrong.”

She gasps, a wheezing sound, sucking the air from the room. She smacks his arm gently, muffled by his button-down and dressing gown. “I wasn’t pining! I was saying.”

“Hmm, same difference.”

Everyone must acquiesce when it comes to Sherlock Holmes. “But no, you didn’t read them wrong at all, but I know you don’t see me that way, you don’t feel things that way.”

He pauses, his beautiful plump lips pursed, fidgeting on the bed. Brushing her hair off her face reveals the pain she expressed. However, her eyes glued on his, sadness is betrayed in every line of his young, clean-shaven face. His entire bone structure is taking a nosedive.

“For you, I’ve been feeling everything from hate to love to lust, and I guess that’s how I know I want to hold you close.”

“Sherlock...” she whispers, her singular word an inflection of surprise.

Never tearing his eyes from her, his hand comes up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the slightly blushing skin, searching her face, with his big blue eyes, for a shred of reluctance. But, all he sees is her, so he elects to do what his heart is yelling at him to do for once, and kisses her breathless. His full lips holding hers, his one hand on her face, the other still wrapped around her back. Hers fly around his neck, clinging to him for dear life.

It doesn’t take long, their movements steadily heating, for their previously slow, intimate kiss to grow into something more, Y/N pulling herself up from the bed and making herself comfortable on Sherlock’s lap. His breath hitches in his throat, a cute little hiccupping sound escaping his lips in between embraces.

As much as he loves just this, soft caressing and gentle petting, he just knows she wants more. He does too, that much is evident from the length prodding at Y/N’s inner thigh as she moves gently on his lap. She won’t make a move, though, he’s too inexperienced, and she’s too much of a sweetheart to corrupt him, so she thinks. Ever since he first saw her, she’s been corrupting him slowly. He didn’t realise at first, but over the years, he began to understand, and now he’s in too deep.

For Y/N? It’s always been him. Every breakup she’s had, she’ll come to Sherlock’s flat, full well knowing the real reason she broke up with them, because she couldn’t commit, because she was too caught up on him.

Skimming his hands beneath her shirt, he savours the press of his hands on her bare skin, warmth seeping from her body into his, his fingers dancing along her spine. Electricity shocks her in bursts, unlike anything else, from his touch alone.

“May I take your shirt off?” he asks.

“Fuck, yes.” she groans. “May I do yours?”

“Be my guest.”

In a tangle of limbs, a few buttons pop off, and eventually, two shirts make it out the other side, tossed from the bed and into the laundry pile. Aka Sherlock’s floor. He’s like that: sock indexes, yet he won’t get a hamper. A walking contrast.

His thumbs press beneath the band of her bra, savouring the pressure of the flesh that falls into his hands, but that’s as far as he gets.

“Never undone a bra before?”

He shakes his head sheepishly. “I know the theory. Just… you always wear peculiar ones.”

“I wear relatively normal bras, and this one is certainly bog standard. Had I known you’d be undressing me Mr Detective, I’d have worn something nicer.”

“Just do it for me.” He requests, chuckling.

She unfastens her bra, and allows her breasts to spill from the cups, into Sherlock’s awaiting hands. The gasp that erupts from him sends Y/N’s brain into overdrive. He’s cupped her chest through her shirt before, buried his nose into her cleavage countless times, but never before have they had such skin on skin contact. Her lips press to his neck, shifting her closer to him. Sucking on his pressure point, she receives a similar gasp in response, only this one is more guttural, more a sound of pleasure than surprise. He’s wilting from a single kiss to his neck.

“Has no one ever given you a hickey?” She husks in his ear, her voice alone sending tremors down his spine.

“N- fuck, no.”

“I’ll make it worth it. All of this.”

“I know you will.”

She fuses her lips onto his again, savouring the faint hesitations as he grapples with his breath, eager to get some control on his mind with all that’s happening. Never did she ever think Sherlock would be here beneath her, his rough fingertips brushing over her peaked buds, and his palms dancing over her waist. Never did she think she’d hear him whisper his next words, either, not in a million years.

“More.” he pleads. “Can we do… more? Whatever that entails?”

“That depends what you want to do.”

“Get me out of these damn trousers. They're rather uncomfortable.”

She snorts lightly, a piggy like sound, the one they bonded over all those years ago. “I can feel why.”

“I imagine you want out of your work trousers, too.”

“God, yes; they’re ghastly.”

“I don’t think so.” he hums. “You look nice.”

Her cheeks begin to burn, blood rushing to colour them, betraying her true feelings, but as he tweaks her nose playfully, the little snort escapes again.

They were in the dining hall, second week of university, almost ten years ago, and Y/N was sitting with her friends, downing enough coffee to sink a ship, eating her hangover away, when her friends decided to make her laugh with tales of last night's drunken events. Unbeknownst to her, one of the greatest minds of the twenty-first century was sitting just a few seats down on the half-empty bench, watching her perceptively in his periphery. That’s when he first heard the sound. The cutest thing, and it startled him into action, beginning his deductions almost instantly. Admittedly, her student ID on the table aided him a little.

He shocked her from her haze, too, as soon as he spoke her name.

“Y/N, eighteen, jurisprudence first year, freshers week over with. You left a boyfriend back home, but you’re more sad about leaving your dog, as I would be. You don’t particularly care about law but know it’s a good undergraduate to receive anyway. Dyed hair, extrovert, killer hangover, and apparently there’s a little piggy living inside your nose. Sherlock Holmes, would you like some aspirin?”

“That’s weird; what are you, some kind of detective?” She asked, sans malice, a playful bounce to her words.

“Chemistry, going for a masters. But I do like the mystery, yes.”

“So you’re… bright. Nice to meet you, Sherlock, and it seems you know almost everything you need to know about me. But yes, I will take that aspirin, if you don’t mind. How was your weekend?”

He smiled at her, the first true smile he’d given in a long time. “It was nice, thank you.”

And thus a friendship was born, all because he heard her little piggy snort.

Her slender fingers work wonders with the fastener and zip of his suit trousers, and even manage hers too, all within the space of a few seconds, but Sherlock is reluctant to let her go, even just to get her trousers off.

“I need to sit up, just for a minute.”

“No.” Sherlock commands, insistent. “We can make this work.”

“Sure we can, but it won’t be very comfortable. Come on.”

She’s barely peeled away from him and wrestled hers off before he’s drawing her back in for a kiss, his trousers settled just above his knees.

“Sherlock,” she protests, mumbling against his lips, her hands on his heavenly, broad, muscular shoulders. “Sher!”

Her squeal at his sudden tug on her panties disappears, captured by his eager mouth. And in fact, her panties seem to disappear along with it, thanks to Sherlock’s swift movements and nimble hands. Maybe he’s had some experience to be so good at this…

“You sure you wanna go this far?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been. I need you.”

He takes a deep inhale, dropping his forehead against hers, his breathing coming out in bursts as he tries to get a grasp on the situation. “Kiss me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, instantly getting to work on the waistband of his boxers as his tongue lavishes her own. His hips rise briefly, just long enough for her to tug the elasticated material from around him, slipping past her, and then he kicks it into their growing pile of clothes. His length falls into her awaiting palm, and-

“Wow.” She exhales in amazement. “If I’d known you were packing this much, I’d have jumped you long ago.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Absolutely not, until tonight I thought you’d just laugh at me.”

He pecks her lips affectionately, “Never. You’re bloody beautiful, I’ll let you do anything to me.”

“Hmm, anything, you say?”

Stifling a chuckle against her neck, he recommences, “Maybe not anything.”

Yeah, that's definitely the right call. Still, she finds herself all but clawing at him, her breath hovering teasingly just over his lips, their noses touching, her hands clamped to his cheeks, feeling the building heat there. She must be making such a mess of his bed right about now, but for one night? It can’t matter.

This is a one time thing, it has to be. Sherlock just needs to release some tension, she just so happens to be there. Still, she can’t prevent the little glimmer of hope shining through at the possibility of this being a more-than-one-time thing. The moral compunctions of their friendship after this don’t matter anymore, because he’s leaving a fire in his wake, his delicious fingertips digging bruisingly into her bum before trailing lightly up her spine, skimming her shoulder, brushing her neck - arched for him to reach where he wants, able to mark her as his own - and finally slipping over her lips, taken obediently by her awaiting mouth. Christ, if there’s one thing she hopes for tonight, it’s that his actions never relent.

Whether it’s what he intends to happen or not, his fingers in her mouth give her an idea, one she prays he goes along with at least a little, so she pulls away. The dirty, telling smile on her face hints at what she’s about to do, lending Sherlock to shift a little more up the bed, his eyes following her every move. Hands splayed on his thighs, her small fingers gripping onto the fine hairs there, she begins to take his tip into her mouth, never once breaking eye contact with him. Yeah, this is what’ll drive him insane.

Inch by inch, she takes him into the welcoming heat of her mouth, pulling off slowly, only to go down again. She adds her tongue into the mix at some point, too, and her hand, on what she can’t reach, tickling his balls, but further than that, his mind is blank. Hot white, washed with pleasure. The sounds he emits are other worldly, so much that he has to muffle himself with his own hand; what would Mrs Hudson say? He’s always had such control over his mind and body, but this… he’s slowly losing all semblance of control, and he’s not even mad about it. What he does know is that there’s a building heat in his abdomen, a coil about to spring, and his cock is beginning to twitch. If she keeps going this incredible way, her teeth grazing him ever so gently, adding another new sensation into the mix, he’s inexorably going to finish before he can help it.

“As much as I adore your torturous ministrations, I think I need to be inside you…” He husks, his voice deep.

A smirk gracing her lips, she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, mischief glinting in her pretty little mesmerising eyes for a second, before she hollows her cheeks and takes him wholly, allowing his length to slip partially down her throat. Her moan reverberates around him, and Sherlock begins to thrash above her, scrunching the duvet in his hands, not caring if it creases. If there’s one thing Sherlock hates, it’s creases. And being called a machine by his best friend. Right now, though, it seems as though every misstep in his day has led him here, into the welcoming heat of Y/N’s mouth, taking him so eagerly, her tongue lapping at the vein on the underside of his dick, a string of saliva remaining as she pulls away.

“I think you’ve got a couple of rounds in you, Mr Detective. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.” He stammers, his head tossed back in pure ecstasy a moment later as she begins to work on the head with kitten licks. “But… can I s- fuck me, say something?”

“I plan on it.” she chuckles, “anything.”

She goes back to peppering kisses all over his member, tip to base, brushing his balls, working her way back up.

“Touch yourself f- for me.”

“What? Why?”

Her tone is more inquisitive than anything else, but upon that playfully rueful look in his lust-darkened baby blue eyes, she knows he’s going to get her back for this little display, and he’s just worked out how. It works both ways, she can prepare herself for what’s to come next while pleasuring him. And he gets to watch. It’s a win-win for him. Maybe he likes this sex thing a little more than he’s letting on.

“Are you sure you want me to? I’ll just make a mess on your sheets, Sher.”

She swallows him again, bobbing her head up and down on his length a few times while he grapples with literal reality. He’s teetering on the edge. One more move, and he’s a goner. His head is already against the wall, lolled there.

“I don’t care about the sheets, darling, I need you ready for me.”

She gulps, nods, and reaches one hand around her, skimming over her stomach, until it nestles between her thighs. She rubs her thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-come beading there, while she rubs over her throbbing pearl, pressing softly. Then, as she inches down on his cock, taking him in her mouth, she also collects the slick from between her thighs, and uses it as a lube to push a finger inside herself. Of all the times she’s touched herself, she never imagined, even in her wild Sherlock fantasies, that she’d be doing it with his dick down her throat. With every bob of her head, she scissors herself more, sinking back onto her fingers.

“I think I’m-” Sherlock begins to say, his words cut off by an utterly obscene moan splitting the air.

She hastily abandons her one post, and wraps both of her hands around his girth, working on what she can’t fit into her mouth with her increased speed, licking and suckling his head as he begins to fall apart, coming, with a scream, down her throat, his one hand clamped over his mouth, biting down harshly to silence his cries; the other buried in her hair.

His whole body falls lax, completely spent, meanwhile, Y/N savours every drop she’s been able to draw from him. He softens in her mouth, allowing her change to slip away from him, grasping a tissue from the bedside to wipe away any excess. That’s certainly something she never thought would happen…

He’s calm, though, smiling lazily through hooded eyes, his breathing regulated once more, making beckoning motions to her with his big hands. He’s placated, though, and sliding her hands into his, she’s allowed time enough to get into place, smiling softly at him, raking her fingers over his scalp in a comforting way. Even as she sits herself on his lap, she can feel him hardening beneath her ass, slowly but surely. She was right about him, he’s definitely got another round in him.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks.

“No, sweetheart, they’re in my other bag. I didn’t plan on getting any for a while… do you?”

“Not in here, that I’m aware of. John may have stashed some in my less favoured dressing gowns or socks, and he definitely has some upstairs, but I’m unawares.”

“I’m gonna sound crazy here, but do we need one?” She says hesitantly. His eyes widen, he cocks his head to the side. “I was tested after my last partner, I’m clean, and on birth control. You’re a virgin. There’s no point, is there?”

“You have a considerably good point.”

With that, energy rejuvenated a little, he wraps an arm around her body, flipping them over so he’s on top, shadowing her, looming over her, gazing down at every inch of her naked beauty.

“Take your time. I’ll be your safety.”

“I know.” he whispers, a tearful smile making its way onto her face. “Thank you.”

He needn’t say more, because she already knows why she’s being thanked. For her kindness, for making him so comfortable, for accepting the fact he’s still a virgin in his late twenties and, if he’s being honest, has no damn clue what the practicality and reality of sex is. Sure, he’s seen porn. He’s also looked at John’s laptop. But that doesn’t prepare one for when the moment comes. It’s like all of that goes out the window, and he simply remembers the first time he opened a biology textbook at secondary school, pictures of flushed organs staring back at him, desperately waiting to be relieved. That’s what his own coock is like right now, already hard again, virtually pulsating with hunger in his palm. He strokes himself a couple of times, glancing down at Y/N’s wide eyes.

“Are you okay? Can I…”

“Yes, Sherlock,” she chuckles, “whenever you’re ready.”

Now, he thinks. He rubs two digits through her folds, gathering her wetness, enamoured with the way it glistens on his fingertips. Tentatively, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around them to get a taste. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he moans. She’s better than any cup of tea he’s ever had.

His cock slaps against his lower stomach pleadingly, so he grasps it in his hand, and begins to enter her, pushing gently, feeling every flutter of her walls. Her arms fly out, hands grasping his shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons in their wake at the delicious stretch. It’s nothing like they’ve ever felt before.

“Can I move?” He asks, balls deep inside her, their pelvises flush against one another.

“Please.” She all but begs.

Before doing anything else, Sherlock hooks one strong arm around her body, malleable in his hands, and holds her chest against his. Her breasts push into his skin, her nipples gaining friction from the dusting of hair there. Her one hand cups his slender neck, the other, his sharp cheek. Their eyes meet in a fierce gaze of burning intensity, and he begins to move. Slow, calculated, sharp thrusts punctuate her core. With every heavenly stroke, he can feel the ridges in her velvet walls, squeezing around him unwittingly.

“Jesus,” she cries, her clutch increasing.

“Hmm, not quite.”

The smirk in his words is quite literally audible. He’s so cocky, so full of himself, and fuck if she can’t feel another gush of arousal coursing through her, drenching his cock. How does he manage to be so attractive when he’s so dishevelled?

“Is that good?” He asks, unsure.

“So good.”

She brings her legs up, skimming the clenched backs of his thighs, until they wrap around him, drawing his hips into her at a new and improved angle. Heels digging into the base of his spine, he begins to move with a new purpose, his thrusts more passionate as his breath is drained from him by her kisses, his eyes alight with a new flame.

“Oh my God, Sherlock.” She pants, pulling him in for a kiss he greedily returns.

He drives his hips deeper, squeezing his fingertips into her supple waist bruisingly. It’ll be a mark that she belonged to him once, even just for one night. That’s when he reaches that special spongy spot that makes her entire body buckle. She all but screams, pressing into him wholly.

The coil is building, ready to break. He seems to be nearing the edge, too, his member twitching inside her when he buries himself particularly deep. She’s oh so fucking close… She licks into his mouth filthily, desperately clashing her teeth with his, eager for his kisses to tide her over. Silence her. Shifting his supporting hand, he trails one dextrous finger around to circle her clit, adding the faintest pressure for a moment. She mewls as he groans into her hot skin, clawing at him, entirely at his whim. Now he knows where to press, he settled his grip back around her, and draws her in close. This time around, he bends his knees a little more to measure his movements more carefully, ensuring that he ruts up and brushes her sensitive bud with his pelvis, helped by the extra friction of his neatly trimmed pubic hair on every thrust within her, his tip just scraping her g-spot.

“I- Sherlock, please tell me you’re- oh sweet mercy- close.”

He grunts softly in her ear. “So close.”

Their lips meet tenderly, passionately, in what they acknowledge to be a final kiss, moans mixing between them, savoured by the other.

His thighs clench, her legs tighten around his waist, and finally, her sweet walls flutter, squeezing him as she reaches her climax, his not following long after, spilling inside her, painting her soft walls white, marking her.

“Y/N,” he cries in ecstasy as his orgasm reaches him. “Sher…” she repeats, her saving grace as pleasure washes over her entirely.

Their whole bodies wind up pressed together, bound together as one, skin on skin completely, becoming one another.

He lets her down gently, unravelling his grip, unsurprised when their sweaty skin sticks together. Her long legs unfurl, splaying in a butterfly. Sherlock tumbles ungracefully away, somehow landing with a certain gangly elegance on the space of mattress beside her, his arm instinctively flying over to place on her stomach, the skin hot and flushed red. Her chest moves hastily up and down with the thrumming of her heart, while his barely shifts despite his shallow breaths, his white skin glistening in the moonlight.

“Are you okay?” He huffs, turning on his side. “You look pretty fucked out.”

His baby blue eyes train instantly on her nipples, hard in the open air. This is the first notifier, the first inkling she has to feel self conscious, so she draws the sheet up around her as best as she can. Sherlock’s not having any of it, taking a stronghold on her arms, and pulling her until she’s lying on him, naught to separate them.

“I’ve never been this close to anyone physically and y'know.” He hums tiredly. She’s never heard him sound tired before…

She smiles up at him as best she can, “Are you glad?”

He begins to hold her ever closer, squeezing her tighter, feeling every ridge of her body.

“I’m so glad that you were my first, in so many ways.”

Praise from Sherlock is a rarity, and she’ll take it as and when she can, savouring every moment, this time by holding him like a koala, her grip not wavering.

“I’m glad too, Mr Detective.”

He brushes a kiss to her cheek, “As much as I like this, we need to get you cleaned up.”

A supporting arm beneath her bum, he picks her up, and unsteadily ambles into the bathroom.

“I don’t know much about this, but I know you should probably use the toilet, should you want to avoid a UTI, so if you’d like me to leave…”

He sets her down on the loo seat, cupping his hands over his nether regions, and he hurries to grasp for things, until she puts her hand on his arm, squeezing in a conciliatory manner.

“You do remember the camping trip, don’t you? You really don’t have to leave just because I have to pee, you never did before. In fact, you frequently annoyed me with it if you had a particular point to make, steadfastly refusing to leave the bathroom after following me in there when I went to pee. Why does this change anything?”

He shrugs, dropping whatever was in his arms, “It just doesn’t feel the same now, though.”

“Ooo, and now Mr Detective feels things.” She jokes, poking at his ribs.

He recoils, chuckling with her, “Only for you.”

As Y/N washes her hand, Sherlock begins to wrangle with a floorboard, clattering about until he eventually pulls out a small lock box, from which he withdraws a packet of brand new marks-and-spencer's ladies briefs.

“Why the fuck do you have these? Anything you wanna tell me?” she asks, eyes wide.

“John’s idea. He has plenty of girls over here who frequently stay the night, simply a precautionary error.” He takes a beat, gargling with some mouthwash, “they’re clean, new, I just don’t like the idea of you in dirty underwear, and I know how reluctant you are to go without them whenever you’re not in your own bed. I stayed with you enough nights in university to know that.”

Those nights were awfully painful. She’d take the floor, he’d take the bed, and every time she’d have to wash the sheets. He’d sweat and vomit, shake and cry, plead for the pain to be over. He wouldn’t go to hospital, he wouldn’t call his brother, he’d just turn up on her doorstep, high as a kite, almost in tears, knowing he’d gone a little too far. And each time, it was a little farther.

“Thank you, Sherlock.”

She takes them from him, and begins to shimmy them up her legs, only prevented by Sherlock moving to grab a handful of her arse.

“Hmm, I like this. Fancy another round?” He smirks.

“I’m too tired, babe. Give me a bit.”

He can see the lazy smile on her face, the tiredness in her pretty eyes, so he wets a flannel, and begins to clean her up with gentle movements between tender kisses.

“How do you know how to do all of this?” She asks, inquisitive more than anything.

“Instinct, I suppose. I never read or learned about it, seeing as I never thought it would happen.”

She snaps the waistband before moving her hands to his waist, leaning up onto her toes to reach him, kissing her softly.

“Look at you now.”

After brushing their teeth in an amicable silence, their pinky fingers overlapping on the porcelain of the sink, he aids her back to the bedroom, settling her on the bed. She has things here: deodorant, toothbrush, moisturiser, and yet somehow she doesn’t have underwear, even after all these years. Perhaps that's one too many things to explain…

With superfluous extravagance, he throws her his shirt, offering her a wry wink. She finds a blush clawing its way onto her cheeks, dumbfounded. It smells like him, just like a forest glade if it was rained on by tea and cigarettes. Maybe he’ll let her keep it as a memory.

In such a short amount of time, she’s learnt that he has a very sensitive neck. Very. A single kiss there has him biting back a moan. A low one at that, considering his deep voice also drops almost an octave when he’s aroused. His nipples are almost as sensitive as his neck, and he rather likes it when she tugs on them unwittingly.

His first orgasm comes quickly, but his refractory period is astonishing, and it takes longer to achieve a second high, long enough to make her come more than once, she assumes, though her first orgasm was mind blowing enough for two. Perhaps that’s just because it’s his first time, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

What’s the point in learning all of this if, once he comes around from his post-orgasmic haze, he’ll pretend like it never happened, in typical Sherlock style?

The shirt, though a small gesture, means a lot, and her vision begins to cloud as she looks down at the black cotton.

“You mean you want me to stay?” She croaks.

Sherlock turns to her from his set of drawers, his face full of apparent obviousness, brows furrowed in that cute bewildered way.

“Of course I want you to stay.” He states, like it’s the plainest thing in the world, like it’s stupid for her to even ask. But she’s silent, and when she says nothing in response, he launches into a long winded explanation: don’t show sentiment. “I- I just mean, i-it’s midnight, I’m not having you out in London alone. You stay with me. Only if you want to as well...”

She nods eagerly, “Yes. Yeah, course I want to stay.”

He all but leaps access the room, jumping onto the bed, before planting a proper smooch on her lips, grinning down at her. He slips into his usual side of the bed, and she takes hers, rolling to look at him.

“Don’t get cold.” He warns, tucking the duvet up around her shoulders. She giggles like a child, that small snort sounding again, prompting Sherlock to press his thumb to her nose like a button. “How are you… feeling?”

“I’m fine bub, really. That bloke doesn’t matter to me at all. Bit of a scumbag if I’m honest. You’re the one I’m with, the one I wanna talk about. How are you feeling? Must’ve been a pretty big blow up with John for you to call me and be so... teary.”

He sighs, crestfallen, “He called me a machine.”

Her gasp pierces the air, her hand flying to his hair, stroking in consolation, cooing senseless reassurances to him. She’s done this innumerable times, but now it feels different, like there’s no barrier.

“He’s done it so many times that it needn’t bother me anymore, but the way he looked at me, like I was this abhorrent monster, especially after the day and the disappointing case we had, it got to me. I hate having feelings.”

“You don’t have to hide them with me, though.”

He hums gently, burying into her chest. “I know. That’s why I treasure you so dearly.”

“That means you also have to trust me, and you’re not going to like what I have to say.” His chest heaves, shifting her whole body. That’s his way of giving in. “Please just talk to John. You know that whenever he leaves, he’ll come back, and try to pretend it never happened. He needs to know you’re human and that he upset you, but also that the case upset you as well. No one’s superhuman, and once you let John in on the fact that you’re not a machine, things between you will be so much easier, because you might agree for once.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He grumbles.

He pulls her into his warmth, hooking her leg around his as he snakes his arms around her back, breathing deeply from the crook of her shoulder. She begins to pepper kisses on his salty skin, savouring the taste with every small swipe of her tongue.

“Your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck,” he breaks off with a faint whimper when she sucks a little harder, “I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.”

“Of course they do,” she whispers brokenly, hoarsely, “they’ve always known you.” She swallows thickly, “Does that mean it’s a feeling you’ll forget?”

“No, I don’t think I ever can.”

The silent words that pass between them both are so special, too special to be spoken aloud. ‘Think I’m in love now.’

“Kiss me like you wanna be loved.” He begs.

And really, who is Y/N to deny him? They just stay that way a little while, revelling in their lazy kisses, until she begins to fall asleep. It isn’t the first time she’s fallen asleep in his bed, not by any means, but it’s the first time she’s fallen asleep in his arms. She isn’t mad about it.

“Settle down with me, cover me up, cuddle me in. You were made to keep my body warm.” She smiles into her words, and embeds herself into him, entirely covered by the duvet, spattered in his kisses, safe in his arms. Sherlock feels safe with her legs around him, her fingers in his curls, holding himself against her. Amicable silence is how they drift off, Peaceful.

John re-enters 221B at a respectable hour. He got a fair amount of sleep on Greg’s sofa, having no girlfriend in the picture right now, but not enough to deal with Sherlock just yet. Not before his coffee. He expects to see Sherlock sitting in the exact same spot as when he left, perhaps just with a refill of tea, his fingers still steepled beneath his chin, eyes closed yet wide awake. Instead, he arrives at a seemingly empty, considerably clean flat, with no Sherlock in sight. Perhaps the unsleeping man must actually be asleep, he thinks, so he quietens down, and toes off his shoes before wandering farther into the flat. Even if the man does piss him off extraordinary amounts, perhaps he should just check he’s okay…

He gives the bedroom door a quiet rap, listening in momentarily before pushing it open. Frankly, he’d rather have found Sherlock with a cigarette in hand and the whole flat torn to shreds for the level of surprise he gets upon reaching the bed. His first idea is to scream bloody murder, but that might annoy Mrs Hudson, and upon stepping closer, even in the sliver of daylight through the curtains, he sees the duvet riding down a little. The last thing in the world he ever thought he’d see: Sherlock in naught but boxers pressed against a half naked woman, his palm splayed on her bare thigh. Sherlock? Spooning? It seems so, his entire body pressed to this woman. John feels himself go rigid, his feet glued to the floor, his gaze unmoving from shock.

It takes his phone to buzz in his pocket to get him moving, and when he does, all he tries to do is balance precariously on his tip toes in a wry attempt to get a birds-eye view of the whole thing. He’s not disappointed, or disturbed, once he does, though, his army agility proving useful. Sherlock’s hand is holding her, fingers entwined, just next to her chest. He wonders how comfortable it is, but if they’re staying this way, it can’t be too bad. Maybe all Sherlock needed to loosen up was a good shag.

She’s wearing his shirt, too; Sherlock’s black dress shirt from the previous day. And Sherlock? He never seeps in anything less than a full set of pyjamas, he’s weird like that .

This girl begins to stir, her lips parting gently, small hums escaping. Next, her eyelids flutter, and her hair shifts on the pillow. He didn’t make any noise, did he? John was specifically careful not to, just in case. He doesn’t fancy Sherlock’s wrath just yet.

One eye opens, and she whispers, almost incoherently, “Hi John.”

How she knows his name and who he is, he’s not at all sure, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen this face in his life. The hair is familiar, and maybe, if she were more awake, he’d recognise her smile, but he’s never seen a woman in Sherlock’s company beside Molly Hooper. Speaking of…

Before he can even say anything, though, before he can ask who she is or if she wants tea or if she date-raped his roommate, she’s mumbling, and detaching her hand from Sherlock’s, rolling over. Dumbfounded, John just stands there and watches her cuddle into Sherlock’s chest, her arms wrapping around his torso like second nature. Even in his sleep, not consciously thinking about his actions, he grips her back - one hand resting just above her bum, and buries his nose into her neck.

John can’t help but smile to himself. Maybe their fight was for the best if Sherlock now has a girlfriend, someone he turned to for solace. So, he grasps for the top of the duvet and pulls it up over both of their figures, reaching their shoulders, and leaves, staring wistfully for a brief moment at the seemingly happy couple.

The weight of the duvet of what startles Sherlock, though, stirring him a little, inviting him to him against Y/N’s skin, smiling with eyes barely open. This is really nice, he thinks to himself, not waking up alone.

She smiles back blearily, and in her morning voice, whispers to him, “Kiss me Mr Detective.”

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

Note

hiii :) for the song prompts could i get #11,16 & 29 for sweet pea x ex!reader who both still have feelings for each other but are too stubborn to admit it, please? 🤍

hey! i love this idea so much so i’m so excited for you to read it! thank you for requesting! also, i got a little carried away, so sorry!

lyrics: things will change they always do, but my heart will stay open for you (stay open: maya hawke)

if you dance with me, darling, if you take me home. will we talk in the morning? (will we talk?: sam fender)

the millisecond that you're away i get the loneliest feeling (give me a try: the wombats)

“I can’t believe we’re here.” You say quietly and he nods, both of you looking at the paintings on the walls and silently wishing that you were anywhere else.

“I know.” He replies, glancing at you quickly before looking straight ahead.

Somebody behinds you coughs, and you can’t quite figure out if it’s a genuine one or if they’re just trying to tell you shut you up in a polite way. Either way you roll your eyes and sit properly in your seat, however you can still feel Sweet Pea’s arm against yours, the soft material of his blazer rubbing against your bare arms making you hyper-aware that he is, in fact, here.

It’s barely been five months since you broke up, and things are still...awkward, to say the least. And it's made even more awkward by the fact that you’re sat together at Fangs and Kevin’s wedding, despite both of you trying to get them to change the seating plan and both of them telling you that they’re stressed enough with this stupid wedding and so you’ll sit on the ceiling if that’s what they tell you to do, that made the both of you shut up and accept your fate.

You’re gonna spend a day, forcing smiles and pretending to be okay with the fact that the other is right next to you, yet you can’t touch them, no matter how much you want to.

“We did it!” Kevin cheers when he pulls away from Kevin, the two of them grinning from ear to ear and holding their hands in the air. Everybody stands and claps, while they walk back down the aisle, now husband and husband and both of them looking so happy that you think they’re gonna burst.

“Congratulations.” You grin and pull them both into a tight hug, squeezing you’re two best friends and trying to convey just how excited you are for them.

“Yeah, congrats guys.” Sweet Pea adds and leans around you to hug them both. You move back awkwardly and send an uncomfortable smile to Toni who just sends you an odd thumbs up before chatting with Veronica and Betty.

“We’ll see you both at the reception right?” Kevin adds. He tries to mask the fact that he’s on edge, worrying about whether everyone is gonna turn up, with eagerness, but the smile he's giving you just looks painful.

“Of course.” You smile.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Sweet Pea adds and you give him a shy smile. His gaze lingers on your for a little longer than it probably should for ex’s and you feel his eyes trail up and down your body, focusing on the parts that you made sure were accentuated in anticipation for seeing him again.

Fangs and Kevin share a look before excusing themselves and leaving you to try and look busy while Sweet Pea does the exact opposite. You know you shouldn’t, you know it’s wrong to still be loving the attention, to be dressing just to impress him, maybe make him a little jealous, but you can’t help the fact that you love how it makes you feel. All the attention, the small touches, the way his breath fans against your neck when he leans in to say something sarcastic, or the smirk that tugs at his lips when you do something to make him laugh, either on purpose or accidental.

You may have ended five months ago, but you’re still madly in love with him, and even though he tries to deny it, he can’t say he doesn’t feel the same about you.

“How are you doing?” He asks and your surprised by his bluntness. The two of you walk in the same direction as the rest of the guests, both completely unaware as to where you are going, and so you just stumble along blindly and hope that at least somebody around you knows what’s happening.

Sweet Pea’s hand ghosts the small of your back as he lets you through the door first, and the small pause gives you a chance to think of what to say. Do you lie and say that you haven’t spent every night thinking of him, and that the fact that he’s this close is making it difficult to breathe.

“Honestly?” You ask and he nods, his expression serious and he looks genuinely concerned. “The millisecond that you’re away, I get the loneliest feeling.” You laugh bitterly and his eyebrows furrow.

“Oh.” He says and grabs your arm, letting the rest of the guests shuffle past you until it’s just you and him stood in the corridor.

“Oh?” You repeat. “Is that a bad oh?”

“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “It’s a relived oh.”

“...oh.” You say and the two of you giggle.

“Same.” He adds and you nod awkwardly.

“Do you think we made a mistake?”

“Breaking up or being together in the first place” He asks and you frown, forcing yourself to look at him. “I’m sorry things are the way they are.” He adds and your expression softens.

“I’m sorry too.” You reply and grab his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He stares at it for a few seconds before slowly pulling you closer to him and you feel your breath hitch. “Do you wanna dance tonight?” You ask, trying to change the subject in order to give you a chance to remember how to breathe.

“That depends.” He shrugs, leaning closer to you and your cheeks heat up.

“On?” You ask, trying and failing to steady your voice.

“If you dance with me darling, if you take me home...will we talk in the morning?” He asks, almost begs as his lips brush against yours and you feel yourself falling for him all over again. Your hands cup his cheeks and his grip around your waist tightens around you, and for a brief second, everything that has ever happened between you, all the fights, the tears, the make-ups, the 3am calls and the drunken nights spent together when you told yourself no more, they’re all replaced by this one kiss, and all the possibilities that it could lead to, you just need to make sure you follow the right path this time.

You pull away, desperate for breath, but also yearning for him to keep kissing you, you want him to kiss you forever, you want to be held by him for the rest of time, until you can no longer hold each other.

But then you’re reminded of what drove the two of you apart in the first place. You’re lack of communication and the fact that life had been grinding the two of you down, far too much for you to focus on one another. That sort of things kills a couple, it makes them too stressed to love and even more stressed to talk about their issues so the only thing you can do is argue, and even then, that gets exhausting quickly.

You hated who you were then, you both did. You knew neither of you were the person that the other fell in love with, and you hated the way the other one looked whenever someone said something they instantly regretted but were too stubborn to take back.

You desperately want to go back to a time where you were happy together, but can you really go through all of this again if it goes wrong? But then he looks at you, his expression full of hope and love and there’s a shy smile playing on his lips thats only reserved for you, and you know. Of course you can, he’s worth the heartbreak.

“I don’t know.” You say honestly. “We can talk, but I don’t know where it’ll lead us, I hope it’s somewhere nice, things will change, they always do, but my heart will stay open for you, no matter what.” You say honestly, it’s the only thing you can say, but his smile shows that he’s willing to try, and then he grabs you and kisses you, and you know that you will talk, and you both hope it never stops.

song lyric prompts

sweet pea masterlist

support my writing! if you'd like!

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea reader insert #riverdale #riverdale imagine #song lyric prompts #sam fender #the wombats #maya hawke

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nctsjiho · 3 years

Text

Sleeping Beauty

warnings: none

era: fall of 2020

❀ Shotaro gets tasked with carrying a sleepy JiHo back to her dorm

It’s interesting how people can grow so comfortable with each other so quickly. Maybe it’s the environment that comes along with being a K-pop idol; Being in a practise room for hours together, helping each other with lyrics and difficult choreography during afterhours. Needless to say, idols spend a lot of time with their members – whether they like it or not.

JiHo had met Shotaro less than a year ago, yet somehow they just clicked. Of course being half Japanese and speaking the language fluently made it so Shotaro naturally gravitated towards the female member, but even besides that, he genuinely felt comfortable around JiHo. Although she gave the impression that she’s older than him, because she had been taking care of him ever since they met, Shotaro would always see the sweet, cute side of JiHo. The same side that made him feel protective over her.

It was late when the group had finished day one of their NCT World shoots. With all the energy they had left, the group climbed in their respective cars and made their way back to the dorms.

Caught up in a calm conversation with his manager, Doyoung started to notice how the older man kept stealing glances at the rear view mirror. His curiosity spiked once he noticed the soft smile on his manager’s face, prompting him to look back towards the people in the back seats.

Looking past a sleeping Johnny and Haechan, he noticed the two youngest members – currently in the car – snuggled up into each other. JiHo’s head rested on Shotaro’s shoulder, while his head rested on hers. Doyoung also noticed how Shotaro wasn’t wearing a jacket, instead the piece of clothing was placed on both of their laps. Well, more so on JiHo’s than his, but it didn’t seem to bother him as the two continued to sleep peacefully.

“They’ve gotten really close.” The manager said in a hushed tone, causing Doyoung’s head to snap back to the front. “Hmm.” He hummed in agreement. “I’ve never seen JiHo like this though. At least not so quickly.” “What do you mean?” The manager asked. “She’s close with the other members as well, but seeing her literally cuddled up with someone. I’ve never seen that. I guess she only does it with Yuta hyung and Jungwoo sometimes, but Jungwoo is usually forcing it on her.” He chuckled remembering the times JiHo protested while Jungwoo pulled her into hugs for movie nights. She’d eventually give in, but being asleep cuddled up was usually territory the members didn’t visit when it came to JiHo.

Now the manager hummed, but a sudden thought interrupted him. “Doesn’t she hug the members more now? Like, every time I see Lucas and JiHo he has her in his arms.” This time it’s the manager’s time to laugh. “Well yes, she’s gotten used to skinship a lot with the group. But sleeping? She usually doesn’t like being hugged or touched in her sleep.” Doyoung’s eyes fall back on the sleeping duo. “It’s only been a few months since JiHo and Taro met too, I’m surprised they are this close.” “Don’t you think it’s nice though? He’s new, but JiHo’s been his support system.” Doyoung just nodded, the cute visual in front of him was hard to look away from.

“Want to know something funny?” Doyoung’s ears and eyes perked up and he nodded. “The staff call JiHo the boys’ little mascot. She’s always cheering everyone on and making sure everyone is feeling alright. Definitely Shotaro and Sungchan these days.” A big smile washed over Doyoung’s face. “She really is.”

A sudden shake of Jiho’s arm woke her up. As soon as she opened her eyes she noticed the car had stopped moving and she heard the two figures next and in front of her talk, but she was to disorientated to make actual sense out of anything. “W-What’s…“ She mumbled and she heard the two people chuckle. “JiHo we’re at home, let’s go inside.” Doyoung explained.

The three members had made it out of the car – rather slowly one would say – when Doyoung noticed the current state JiHo was in. She could barely stand on her own two feet yearning for support, which she received in the form of Shotaro’s stretched out arm. The girl could also hardly keep her eyes open. Realising JiHo would be having a hard time getting up to the dorm without help, Doyoung looked at Johnny in the hopes he could carry her up, but the tall guy was busy supporting an equally as sleepy Haechan inside the building.

This time Doyoung’s eyes fell onto Shotaro. The Japanese boy was sporting an amused smile as well as a loving glint in his eyes as he watched JiHo try her hardest to keep herself up straight. “Taro?” Doyoung said in a hushed tone. “Yes, hyung.” He quickly answered, his eyes wide looking like a kid who got caught stealing a cookie out of the cookie jar – a sight so endearing and maybe too common but the members, and fans, wouldn’t have it any other way. “Could you help JiHo up?” Shotaro quickly nodded and turned to the sleepy girl.

“JiHo, let’s go up hmm?” He said in Japanese and JiHo nodded. They only took one step before JiHo stopped. “What’s wrong?” Shotaro asked noticing that JiHo wasn’t budging even if he slightly pulled her forward. “Too tired.” Her answer was in Korean. “I know that’s why we should go upstairs.” It took every ounce of willpower not to tease JiHo in her current drowsiness. Shotaro always thought of JiHo as cute, but right now she was just adorable. “I can’t.” “What do you want me to do then?”

Helplessness started to settle in as he saw Doyoung had already left the parking garage to get to his dorm as quickly as possible. JiHo had invited Shotaro to stay over since they had a schedule together the next day anyway, so Doyoung had no problem leaving JiHo with the boy. They’d find their way to the dorm, he was sure of it. It might just take a little longer, but the moment Doyoung left the parking lot, that wasn’t his problem anymore.

Once Shotaro looked back at JiHo he saw her hands reaching up. “Carry me.” The comment was Shotaro’s prove that JiHo was sleep drunk. No, not drunk, absolutely wasted. Never in her right mind would she ask Shotaro to carry her, and definitely not with, what some would call ‘aegyo’ but knowing JiHo would refuse to admit it, a better way to refer to it was, a hint of cuteness.

Shotaro didn’t know if he was supposed to be shocked or embarrassed. And even tough he felt a slight blush creep up on his cheeks, he just found it endearing yet amusing.

He turned his back towards the girl and squatted down, his arms reaching back to support the girl. “Get on my back, I’ll give you a piggy back ride.” With his back facing JiHo he sadly had to miss the loopy smile on her face as she climbed onto his back.

“Where’s JiHo and Taro?” Taeyong asked. He had reached the dorm earlier, having taken another car to the dorm. His transport arrived about 10 minutes earlier, sparing him enough time to take a shower before his other roommates arrived. “I left him to help JiHo up. She could barely walk.” Doyoung said in an exhausted tone. He had plopped himself down on the couch as soon as he entered the living room. “Shouldn’t you have helped her?” The leader chuckled sitting down next to Doyoung. “Couldn’t be bothered.”

Just then Taeyong watched the door open and there emerged a Shotaro with a sleeping (?) JiHo on his back. “Need some help?” Taeyong laughed seeing the young boy struggle to take his shoes off. “I got it, don’t worry, but thanks.” He didn’t fail to send Taeyong one of his cute smiles – eye smile included – and then disappeared into JiHo’s bedroom. “They’ve gotten close.” Taeyong turned to Doyoung who seemed to be loosing his battle with sleep. “Yeah…” The tired boy mumbled. Taeyong then got up, slapping Doyoung’s butt in passing while walking to his bedroom. “Get up and head to bed before I have to carry you like Johnny did Haechan and Taro did JiHo.” An amused smile played on his lips as Doyoung slowly got up and dragged his feet to bed.

---

Side note: Hello Future is so good 🌈🌻

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct female member #nct imagines #nct extra member #nct additional member #nct female addition #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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onceuponadisembo · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: 王室教師ハイネ | Oushitsu Kyoushi Haine | The Royal Tutor (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Viktor von Granzreich & Heine Wittgenstein, Viktor von Granzreich/Heine Wittgenstein Characters: Viktor von Granzreich, Heine Wittgenstein Additional Tags: Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Bad Humor, Happy Ending, Excessive Hand-Holding, anime movie canon, Staying Up Too Late, viktor just wants to spend more time teasing heine for his height, unamused heine, heine's anime past, a little bit shippy, Queerplatonic Relationships

Summary:

Viktor invites Heine to his study for wine, makes as many bad jokes as he can, and then asks to dance with him. Set after the ball that happens at the end of the anime movie.

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

I'm only up to Volume 9 of the manga right now and I don't know Heine's past, so although the manga will have some influence on some parts of the story, this fic is set in the canon of the anime, and will include references to Heine's and Viktor's past based on what was shown in the anime.

I'm also putting together a (very short, somewhat shippy) playlist for this fic so if you're into that sort of thing, here it is.

FFN link.

Read the first part under the cut

In the king's study, the bottle of Niedergranzreich white wine glittered in the lamplight.

There had been drinks at the ball. The usual wine and beer, which Heine had politely declined, but there was also something from Romano – a honeyed concoction with sharp-smelling spices and an even sharper burn as it slipped down his throat. When Viktor proposed a toast with the king of Romano, Heine had found himself with a glass in hand. He was then handed another at more than a few points in the evening – and at least one of them by Viktor himself. Heine did not quite remember how many cries of Prost! to the two kingdoms there had been, and now he sat, still in his evening suit, at his usual spot by the desk, swirling yet another glass with Viktor and feeling the wine more than usual.

It was already getting late.

He was not worried; tomorrow was his rest day. But there are no breaks for a king – although this one did not seem to notice the time at all. Heine had been surprised when Viktor invited him here tonight, thinking that perhaps the king wanted a report so soon after the princes' assignment had been completed. He had been equally surprised when he saw the bottle.

"More wine?" he chided. "Are you sure?"

Viktor was already pouring the first glass. "You can always have something else if you won't join me," he had said, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "I'll send for it. Milk would be much more… age appropriate. Or what do you think?"

Heine harrumphed and took a glass.

It seemed that they were here for no reason at all. Tomorrow – or the day after – they would talk about how the princes had done, and what that could mean for the future of the Granzreich and Romano kingdoms. And although they were no longer young, nor as free with their time as they had been way back then, Heine did not mind indulging the king. Viktor may request the strangest things, but it was never without sound reason. There is always a first time for everything, though, because Heine was now starting to suspect that Viktor, too, had had more than a few at the ball.

-:-

"Eins dropped by, you know," said Viktor not long after they had clinked their glasses. "After the song."

"Oh?" said Heine, pausing as he lifted his glass. "I did not see him."

Chin in hand, Viktor hummed a sigh. "He didn't stay long. You know how children are when they grow up."

They sat in silence for a while. They had both grown up a long time ago, and far too quickly. There was still so much more to be done.

Viktor drained his glass and straightened up with a toss of his head, as if the silence were a blanket he was trying to shrug from his shoulders. "Well!" he chirped, refilling his glass. "I am glad that my sons are growing so well under your care. Shall I…?" He gestured the bottle towards Heine.

The tutor glanced into his glass. "Thank you, but I am barely halfway through."

"Take your time." Viktor settled back in his chair. "Speaking of my sons, I am already in talks with King Romano to arrange a visit to his kingdom. It is my hope that we can continue to strengthen our relationship as allies."

"And mine as well," murmured Heine. It could not be easy, as a young prince of Romano, to shoulder the high expectations of one's position while growing into one's own person. He thought of Prince Ivan, the eldest twin, who could never do enough in his father's eyes as well as his own; and of Prince Eugene, overlooked in favour of his brother and who, like his brother, expressed a disdain for "forever benchwarmer princes" at the start of their visit. The fact that the younger prince had done so even though, if all were to go according to plan, he himself would not be expected to ascend the throne, could explain why Prince Eugene had not seemed to see the point in trying for anything. The Granzreich princes could prove to be a good influence on the Romanos, if only they could spend some more time together.

A chuckle from Viktor interrupted Heine's thoughts. "What is funny?" he asked the king, his sombre musings quickly dissipating.

"I was just wondering if you also taught the princes to dance at the ball."

"Goodness, no."

"Ah. I thought so. Teaching them to sing would have been enough of a handful."

"Yes, but I cannot tell you how much I came to wish that I had blocked out a few hours, at least, to revise the basics together with them. I did not anticipate how insistent they would be." Heine took a fortifying drink from his glass. "Do you know how terrifying it is to be led around the floor by partners who do not quite know what they are doing? I was even lifted once. I was in the air."

Viktor chuckled even more. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I did love seeing all of you getting along so well."

"You were watching us?"

"I was watching you."

What a strange way of putting it. Heine was not sure he had heard Viktor correctly. Perhaps he should ask him repeat that, to check that he had not misheard him.

He sipped some more wine and held out his glass. "Could you top me up, please?"

-:-

"There's something I want to show you," said Viktor as he led Heine over to the lounge area. On the low table sat a strange shape, which Heine thought he recognised when Viktor removed the sheet that lay over it.

"My word," murmured Heine, venturing closer to inspect the instrument and the brassy sheen of its parts. "Is this… a phonograph?"

"Do you like it?" smiled Viktor, barely containing his delight. "It was a gift. Go on, give it a try."

"What does it play?"

"Wind it up and see for yourself."

Soon the hazy melody of a waltz undulated about the room and Heine watched Viktor hum along, fingers dancing in time to the music.

"What a tremendous invention," said Heine when the song neared its end. "It seems as if I were right in front of the orchestra."

"Yes, and listen to this." Viktor stopped the machine and switched out the cylinder. When it started up again, it sang out in a long, yearning trill.

Heine put down his wine. "This song!"

"Yes?" said Viktor, a twinkle in his eye.

The melody was haunting and the libretto solemn – far too serious to have been fully-appreciated the first time Heine had heard it. Perched next to Viktor, in oversized borrowed clothes, Heine had been certain they would be spotted among the crowded back seats. Once the show was over and he could finally relax, they spent the evening falling over each other as they butchered the most dramatic of the songs, missing the high notes and substituting their own lyrics.

"Why Viktor, had I not known any better, I would have thought that you had impeccable taste."

Viktor laughed – the same laugh from the alleyway behind the Wienner state opera house nearly thirty years ago.

-:-

Back at the desk, they talked of important things.

The latest in the national opera:

"No, don't tell me. I haven't seen it yet."

The moral discrepancies in classic childhood fables:

"I can't explain that to you, Viktor, I did not write it."

Whether or not it was possible to brew wine from carrots and bell peppers:

"I find it highly worrisome that a child would know so much about winemaking."

The bottle of wine slowly emptied out.

-:-

"And another thing," said Viktor who, at some point in the night, had ended up sprawled out next to Heine. They were down to the last few glasses, and Heine was propping himself up against the cushioned arm of the settee, trying hard to maintain a slight semblance of propriety.

"Why are we always drinking this?" Viktor squinted at his glass of wine, holding it up to the light. "It's the same wine every time ever since God knows when, always wine white- I mean white wine- from Niedergrr- Niederglan-zish."

Heine nearly slipped off the arm. Goodness gracious. Where was this coming from?

"But isn't it… isn't this your favourite?" he faltered, his head foggy. "You don't like it?"

Viktor made a sound that resembled both a hiccough and a splutter. Or perhaps it was a laugh. Heine could not tell at this point. "I do like it, but people get tired of favourites, Herr Professor. Even Lich… Leonhard. Would hesitate at the idea of eating sacher torte for every meal.

"I wouldn't be so sure," muttered Heine. Then, struggling with the plush upholstery, he pulled himself into a slightly less crooked sitting position. "But Viktor, you are being unfair. You were the one who brought this wine. And it was supposed to be my turn."

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's a special occasion."

"You must let me bring the next one." Heine racked his brains for all the good wines he had ever tried or heard of, but the memories seemed to have left him for the moment. "We could try… red wine?"

"Hmm?" Viktor tilted his head.

"From… Obergranzreich?"

"Interesting proposal," said Viktor, "considering their viticulture is not what it used to be."

"Hintergranzreich, then."

Viktor snorted. "You are making things up."

"And you were making a fuss over something that could have been so easily resolved," retorted Heine. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? If I had known, I would have looked around town and found something new, or checked with the chefs for recommendations – anything, if only you had asked."

Viktor leaned back to look at the tutor and smiled fondly. "That's just like you. I know I can always rely on you. You're a good friend, Heine."

Heine took a sip from his glass. "Though you tend to ask for the most reckless things," he said.

That was when Viktor asked him to dance.

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It's been almost exactly one year since I first watched The Royal Tutor, and I'm super excited to get this out. I already have the rest of this written out, but because it’s such a pain to upload fics to Tumblr, I’ll be uploading the rest of the chapters to AO3, and I’ll be putting just the link on Tumblr. I really want to make sure I check each chapter thoroughly, so I might take a few days to upload the next one. In the meantime - comments are appreciated and I'll love you forever.

#the royal tutor #oushitsu kyoushi haine #oushitsu kyoushi heine #heine wittgenstein #haine wittgenstein #viktor von granzreich #viktor von glanzreich #viktor von grannzreich #victor von glanzreich #victor von granzreich #victor von grannzreich #heine x viktor #write by me #fanfiction

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beauty-and-passion · 3 years

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Heya!

So I remember reading your post about Eurovision a while ago, and since I'm now hooked on a certain collection of songs, I was thinking...

Would you think 'Zitti E Buoni' by Måneskin could be a Remus song, and 'Voilà' by Barbara Pravi a Roman song? Or do you have some ideas on any other Eurovision songs that would fit the Sides?

Just wondering whether you'd like to share some thoughts on this, but no pressure of course! As always, I absolutely love your theories and posts, it always brightens up my day to read :D

This will be a very self indulgent post.

First of all: “no pressure”?! I am HYPED to share my thoughts on this! And this is why it took me so long to reply to this ask: I’ve spent the whole time thinking about which song could fit which Side, going through the last editions, reading the lyrics, searching among my favourites...

So yes, this post will be a bit long. But hey, there is also good music and maybe, by listening to it, you will find something you haven’t heard before! :D

(Of course, in order to make this post understandable, I will translate all lyrics, but the songs aren’t all in English. In any case, every song has a link, so you can hear it on Youtube.)

And yes, I know there are billions of other Eurovision songs, but for the sake of “not making this post endless” (as if it won’t be already), I will stop at Eurovision 2014. If you all have other songs to propose for a Side, please feel free to add them and explain why! :D

And now...

Which Eurovision songs would fit the Sides

_____________________________

EUROVISION 2021

Måneskin - Zitti e buoni

(Here the Eurovision performance because it’s just this good)

This song is PERFECT for Remus and I was a fool for not realizing it sooner. It's all about showing how different you are, embracing your uniqueness despite what others may think. Everything about this song screams “REMUS” so thank you, my dear, for opening my eyes and making me realize it.

They don't know what I'm talking about You are dirty, bruh, of mud Cig's yellow in between the fingers I'm walking with a cig Pardon me, but I really do believe That I can make this jump And even if the street is uphill I'm training for this now

The first line is already 200% Remus: they (aka the other Sides) don’t know what Remus is talking about. Remus is impossible to understand. Remus is weird, strange, dangerous - according to moral standards.

However, despite the other people’s thoughts, Remus still shows a high self-esteem - just like in his playlist. The others may not have faith in him, there could be obstacles on his way, but he still believes he will achieve his goals.

And good evening, ladies and gentlemen Bring out the actors You better hold on to your balls You better keep quiet and be good Here people are weird, like drug dealers Too many nights I've spent locked outside Now I'm kicking these doorways Staring up like climbers So sorry mum if I'm always out, but

“You better hold on to your balls” is a translation of the original italian line “Vi conviene toccarvi i coglioni”. This sentence is a more vulgar form of the English expression “knocking on wood”, something you preventively do to un-jinx stuff.

However, “knocking on wood” isn’t as strong as the italian expression, so I chose this translation that is more literal, but also more vulgar. It kept the original vibe more, it fits Remus more and it gives a stronger meaning to the whole thing. The singer isn’t just saying “beware of what you’re doing”, but he’s saying “get ready, shit if about to hit the fan”. It’s more powerful - and well, Remus would love this. It’s his time now, so the audience (the other Sides/Thomas) should "keep quiet and be good”.

I also really like the “Here people are weird, like drug dealers”, because it can refer to the dark sides in general. This is Remus’ show, so the Core Sides and Thomas should shut up. They are now in the Dark Sides’ territory, full of weird, sketchy people, morally gray villains. All things he loves, enjoys and that he definitely considers as compliments.

“Too many nights I've spent locked outside / Now I'm kicking these doorways” is another great line, because “being locked outside” is the perfect metaphor for Remus’ situation. He IS locked outside, he has been kept far away from Thomas, stifled by him, unable to fully express himself. And so he releases his frustration by kicking the doors that are shutting him down. That’s just so Remus I. LOVE. IT.

I am out of my mind, but I'm not like the others And you are out of your mind, but you're not like the others We are out of our minds, but we're not like the others We are out of our minds, but we're not like the others

This chorus is PERFECT! First of all: “I am out of my mind” is basically just like this line from DWIT:

[Patton]: Imaginative sure is a- a kind word for him. [Duke]: I agree! How about... DEMENTED?

But also: Remus doesn’t give a damn. He’s not like the others and he’s SO DAMN PROUD of it. Just like he is in canon and in his playlist.

He goes even further, by saying that “you” are also out of your mind. And who this “you” might be, if not the big man himself?

[Duke]: If I am awful... then so is Thomas.

Just like in DWIT, Remus welcomes Thomas’ weirdness with open arms. If he and Thomas are both insane and different, why hiding it and not embracing this difference? They are unique.

I've written pages and pages I've seen salt, then tears These men in cars Don't climb the rapids I've written on a tombstone "In my house there's no God" But if you find time's meaning You'll climb back up from your oblivion And there's no wind stopping The natural power From the right point of view You feel the intoxication of the wind With wax wings on your back I'll go look for that high If you wanna stop me try again Try cutting my head off Because

Woah, this part has a lot. There is:

Remus' creativity as a flow ("I've written pages and pages")

Remus seeing how different he is compared to others ("These men in cars / Don't climb the rapids" while he was ready to “make this jump” despite the obstacles on his way)

Religion because of course - and especially Remus rejecting it ("I've written on a tombstone / "In my house there's no God".")

And, most importantly, there is a nice reference to Icarus' myth. According to myth, Icarus escaped from the Labyrinth of the Minotaur, by flying on wax wings. But he flew too close to the sun, his wings melted and he fell to his death.

This has multiple meanings. First of all, it shows how stubborn Remus is: he could use simpler, more stable ways to reach his goals. But he's Remus, he's creative and he's different, he would rather use wax wings (aka more complex, unordinary means) to reach his goal. Also, it's a proof of his resolution: just like Icarus, his wax wings could melt and he could fail. And yet, he's so set in his decision, he's ready to do anything to succeed.

This last point is particularly evident in the following lines: "If you wanna stop me try again / Try cutting my head off". It's impossible to stop him, just like it was impossible to send him away or stop him from talking in canon.

Everything in this song is just HIM.

Unfortunately people talk They talk, they don't know what they talk about Bring me where I float Cause I lack air here

Once again, the people are the Core Sides: they talk about how he's evil and dangerous and useless. But they don't know what they're talking about. They're (metaphorically) suffocating him with their prejudices, that's why he asks "bring me where I float": he wants to express himself freely, to escape these biases.

Also: water. And with the whole octopus as his animal, it’s just even more fitting.

Moral of the story: this song is perfect for him, Remus should know Italian just to sing it - and he would love the glam rock style of Maneskin as well.

_____________________________

Barbara Pravi - Voilà

I don’t know how you did it, dear, but these two songs are PERFECT. Zitti e buoni is perfectly Remus, Voilà is perfectly Roman. I feel blessed.

Listen to me, me, the half singer Talk about me, to your loved ones, to your friends Tell them about this little girl with black eyes and crazy dreams What I want is to write stories that you will hear about That's all

Roman, is that you? Because this is you. This is ALL you.

Roman is a "half singer": he cannot sing like he want, he cannot express himself in full. He has rules, laws, morals that forces him to quiet down and bent his creativity.

And, just like a tragic hero, Roman asks that his story will not be forgotten, that others will know about him, his unfortunate life, his "crazy dreams" and especially his passion: writing stories "that you will hear about".

This line in particular reminds me of this part from Recipe for Me:

And still, I continue to write because I have more dreams to fulfill Tales I hoped to tell when I was younger Ideas that I haven't made yet, but I will I'll find my way with my will

The concept is the same in Voilà. Roman is a "controlled" Creativity, surrounded by rules and morals that shut him, but he wants to be heard, he wants to tell stories.

And that’s just it. This is what creativity is all about: talking, puring out its ideas, as loud and freely as possible.

Voilà, voilà, voilà, here is who I am Here I am, even if I'm scared as I'm naked, yes Here I am in the noise and in silence

I love how this song is a way for Roman to express himself, to show himself despite everything. He's like this, he's a "half Creativity", he's scared, he's not perfect. But here he is, "in the noise and in silence". Because your creativity is always here with you, no matter where you are or what you are doing: it will never leave you and it will never stop asking to be heard.

Look at me, or at least what's left of it Look at me, before I hate myself What can I say that another hasn't already said? I don't have much, but I place here what I do have Voilà

Aaaah, yes, I like to wake up with the strong smell of Roman's angst in the morning.

Roman seeing himself as something broken? Perfect. We want more of the angsty boi. Even the fans of King Creativity may read this line as Roman seeing himself as “half of a whole”!

And, again I love how despite feeling broken and hating it, he’s still ready to give everything he has. This is the true essence of the concept of creativity.

Also, why not adding a little more angst?

I want to be loved, because I don't know myself how to like the shape of me

This is perfect, because it reconnects to the first episode, when Roman said his goal would be to love himself first. He never reached this goal after almost 30 episodes - and this line might offer an answer on why: because Roman doesn’t know how. He hates himself so much, he doesn’t know how to love himself.

And that’s probably why he needs another person to love: because it’s easier to love someone else, rather than himself.

Voilà, voilà, voilà, here is who I am Here I am, even if it's the end as I'm naked Here I am in the noise and in rage too Finally, look at me and my eyes and my hands All I have is here, it's my face, it's my scream Here I am, here I am, here I am

This last chorus is awesome: the quintessential of Roman’s desperation, of showing himself, of screaming hoping to be heard by anyone. Unlike Remus who is unstoppable and doesn't care about others, Roman cares. He needs a public, he needs to be heard, otherwise he would lose himself.

And I seriously love how these two songs both have the same idea (embrace yourself and your uniqueness), but talk aboout this theme in such different ways - and yet so fitting for the twins... they are just GREAT.

(On a side note: this song is so dramatically French Roman would love it and sing it with the same passion Barbara used and I would love to see that.)

_____________________________

EUROVISION 2019

Bilal Hassani - Roi

Come on... Roi. Roi. Considering that "roi" means "king" in French, who could possibly be the Side I would associate this song with? Maybe the Side who already has a King in his playlist?

Nope, this song is for Remus.

Why Remus? The reason is very simple and you can just notice by reading the first verses:

I am me And I know I will always be I am free Sure I am inventing my life Don't ask me who I am

I am The same since I was very little And in spite of looks, opinions I cry, I go out and I laugh

You put me in a box Want me to be like you I don't follow the codes People are disturbed a lot At the end of the day You canno change me, boo! So, let me fly

This song overflows with confidence, the lines talk about someone who is free to be whoever he wants, who has always been the same since he was a child, who is rejected by others and doesn't give a damn, who doesn't "follow the codes" and refuses to be changed by them.

This isn't Roman, but this is the quintessential of Remus. This song is everything about him, from his confidence to his desire to be free.

And the chorus is even clearer:

I'm not rich but i'm shining bright I can't see my kingdom now When I dream, I am a king And I know o-o-ow Even now o-o-ow You try to take me down You cannot break me nah nah

That's him, that's Remus.

On a side note, if Remus also has his "King song", that would strengthen the connection with Roman, since they both would have a song about "being/feeling like a king".

And this song is Roi, king in French. Since I think Remus would definitely know French, this makes Roi an even more fitting choice, doesn’t it?

Who are we ? When we hide, when we fight for free Only god can judge you and me We did not choose what we are

Not only there is a nice religious reference, but these lines are a also a reference to the LGBT community: they hide, they fight, they didn't choose to be like that (no matter what idiots might think) and only God can judge them, not other, very flawled (and, honestly, very pathetic too) humans.

So, if we consider it, there is also a hidden "fuck society" and a "I am gay and proud to be" and those are both very Remus things.

_____________________________

EUROVISION 2018

Saara Aalto - Monster

I would associate this song with Thomas. And, specifically, to Thomas at the end of the series. Why?

Here's why:

So tonight I'm making friends with all the creatures That are hiding there under my bed

I ain't gonna hold on to these monsters anymore Now I'm gonna let in all the light Tear down the walls At my worst, I found my army strong All the demons are gone You can try and scare me now But I ain't scared no more I ain't scared no more

At the end of the series, Thomas would have befriended all the Sides, especially the "monsters hiding under his bed", the dark bois.

The "final Thomas" will tear down every wall between him and his Sides and will stop hiding/rejecting them. This will make him stronger, because the Sides will be his helpers, parts of him, his friends. He won't be scared anymore by Remus, suspicious towards Janus, afraid of Virgil or terrified by Orange.

"All the demons are gone": the dark sides won't be villains anymore, but friends. And they would help him be stronger.

It's my life I'm ready to lead it I'm gonna roll the dice You better believe it

This part is great as well, because it proves another interesting detail: that Thomas is growing up. He's taking life into his own hands, he's leading it. No more "Oh no, I don't know what to choose between callback and wedding!". He's more confident, he's stronger, he's more mature.

_____________________________

Hovig - Gravity

Honestly, I think this song can be something all Sides might sing to Thomas. It's basically a testament of how much they care about him:

Let me be your heart and your company I'll let you be the one who can lean on me I'll catch you when you fall When you're falling free Let me be, be your gravity

But the imagery just screams "ROMAN" so much, I can't help but think that yes, this is a great Roman song and it's all from Roman to Thomas.

I mean...

I can be your hero I can be your fantasy Oh, I can be the cure Yeah, let me be Your remedy

He IS Thomas' hero, so how can I ignore this? And he's also the embodiment of Thomas' fantasies, he's the wings that make Thomas fly.

Let me be your wings When you're flying high I'm gonna raise you up 'til you touch the sky I'll catch you when you fall When you're falling free Let me be, be your gravity

It's just pure love for Thomas and it begs me to being a Roman song, so... here it is. A Roman song dedicated to Thomas.

_____________________________

Eleni Foureira - Fuego

Listen, not only Roman would rock this song, but also dance like a maniac while singing it just like Eleni and no, you can't change my mind.

Just look at how this woman sings and dnaces without never losing a beat until the end. And please consider that on the Eurovision stage there is no autotune: this was her voice and he delivered a great performance without cracks.

So yes, I want Roman singing this.

But the lines are great for him as well! I mean...

Take a dive Into my eyes Yeah the eyes of lioness Feel the power They ain’t lying.

and

Coz I’m way up and I ain’t comin’ down, keep taking me higher Ah yeah ah yeah ah yeah yeah ah yeah ah yeah Coz I’m burning up and I ain’t coolin’ down, yeah I got the the fire Ah yeah ah yeah ah yeah yeah ah yeah ah yeah

Fuego

Someone fiery and passionate, powerful eyes, pride... yep, this is definitely something Roman would sing. Especially because of the fire. Roman is a fiery guy, so fire is very him.

______________________

Yianna Terzi - Oniro Mou

I actually already talked about this song in an old post and I still haven't changed my mind: this song is all about Janus telling Thomas how much he cares about him.

If you look into the depth of me You revive my dream And if you look into my heart I will take you into my arms How would you like me to say this I would die for you I would give my life for you End and beginning, you are everything

Not only the "take you into my arms" reminds me of Change (" I’ll be able to be honest, capable / Of holding you in my arms without letting you fall"), but the last three lines are so incredibly loving and honest I can't think of anyone else but Janus while reading them. Thomas is his end and beginning, Janus would literally die for Thomas and give his life for him.

So, well, it's just very fitting. And I love how dramatic this song is. It doesn't have the jazzy vibe Janus loves, but the drama is all here.

______________

Francesco Gabbani - Occidentali’s Karma

Do you remember how hard it was to analyze Algorhythm from Logan's playlist? Every line has a meaning and explaining every single one of them took me an eternity.

Well, this song is basically like Algorhythm, but with more philosophy and billions to references. You see the performance on the stage and ahahah, there's a funny dancing gorilla, what a cute song. Then you read the lyrics and BOOM.

I will not analyze this song here, because every line would require at least two paragraphs to explain it. And this post is already long enough as it is, but please, search the meaning of this song: there are references to Shakespeare, Heraclitus, buddhism, Andy Warhol, Desmond Morris and his book "The Naked Ape", Marx, Nietzsche and so on. Basically every line is a reference, a play on words or both at the same time.

What about the main theme? The main theme is the human and especially the contemporary human. In fact, "Occidentali" (Westerners) does not refer to the geographical place, aka Europeans/Americans, but to the western cultural model.

So the title “Occidentali’s Karma” (Westerners Karma) is an insight on contemporary society, on our values and on how, despite how many things changed, we are not so different from our ancestors after all.

This song might seem a perfect choice for Janus. There's a critique of society, there are philosophers and plays on words.

But I’m not too convinced, because even if Janus likes all those things, the number of references is just SO HUGE only a real nerd can find, recognize and appreciate them all.

So yes, this is a Logan song. A song he would probably listen and analyze, enjoying the whole process of knowing more things, finding out all the hidden meanings, the plays on words (we all know you like puns, ya big nerd) and the critical insight. After all, Algorhythm WAS a critique of society, so Logan should appreciate it.

_______________

EUROVISION 2014

Twin Twin - Moustache

Not only the band is called Twin Twin but, as if this wasn't screaming "Creativitwins" enough, the title of the song is "Moustache".

Come on, you know who is the Side perfect for this song.

Psyche! It's both Roman and Remus.

Something is missing, but what? I want this, I want that When I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming in dollars, every day I'm wearing a different suit.

This is very Roman: Roman wants everything (let's not forget Primadonna from his playlist), Roman’s dreams are big. And Roman is Creativity, so he "wears a different suit" every day - aka he directs his creative flow in different stories/songs.

I want this, I want that there's never enough for me it's like this, it's like that there's always something I don't have

This part strongly reminds me of Primadonna. Roman wants everything, every day. He's never satisfied.

And then, Remus busts in and...

I wanted a moustache, a moustache

So my headcanon is that this starts as a Roman's song, all about wanting everything because "there's always something I don't have", until Remus pops out during the chorus and says all he wants is his gorgeous moustache.

*chef’s kiss* Perfection.

But I know what you want, dear audience. You want some angst, don't you?

Fine, so what if the "I want a moustache" line is Roman's subtle way to say that he wants the same freedom his brother has? After all, Roman has "everything one could ever dream of", "I have friends too / even some who like me". All he needs is more creative freedom and the moustache is a subtle way to say that.

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Aarzemnieki - Cake to Bake

This is the ultimate song for all Patton's fans, because it combines Patton's love for baking to Patton being an absolute disaster at it.

Also, it's an incredibly cute song.

I melted the ice of the polar caps Found the raiders of the lost ark Solved a case for the genius from Baker Street Helped to clean the Central Park I created the plan for the Chinese wall Went to desert, made it rain Swam through a shark tank bloodily Found Atlantis, by the way But today

The first verse is already awesome: Patton did a lot of great stuff, even impossible stuff ("solved a case for the genius from Baker Street" is a very nice reference to the Losing My Motivation episode).

But today, he has to face the most difficult task of them all:

I’ve got a cake to bake, and got no clue at all I’ve got a cake to bake, and haven’t done that before Don’t be proud, mate, please, don’t bother Go, come on and ask your mother How to bake, how to bake, bake that cake

Not only this makes me smile every time, but I can perfectly imagine Patton in a kitchen, with all the ingredients in front of him, everything ready and set... and he’s just absolutely lost. Should he use a spoon to stir the flour? And how can he open the vanilla beans? He doesn’t even know how to turn the stove on.

And so, he decides it’s time to ask someone else to help him. Bonus points if the mother is Janus. Also because he is a mom AND a witch, so

Also, this line:

Mix some dough, add some love, let it bake, wait for it

It's SO Patton, because the main ingredient of his recipes IS love! And cumin. And sometimes spit, depending on what he's making: pasta for Roman or some toasts for his angsty teen son.

_____________________________

Carl Espen - Silent Storm

At first, I thought this was a Logan song: someone who feels empty and alone, who has a storm inside but it's a silent storm, because Logan would never express his feelings in any way.

But there are these lines:

And there’s a silent storm inside me Looking for a home I hope that someone’s gonna find me And say that I belong I’ll wait forever and a lifetime To find I’m not alone There’s a silent storm inside me And someday I’ll be calm Someday I’ll be calm

And maybe it's just me, but this reminds me so much of Virgil. He has a storm inside, his own symbol is a storm. He's searching for a home, after leaving the dark sides. And he hopes someone will say he belongs - Thomas will say he belongs, that Virgil is part of him and of the famILY.

And he's willing to wait all the time, just to get that tiny bit of recognition and acceptance. And, who knows, maybe when he'll get it, the storm inside him will calm down and he will finally be at peace.

____________________

Tinkara Kovač - Round and Round

I don't know if I'm insane (or just extremely self indulgent), but this song is basically Janus during the wedding/callback saga.

Uncertain between worlds Circle after circle, we're trapped in time When you're already familiar with every storm You're playful, and yet you're alone

The first verse sets the time and situation. Thomas is living an uncertain life (just like every actor), trapped in the same cycle, with nothing new coming: same job, same opportunities, no big chances, nothing stable. He's "familiar with every storm", aka Virgil has been accepted. Thomas is happy, but he's alone. No one is actually on his side, not even the Sides themselves. He's not taking care of himself enough, he's too ready to drop everything for his friends, he's spreading himself too thin.

And now I'm gonna show you how to breathe I'm gonna show you how to live I'm gonna hold your heart in hand I'm gonna make you understand

This can be a declaration from Janus: he's tired of working in the shadows, he wants to step up and help Thomas in person. And these lines make me think of him, because of how "firm" (and kinda villain-y) they sound.

He wants to show Thomas how to live, aka what are the best decisions to make). He's going to "hold your heart in hand", aka to have Thomas wrapped around his fingers, to take control and steer him with a strong, confident grip, away from the decisions he considers bad, into making him a lot stronger than before.

And, finally, he wants to make him understand. So if the lines before sounded more like a villain’s plan, this last line adds something more. Janus wants to explain to Thomas why he's doing this, why his decisions are better, why Thomas should trust him.

If we think about it, this is everything Janus tried to do since CLBG: he wrapped Thomas (and the other Sides) around his fingers and made them play the courtroom scenario he built, he tried to steer Thomas away from the selfless decision of going to the wedding. And he tried to make him understand why, with the pinata metaphor.

You don't know you don't know Is it love is it hate What are we changing (What are we doing) You don't know you don't but Can you feel it inside Feel the roses Feel the pride (Can you believe it)

Thomas doesn't know a lot of things. Does he really know what love is? Or hate? Or what he's actually doing, by listening to his Morality? What is Janus doing?

[Deceit]: What am I doing here right now, Thomas? Am I the snake come to trick you into sinning, or have you had your mind made up since the moment you received the news about the callback? (SvS)

Thomas doesn't know a lot of things. But deep down, he knows what he wants to do. He should "feel the roses / feel the pride", both things associated with Roman. He is the one Thomas should listen to. And Janus is hinting it.

Is a moment just a circle Just a song you play on repeat? If we can't change how we're living Isn't life just a lie that we feed

Janus is expressing his frustration here: is Thomas' life doomed to always be the same, a cycle, a "song you play on repeat"? Can't he really change his life because of his selflessness? Will he really miss all the opportunities life offers him, in order to always be a good person?

What's the point of living, then? This wouldn't be life, but "a lie that we feed": instead of living his own life, Thomas would submit it to what others want/need, in order to always be present for them.

This is basically a huge warning from Janus: don't fall into this cycle, break free, I can make you free, listen to me and I will make you understand what is wrong about it.

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unabashegirl · 4 years

Text

#1 “Kings of Leon” HS

Author’s Note: First Harry Styles imagine! Hope you like it! Request are open!

He leans against the frame of the entrance of the living room. He was locked away in the office for a few hours, trying to write something down in his journal for the day. It was until he heard the faint sound of music playing that he decided to leave the room and investigate the source of the ruckus.

It was her. The music sounds too familiar to him as he walks down the hallway. Kings of Leon play loudly throughout the entire house. He had discovered that it was her favorite band after the first few dates. That day after lunch, they had decided to go for a walk. They ran into a small music store where Y/N bought a Kings of Leon vinyl. She then proceeded to invite Harry to her small apartment for some coffee and to listen to the record together.

Her appearance captivates him. She dances around the living room without a single care in the world. She only wears a simple t-shirt over her bikini. Her hair is down and still wet from her previous dip in the ocean. She is attempting to air-dry it. She also holds tightly to a tall glass of Pina colada and tries her best not to spill it on the hardwood floor of the house, but she is still not holding anything back. He can see the small bruise forming on the side of her thigh. Last night Y/N had turned off the lights before getting in bed and had walked into the corner of their bed. Harry had to turn the lights back on with the switch beside the bed to go tend her.

It is only their second day in the Caribbean, but they have both already managed to burn. Jamaica will always hold a very special place in Harry’s heart. He has enjoyed showing Y/N the best places to eat and loved her reaction after they had gone snorkeling. After being in Japan for so long, he had only desired to spend sometime under the sun and away from the real world especially with her. It also didn’t take much convincing to get Y/N on the plane.

In one of her twirls her eyes land on Harry, who is only staring at her while enjoying the view of her careless self.

“What are you doing?” She breathlessly asks as she stops moving while Pyro plays in the background. It was one of her favorites songs. Y/N pushes her hair away from her face, her cheeks are blushed which only entices him to approach and kiss each of them.

“Just heard the music” He honestly just wants her to go back to dancing. He relishes watching her when she isn’t looking. It is mesmerizing for him. He had even sneaked into her office once for a few hours before lunch just to watch her work. He would just tell her that he needed to finish some lyrics for a song and pretend to write in his journal. He loves seeing how she knits her eyebrows when she reads over her emails or how she fiddles with her pen as she tries to remember what she was about to write on a post-it.

“I am sorry if I interrupted you” She kinda feels bad and flustered. She knows how important writing time it’s for him. It wasn’t her intention to disturb him in his sacred time. It is his alone time and it helps him to put all his thoughts in one place whether they are bad or good. While Harry walks over to the small bar and pours himself a glass of whiskey, she turns down the music with her phone. When he chooses his drink, he heads back and sits on his usual seat. She just stands around.

“No need to apologize, kitten” Y/N has the habit of apologizing for things that aren’t her actual fault especially when she is around him. She is just terrified to piss him off and for him to send her off. After all, there is nothing binding them together. They have no commitment to one another. They weren’t even formally dating per se. Even though Harry whispers that she is his every time he makes love to her.

“Did you get to write anything tho?” She pulls on the back of her shirt, trying to cover some skin. He knows how nervous he makes her feel and he can only blame himself for it. They had met in a time when Harry was fragile due to his past relationship. It was a few weeks before his departure to Japan. He had already bought the tickets and his team had already organized everything for him. In the following weeks, they had multiple dates. She invited him to her hot yoga and spinning classes in the morning. They would usually go out for breakfast or lunch after. He grew accustomed to having her around. He asked her to accompany him to Japan three days before his departure.

“This is something you need to do on your own,” She said that day to him while she held him tightly. That was the day, Harry knew that she was so different from all the girls that he had even gone out with him. It wasn’t only because she wasn’t a model and she was just like any other person, but because she truly cared for his mental health. “You need to recover and I think this will do you good” Y/N said a few hours before his departure. He had stopped at her apartment before leaving. He wanted to tell her how much he liked her and to wait for him.

It wasn’t easy for Y/N. After all, he was leaving the country to write about his ex, who he was still in love with. She took a step back after his departure and let him do his own things. If it was meant to be, it would happen without her having anything to do with it. It certainly was because the first place that Harry went to when he arrived was her apartment.

“I did” He smiles as he reached out for her hand. It had been mostly about her and their long passionates nights on the island. “Are you hiding from me?” Harry asks as he pulls her on his lap. She nervously shakes her head as she settles each of legs on either side of him. “How was the water?” He runs his fingers over her skin noticing the little specks of salt on her brand new tan skin. Harry had stayed in for their usual sunset dip. He had fallen asleep after making love to her and devouring a giant bowl of fruit with her in bed.

“Warm and kinda lonely” She pouts, wrapping her free hand around his neck then leans over and places her drink on a table.

“We can’t have that can’t we?” Y/N smiles and shakes her head at him as she gently pulls on the curls at the back of his head. The skin of his cheekbones is slightly burned making him more irresistible. She had tried to apply sunscreen on his face, but he kept making faces. It only distracted her and she ended just laughing at him “I guess I won’t ever leave yeh again” Harry leans in and kisses her jawline gently. He can still smell the faint aroma of her carrot tanning lotion on her skin.

She enjoys the coolness of his rings pressed against her bare lower back. She runs her hands on his chest noticing the soft material of the shirt that he has on. The living room slide doors are opened allowing the sound of the waves crashing soothe them along with the faint sound of her favorite band.

“I need to tell yeh something” he mumbles against her the salty skin of her neck. She immediately tenses up and goes cold. A million thoughts run through her head. Harry pulls away wanting to see her reaction. He takes a sip out of his drink and leans back on his seat. He still grips her hip in place wanting to keep some kind of content with her.

“What is it?” She gulps, silently playing that he wasn’t dumping her or sending her away.

“I first have to confess something. I told you I liked you before I left for Japan, do yeh remember?” Y/N nods along too scared to say something. She also feels like she was about to be sick. It might have to do something about the amount of rum that it’s running through her veins. “I was actually not sure if I did. I was hesitant. We had just met and I was leaving for a long time. I didn’t want to lose you. I lied”

“Why are you tell me all of this now?” She frowns not comprehending where he is going with this or what he is trying to tell her.

“For us to have a healthy relationship. I have to be honest with yeh from starters. We can’t build a relationship based on lies” He explains hoping she would get what he is trying to say and catch up.

“In that case, I actually didn’t lose your sweater” she confesses, “It's actually in my closet at home. It just reminds me of you” Harry laughs lightly showing her his pearly whites.

“I know babe” A few days ago he had seen it in her closet. “I think that you are absolutely beautiful inside out. I love how much you worry about little things, how you sing in the shower, how much you take care of your plants and even how your lips still taste like pineapple when I kiss them” he jokes at the end. He tries to keep it short even though there are still a million things he can mention about her. “I guess I am trying t’ say is that you are worth having my heart broken a thousand times more if that means that I get to be around yeh” He watches as a wide smile appears across her face. She presses her lips against his.

“Would you be my girlfriend?” She doesn’t say much but just repeatedly pecks her lips. Y/N was starting to grow impatient. She was starting to believe that their relationship would never move forward and she would remain to be just a friend who he occasionally has sex with until he found a girlfriend.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, silly” she giggles then proceeds to peck the tip of his nose. “I thought you were going to send me home for a minute” Y/N admits as she presses a hand against her chest.

“No. You’re stuck with me now” He is so infatuated with her that it wouldn’t surprise him if he tells her he loves her before the trip ends, but that is another story.

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry x you #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harrystyles

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bananaofswifts · 4 years

Link

PARK CITY, Utah —

When it comes to pop stars, Taylor Swift isn’t the most forthcoming. While her fans love to read into her every song lyric, she never actually reveals who her music is about. Unlike Miley Cyrus or Lady Gaga, her social media presence is pretty demure, mostly reserved for photos of her cats and promotional material.

So when it was announced that Swift had agreed to be the subject of a new Netflix documentary, we couldn’t wait to see what — if any — candid details she’d disclose in “Miss Americana,” which begins streaming Jan. 31 on Netflix. We went to the Sundance Film Festival premiere of the movie on Thursday, and took notes on all the doc’s biggest revelations.

1. She struggled with an eating disorder

In New York City, the outside of Swift’s apartment — her “front yard,” as she calls it — is permanently surrounded by paparazzi ready to snap photos of her to sell to tabloids. But in “Miss Americana,” the singer acknowledges that she’ll no longer look at the images posted of her online daily. “I tend to get triggered by something — whether it’s a picture of me where I feel like my tummy looked too big, or someone said that I looked pregnant or something — and that will trigger me to just starve a little bit. Just stop eating.”

Swift goes on to reveal that she struggled with an eating disorder for years, often feeling as if she was going to pass out during her concerts. She made a list of everything she put in her mouth each day, exercised constantly and got down to a size double zero. (She’s now a size six, she says.)

“I would have defended it to anybody who said ‘I’m concerned about you,’” she says. “I don’t think you know you’re doing that when you’re doing it gradually. There’s always some standard of beauty that you’re not meeting. Because if you’re thin enough, then you don’t have that ass that everybody wants, but if you have enough weight on you to have an ass, then your stomach isn’t flat enough,” she says. “It’s all just [expletive] impossible.”

Now, whenever she has the urge to judge her body harshly, she practices positive self-talk: “Nope. We don’t do that anymore. We do not do that anymore because it’s better to think you look fat than to look sick.”

2. She wishes she’d spoken out against Donald Trump during the 2016 election

After years of keeping her political beliefs to herself for fear of isolating her fan base, Swift first voiced support for a candidate during the 2018 midterms. The film shows her weighing whether or not to speak out against Republican Senate Candidate Marsha Blackburn, and those closest to her fret that it will put her in physical danger.

During a heated family discussion, her father points out that old-school performers like Bing Crosby and Bob Hope never talked about politics. Swift, her eyes filling with tears, tells him she’s “sad” she didn’t publicly oppose Trump two years ago. “But I can’t change that,” she says. “I need to do this. I need you to, dad, to forgive me for doing it — because I’m doing it.”

Just as she’s about to press send on an Instagram post about Blackburn, her team is still concerned about the impact. Her publicist warns Swift that “the president could come after you.” “[Screw] that,” Swift replies. “I don’t care.”

3. She used to live her life to be liked

As a kid, Swift says, she kept stacks of journals. But she didn’t just write in them with sparkly gel pens. At one point, she used an actual brass quill and ink.

And what did she use the antiquated writing tool for? To write about her “moral code” — “the need to be thought of as good.”

“It was all I wrote about. It was all I wanted,” she admits in the movie. “It was the complete and total belief system I subscribed to as a kid.”

She lived for “pats on the head,” she says — any praise that she was doing a good job on her homework or her songwriting. She only found fulfillment through external approval, and subsequently became “the person who everyone wanted me to be.”

That’s why public criticism — She’s annoying! She’s gone through so many boyfriends! She’s only friends with models! — has been difficult for her to overcome.

“When people decided I was wicked and evil and conniving and not a good person, that was the one that I couldn’t really bounce back from,” she says, “because my whole life was centered around it.”

4. Her sexual assault court battle changed her irrevocably

In 2015, Colorado disc jockey David Mueller sued Swift, claiming he lost his radio station job after her security team accused him of groping the singer. Swift countersued, alleging assault and detailing the inappropriate touching. She won and was awarded the amount she sought: $1 in damages. But the emotional impact the verdict had on her was far more consequential.

“I was unspeakably and unchangeably different after the sexual assault trial,” Swift says in the film. “No man, or organization, or my family, will ever understand what that was like.”

Despite winning the case, Swift said she didn’t feel any sense of victory “because the process is so dehumanizing.” And in her situation, she had seven witnesses and a photo backing up her claim. “What happens when you get raped and it’s your word against his?” she asks.

5. She was attracted to Joe Alwyn because of his ‘wonderful, normal, balanced kind of life’

Swift has dated a handful of famous men — Jake Gyllenhaal, Harry Styles, Tom Hiddleston — who have also made their way into her music. But when she started dating actor Joe Alwyn in late 2016, she liked that he had more of a “wonderful, normal, balanced kind of life.” His vibe put her at ease during a difficult time in her life, she said, when she was facing Kanye West-fueled backlash. (Remember the “I made that bitch famous” line from his 2016 jam “Famous”? Yeah, it was about her.)

Alwyn barely appears in the documentary, though. At one point, she kisses his hand during a car ride. She also runs into his arms after a concert, and the couple sweetly drape their arms over each other’s shoulders as they wander around backstage.

6. She didn’t try a burrito until she was 26

Just as she’s about to turn 29, Swift sits in the record studio reflecting on what the age signifies. There’s a part of her, she admits, that isn’t ready to have kids — for “all this grown up stuff.” Heck, she points out, she just tried a burrito for the first time two years ago. Which means that Taylor Swift did not eat a wondrous mix of meat, cheese, beans, rice, guacamole and sour cream until she was apparently 26 years old. Process that.

7. She’s not ready for kids yet

While Swift takes excellent care of her feline children — she even feeds one at her dinner table as she eats alongside the animal — she isn’t ready for kids of her own just yet. At 29, she says, part of her feels “57 years old” — but another part is “definitely not ready to have kids.” Case in point? She recalls visiting a friend who just had a baby and hearing how the newborn’s schedule consists of sleeping, eating, and being changed. Swift’s response? “So it’s like a Tamagotchi,” she says with a smile.

#taylor swift #miss americana

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adoregoldenharry · 4 years

Text

Wrong People Sometimes

A/N: Kinda of stuck in a lot of places right now. Trying to get a few negative thoughts out of my head onto here. Please let me know what you think. lots of love. [not my gif]

Have you ever been in love?

Have you ever felt like meeting the one person that you know in your heart is the last person you will every romantically lay your eyes on?

That was how I felt.

The two of us were singers in a world of media and heartbreak. In a overcrowded city with too many cars, and too much pollution. The city of cameras and red carpets. The city of rumors and regulations, according to where exactly you lived.

In this city I met Harry. He was one of the purest people I had ever met. I mean that mentally of course. I had heard things about him and how experienced he was and that he was no stranger to females in the industry. I didn’t like to look at him from that angle. The same one in which everyone looked at him. He was more than that and I knew it from the moment we both saw each other.

I had met him at a small cafe in Los Angeles where I lived. I was aware he lived there too but I just had never seen him previously.

I remember walking in prepared to order some drink my friend from yoga had been boasting about since our first class. I ordered rather quickly that day hoping not to be seen by anyone because I was tired of trying not to break my body in my morning yoga class. I turned to move out of the way and bumped into someone swishing their coffee from their hands onto the floor.

“I am so sorry, oh my gosh,” I blabbered while reaching for some napkins nearby as I had gotten some of his now spilled drink on his shirt. I felt so bad for ruining this mans nice and very stylish tee shirt. “Don't worry about it love its fine,” a deep voice rumbled through the man. Whether he was singing or having a normal conversation most people would be able to tell who he was. I sure was able to.

“Harry? Harry Styles?” I spoke lowly, not trying to blow anyones cover.

He looked around and then back to me nodding. “Yeah, wait a second. You’re Y/N, I love your new album it’s fucking amazing. Shit sorry,” Harry apologized. I giggled and stuck my hand out to him.

“Thanks, I love yours as well.” He grinned and showed off his immaculately shaped dimples.

We had a short conversation outside after I insisted on buying him a new drink to which he continued to refuse. I bought it for him anyway. We talked a little bit about our busy schedules and upcoming plans for our careers. Something us celebrities usually did upon seeing each other in public, weirdly enough.

After about fifteen minutes we had given out numbers and promised to keep in touch. We absolutely did that.

For months to come we had hung out multiple times every month. From dinners to movie nights in on the couch. Harry was my breath of fresh air. He was the person I chose to spend all of my extra time with and he did the same with me. Or so I had hoped anyway. He was always the first to call and ask if we could see each other. It made me feel like he cared and he wanted me like I had eventually wanted him.

Speculation occurred in the media after so many photos of the two of us spending all this time together circulated. His fans jumped right on it trying to dig up anything they could. Both of us stayed rather quiet about our friendship. We thought it was a little humorous to see what everyone would come up with.

“Wont you just come with me please Y/N. It will be so much fun,” Harry whined. I rested my hands on my hims with a smug smile on my face. It had been about a year and half since the beginning of our close knit friendship.

“Harry I can't, I have to finish up the last couple of tracks at the studio.” I watched his face twist into a pout, making me giggle. He was like a little puppy that wouldn't take no for an answer. He would always do this. Make me drop everything for him, yet I always let it slide.

“Please baby,” Harry whimpered. I tensed up at his words. He had never used that pet name before. Mostly because we have a platonic relationship and because he just hadn't. “Harry I-”

I looked at him before I could finish my sentence I saw that adorable, pleading look on his face. I sighed and nodded. To which Harry jumped up from the couch dancing around my living room carpet. “You are such a doofus.” I agreed to go with him on a two week long trip to Italy for a much needed getaway. Harry said I needed to go because he needed to show me something special he had come across last time he had been.

That two week vacation was everything with him. There was one night in particular that I would never forget but I wish I could. He had taken me around the beautifully lit streets of Venice during the night. We had a candlelit dinner in one of the fanciest restaurants between brick walls.

Harry was acting weird that night. He was fidgeting and his hands would shake here and there. I asked him if he was okay and he told me ‘he would be’.

After the dinner he led me to a small bridge. I leant against the railing looking down on the water where gondolas floated by with people sharing romantic moments. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. I smiled and brought my hand up to his hair playing with his curls. “Come on.”

We walked down to the small dock. I gasped when I realized what we were doing. “Ready?” I nodded stepping in after him into the small boat. A man soothingly singing Italian tunes behind us while steering us down the canal. I giggled and clapped my hands together like a little girl. Harry chuckled at how excited I was. He placed his hand at my side and pulled me close into his side. I looked at him with big eyes. A smirk adorning his beautiful face.

His hand came up to my chin and pulled my face close to his. In a split second our lips met. The second they touched everything changed. I knew that and god did I love it, but I also feared it.

I deepened the kiss and let him hold me.

That night we had become different people. Now that I think of it, it was just me who had changed. We had officially become one that night. It all felt like a fever dream. My life felt perfectly made. I had the career, the money, and the man that I wished for all of my life. I felt like I filled what was missing.

Every night after was like the last. We had come out as a couple not too long after Italy. Everyone seemed to have an idea that this would be coming with how much we had been hanging out before then. The internet ate us up with every moment from when we stepped out of our houses together. Pictures of us slapped onto the internet from all over I smiled every time I saw a cute picture of us smiling and holding hands.

I thought I was in love.

“That’s not where you said you were going,” I huffed. Harry sighed and raked his hands through his hair. “Not this again Y/N.”

“Why not, you drill me about other men. Why can I not do the same?” I took a sip of my water in a glass. Harry was becoming visibly more frustrated with my interrogation. He was pictured roaming around LA with one of his exes. I would not have a problem with it as long as he had told me about it. Yet he decided to ignore the thought I guess.

“Jus’ please get over it okay. It’s done, what do ya want me to do? Text you about it now? I presume not,” Harry stomped to the kitchen. Heading toward the fridge to put his now leftovers away from his secret lunch. “I just don't understand what was so hard about sending me a quick text. I had food made for us here as well. Would’ve saved the serving for another time.”

“Fuck Y/N sorry okay!” Harry shouted making me jump and drop my glass. It shatters all over the floor. I mutter and ‘shit’ and bend down to pick up the shards with a towel laying on the counter. Harry bent down helping me clean up the mess. “I think I'll just head back home now,” I grabbed keys from the dinning table heading towards the door.

“No Y/N wait.” I ignored him gently shutting the door behind me.

Things only got worse from that day. We didn't speak for about two weeks. I was hurt that he didn’t try and contact me all that time. I didn't try to call him either but I assured myself it was because I was busy with my next album. I was missing one more song. I was having the worst writers block.

It was a Friday night and I had been surfing through entertainment channels. I stopped upon one of the more popular ones. They were talking about the latest behind the scene montages for new movies. I hadn’t been paying much attention until they started a new story.

“Has the world’s most loved former boy band singer found another romance? What happened with him and Y/N L/N?”

My heart stopped. They showed pictures of Harry walking down a cobblestone path with a blond in an all too familiar place. One that I had been to months ago, with him. It was her. The one who he had seen at lunch two weeks ago. I almost kept myself together until the next picture dissolved onto the screen.

It was Harry and the girl on a small boat floating down the same canal that we shared our first kiss on. Silent tears fell down my cheeks. I wiped them quickly and sniffled. I stood up with my blanket wrapped around my shoulder. I grabbed my small black notebook and headed up my stairs to my bedroom to let the lyrics flow freely.

I remember getting texts from Harry endlessly that same night. He had seen the news and he wouldn't stop calling. He send message after message saying that he was sorry. That he didn't know what he was thinking by taking her there. Harry said that he regretted every decision he had made that ever ruined us.

I never replied to him.

I turned off my phone and set it on my nightstand.

He may have ruined us, but I wrote a song that would ruin him.

I guess I was never really in love.

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kiarcheo · 3 years

Text

It’s All Coming Back to Me Now 4/?

To read on Ao3 click here

You can read the previous parts on Tumblr click here

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

By the time Anne announces she is ready to present a first version of her song, everyone is quite curious to see what she cooked up.

‘I thought about what Anna and Kat said last time. About making it modern…and have everyone involved.’ Anne explains as Kat once again sets up her laptop. ‘So Kat is doing the chorus, which would be your parts.’

Grew up in the French Court Oui, oui, bonjour

Laughter immediately follow the exaggerated French accent coming from the queen who speak the language as fluently and perfectly as her native one.

All the British dudes, lame

Catalina and Anna share a look as Kat chimes in with ‘epic fail’. They had bonded over being shipped to a foreign country not knowing a single word of English to marry some random dude...They are not going to have problems singing that part like they mean it.

(Ooh) I wanna dance and sing (Politics) Not my thing

Catalina barely restrains a snort. Definitely her thing.

(You sent him kisses) I didn't know I would move in with his missus (What?) Get a life (You're living with his wife?)

Kat is extremely convincing at acting shocked at Anne’s actions and then clearly uncomfortable at the next verse, looking down at her feet.

(Ooh) Don't be bitter (Ooh) 'cause I'm fitter (Ooh) Why hasn't it hit her? He doesn't want to bang you Somebody hang you

‘Do you really have to use that language?’ Jane asks after they have all complimented Anne for her song.

‘What? Bitch?’ It’s quite clear to everyone that Anne is trying to rile Jane up. ‘If Catalina can say shit, why can’t I say bitch?’

Both Catalina and Anna nod at Anne’s words. Jane sends her a not-impressed look. She knows she is now repeating that word on purpose now, just to annoy her.

‘They don’t actually say it. Neither of them.’ Kat points out, raising her eye for the first time since half-way through the song, but still avoiding looking at Catalina.

'Moving on,’ Jane concedes, ‘while I technically understand all the words, there are some parts I don’t really...what xo means?’ Unlike Anne, Anna and Kat, Jane had not immediately taken to modern pop culture. At the moment she is trying to understand memes, much to the others’ amusement. They even have a group chat just devoted to sending her memes and gifs to see what she thinks they are and then explaining them. Most of the time Jane regrets having joined the chat and she would just abandon it if she didn’t know that they would add her back in immediately…and also that it’s all good-natured teasing.

‘Hugs and Kisses. Like, if you text someone and you sign off with xo it stands for that. X for kisses and O for hugs.’

'Aaah-’ Jane nods. That makes sense. That’s why Kat followed that line with ‘you sent him kisses’. ‘What about x-rated? It's kisses related too?’

‘In a way.’ Anne guffaws.

‘When something has a x rating, it’s because it’s very explicit. For adults only.’

The others look mildly amused at her innocence and Cathy’s explanation, but Anna is sure Jane will be uncomfortable once she realises. ‘Sex, Jane.’ She cuts it short.

‘You know what?’ Jane’s face is aflame. ‘If you give me the words, I’m going to look them up for myself.’

‘Can I talk to you for a second?’ Jane stops Kat as the meeting wraps up.

‘Want me to wait for you?’ Catalina asks.

‘If you don’t mind.’ Kat sends her a smile, before turning her attention to Jane.

‘I wanted to ask if you could help me out with my song. You wrote Catalina’s, right?’

‘Well, she wrote the words, I just played around, adjusted some bits and added others, you know, for rhymes and rhythm, and stuff like that.’

‘It’s just that...I know what I want to say, but words have never been my strong suit.’ Jane admits self-consciously. ‘If you could help me with that too. And the music. Obviously. To use Anne’s words. Not my thing.’ Jane smiles self-deprecatingly.

‘I would love to!’ Kat smiles encouragingly. ‘Have you thought about what type of sound are you lookin...’ she trails off seeing the slight panic on her face. ‘Why don’t you just make a list of singers and songs that you like? And that you’d like your song to...well, not be similar, but you know?’

Jane nods. That she gets. They agree on meeting up soon to start working on the lyrics and that meanwhile Jane will send Kat songs to get inspirations for the music part.

‘Everything okay?’ Catalina asks as they fall into step.

Kat hesitates for brief second. She will know anyway once she starts spending a lot of time out of the house with Jane, just like she did while working on Anne’s song. Probably even more. And the others will find out when they present it. Make no sense to keep it secret. ‘She just wanted to ask for my help with her song.’

‘What about you?’ Kat asks after a bit, noticing the expression on Catalina’s face. ‘Are you upset about Anne’s song? I’m really sorry about...well, you know what part.’

‘Did you write it?’

‘No!’

‘Exactly.’ Catalina had noticed how uncomfortable the girl had looked and how she had avoided eye contact with her pretty much up until they had finished the meeting and she had spoken to her directly, asking whether she should wait for her or not. ‘Besides, she says it herself, she didn’t really mean it.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘Are you okay with all the...losing your head jokes?’

‘Not really bothered to be honest.’ Kat shrugs. She had time to get used to Anne joking about it and she can see the appeal. She had mentioned it to Cathy, who said something about using humour to cope with trauma and grief. ‘But I know it’s not that. What’s on your mind?’

Catalina sighs. Sometimes having someone knowing you backfires. And Kat does know her. Perhaps a little too well. ‘I know that she is playing around a lot. The “just want to have fun” vibe. The slang. Playing up the airhead persona. Blatantly lying about the politics thing.’ She shakes her head. Everyone who knows about Anne Boleyn will know that is not true. ‘But that line about her father...’ she trails off. She never really considered the role family politics might have played into the whole affair. She always assumed it had been all Anne.

‘That’s something you should ask her.’ Kat says after a beat. Her loyalty will always be to Catalina, but they are not pitted against each other anymore. She loves Anne as well and won’t betray her confidence. And this is a perfect example of why, at the time, which now feels like ages ago, she had requested not to be asked about the other queens, but for everyone to take it up with the person in question. ‘Just because you’re my mom it doesn’t mean rules don’t apply to you.’ Kat winks at her cheekily in an effort to lighten up the mood. Rationally she knows Catalina won’t be upset and will respect her wish not to talk about it. But she can’t help feeling like she is letting her down, disappointing her.

‘I’m proud of you.’

'Why?’

Because she is still caring and sweet despite everything and everyone? Because she never hesitates to use her talents to help others? Because she knows that the little girl who served her and whose priority was to please her is still very much present in Kat, no matter how many times she tells her that she is her daughter now, not her attendant, but here she is, in a way, standing up to her, to protect Anne’s privacy?

Kat sounds genuinely confused and it breaks Catalina’s heart. Every. Single. Time. She will keep telling her until one day Kat’s reaction won’t be surprise and incredulity.

‘I’d need a third lifetime to list all the reasons. But I’m always proud of you.’ Catalina slips her hand so that she is holding the crook of Kat’s elbow, now walking arm in arm. ‘Siempre, querida, siempre.’

When it comes to Jane’s turn, the set-up is a bit different. Upon Jane’s request, Kat is going to play the keyboard instead of having a track playing on her laptop. Despite Kat’s encouragement, Jane still doesn’t feel fully confident...especially about some parts of her song. More than once she suggested to take those out, afraid of chocking or freezing when singing in front of other people. Since when they had practiced with Kat on the keyboard, if Jane changed anything, the younger girl had been able to adapt the music on the spot...they had agreed that Kat will play and follows Jane’s lead, if she decides not to go full-out.

‘I’m sorry...you were the one worried about us singing ourselves??’ Anne breaks the silence that had settled as Jane’s song winded down.

‘Yes, girl!’ Anna agrees. ‘That’s some set of pipes.’

‘We might actually have a problem finding people who can sing that. Between you and Catalina...’ Cathy joins in. The new version of the first queen’s song had some new lines, minor changes and tweaks. And lots of riffing, with Catalina fully making the song hers while Kat had sung the added choruses.

‘I was surprised myself.’ Jane admits bashful at the praises. ‘We went through...scales?’ she looks at Kat to make sure she is saying it right.

‘Yes, I wanted to find her vocal range. See what was within her natural reach, how high she could get…and she kept going up and up.’ Kat nods with a laugh, remembering the scene and how shocked they had both been when they realised the potential of Jane’s voice. Once Kat heard her, she knew she simply had to include some whistle notes.

‘I think some vocal training would be good.’ Anne raises her hands at the looks she receives. ‘I don’t mean it like that. I already said that! Just...one thing is doing that once. Another is doing it repeatedly and consistently…and doing it well.’

‘She has a point.’ Everyone who had ever taken vocal lessons agree.

‘It’s like with playing an instrument or dancing. You might have talent, but you need to cultivate it. Study. Practice. Train.’

‘Talking about dancing,’ Catalina starts, ‘what do we think about choreographies? Jane’s song doesn’t lend itself, but I have some ideas for mine.’

Kat looks at her, raised eyebrow and amused expression on her face. Some ideas? She basically has choreographed half of the song already.

The exchange is missed as Anne exclaims. ‘Me too!’

Jane groans. ‘Not that too. I just solved one problem.’

‘Please,’ Anna scoffs good-natured at her, ‘next thing we know you’ll be popping and locking like a pro.’

‘I have no idea what you just said.’ Jane deadpans.

Anne and Catalina are still staring at each other. Kat and Cathy look from one to the other. The first two queens were both renowned, among a lot of other things, for being accomplished and skilful dancers. Things had gone quite smoothly so far, but they learned during their cohabitation to never underestimate what could start a squabble…or worse.

‘So,’ Anne clears her throat, suddenly awkward, ‘team up?’

Catalina ponders in silence a bit longer. ‘You know what? Why not!’

She doesn’t miss the relieved looks on the last two queens’ faces, before they turn to each other with excited grins. She supposes that her girl is happy that she is trying to get along with her cousin, whom she got even closer since they worked on Anne’s song together, and Cathy is probably happy with how her project is taking shape, and that others besides her (and Kat) are showing initiative. And both are probably happy that a potential quarrel had been avoided. The last two queens had been the ones most uncomfortable when discussions would happen at the household.

‘Anyone has anything else to add before we adjourn the meeting?’

‘Ohh, so profesh!’ Anne teases Cathy.

‘I actually have.’ Kat speaks up. ‘I thought about your idea of having an intro song...what if we make it about what we are known for?’

‘Oh. Like, this is what you think you know about us. Then bam! We have our songs that rewrite the whole history.’ Anna picks it up immediately.

‘Making it…her-story,’

Everyone turns to look at Jane, who appears very proud of her pun. Kat is the one who reacts first. Having spent long hours with her cousin while writing her song, she has come to know her love for puns and – usually lame – jokes. She whips out her pen to scribble something down on her pink notebook, before raising her head again. ‘But yes, Anna, that’s exactly what I meant.’

‘That makes sense.’ Anne nods.

‘We should include that stupid rhyme.’ Kat muses aloud. ‘You know, divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived...wait. Wait.’ she raises one hand as to silence the others while with her other hand she is busy writing on her notebook.

‘We are waiting.’ Catalina informs her, tone amused. ‘Not sure what for, though.’

Kat doesn’t reply until she stops writing. She gives a long look at the words she penned. ‘What about.

I'm done 'cause all this time I've been just one word In a stupid rhyme

‘We could use that as an actual intro!’ Anne lights up. ‘Like. Divorced and Catalina enters. Beheaded and I do. And so on.’

‘I haven’t started to think about that song at all.’ Cathy admits. She is slowly putting together her own. There is so much she wants to say and not much time…in a song. Sometimes she wishes she had less time to write, that she was not the last queen, because then she would have to take what she got and present it, instead of agonizing over every single word and whether there is a better one to use. ‘But just like this, on the spot...I think that stupid rhyme,’ she sends a smile to Kat, ‘could also work as refrain?’

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical #catherine and katherine #six fanfiction #six writing #my six posts #six fanfic #six the musical fic #fic: It’s All Coming Back to Me Now #six the musical fanfic #six fic #mywork #my ideas #my posts

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unibrowzz · 3 years

Text

Mod (finally) reviews all 67 winners of the Eurovision Song Contest Part VI: The 00s

So I gave the 2000s a lot of shit back when I was rewatching them, mainly because the contests became much longer now with the introductions of so many more participants that semi finals had to be introduced, and also because the song quality nosedived. With the televote now in full control of who won, all you really needed to do to get a good result was either send somebody well known in your geographical area, and/or send something weird that would stand out amongst 40+ participants.

This is where the illusion of “bloc voting” came from.

So song, quality for the most part, was compromised in favour of either sending an attention-grabbing vote trap or just somebody famous. But that’s enough about the contests overall, how’s about them winners?

2000- Fly on the Wings of Love

Country: Denmark

Artist: Olsen Brothers

Language: English

Thoughts: I wonder how it feels to wait nearly 40 years to win again only to win as a complete surprise with a song 100/1 in the odds. Must be weird. My feelings towards this song are… kinda mixed. It sounds like the kind of song you swear you’ve heard before over a million times, be it in advertisements, on the radio, being played by buskers or bored guitar kids at parties. But at the same time it feels so completely different compared to other winners and, Hell, even other Eurovision songs at the time. It’s a very striking and recognisable song when talking about Eurovision music, sure. It’s very chill, and relaxed, and the singer has a bizarre voice which somehow sounds heavily autotuned even when he’s performing live.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Not really

If no, what is? Sweden- Roger Pontare- “When Spirits are Calling my Name”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 46th

2001- Everybody

Country: Estonia

Artist: Tanel Padar & Dave Benton

Language: English

Thoughts: And this folks, is what you call a guilty pleasure. I avoided this song for a while because I just knew it was objectively terrible. I knew this barely qualified as a song, that most of it was just two mismatched dudes shouting at each other over a disco track, that the lyrics aren’t that great at all… Et cetera. And yet, trashy as it is, I still really like this song. I don’t really know why, maybe it’s my barely-hidden desire to be an obnoxious contrarian, maybe it’s because the chorus has some fairly decent lyrics (especially for an eastern European entry), maybe it’s because it’s catchy… Or maybe because it’s fun, I dunno.

Is this my personal winner for this year? 2001 really sucked tbh

If no, what is? Honestly yeah, this song shreds

Personal ranking (out of 67): 13th

2002: I Wanna

Country: Latvia

Artist: Marie N (Or, Maria Naumova)

Language: English (I think…?)

Thoughts: You want a song which hasn’t aged well? Well here you go. I’m sure this song was MUCH more bearable back in 2002, but listening to it now is just... What on Earth is she even saying?? I don’t think I’ve heard a song with such garbled lyrics before. On my first listen, I couldn’t even distinguish what language this song was in, and when I finally realised it was in English… good Lord, the lyrics are complete nonsense. And the rhyming? It’s non-existent. The funny thing is Marie herself speaks really good English, so why this song sounds like it was run through Google Translate five times and sung by someone who only started learning English 5 minutes ago is beyond me. But enough about the terrible singing, lyrics and butchery of the English language, does this song have anything else going for it? Not really. I’d put this song into the same category as “Diva”, in that it’s trying desperately to be the next big disco track of its decade, but it just never reaches the crescendo it sets out to achieve. It just drunkenly fumbles around until it ends. What a graceful entry.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? United Kingdom- Jessica Garlick- "Come Back"

Personal ranking (out of 67): 59th

2003- Every Way that I Can

Country: Turkey

Artist: Sertab Erener

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the original ethnopop winner. I’m still not 100% sure what ethnopop is, but I’m guessing it’s just slang for the kind of music you’d hear in a gay bar whilst on your holidays. Not that I would know. This is yet another winner where it took me a good few listens to properly enjoy it since I thought the lyrics were a bit… bad. But unlike those other songs, I got into this one way back in (checks playlist) 2014, and I still haven’t managed to fall out of love with it, so to speak. I still really like this song, I’d go as far as to say it’s in my top ten favourite winners in fact. A statement which still hasn’t changed after I watched the 2003 contest recently in July of 2020, so hooray for that. And ethnopop isn’t really a genre I tend to gravitate towards, but I think what makes this song stand out to me at least is how heavy it is. This is a very slow song when you look at its BPM, and the beat just pounds loud and clear all throughout it. It’s not as obnoxious or in-your-face as other songs of its genre, it’s its own thing and that’s what makes it a cut above the rest for me.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Yes

If no, what is? N/A

Personal ranking (out of 67): 5th

2004- Wild Dances

Country: Ukraine

Artist: Ruslana

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the superior Ukrainian winner. This song is kind of similar to the one above, in that just like “Every Way that I Can” this is a big, stampy dance number, only this time with the distinction that the lyrics were written in 30 seconds rather than a few minutes. It doesn't get lazier than this folks. But I'm willing to forgive lazy lyrics if the song can distract me from them, and thankfully this song can. Plus it’s not like this song needs good lyrics anyway, I get the feeling the focus is more on the beat and instrumental more than anything. And luckily I’m a sucker for that.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Yes

If no, what is? N/A

Personal ranking (out of 67): 7th

2005- My Number One

Country: Greece

Artist: Helena Paparizou

Language: English

Thoughts: I’ll give you “My Number One crawled so Fuego could run”, more like My Number One won so Fuego could pull up the rear in second place behind a song full of chicken noises. But I’m getting ahead of myself. This song I feel is the one which really popularised that… certain brand of Eurovision song. The female-led, east Meditteranean origin, “Yas queen slay” brand of Eurovision song. Yanno. The true gay bar song. Which is, as I said earlier, not really a genre I like nor care for. Do I like this song? Eh. Kinda. I can’t really bring myself to hate it, since I have some good memories associated with it, but... … Well, I wouldn’t go out of my way to listen to it, put it that way. It feels kind of aggressive, and not in a way I’m all that comfortable with. The way she snarls that she’ll “get vicious” if her love isn’t reciprocated especially doesn’t sit right with me. Like I don’t want to be a That Guy™ who says people would get offended if a man sang that line, but it still puts me off a bit.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Hungary- NOX- “Forogj, Viláj!”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 36th

2006- Hard Rock Hallelujah

Country: Finland

Artist: Lordi

Language: English

Thoughts: My mother always asks me “how did this win?” And I always tell her, “Well it’s been nearly 15 years since it won and you still remember it, so clearly it left an impact on people.” So, obviously, this is a gimmicky entry; without the giant monster costumes I highly doubt this would’ve even qualified, let alone won with what was then a record-breaking score. After all, rock/metal songs don’t tend to fare well at this contest. Even with the drunk European public in full control of the vote, most of them are lucky to even make it onto the left side of the scoreboard, and getting into the top ten? Forget it. It's too niche of a genre for it to have broad appeal, especially given how a lot of viewers (in my experience at least) DO tend to be older and more conservative, shall we say. Now, I'm not an expert on rock or metal myself, so I can't really say whether this is a good representation of the genre or whether this is what outsiders THINK it's like, but even to my untrained ear this does sound very tongue-in-cheek. Like I don’t want to go so far as to say this is a parody of metal music, but it definitely doesn’t seem to take itself too seriously. The song, I mean. Apparently the band is very serious about their monster aesthetic; but I digress. That said, I do have a soft spot for whatever sub-genre of metal this is, so I don’t mind this one in the slightest.

Is this my personal winner for this year? This or Croatia

If no, what is? Croatia- Séverina- “Moja Stikla”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 30th

2007: Molitva

Country: Serbia

Artist: Marija Serifovic

Language: Serbian (Translation: “Prayer”)

Thoughts: Ah, this one takes me back. This was one of the first Eurovision songs I remember truly falling in love with way back in 2013. I must’ve been about 16 or 17 at the time, heavily into dark, edgy music, and this song was just pure heaven for me. Ticked all the right boxes. It’s dark, it’s brooding, it’s sultry, the vocals are stellar, the lyrics are incredible; like, I wanted the title of this song tattooed on my wrist, I loved it so damn much, I just wanted to declare to the world that I loved this song. But that was then, how do I feel about it today? Obviously not the same, tastes evolve over time and after a while I wasn’t so easily suckered into this song’s spell like I used to be. But at the same time, I can’t deny that this is a fantastic song across the board, and one I still like despite it being my edgy favourite from back when my taste in music was terrible. Plus this is also the best-sung song of the 2000s, but that’s like being the tallest person in a room full of toddlers.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Yes

If no, what is? N/A

Personal Ranking (out of 67): 3rd

2008: Believe

Country: Russia

Artist: Dima Bilan

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes. The song that finally made Terry Wogan quit after 30 years of “commentating”. The song that proved to the people of the UK once and for all that the contest was rigged to favour certain countries and that countries in western Europe would never win again. Was it worth it? Not really, but I’m not complaining. Now, I don't like Wogan's commentary at all, but really? This song? This is the straw that broke the camel’s back? This song isn’t bad per se, it’s just… Very underwhelming. And outdated. Like I can smell the 2000s off this one and it smells like Lynx body spray and hair gel. It's stuck in that awkward phase where it's too old to be cool, but not old enough to be retro, and it’s forever doomed to be a product of its time. It’s just an average, generic, “I have a dream and I can achieve it” pseudo-ballad; nothing outstanding or special. The performance feels very stale and formulaic too. The only way to describe it is it’s what I imagine an American person would THINK a winning Eurovision song would be like based on what they get told by their European pen pals. Dated music, hot Russian men, over the top presentation, like this just reeks of what outsiders (or British people, for that matter) think Eurovision is made of. On a different note, mediocre and dated as this song may be, I can still kinda see how it won (and no, it has nothing to do with Russia’s international relationships). Dima himself is a very… unique performer; one who performs with the questionable energy of an overexcitable children’s YouTuber, and his dramatic and exaggerated movements make this whole performance a bit of a blast to watch. But that doesn’t really save how painfully bland the song is.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Latvia- Pirates- "Wolves of the Sea"

Personal ranking (out of 67): 48th

2009: Fairytale

Country: Norway

Artist: Alexander Rybak

Language: English

Thoughts: I’m not going to lie, my feelings towards this song are incredibly mixed. There’s a lot of appeal here, with wild violin solos, swooping vocals and a pounding beat, as well as a very singalongable chorus; like, this is a good, solid song. But… something here just doesn’t gel with me. This, to me, is one of those “good by default” songs that’s a solid ‘A’ across the board, but something’s just… missing for me. There’s not enough here for me to go out of my way to download and listen to this on a regular basis. It's in the same boat as “Waterloo” in that I don't dislike it, because it’s still a good song, but I can't say I like it either, because it’s such a default "best Eurovision song”, so I can’t sincerely say I like it. Am I making sense? Probably not. But basically my thoughts are “it’s good, but it’s not my kind of good.”

Is this my personal winner for this year? Ehhhhhh

If no, what is? Germany- Alex Swings, Oscar Sings- “Miss Kiss Kiss Bang”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 29th

#final round tomorrow ayyy #eurovision #mod's winner reviews #esc winners

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jonghoshoe · 4 years

Text

Hearts Awakened, Love Afraid

Proofreading? idk her, I almost lost this entire fic I refuse to read through it all rn.

Summary: Seonghwa hasn't had a letter from Hongjoong in weeks, he finds out why.

Pairing: Seonghwa x Hongjoong, side Wooyoung x Yeosang

Word Count: I finally hit 3k words :)

Contains: I honestly don't know what to put. It starts okay but gets sad real fast, there’s death and mentions of blood, homophobia, references to suicide ig? Maybe a descent into madness too.

It’s fucking dark ok.

@mingi-ivity

Used lyric prompts from @taesblue . ‘’Can I trust you if I give you myself?’’ And ‘’Will you now forever remain out of reach of my arms?’’

It’s barely dawn when Seonghwa receives the letters, stacked up high and bound with a ribbon. He recognises it as being from one of his shirts as a child, he and Hongjoong had play fought that day, and when it’d torn off he had insisted that he kept it, fabric still attached and fraying thanks to the expert seamstress.

The collection of writings is passed to him by a masked man, an associate of Hongjoong apparently, he wouldn’t give his name but Seonghwa feels as if he’s seen him before once, when Hongjoong had brought him to a lovely garden as children, it was by a small house at the edge of the city. Hongjoong knew him supposedly, though the man was a teen at the time. Despite face now being covered. He’s almost positive it’s him. He’d told them his name back then, Seonghwa doesn’t remember what but it was something biblical.

Seonghwa and the masked man don't exchange many words, the man simply confirming his relation to Hongjoong, saying that he had passed and had wanted these passed on to him.

It isn’t until the twilight of that day when Seonghwa finally has time to read the pile of letters, his royal duties taking up so much time of the day. And he can already feel his gut wrenching when he reads the note atop the pile.

If you’re reading these then something has happened and I have no use in keeping them. Maybe something has been revealed, I’ve gone missing or been killed, maybe I just finally needed to let things be known. Maybe my whole crew has been compromised.

‘Seonghwa.

Throughout the years I've written many letters left unsent to you, sneaking me into your lessons has paid off after all. Had I been illiterate like most who are as unfortunate as me, you may have never kept in contact for so long.

Please take the time to read my letters, I know most of it is inconsequential now, but I feel bad having never sent these.’

The handwriting is shaky, Seonghwa has seen Hongjoongs writing, as recently as just a few years ago, though it was rarely tidy, it was generally steady, he can’t help but worry for what state he must have been in while writing that.

He worries even more for what’s been left unsaid. Hongjoong had kept in touch with Seonghwa even after becoming a pirate and a fugitive, he was well liked in the city and seemed to make as many friends as enemies wherever he went, so he’d always found somebody to deliver the messages back to him.

It’s unfortunate they had to resort to letters, but after they’d both grown up a little more and were told the implications of their social statuses. They rarely had time to meet anymore. Seonghwa always gave his friend as much gold as he could when they met though, as a helping hand but also so Hongjoong could buy the stationary for writing his letters, which Seonghwa had encouraged he send.

The first letter is easily recognisable, Hongjoong had always signed his letters as a child with badly drawn stars, insisting they reminded him of Seonghwa.

They go pretty standard as far as letters go, nothing too surprising in the content of them, but Hongjoong had always been a perfectionist, and most of the letters compiled here are similar to ones he’s already received, likely first drafts. It’s cute that he kept these, the first draft is always less thought out than the edited final one, but for Hongjoong, who wears his heart on his sleeve, Seonghwa supposes these are rather embarrassing, none of his emotions held back as he scrawls whatever came to mind that he’d wanted to tell his friend.

The letters begin to stray as he grows older though, Hongjoong must be in his late teens at the time of the first one.

‘Seonghwa!

Work today was so much more exciting than usual. I have a secret to keep! I obviously can’t send this to you because of that, but I’ve written to you so much that it’s easier to do that than write a diary entry.

You remember Wooyoung and Yeosang? They went on a date during our break today! But they told me I can’t tell anyone, Apparently boys aren't allowed to date eachother?

I think that’s unfair, They’re both so in love! I can’t imagine having to hide that from anyone! They’ve been together forever and can’t even say they love one another? It makes me sad, Imagine if you couldn't openly love anyone? What a depressing world that would be!

I don’t really have anything else to say, but I never knew boys could like boys! Can girls like girls too? Can you like both? I wonder if I’ll ever like a boy.

-Hongjoong’

Seonghwa chuckles at the letter, clearly it hadn’t been sent in case it had been lost and his friends were outed. Now he supposes Hongjoong sees no reason to hide the truth anymore.

The next letter is dated to a week after the event.

Apparently, there are no rules at sea, you can do and be whatever you want! That’s why there’s so many of them! San said he’d ask his friend about it next time he comes to town, so Wooyoung and Yeosang can love freely!

‘Seonghwa!

Today was awful, the boss caught Woo and Yeo holding hands and fired them! For holding hands! When we all met later for dinner together, San mentioned he knows a guy, a pirate!

That sounds so romantic and cheesy, leaving behind an uncaring world to sail the sea with you beloved. Sounds like the plot of a romance novel!

-Hongjoong’

I might go with them, apparently a life of piracy is the most free you can get, I’d like that. I think it’d be nice to not have to worry about everything I do here, about living, about working, about whether my friends will be okay.

I don’t know how I’d message you though, I doubt I can send letters from the sea!

Ah, so that’s what had spurred his life of piracy. He’d wanted freedom for himself and his friends. Seonghwa feels a little bad now, he’d berated Hongjoong for what he’d done when he first found out, calling him irresponsible for doing something like that.

Of course it was all in his head though, Hongjoong had already taken to the sea by the time he found out, and never stayed anywhere long enough for Seonghwa to send him a letter, he could only receive them.

The next letter is dated two days later.

He’s assured us we’ll be okay now though. Also! I learned that the pirate is the same guy we went to the garden with as kids! It almost seems like fate.

‘Seonghwa.

We had to leave in a hurry, I never knew that my friends love was illegal! They were going to be arrested and Sans pirate friend was at the docks so he let us board with him. We couldn’t prepare for this at all, I can only write this because I keep it my stationary in my bag at all times!

We’ll have to work here, a boat doesn’t take care of itself after all. Nor does a crew feed itself. But we’re assured we’ll be safe. He trusts we’d never do anything we aren’t supposed to so he and the older pirates said they’ll mentor us!

Gosh- I probably can’t send this, too much detail that others shouldn’t know. It happens a lot right? People try and intercept royal mail? I’ll need to rewrite this before I can send it to you. Make it less harmful for you if it gets out. Can’t have the public hating you for talking with a pirate now can we!

-Hongjoong’

That explains the rush then, why he was here one day and gone the next. Seonghwa wonders when Hongjoong had first been able to send his rewritten letter.

The letters continue for a while, mostly uneventful, they mostly consist of Hongjoong writing down his conflicting feelings regarding the position he’s found himself in. Seonghwa also learns the pirates name is Eden, he thinks that must be the man he saw today. Though why he is somehow still here when Hongjoong and his crew are, remains a mystery.

‘Seonghwa.

We were separated from Eden today, things went wrong and we ended up on opposite ends of the city we were in. We left as soon as we could. Eden said we should leave before him if anything like this is to happen. We have a rendezvous point. In case we’re separated. An island a long way North from here. Hopefully he’ll be okay.

I’ve been appointed leader now, it’s...weird. I never saw myself as being in a leadership position, he said I was most fit for it in his absence. I don’t see how, but I’ll have to live up to it now.

Is this how you feel, Seonghwa? Being in a position of power that you didn’t ask for? I can’t imagine royalty have much say in their succession to the throne.

You must have been crowned by now, It’s been years since I left. I wish I were able to say the real reason. I probably could by now, but I’ve kept it so long. I can’t even remember exactly what it was.

Our newest additions, Mingi and Jongho, have been a big help. They’re always a reliable shoulder to lean on in times like this. I might go visit them later, They’re good listeners. I don't know what lead them to this life, they’re both such kind people.

Though I suppose so were Wooyoung and Yeosang.

I don’t know if I’m ready for a leadership position, no matter how temporary. And if Eden doesn’t return...

I don’t want to think about that now. I’ll go above deck, maybe I can distract myself. Yunho is good at cards, maybe I’ll play with him for a bit.

I wonder if these diary-letters will ever see the light of day. If they do, I hope they’re only read by you Seonghwa.’

Hongjoong hadn't signed off the letter this time. Maybe he was so eager to distract himself that he forgot.

He relates to him, about the leadership thing. Seonghwa hadn’t at all wanted nor been prepared for taking on the throne. But he had to anyway after the passing of his parents, nobody else was eligible. The people will probably grow tired of him soon, he refuses to take a wife. And if he can't make an heir then he leaves nobody to ascend to the throne when he himself dies.

Good, it should be kept that way. Let him be the last one to be forced into this.

The next few letters are as expected, detailed accounts of what happened while they sailed to their destination. Mostly just Hongjoong getting used to leading everyone. Yeosang and Wooyoung were wed, apparently the captain is able to do that. It sounds like a lovely evening, even in Hongjoongs hungover description of it the following day. There’s a letter detailing their arrival to the island, and that strange things had been happening. It gets the most concerning about three days in though, as they tried to go inward to climb a small mountain there for the best vantage point.

‘Seonghwa.

We’re at the base of the mountain now. Everyone keeps joking that San should have no trouble climbing it. I can tell they’re on edge though.

We aren't alone here. I’m certain of it. We all feel as if someone is watching us.

Things are out of place that shouldn’t be, or go missing, or we’ll think someone is there and then they’re not. There isn’t much in the way of living beings around us, so we can’t possibly chalk it all up to that.

I can't wait to get off this damn island. I don’t know what’s here and frankly I don’t want to. Whatever it is, as long as it doesn't follow us back onto the ship then we’ll be fine.

Hopefully we aren’t just all going paranoid.

I can find moments of peace in moments like tonight though. I’m up in a tree, impractical for writing, I know. But the leaves block out the sky.

I like watching the sky, the stars remind me of you. I wonder if you watch it too?

I don’t know what life I wanted, But now I’m sure this isn't it. I was so stupid as a child, if only I’d known about my feelings sooner.

I think I may be in love. With you.

This is so disjointed, maybe I’m going crazy after all.

It’s so stupid, I can never return now, I can’t leave my friends and by now we’re wanted in most places near our home, likely there too.

That’s what you get when you try to teach a bunch of kids to steal, we only didn’t get caught because we were so fast. We wanted freedom, and we were willing to run until our legs gave out beneath us to get it.

All I know now is this is not the life I want. It’s the one I've chosen, but it wasn’t a very thought out choice.

If I could fix things, I’d return to you, maybe confess my feelings. You were always so accepting weren't you? I’m sure even if they aren’t reciprocated, you’d never hate me for it. But I can’t return, not now. If could, Can I trust you if I give you myself? Would you hide me away from the world? So I could finally be with you?

Will you forever remain out of reach of my arms?

I would continue writing, but something is happening in the distance, it may be nothing, but I should wake everyone and check just in case. ‘

Yet again, it isn’t signed off. Seonghwa is worried, not even processing this letter before he moves onto the next one. It’s barely legible in words and writing.

‘ Seonghwa!!!

Its us its us itsus???

More us? They look like us

they arent us, we are us.

firefirefire so much fire

and smoke and mirrors

the sea? will I find them through the sea??

they came through mirrors??

where were the mirrors?

they have the answers

I should go

I need answers

they said they have them

what answers?

do I have questions?

bloodbloodblood

they were bleeding

are they real?

are they hurt?

theyre us are we hurt?

are we real?

I need answers

I have to go

through the mirror through the water through the sea

I need to go

will I come back?

maybe I can if I go

im sorry I cant give you all happiness

I wish I could give you freedom

if I get answers

I need answers

I need you

I need Seonghwa

I miss Seonghwa

I love Seonghwa

I want him iwanthimiwant

take me back take me back rewind it all

take me back to him

how?’

break the clock

bring me back

i want out

When Seonghwa finally reads the last letter, the writing is neat, but it isn’t Hongjoongs.

Seonghwa can’t bring himself to read the last letter, not after this.

Hongjoong loves him?

What does he mean by more of them?

Why is he only saying all of this now?

I don’t know what happened, Everyone is missing. I’ve searched all over the island and found nothing.

‘Seonghwa.

I’m sure you’ll recognise my name from Hongjoongs letters. I’m Eden.

I’m going to return to you and give you his letters, you deserve to have them. It’s the least I can do for the both of you.

I don’t know why I’m not being affected like they were.

I don’t know you, But Hongjoong talked about you often, I always wondered when he’d come to terms with his feelings, it seems that it was too late.

I can't give you anything to bury, but I found a piece of his shirt beside his letter, I don't know why it's bloodied, but you should have it more than I should.

I'll leave it in an envelope with the letters.

I’ll tie the stack with his ribbon, though I suppose it’s really yours.

He never took it off in the entire time I met him.

I hope despite all of this, you can somehow carry on.

-Eden'

I won't stay long, I should return to the sea, I should warn people about the island.

I hope for your sake that our paths never have to cross again.

'Carry On'

Seonghwa doesn't know if he can. Doesn't know if he'll ever get over what he and Hongjoong could have been, ever get over the haunting words of his last letter, if he'll ever stop keeping that shredded piece of cloth in his pockets until it's nothing but threads.

Seonghwa doesn't know if he'll ever be able to carry on without Hongjoong.

He just wishes he knew where the island is. Wishes he could search for Hongjoong himself, he needs to see with his own eyes that he's not coming back.

Because he has to come back, there's so much they missed, so much they could have done, could have been.

He needs to know what happened, he needs to know what Hongjoong saw, what made him walk into the water to find answers, what took Hongjoong away from him. Seonghwa has been waiting all this time for Hongjoong to come back, for him to maybe change his appearance and return with a new name, to finally be able to see him again.

He needs his own answers now.

To talk with him, laugh with him, smile with him.

If he knew what he does now, to maybe even marry him.

Maybe he'll go down to the docks tomorrow, the sailors always love to chatter and gossip. if Eden is true to his word. Maybe Seonghwa can find that island,

Find Hongjoong.

22 notes · View notes

the-observant-frisbeetarian · 4 years

Text

George deValier (2015 profile)

since: 05-02-10, id: 2348750, Profile Updated: 06-02-13

country: 🇦🇺 Australia

Author has written 17 stories for Hetalia - Axis Powers.

If I lose the light of the sun, I will write by candlelight, moonlight, no light. If I lose paper and ink, I will write in blood on forgotten walls. I will write always. I will capture nights all over the world and bring them to you. – Henry Rollins

Hi! I’m George. One day, I will be a professor of history, who wears tweed suits and lives in a library. Right now, I am a graduate student, who wears jeans and t-shirts and… um… lives in a library.

Reviews and PMs.

I don’t demand or even expect reviews. They do, however, make me happy. So if you are kind enough to leave one after reading, please know that even though I may not reply, I read every single one, and I am incredibly grateful - your few words of praise have brightened a moment of my day. :-)

If you send me a Private Message and don’t receive a response immediately, please know that I am not deliberately ignoring you. I find it a little difficult to keep up with replying to PMs; if I haven’t responded to your message in at least three months, it’s usually because I’ve, er, lost it. Feel free to send me another one calling me a giant prat and demanding a response.

Fanart and Translations.

I am perfectly okay (quite ecstatically happy, actually) with people doing whatever they like with my fics – whether that be translations, fanart, cosplay, AMVs, whatever. You do not need to ask permission - I will always say yes. All I ask is three things. One: please credit me as the author (and a link to the original story would be fantastic). Two: please let me know so that I can check it out and thank you profusely! And three: something I hate to have to mention, but please never do anything to make money out of these works. Obviously, Hetalia does not belong to me – it belongs to the amazing Hidekaz Himaruya, who is incredibly awesome for giving us such fantastic characters to play with. :-D

MY STORIES

THE VERAVERSE

The Veraverse is a Hetalia World War Two AU, of fics involving different characters and pairings, all living within the same time period and all interconnected in some way. As each story in the series is named after and loosely based on the lyrics of a wartime song sung by Vera Lynn, I flippantly dubbed it the ‘Veraverse.’ The name has sort of stuck, however. I have posted a list of character's birth dates here: http://george-de-valier.deviantart.com/art/Hetalia-Veraverse-Birth-Dates-340315828

This series is, at its core, about the power of love over war. It's about the real reasons people fight, and the real reasons they survive. It's about finding something beautiful in the midst of something ugly and evil. But overall, although I hope there is more to these stories than just romance, they are essentially about love.

Don’t expect every fic to be updated quickly. These stories intertwine, and will be published simultaneously, and it may be a while between chapters for each specific story. Most can be read separately, however a few will require that you read at least one other story in the series to make sense of it (e.g. ‘My Echo’ does not make much sense unless you also read ‘Lily of the Lamplight.’) Rest assured, they will all be completed.

We'll Meet Again Alfred Jones/Arthur Kirkland (America/England)

Complete - Thirteen Chapters

‘We’ll Meet Again’ is about love arriving when you least expect it, and how it can transform loneliness.

Keep Smiling Through Alfred Jones/Arthur Kirkland (America/England)

Complete – One Shot

Just a little mini-sequel to ‘We’ll Meet Again’ about a brief moment in Alfred and Arthur’s lives.

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart Ludwig Beilschmidt/Feliciano Vargas (Germany/Italy)

Complete - Eighteen chapters

‘Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart’ is about love being blind, proving stronger than hate, and lasting longer than war.

Bésame Mucho Antonio Fernandez Carriedo/Lovino Vargas (Spain/Romano)

In Progress – Fourteen chapters

‘Bésame Mucho’ is essentially about love overcoming fear.

Lily of the Lamplight Gilbert Beilschmidt/Roderich Edelstein (Prussia/Austria)

In Progress – Eighteen Chapters

‘Lily of the Lamplight’ is about selflessness, survival, and how love can change you for the better.

My Echo Unrequited Vash Zwingli/Roderich Edelstein (Switzerland/Austria)

In Progress – Six Chapters

‘My Echo’ is about how true love is selfless – even if it is unreturned.

Jealousy Ivan Braginski/Yao Wang (Russia/China)

In Progress – Six Chapters

‘Jealousy’ is a little different to the other stories in this series. It is about control, madness, and how love has the power to destroy as well as to save.

Something to Remember You By Sadik Adnan/Gupta Muhammad Hassan (Turkey/Egypt)

In Progress – Three Chapters

‘Something to Remember You By’ is about losing love, and yourself with it.

UPCOMING VERAVERSE FICS

Somewhere in France With You Francis Bonnefoy/Matthew Williams (France/Canada)

Darling, where better to meet again than the most beautiful city in the world?

It's a Lovely Day Tomorrow

Toris Laurinaitis/Feliks Łukasiewicz (Lithuania/Poland)

Art. Music. Passion. Destruction. Young, wild love, in the streets of Berlin, on the eve of war.

When I Grow Too Old to Dream Berwald Oxenstierna/Tino Väinämöinen (Sweden/Finland)

“What would you do if I just… took this tree? Claimed it for Finland?”

“I’d let ye take it.”

“This lake?”

“Ye can have it.”

“This entire forest?”

“’t’s yours.”

“Would you let me take your whole country, Berwald?”

“Yes. And you? What’f I just… took this rock?”

“You can’t have that rock. That’s a Finnish rock.”

You’ll Never Know

Elizaveta Héderváry/ Lili Zwingli (Hungary/Liechtenstein)

“But who knows? Maybe you'll meet a charming little Swiss girl with plaits and a basket who likes to yodel on mountaintops."

Elizaveta always hated it when Gilbert was right.

When the Lights go on Again

Eduard Von Bock/Raivis Galante (Estonia/Latvia)

"I will stay with him through this darkness. I will give my soul to keep it from him. And I swear, whatever I must do, that Raivis Galante will live to see the lights go on again.”

Room Five-Hundred-and-Four

Herakles Karpusi/Kiku Honda (Greece/Japan)

“Life's most important conversations take place in bars. Perhaps in places not too dissimilar from this - perhaps between people not so different from ourselves. Bars, after all, are where people meet, and where they rejoice; where they forget, and where they say goodbye. They are the crossroads of life."

"You sound like a philosopher. Though your name suggests a hero."

Faraway Places

Bad Friends Trio (France, Prussia, and Spain)

“Ah, those were the days, huh, Gil? Remember the time you tried to take on the entire Parisian police force?”

“Or the time you knocked yourself out running from that bull in Pamplona?”

“Or that time Francis tried to seduce your grandfather?!”

“Francis what?”

“Oh, look at that, I’ve finished my drink.”

Autumn Leaves

Augustus Roma Vargas (Ancient Rome)

But I miss you most of all, my darling, when autumn leaves start to fall.

OTHER FICS

THE MAPLEVERSE

This is a currently small modern AU, set in modern day Canada.

La Patisserie de la Rose Francis Bonnefoy/Matthew Williams (France/Canada)

Complete – Six Chapters

A birthday present for Claudia, aka ThisCouldTheoreticallyBeSparta

An essentially fluffy Franada with lots of cameos and cake and general silliness. I like to think this story is about friendship as much as it is about love. It's also about seeing something in someone that no one else can - not even themselves.

Libelle Hall Gilbert Beilschmidt/Roderich Edelstein (Prussia/Austria)

In Progress – Three Chapters

A Gift for Kay, aka Kay the Beta

‘Libelle Hall’ is about change, and about love growing from self-realisation. It’s also an examination of Gilbert and Roderich’s characters, and how they aren’t that different from each other, after all. And it’s a gift for my beta Kay, because she loves PruAus, and she’s awesome.

Of Ponies and Edelweiss Gilbert Beilschmidt/Roderich Edelstein (Prussia/Austria)

Complete – One Shot

A Valentines’ Day present for Claudia

Just a fluffy, romantic little fic for Valentines’ Day. Well, as romantic as Gilbert gets, anyway.

ONGOING MULTI-CHAPTERS

Catch Perfect Berwald Oxenstierna/Tino Väinämöinen (Sweden/Finland)

In Progress – Twelve Chapters

‘Catch Perfect’ is basically proof that I can’t even write crack without some semblance of plot and angst. I am still writing this, just ever so slowly.

The Tiger and the Dragon Ivan Braginski/Yao Wang (Russia/China)

In Progress – Seventeen Chapters

I first posted this story almost three years ago. Last year I started re-publishing it, mainly to fix up the writing quality and some plot points. Yes, it’s melodramatic; yes, it’s a bit cliché. Basically, if this were a published novel, it would be the type to have GAY EROTIC ROMANCE in tacky writing across the cover. But really, what the hell, it’s fun. :-D

COMPLETED ONE SHOTS

Stay With You Germany/Italy

A rare story with the characters as nations, and my very first posted fanfiction. I had just discovered Hetalia when I wrote this, and loved the random humour of it, but also wondered what it could be like if it was a more serious take on the Second World War. Also, it has always been blatantly obvious to me that Germany and Italy are in love with each other. Like, duh.

Gallipoli Australia and New Zealand

Another nation story from me, about a conflict embedded in the consciousness of every Australian. We haven’t been given much to go on with Australia’s characterisation, so I went with my gut instinct – he’s anti-authority, he’s an easily broken optimist, and he cares deeply about his men. Gallipoli shattered the romantic idea of war for this country. I think it would have shattered Australia, too.

Sleep, Little Bird Berwald Oxenstierna/Tino Väinämöinen (Sweden/Finland) and Peter (Sealand)

There is not much I can really say about this one, except sorry. Oh, and that it’s not in the same universe as ‘Catch Perfect.’ I wouldn’t do that. ;-)

LINKS!

http://george-de-valier.deviantart.com (deactivated account) - Where I fave and comment on the wonderful artwork that people have drawn for my stories. I adore fan art, so please tell me if you have drawn any! If I happen to come across art for my stories that I haven’t been told about, be warned, I WILL proceed to fave and comment on it anyway. :-)

www.youtube.com/user/ykwyh26 - My lovely and talented beta Kay’s YouTube site, where you can hear all the songs from my Veraverse stories.

VIDEOS

I am incredibly flattered that the amazingly talented Alyss Lane has written a gorgeous song based on ‘Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart.’ It is called ‘Auf Wiedersehen,’ performed by Willow, and you can hear this beautiful song here – www.youtube.com/watch?v=2N8T4oIppS0

The following are awesome AMVs for my fics, made by some very talented artists.

The Veraverse

Sanctuary, by Insomniac3Ltd

www.youtube.com/watch?v=dfvTV5b9Zwk (unavailable)

We'll Meet Again

We’ll Meet Again, by Shokora15

www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4COUwq9yzA

Wild Horses, by SirenShadow95

www.youtube.com/watch?v=DaiMnawL3hM

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart

Stereo Love, by snobo52

www.youtube.com/watch?v=UH8-zY-3qiI

If I Die Young, by NightmareCCL

www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkoVnwzwLlU

Stay, by PastaWithWurst

www.youtube.com/watch?v=-i61AAOfNm4 (unavailable)

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart, by Sydney Amber

www.youtube.com/watch?v=nM9anzT81tM

Home, by Sanity4Fire

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjPTML1vjXA (unavailable)

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart, by ShiroBaraLuv123

www.youtube.com/watch?v=qltINwf-ZkU (unavailable)

Bésame Mucho

Fear, by ykwyh26

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ua5Ak4O9P88

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room, by Kayleigh Turgeon

www.youtube.com/watch?v=_pDaLTw5wIs (unavailable)

The Only Exception, by InuLoverNr1Hitomi

www.youtube.com/watch?v=4pt_sHtZfIw

Don’t Tell Me You Love Me If You Don’t Mean It, by AnnoyingGirl1234

www.youtube.com/watch?v=DkcTKOAN8Y8 (unavailable)

Lily of the Lamplight

Lili Marlene, by xxEmoxxChibixx

www.youtube.com/watch?v=otYq31Qnct8

Sleep, Little Bird

Sleep, by Hetaliagirl96

www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tOCsWjpNsk (unavailable)

La Patisserie de la Rose

Take Me Home, by Ahogemako

www.youtube.com/watch?v=IwsX1rJ2CDo

Something to Remember You By

Lullabies, by Lanie P

www.youtube.com/watch?v=WnRXhe2cdZw

STORIES WRITTEN FOR ME

These are all fantastic. Please check them out, you won’t be disappointed!

Mi Piachi perché Mi Piaci, by ThisCouldTheoreticallyBeSparta

(GerIta, Spamano, PruAus, BelgHun and teeny mentions of Franada, Netherlands/Australia, UsUk)

A wonderful birthday present of fluffy GerIta goodness from my wonderful friend Claudia.

www.fanfiction.net/s/7601790/1/Mi_Piaci_perche_Mi_Piaci

Maple Street, by fubibliophile

(Canada and America)

A really cool, atmospheric one shot from the very sweet fubibliophile.

www.fanfiction.net/s/7796628/1/Maple_Street

Chapter Four of Hetalia Fairy Tales, by Kitty-Kat Allie

(GiriPan)

An incredibly sweet GiriPan fairy tale from a wonderful author and a lovely person.

www.fanfiction.net/s/7730679/4/Hetalia_Fairy_Tales

1. Something To Remember You By » reviews

VV AU. 1914. Constantinople, Turkey. On the eve of war, street dweller Sadik Adnan's way of life and existence is called into question by the strange, beautiful Egyptian imam, Gupta Muhammad Hassan.

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: M - English - Romance/Tragedy - Chapters: 1 - Words: 4,732 - Reviews: 73 - Published: 5-30-13 - Turkey & Egypt

2. Lily of the Lamplight » reviews

WW2 AU. Austrian musician Roderich and German soldier Gilbert are forced into an army prison unit and a fight for survival on the Russian Front. But in the midst of blood and death and hell on earth, how long can they fight their desire for each other?

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: M - English - Romance/Angst - Chapters: 4 - Words: 27,329 - Reviews: 557 - Updated: 5-21-13 - Published: 11-20-11 - Prussia & Austria

3. Libelle Hall » reviews

Modern AU. When Roderich Edelstein – student, musician, and reluctant activist – attempts to save a local music hall from destruction, he is not prepared for the conflicting emotions evoked in him by arrogant demolition worker Gilbert Beilschmidt. Gift fic for Kay the Beta.

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: T - English - Romance/Friendship - Chapters: 2 - Words: 8,900 - Reviews: 174 - Updated: 5-6-13 - Published: 2-20-13 - Prussia & Austria

4. Jealousy » reviews

WW2 AU. Insane Russian Commander Ivan Braginski is the terror of his battalion and his enemies alike. He controls the lives of thousands - but it is the memory of one that controls his own. Tie-in to 'Lily of the Lamplight.'

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: M - English - Romance/Tragedy - Chapters: 1 - Words: 3,077 - Reviews: 80 - Published: 11-29-12 - Russia & China

5. The Tiger and the Dragon » reviews

Human AU. Awkward, average chef Yao Wang is sick of being thought of as boring and predictable. When he meets the enigmatic and slightly unnerving Ivan Braginski, Yao is immediately captivated. As he falls deeper it becomes apparent just how dangerous Ivan really is… but Ivan is just as smitten, and Yao may be too in love to care about the consequences…

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: M - English - Romance/Drama - Chapters: 4 - Words: 12,967 - Reviews: 155 - Updated: 11-15-12 - Published: 8-25-12 - Russia & China

6. My Echo » reviews

WW2 AU. Captain Vash Zwingli is a soldier in someone else's war; a man mad enough to lead where others will not. He treads a fine line between life and death, between sanity and madness, in a constant battle to forget. But when Vash's past confronts him in the worst place on earth, will it finally tip him over the edge – or give him a chance for redemption? Unrequited SwissAus.

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: M - English - Angst/Drama - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2,378 - Reviews: 73 - Published: 11-15-12 - Switzerland

7. La Patisserie de la Rose » reviews

AU. Accountant Matthew Williams is used to being unnoticed, ignored, and forgotten. That is until pastry chef Francis Bonnefoy appears like a burst of colour in his dull, grey life. Gift fic for TCTBS.

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: M - English - Romance - Chapters: 6 - Words: 35,111 - Reviews: 573 - Updated: 10-10-12 - Published: 12-9-11 - France & Canada - Complete

8. Catch Perfect » reviews

AU. When Berwald loses everything he is forced to move into a share house with an insane Dane, a sociopathic Norwegian, an unfathomable Icelander and a perfect Finn who makes it all worth putting up with.

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: T - English - Romance/Friendship - Chapters: 8 - Words: 36,538 - Reviews: 582 - Updated: 9-22-12 - Published: 10-10-10 - Sweden & Finland

9. Blue, White, Red » reviews

Human AU. 1777; The American Revolutionary War. Three times, American rebel Alfred Jones meets British soldier Arthur Kirkland. One blue; one white; one red.

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: M - English - Angst/Romance - Chapters: 3 - Words: 5,981 - Reviews: 369 - Updated: 9-20-12 - Published: 8-26-12 - America & England/Britain - Complete

10. Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart » reviews

WW2 AU. Feliciano Vargas is a passionate, if slightly scared, Italian resistance member. Falling in love with a German fighter pilot was the last thing he expected... and it will test his national loyalty, and his heart, to their limits.

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: M - English - Romance/Angst - Chapters: 18 - Words: 104,322 - Reviews: 3246 - Updated: 8-11-12 - Published: 12-18-10 - Germany & N. Italy - Complete

11. Keep Smiling Through » reviews

'We'll Meet Again' mini-sequel. Keep smiling through, just like you always do; 'til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away! USUK

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: K - English - Romance - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2,376 - Reviews: 172 - Published: 6-28-12 - America & England/Britain - Complete

12. Bésame Mucho » reviews

WW2 AU. Lovino Vargas only ever wanted something exciting to happen in his boring, everyday Italian village existence. He never expected war, Resistance, love, passion, treason, or a cheerful, confusing, irritatingly attractive Spanish freedom fighter.

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: M - English - Romance/Angst - Chapters: 5 - Words: 39,037 - Reviews: 817 - Updated: 5-30-12 - Published: 8-1-11 - Spain & S. Italy/Romano

13. Of Ponies and Edelweiss » reviews

Gilbert Beilschmidt is not, generally speaking, a romantic man. Which makes his behaviour this particular Valentine's Day a little odd for Roderich to understand… Gift fic for TCTBS; spin-off of 'La Patisserie de la Rose.'

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: T - English - Romance - Chapters: 1 - Words: 4,143 - Reviews: 130 - Published: 2-14-12 - Prussia & Austria - Complete

14. Sleep, Little Bird » reviews

Human AU. Tino, Berwald and Peter are the perfect family. Things like this don't happen to people like them. But when they do, how are they supposed to accept it?

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: T - English - Family/Tragedy - Chapters: 1 - Words: 4,169 - Reviews: 294 - Published: 9-26-11 - Finland & Sweden - Complete

15. Gallipoli » reviews

Gallipoli, April 25, 1915. Australia is a young nation with plenty to prove. And war is where nations prove themselves.

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: T - English - Drama/Angst - Chapters: 1 - Words: 4,966 - Reviews: 48 - Published: 4-28-11 - Australia - Complete

16. We'll Meet Again » reviews

WW2 AU. London pub owner Arthur Kirkland is driven to distraction by loud, brash American fighter pilot Alfred Jones. Unable to stop it, Arthur finds himself falling for Alfred's charms... just as the pilot is preparing to leave for war.

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: M - English - Romance/Angst - Chapters: 13 - Words: 43,415 - Reviews: 1376 - Updated: 1-20-11 - Published: 7-18-10 - America & England/Britain - Complete

17. Stay With You » reviews

Germany lies defeated and alone in the aftermath of the Battle of Berlin... but not everyone has abandoned him.

Hetalia - Axis Powers - Rated: T - English - Angst/Romance - Chapters: 1 - Words: 1,325 - Reviews: 66 - Published: 5-4-10 - Germany & N. Italy - Complete

THANK YOU MARVINHERE FOR FINDING THIS!

#George deValier #George devalier profile #George devalier profile transcript #George devalier summaries

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jerepars · 3 years

Text

Throwing Copper Extended Chapter Notes

2 / 5 The Queen of Lower Chelsea

Hyperlinks appear in blue (underlined on mobile). The story is posted here. Direct link to this chapter is here.

“You should think about getting the hell out of Dodge,” James said boldly. “What was it you said that night, before Devon called you for dinner at the winery? You wanted to get big enough so no one could hurt you. Don’t you think you’re well past that now? Do you really need every last little light in New York City? You should go with George, to whatever island he found in the Caribbean.”

Well, let’s get right to it, I guess. This chapter is named after “The Queen of Lower Chelsea” by The Gaslight Anthem. One way or another I was going to find a way to get a reference to this because there’s mention of a queen, New Orleans, and New York in the lyrics. James’ dialogue here borrows from the line: American girls, they want the whole world, they want every last little light in New York City.

“How did we get here?” she wondered. “With you being the one trying to pull me back from the ledge and asking where my respectable convictions went?“

The opening lyrics to The Get Up Kids’ “Holiday” are questions: What became of everyone I used to know? Where did our respectable convictions go?

I am of the opinion that the album this song is from, Something to Write Home About, is perfect from beginning to end. Any time I can refer to it, I do. Sometimes I have a bunch of random dialogue in mind before I start writing a chapter and I knew right away Teresa was going to say this. I think it’s fitting. I’d like for Teresa to have self awareness and recognition of what she’s gotten away from, whether that be good or bad.

It didn’t seem like it’d been so long ago when she was voicing her distaste and disapproval for the way James lived, for the things he’d had to do, so deeply ingrained in a world of criminal activity that was new to her. Teresa remembered how hollow his voice had been when he’d said that’s the wrong answer after he’d asked her what they should do about Lopez’s guy who tried to short them on payment and she’d said, with worry, to let him go. It was only the second time she’d worked with James, and she’d been naïve then. She’d been naïve still, months later when she told James he was a good person and that’s not who you are about cartel operations that ended with casualties—though she believed she was right about those things. But as she moved up, and in her quest for expansion, she’d burned bridges and done wrong, setting aside her inconvenient convictions. Teresa always told herself it was for survival, for the good of everyone around her. But there was a seduction to vengeance, and sometimes it was without guilt that the flames licked at her face and she chose wrath.

To look back at 1x03, it can really be seen how both James and Teresa have changed over time working with each other. First of all, the way he says “that’s the wrong answer” (0:56) is...somehow really appealing. Lol. And then you look at their body language and facial expressions throughout this scene, so different from the way they are as the series progresses.

To me, it seems they go through a role reversal of sorts, over time, because James gets softer and Teresa goes scorched earth.

“When I was summoned to Bolivia by El Santo, Pote gave me that card with the psalm on it. It was important to him, symbolic, because if I had it on me, it meant I’d be protected, and I’d be back,” Teresa explained. “So give me something. Something that matters. I’ll give it back.”

James was glad Teresa had that fire in her, that determination to get through anything. He was glad, too, that she could acknowledge she might be about to walk into the belly of the beast. But the cynic that he was, James thought they had a narrow shot at playing the meeting right without everything blowing up in their faces, and he didn’t think symbolism was going to change the outcome.

“Superstition isn’t going to save your life, Teresa,” James said.

This section indirectly calls back to “Throwing Copper” by Touché Amoré, the song the story is named after. It’s the last bit of the song: But if superstitions can give someone faith, then I’m throwing my wallet and begging for change.

James’ constant observation of flickering light in Teresa’s eyes can’t be the only call back to the title, right?

One of the first things James ever said to her was I’m not religious, whoever they stole this car from is after Teresa made a snide comment about the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror, as he’d raced against time to the airport. She remembered everything about her early interactions with James. She remembered his longer hair that was a little too perfectly messy—tousled. She remembered he spoke to her coldly and never smiled, even though his eyes were warm. She remembered when he’d covered for her, something he’d decided to do of his own volition, more than once, and how it helped her understand who he really was. She remembered seeing the chain against the skin of his neck, the necklace usually tucked under his shirt. She hadn’t seen the pendant until the night when Eric’s men followed them to the cemetery to retrieve Camila’s reserve money, and Charger had to pull a bullet out of James’ shoulder after the car they were in was shot up.

One of my first ideas for this story was Teresa asking for something valuable, to be returned, to “protect” her and make sure she was going to get out of the meeting okay. So I went back to something from the first season, something that the show’s wardrobe department has probably long forgotten about or lost in a box.

James’ necklace is actually visible in the very first shot he’s in ever, in 1x02, around 6:30 of the episode. It’s not tucked into his shirt. But then, in later scenes, still in the warehouse, it...disappears. He’s still wearing it though, because you can see the chain a little bit (2:29) while he’s waiting to go through the metal detector at the airport.

It’s visible again in 1x07, when he’s all bloody and has to get the bullet removed from his shoulder (0:20), and in 1x11 when he’s talking to Camila on the phone in the trailer (0:29).

And then we never see it again! It’s just absent in every other season. I don’t know why this bothers me so much, but it does. I guess I consider the accessories that characters have to be part of the world building and continuity.

So I wrote it in, gave it a backstory, gave it purpose. Yes, this is really the kind of thing that goes through my mind.

“Yes.” Teresa nodded. “Nothing comes cheap. Not even me.“

In this whole back and forth between Teresa and Devon, I like that it starts with him saying she doesn’t have a bargaining chip but she manages to turn it around on him. I imagine that canon Teresa would be able to do the same thing, too (after all, she makes the smart move to send Lil’ T to his mother in 3x05).

Anyway, this piece of dialogue is inspired by the bridge in “The Queen of Lower Chelsea”:

Well they say these days Nothing comes cheap And everything has a price Everyone has a price Nothing is free Not even me

In 2x01, Teresa says “everything in life has a price” when she and James are at Rolando’s memorial (a moment that’s also mentioned in the chapter) as she’d devastated about Brenda. Earlier in the chapter, regarding Oksana’s death, it’s mentioned that everything has a cost. So it’s all connected.

After a while, James closed the distance and touched her face. Teresa held her breath when he wiped under her eyes with the pad of his thumb. Then he held her jaw, his fingers at the back of her neck.

”You’re gonna be fine,” James said.

There’s this moment in 1x08, when James is talking to one of the hotel maids (0:56) for information. And she’s freaking out because the cartel is in her house. James wipes at her tears with his thumb. I find it to be a confusing moment because it’s like...is he doing it to calm her down? Is he doing it threateningly (the whole scene is pretty threatening anyway)?

But me, I’m like, yo, when do we get to see him do that to Teresa?

She was apologizing not only for pressing on his wound but for everything, preemptively, for the tough spots she put him in and for what she’d done that he didn’t know about yet. She really did know how to do a number on him, she thought, inflicting pain like a flame that burned him to let him know they were both still alive.

The last line is a reference to Bayside’s “Duality”: you’re the flame that burns me so I know that I’m still alive.

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ezilyamuzed · 4 years

Text

Ten Years Gone- Chapter One

Description: Ten years ago, your world had changed. Ten years ago, you had met him, leading your life to never be the same again. Time is running out, but is it too late after all these years?

Word Count: 5963

Warnings: Language, angst, death (I think that’s about it)

A/N: The first chapter to a new series. If you haven’t read the prelude, you can HERE. This takes place at the end of season 1, beginning of season 2. I re-watch specific episodes to integrate the story in as much as I can into the real one (some things are bound to be reworked a bit!) This process takes lots of time, so please let me know what you think. Also I suggest a re-watch anyways because - come’on, they’re worth it!

Any grammatical mistakes are all my own, because I am human. Remember all comments and feedback are welcomed! If you want a tag in future posts regarding this series or other writings please send an ask! Please leave a comment if you like it, it keeps me motivated to continue! As always thank you for reading! Enjoy!

TEN YEARS GONE MASTERLIST

*Picture and lyrics used are not mine. Led Zeppelin is Amazing.

* Flashbacks are all BOLD and Italicized.

*Oh, do you know my name? Do I look the same. You know I'm the one you want. I must be the one you need.

You reached over and turned the knob of the radio up, getting lost in the rhythm of Zepplin while on your way to Bobby’s reminded you of old times; the good times when you would sit in the back seat while your Uncle Danny sung along while driving. Now it was just you and his ‘70 Chevelle, taking on the world one monster at a time.

You were still grimy from the last hunt, and the fact that there was no A/C on a 90 degree day left you a sweaty mess sticking to the seat, even with the windows rolled down. Your tank top was practically drenched and your shorts probably looked like you peed yourself, but that didn’t really matter. In a few minutes you’d be walking into the place you had called home for the better part of 9 years and honestly, Bobby had seen you in worse shape. Hell, he’s bandaged you more times than you’d like to admit.

Spending your birthday with him had become somewhat of a tradition. Each year that past was another one closer to countdown. At least you were never alone. You were early this year by almost a month, but only because your car needed fixing. And it was also nice to relax every once in a while, but you’d never tell Bobby that.

As you pulled up to the sweet sight of home, you noticed a different black car parked along the side- John Winchester’s unmistakable black impala. After shifting into park you sat in the car for a minute, contemplating whether you should or should not go in. It had been years since you had seen him and the last time, well, that was something that no one wanted to ever talk about. So what would he be doing here?

You exhaled deeply as you peeled yourself off of the seat, walking slowly to be greeted by your favorite living being in the world.

“Hey ya Rumsfeld,” you smiled as you crunched down and rubbed the aging Rottweiler behind his ears. “We got company huh?”

Rumsfeld turned his head towards the house and back to you, licking your cheek to show his affection.

“Missed you too boy,” you gave him another pat on his head as you stood. “Guess I’ll go see what’s going on.”

You walked through the back door to the kitchen and called out for Bobby. He yelled that he was in the living room and he would be right with you. You heard someone ask who Bobby was talking to, to which he didn’t respond. That was supposed to queue you to stay out of it, but curiosity got the best of you. It always did.

“Why does it look like John Winchester’s car is out there?” You asked as you walked into the living room.

You stopped in your tracks as you saw Bobby staring at you in disapproval as a young tall guy turned his head towards your direction. He looked like a green eyed god in a leather jacket. Your heart skipped a beat as he flashed a slight smile to you while he looked you up and down with widened eyes. He was smooth looking like James Dean. That’s when it hit you. Dean. No, it couldn’t be.

“Y/N,” Bobby spoke up. “You remember Dean and Sam.”

Dean. Dean fucking Winchester. Your first kiss. Hell your first love was standing there after so many years. The man who made you go all stupid so long ago.

“Wait, Y/N?” His eyes grew wider in surprise, almost like a disbelief.

“Wow,” you heard a voice from behind him. A tall, practically a giant to you, shaggy haired kid stood up from the desk with a huge smile on his face as he approached you. He wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace picking you up a little, knocking the breath right out of you. “It’s been a long time.”

“Sam?” You exhaled out as you realized that this was now post pubescent little Sammy cradling you in his arms like a rag doll. “Holy shit you’ve grown!”

“Yeah, I can kick Dean’s ass now,” he smiled as he dropped his arms and stepped back.

“You wish,” Dean snarked back, before turning to you with a sheepish grin. “Good to see you Y/N.”

“Yup,” you popped off your lips, really hoping that he didn’t think you were still pining over him for almost a decade.

“Did you lose all your clothes in a fight there Y/N?” Bobby spoke up again in that damn fatherly tone, making you realize that your outfit was practically nonexistent, especially when there was company around. No wonder Dean had looked at you that way.

“A/C is busted,” you shrugged. “While in town, I figured I could use the garage. Didn’t think there’d be company.”

“Took a liking to cars anyway huh?” Dean smiled, knowing that it would be your biggest complaint when he would suggest things to do.

“Anyways,” you turned your head to Sam. “What brings you here after all this time? Finally remembered the address?”

The barking of Rumsfeld stopped anyone from saying anything else. Bobby ran to the window with Dean as Sam looked over to you in panic, pushing you back to go to another room. Whatever was going on, you didn’t have enough time to question it as you heard the front door bust open with a woman’s voice now speaking.

You listened to them carefully, waiting to see if it was possible to stop whatever had come through that door. Whatever it was, they did a lot of monologuing for some colt. Wait, not THE Colt? You thought that was an urban legend, not real. And the Winchester’s had it? That could only mean one thing; the girl was a fucking demon. You listened as she talked, hearing her voice move through the room with the steady steps of someone else leading her further in the room.

“Good job Bobby,” you thought to yourself. “Get her into the trap.”

Hearing Dean’s voice inform her that they got her, you breathed out deeply after realizing that you had been holding it in. Fucking demons, the worst thing you’ve ever come across. Impossible to kill and impossible to predict.

“Bobby,” you moved from your hiding spot to the living room, only to see the demon in a young girl’s body, probably around your age. Poor thing, she was probably dead already.

“Salt. Windows. Now!” He instructed, making you jump to hit all the upstairs entrances in a hurry, a task you were all too familiar with.

As soon as you finished you went back down the stairs, witnessing Dean double fastening the knots on the rope he had tied around her. She looked at you with a grin, almost like she had known who you were.

“Y/N, you need to get out of here now,” Bobby stated as he walked past you.

“What’s happening Bobby?” You asked as you grabbed his arm to stop him.

“It’s John, he’s been taken,” he spoke clearly and firmly. “Now you need to go upstairs now.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Now Y/N!” He growled as he shook off your grip, going back to the boys to inform them that everything had been salted.

You stood there for a second, wanting to protest Bobby’s directions, but you knew whatever was going on, it had to be big. Hell, if John and the boys were involved it most definitely was. You looked back towards them as you ascended the stairs, catching a glimpse of Dean looking at you with his jaw tightening and fury written all over his face. A look you had seen only one other person do before; his dad.

————-

You laid out on your bed, finishing up the last bit of a creative writing assignment; integrating Hamlet into the current year. That was easy enough. Your world was definitely not short of witches, ghosts, magic, and vengeance. Besides Bobby, it had been rather quiet weeks that followed after the boys had left. The last you had heard from your uncle Danny, he was onto something big. That was almost 3 weeks ago. You started feeling dread in the pit of your stomach, but Bobby would try to reassure you that he would be coming back, just sometimes it was a hard task to get a phone. That excuse made you roll your eyes every time he used it. He was trying to keep you safe, but unfortunately in this life you can’t always do that.

Hearing a rumble of an engine approaching you got up and looked out your window to the driveway. Kicking up the dusty ground you saw for the first time in months the sleek black Impala you had hoped to see again. Your heart was racing as you ran out of your room and bolted down the stairs. Flinging the door open, you ran outside with a bright smile, only for it to fade as you realized it only had one occupant.

“Y/N,” John stated as he walked around the car.

“Where’s Dean and Sam?” you asked while moving your head around him, hoping that somehow they would spring up from hiding.

“We need to talk,” his voice sounding grave and eerie.

You stopped and looked up at him, his face twisted in guilt, as if he was searching for the words to tell you the worst. That’s when the dread grew larger in the pit of your stomach, filling your throat with bile, and your eyes with tears as you managed to mumble out your question.

“How?”

“Demon,” he breathed out, as he looked you in the eyes, his filled with fury with his clenching jaw. “I’m sorry Y/N, but Danny is gone.”

——————

You sat with your knees up to your chest on top of the stairs, feeling like a kid again listening in on her parents when she should have been sleeping. They were exercising her out of the meat suit, at least attempting rather slowly to try and get answers out of her. Demons lie and they trick people into believing it’s real. That’s just what they do.

As you felt the house shake, you knew the exorcism was happening; sending the demon back to the hell from where it came. You slowly stood up, grasping the banister as you overheard Dean and Sam with the prodding questions to the girl that was clearly dying.

As Bobby moved to grab her water he stopped and just shook his head to you, signaling you to stay away and for once. You listened and sat yourself back down, hidden away from their sights.

You could hear the eerie gurgle of her last words, and the desperation in Dean’s voice making you feel your heart break for him. He had known loss, but this? No one ever gets used to this.

“You boys better get a move on before the paramedics get here,” Bobby instructed them, which was a blatant lie. No paramedics were coming. He knew and you knew what was going to happen before they did.

“What about Y/N?” Sam spoke up. “Is she okay?”

“Don’t you worry about her,” Bobby insisted as he led them out the door. “You just get back your dad and bring him back here.”

“Thanks Bobby,” you heard Dean say as they left out the door.

As soon as you heard the engine rive up, you finally descended down the stairs, already prepared for what was to happen next.

“Bury or burn,” you asked with a sigh to Bobby as you glimpse down at the young girls lifeless body.

“It’ll be dark soon. We will burn the body and bury her after,” he stated while taking off his signature hat and running his fingers through his hair.

“Bobby,” you spoke up again. “Those boys don’t know what they’re getting into. We should have gone with them. I could help. I-“

“No,” Bobby shook his head. “Whatever mess they’ve gotten themselves into, those boys will make it out.”

“They didn’t even know what they were doing. You're sending them in blind without backup.” You argued. “They barely knew how to do an exorcism.”

Bobby looked at you, giving his own disapproving glare that you would want to ever get involved with the Winchester’s and demons.

“They’ll be fine,” Bobby tried to reassure you. “They’re stronger than you think.”

“What about when they realize that John is dead?” You found yourself asking out loud.

Bobby exhaled deeply, shaking his head slowly to your words. A circumstance he didn’t want to admit was possible, but you knew better.

“Then we will be here for them after,” he responded with certainty. “Those boys, well like you, they are family. I know you don’t like this, but it’s for the best.”

You didn’t want to argue anymore since you knew there was no point in ever trying to change Bobby’s mind once it was made. You rolled your eyes and turned to the door.

“It’s almost dark, I’m going to set up everything for the fire, but after we’re done, I’m not sticking around to see whatever mess they come back as,” you stated as you opened the door, pausing for a moment before shutting it behind you. “If they come back.”

As the door shut behind you, you lifted your head to feel the dusk air turning cooler. You looked over to where Rumsfeld used to lay on the old truck now vacant. Your anger rose inside of you as you thought about how in less than 5 minutes upon your arrival at Bobby’s, demons had managed to come back into your life and of course Winchester’s were involved.

———

“His storage locker isn’t too much further away Y/N,” John stated to you from his spot in the driver’s seat. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Everything he kept from his childhood, his life and my parents' lives before is in there,” you stated while leaning your head against the window of the passenger side. “I can’t just leave it there to collect dust and be forgotten.”

“Anything else-“ he paused to see your reaction before continuing. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t get into the wrong hands.”

“Take whatever you need,” you shook your head with a sigh. “I want nothing to do with that life, not when it’s taken everything from me already.”

John remained silent as his eyes stayed fixed on the road. You could see out of the corner of your eye that he was subtly nodding in agreement.

“Bobby will take care of you,” he broke the silence after a few minutes. “You can live the normal life you deserve.”

“Normal. What’s that,” you asked yourself as you turned your head back to the scenery. After John had told you the news he offered to take you to collect items Danny had hidden in storage. It wasn’t a short trip, especially next to John Winchester. You had wished Dean and Sam were at least with you, but Bobby was on his way to pick them up at their latest school.

For once it wasn’t just trees galore you were looking at, but skyscrapers and buildings with luxurious architectural fixtures. Definitely different than your usual, which most certainly explained why Danny had chosen it.

The two of you stayed in silence until he pulled up to the storage place- Castle Storage. As he put the car in park you prepared yourself for whatever you were going to find in there. It wasn’t going to be easy looking at things that would remind you of what you had lost, but it had to be done.

‘Happy birthday to you’, you had thought as you followed John’s lead to inside the building, turning around corners until he finally stopped at a door. You watched as he unlocked it with a key that had hung on your uncle’s keyring, popping open the door and turning on the light to the side of him.

“Wait one second,” he advised as he held out his arm to stop you from moving. “Your uncle could be a paranoid SOB, so there may be traps.”

He glanced down by his feet, and crouched down low, seeing something you obviously did not.

“Tripwire,” he informed you as he stood back up. “Watch your step and follow my lead.”

You nodded as you watched him take a few steps in and followed him exactly. It was like an arsenal and a museum of fucked up shit all at once. His life, all collecting dust in a storage room to be forgotten. You glanced down at the floor, there was a weird star painted on it with markings all over.

“Devil’s trap,” John commented as he moved further in. “Stops demons from moving anywhere.”

You felt a sense of dread as you drew closer, every nerve in you telling you that this was a bad place.

“Can we hurry up? I don’t want to be here,” you stated as you drew your arms close to your chest.

“In and out,” he stated as he opened up a couple of cardboard boxes. “I think this is what we’re here for.”

You peaked inside, right on top was a collection of family photos. Your family photos. You reached in and gathered them up, taking a moment to remember your parents faces.

“He definitely had a collection. It’s going to take me awhile to get this all out of here,” John said, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Just keep it all here then,” you shrugged as you continued looking throughout the box that was filled with random papers at the bottom. “It’s not like anyone else is using it.”

“Maybe I will,” he stated while moving around some of the weapons that were carefully placed along a caged wall.

“Well, now. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

That voice. You knew that voice. It was your uncle Danny’s. John and you quickly turned your heads to it, your heart was racing out of your chest.

“Danny,” you breathed out in cry, about to move to him but John grabbed your arm before you could move.

“Y/N stop. That’s not Danny.”

—————

After scrubbing the foul stench of burned flesh and dirt of your skin, you made your way to the local pub. You didn’t want to argue with Bobby anymore about not helping Sam and Dean. Dean Winchester, after all these years he still made your heart ache just by thinking of his name, meaning you had to find a quick distraction for the night, so what better place to do it?

Some familiar faces gave you a nod as you sat down and ordered a double whiskey neat and a beer.

“I see trouble is back in town,” you heard behind you, making you turn your head to see the skeptical glare of the sheriff that had on more than one occasion threatened to arrest you for good, but nothing could ever stick.

“Sheriff Mills,” you grinned. “Isn’t it about time to retire?”

“Not if you’re still hanging around these parts. You and that old drunk Bobby.” She grinned back. “ So what are you doing back in town? It’s been almost a year.”

“Nice to see you miss me when I’m gone,” you scoffed back as you took a sip of your beer. “It’s my birthday in a couple weeks, so I’m just visiting the ‘ol man. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Stay out of trouble Y/N,” she warned. “You’re still young. I’d hate to see you throw away your life over something stupid.”

You let out a quick laugh as you shook your head.

“Have a good night Sheriff.”

You watched as she walked away before she let out that damn motherly sigh of disappointment. What did she know about anything anyways? You weren’t purposely throwing your life away, you were living it with the little time you had left.

“Hey there trouble, I see the Sheriff already gave you your yearly warning.”

You looked at the man behind the bar grinning back at you as he leaned back with his muscular arms crossing his equally muscular chest. Josh Adams, the local bartender that had been your on and off again distraction since high school when you came into town.

“Just the trouble I was looking to find,” you winked and smiled as you downed your shot. “How about another round?”

————————

John’s words rang in your head as you stared at the face of your uncle. How could it not be him?

“Aw John, why of course I am,” his eyes flashed bright yellow as he grinned and let out a manic laugh.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” John stated to say, making the yellow eyed fraud stop smiling and grow in anger.

“Enough of that John,” he snarled. “We don’t want things to get messy now do we.”

“Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,”John continued before the demon waved his hand and knocked him back hard enough to the ground to knock him out.

“That’s better,” he grinned again before looking at you.

The fear was growing inside of you the way that his eyes glared. The tears couldn’t stop flowing as you witnessed your uncle’s face twisting as he moved towards you. Your eyes moved down to the floor. The trap. You could get him in the trap until John woke up. Unfortunately your eyes gave it away, as he looked down and smiled as he stepped around it.

“What a pretty little girl you are,” he smirked.

“Wh..what do you want with me,” your voice quavering.

“You are just what I’ve been looking for,” he grinned as he drew closer. “I need someone with a little fire for my army.”

As you felt your breath catch in your chest while his eyes gleamed yellow at you again, you felt a hard metal object down by your right hand. Panic rose in you as you picked it up and smashed it up against the skull of your uncle’s body. It had taken him by surprise with you continuing in a frantic, pushing him closer to the demon trap. Before he crossed over he opened his mouth up wide and a cloud of black smoke filled the room, rushing towards John’s limp body until it cleared away. You went to rush over to him, but stopped dead in your tracks as his eyes sprung open, now bright yellow.

“I see spending time with hunters has turned you brave,” he smiled as he stood. “That’s good. It means that you’ll be strong enough for what will happen. You’re a fighter.”

“I will never agree to join you. I won’t do it!” You yelled out loud.

“How sweet. Do you think you have a choice? How about I change your mind,” he smiled as he pulled out a pearl handled gun from the waist of John’s pants and shot it right to where John’s heart should be, making you jump out of your skin as you heard the sound. “So what will it be Y/N? Your life or his?”

———————-

You had lied when you said you would be leaving again, and Bobby knew it but went along with it as you took your time finding your next hunt. You had to know what had happened, if they even survived. Six days had come and gone when Bobby got a call from Dean, letting him know what had happened. John was dead thanks to the yellow eyed demon that was still out there. Your demon. They had failed.

Bobby took one of his tow trucks to go get them, a couple days there and back. You stayed perched in his living room, flipping through books as you waited patiently for them to return. Anxiously waiting to see why the demon was so interested in them and if they even had the slightest plan.

You awoke to the sound of the heavy truck making its way down the gravel driveway. The slam of the doors made you look out the window as the three men stood there talking about something in the darkness. There was a solemn look on all their faces as the lights hit the mangled impala and their own matching bruises. You watched as they turned to the house to enter it, and for some reason instead of getting up, you shut your eyes tightly and pretended to still be sleeping.

“I see the couch is taken,” you heard Dean chuckle with sarcasm before hearing a wince or pain.

“Take a bed upstairs,” Bobby instructed them. “You need some sleep.”

“Thanks Bobby,” Sam muttered as you heard them ascend the stairs.

“They’re gone. You don’t have to pretend to be sleeping anymore,” Bobby stated after a few minutes, making you open your eyes.

“How’d you know?”

“I know you and how you’ve probably been sitting here since I left, waiting to see if everyone was alright.”

“What happened?”

Bobby shook his head as he picked up the near empty bottle next to you and downed it in a gulp.

“It’s only the beginning, isn’t it?” You found yourself asking the obvious.

He shook his head to confirm your words as he sat the empty bottle down and walked towards his desk to pull out another.

“I think it’s worse than what we know. Something bad is brewing and it’s no time to be hanging on the sidelines.”

You let out a little chuckle, knowing that was Bobby’s way of saying he was wrong and you were right. No time to sit out. You had work to do.

———————————

“So what’s your choice?”

Your mind raced as your breath quickened while you watched the blood pour from John’s chest. Sam and Dean. Their dad was going to die if you didn’t make up your mind right there. They were going to be alone in the world just like you.

“Tick tock goes the clock,” he teased. “He won’t have much blood left if you wait too long.”

Could you let this happen to them? How would you even live with yourself knowing you choose yourself over their dad; even if he wasn’t the father of the year. They would never forgive you.

“Yes,” you breathed out as tears rolled down your face as you claimed the position of the martyr.

“Yes what?” He grinned.

“My life for his,” you looked up to him through your tears.

“That’s a good girl,” he stated as he drew closer. “Now to make it official. Your life for his. You get 10 years and then you are mine. Standard deal of course.”

Ten years? You had expected him to kill you right there. Why wait so long?

“Oh the little fire pistol you’ll be when that day arrives. Oh yes, you will be useful to me then. Until then; a kiss to seal the deal,” he grinned. “Now be a good girl and give daddy a kiss.”

Your face twisted as you fought the sickness in your throat from coming up as you kissed John’s lips. Your second kiss and it was to promise your life away. You quickly pulled away and saw his eyes flash yellow once more before the cloud of black smoke rushed out of John’s mouth, making him fall down to the ground.

You dropped down to your knees, examining where the bullet had gone. There was nothing but smeared blood over the now healed spot. He was safe. He was alive.

John’s eyes fluttered open as he groaned.

“Y/N, what happened?” He demanded in a fierce rage.”What did you do?”

Happy birthday to you.

—————————-

The sun shining through the curtains awoke you, making you stretch out along the couch. As you stood up, you glanced at Bobby asleep on the desk. The fresh bottle from last night was now empty as well. You threw your hair up into a mess on top of your head as you made your way to the coffee pot. Caffeine was a necessity on most days and you were sure that was certainly true now especially after the couple days that the boys must have gone through.

After the coffee was done and you made some toast with jelly, you sat at the table with your legs nestled under you to read the latest obits online.

“Um, morning,” you heard Dean say as he entered, rubbing the mess of hair on his head, a healing gash bandaged across his forehead. “Didn’t know anyone would be up this early.”

“Coffee is fresh,” you stated back, trying not to look at him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he retrieved a cup of his own.

He took the seat next to you and sat in silence as he sipped his drink. You didn’t allow yourself to flinch as he started to tap his thumb off the table.

“So what are you looking-“

“Sorry to hear what happened,” you said cutting him off. He was trying to make small talk and you wanted to get down to business.

He let out a deep sigh before responding.

“Thanks,” he mumbled before taking another sip.

“So what’s your plan now?” You asked while finally looking up at him, his eyes now furrowing to you.

“I don’t know,” he replied quickly. “Fix my baby out there and who knows.”

You leaned your head to look out the window at the broken down Impala. It looked like a freaking parade of MAC trucks had a demolition derby on it.

“Scrap it,” you rolled your eyes.

“You shut your mouth,” Dean hissed with anger, making you look back in surprise.

“It’s just a car Dean.”

“Yeah and what would you do if that had happened to Danny’s car out there?”

You let out a sigh as you came to the agreement in your mind that you would murder anything for fucking with it. Hell, you have before.

“Touché,” you shrugged.

“So what are you looking at this early? Don’t you have a job or something to get to?”

“I’m looking for the next job,” you stated as you turned the computer screen to his view. “A couple outside of Toledo were found dead, drained of blood. Might be vampires.”

“You’re a Hunter?” He questioned with a gasp. “How the hell did that happen?”

“You know the standard dead parents, fucked up childhood, raised by an old drunk of a hunter kind of way,” you sassed back. “Limits the desire to sit behind a desk.”

“Touché,” he shook his head with a laugh. “I had hoped you had done something better with your life.”

“And who’s to say this isn’t something better than the pitfalls of being normal and ignorant to what’s really going on?”

“Says that scar I can see on your upper thigh, those dark circles under your eyes and the scent of last night’s bourbon on you.”

You looked down to see the reminder peeking out from your shorts from a run in with a wolf during a full moon. Bastard had got ya good, but he was now a rug somewhere.

“I’m just tired and you’re the one to talk for looking like shit.” You rolled your eyes before you realized that you had just taken a jab at the fact that he just went through hell and lost. “I-I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to-“

“It’s alright,” he let out a breath. “We all have our scars and the stories to match ‘em.”

“Eventually they all heal right?”

———————

“How could you let this happen John?” You heard Bobby screaming from inside the house.

You sat outside by a worn down truck playing with the little puppy Bobby had surprised you with when you returned for your birthday. Rumsfeld. With everything that had happened, he wanted you to feel safe and loved, even if he couldn’t give it to you.

“They’re going to kill each other in there,” you heard Dean state as he sat next to you, giving Rummy a rub on his ear. “What happened anyways? Thought my dad was just taking you to pick up some stuff from your uncle?”

“He did,” you simply replied, not wanting to go into it.

“So why are they yelling at each other?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, lying directly to him. You knew exactly why. You had sold your soul for John’s life and 10 years. Definitely not something anyone should be happy about, but you couldn’t bear seeing the alternative. “Where’s Sam?”

“In the car,” Dean motioned around the corner. “Dad told us to wait for him in there, but I wanted to see what was up before we left. I don’t think we will be welcomed after this.”

“They’ll get over it eventually Dean,” you stated. “They have too. You’re all the family I have left.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheek and as fast as it happened was just as fast as Dean moved to wipe it away. He then put his arms around you, giving you a deep hug as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Hey eventually it’ll get better, I promise.”

“It feels like I’ve been stabbed in my gut,” you softly stated, breaking away from his embrace.

“Look at this,” Dean pointed to the little scar on his chin. “When I was little I fell doing dumb stuff outside and my mom had to banged me up. Hurt like a bitch, but it healed. Even after all these years, the scar tissue can hurt, but it’s a reminder that I had someone who loved and cared for me. Scars heal Y/N, but the memories are what make us who we are. Don’t forget that.”

“You always know the right thing to say Winchester,” you smiled back.

“By the way, happy birthday,” his emerald eyes gleamed. “I know it’s a little late since it was yesterday, but you were gone. I just wanted you to know that I was thinking about you.”

The grin on your face spread as you looked over at him. He went to lean in, to give you that soft sweet kiss you wanted, not the harsh one from a demon you had gotten just yesterday.

The two of you jumped to your feet as you heard the door slap open hard. John was yelling for Dean and Bobby was yelling at John to get the hell out of his sight. Dean looked back at you and pressed his lips quickly on yours before running towards their direction. You followed behind to witness Bobby waving a shotgun at John, his face red with rage.

“Don’t you ever come back here you son of a bitch!”

As soon as Dean and John jumped in the car with a frightened Sam in the back, they peeled out of the driveway leaving a trail of dust behind.

“What the hell Bobby?” You screamed. “Why would you do that?”

“He had no business getting you mixed into this shit. Danny never wanted that and I’ll be damned if I allow it to happen,” he seethed. “I swear I will find a way out of this. Whatever it takes.”

The dust was settling down along the driveway, the impala nowhere in sight. You stood in your spot for what felt like forever, hoping to see them coming back. But they wouldn’t...not for a long time.

....to be continued....

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#ten years gone #supernatural #supernatural series #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #bobby singer #john winchester #dean x reader #ezilyamuzed #supernatural season 2 #spn season 2

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miss-pearlescent · 4 years

Text

Tag Team (V)

Chapter: I II IIIᴹ IV V VI VII VIII IX Xᴹ

Kai was sharpening the last of his knives when he heard the music. Hours ago, Joori had finally fallen asleep after fidgeting back and forth, caught between fighting sleep and trying to get comfortable. Now there was angry music ringing around the room and Kai wanted to silence it so Joori could keep sleeping.

If she woke up, he would have to deal with her sad eyes again.

Kai paced the room, looking for the source, when he approached Joori’s tiny body curled on the floor and slowed his footsteps.

She jolted awake and let out a little yelp when the cuffs on her wrists fought against her brief struggle. Kai winced and reached to his pocket by instinct for the key that would free her from those cuffs.

But Joori sat up and pressed a finger to her ear, turning the music off.

“What was that?” Kai asked.

Joori blinked sleepily up at him. “My alarm.”

He wrinkled his brows and sat down in front of her, pulling out another energy bar for her. “You set an alarm for four in the afternoon?”

This time, she didn’t fight his offer, and he held back his smile of triumph. “It’s my regular alarm for my days off. Sometimes I will work until the morning and sleep all day. This is the only way I can make sure I see some hours of daylight like a normal human being.”

“So today was supposed to be your day off?”

She nodded as she took a bite.

He chuckled. “And you always wake up to heavy metal?”

A smile made her dry cracked lips more apparent, and Kai grabbed a glass of water for her. “Heavy metal. Rock. Whatever invigorates me.” She put the glass to her lips and took a drink.

Kai looked away, feeling like he shouldn’t watch her so closely when he was her enemy. “What was that song?” he asked casually as he began sharpening his knives again.

“Roulette by The Velvet Redz. Ever heard of them?”

He shook his head. He had learned how to play the guitar from a friend when they were teens, but he didn’t have much time to listen to very much music.

“Ah, you’re missing out. They’re my favourite.”

Kai let the sound of his knives take over the silence for a bit. “Do you go to their concerts on your days off?”

He imagined a tiny Joori pounding her fists to a rock band, her hair whipping back and forth as she screamed the lyrics with the band.

Joori giggled and the light sound made Kai look up. “No, they’ve never had a concert here. Maybe one day.” She took another bite of the energy bar. “It’s a little stupid because I spend all day in my lab anyway, but on my days off, I like to make random bits of music.”

Kai turned back to his knives. “Music?” he asked, wondering how a guard like her contradicted the image he had of his enemy’s guards. He expected them to be cold and inhumane, yet here she was. Very...warm and human.

“Well, silly music bites. Lots of synthetic sound. If I could be a one-woman band and learn every single instrument, I would. They sound a lot better.”

He held back the fact that he could play the guitar though it was on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t want to sound like he was trying to impress her, even if he kind of wanted to. It wasn’t like he was a guitar prodigy anyway; he just played a few songs here and there for his family and friends.

“So why do you want the $500 000?”

Her question almost gave him whiplash with the way it was so sudden.

He looked at her and saw the sleepy daze gone, replaced by a calculating gaze that locked him down. He could practically see the gears in her head working away.

If she wanted the truth, then he would give her the truth.

“Your boss promised my family that much money when I left home to work for him. It’s been weeks and my family has not seen a single dollar. I agreed to all the experiments and enhancements.” He fought a shudder remembering all the chemicals that had been injected into his blood. “My mother and sister are still back home, now working the farm day and night without me.”

Joori’s lips parted in confusion and then she looked down at her cuffs and her clothes. “My boss?” she whispered.

Kai applied more force to his knife, sharpening it as far as he could. He didn’t want to kill, but even if he were forced to run this knife through his enemy’s neck, he would strive to make a clean cut. “Even if I can’t go home to physically help them anymore, I want to make sure they’re safe and have food on the table.”

If he went home right now, he knew his mother and sister would be glad to see him. He’d be stronger and faster with his enhancements and training. He’d be able to harvest so much to sell at the market, and then he’d probably pick up a construction job on the side too.

But he’d be okay with sending a steady stream of honest money back home if it came down to it. Whatever would keep his mother and sister safe and off the streets.

“Kai,” Joori’s soft voice stopped his hands and he looked up.

For some reason, the look on her face told him she was about to deliver bad news.

Why did it not surprise him when she said, “Kai, I’m not your enemy.”

Joori shifted as Kai paced another round back and forth in front of her. She had migrated from the floor to his bed, a small upgrade, but she was still uncomfortable as her wrists chafed against the spiky cuff whenever she moved too much.

She and Kai didn’t exchange many words. They ate and drank, then resorted to silence. For some reason, she was much less scared now that they both knew she was the wrong target. Still, she didn’t let her guard down.

“My teammates won’t hurt you,” she assured him as she watched him testing the straps on his gun holster. This man was preparing for war.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Do you have men on your team?”

She nodded, even though Jongin was the single man on her team who was out on the front lines of missions. Her uncle was too old to be running around.

“Are any of them your boyfriend?”

Joori could feel her cheeks turning red. “N-no. Why?”

Kai looked as if he didn’t believe her as he went back and yanked on the leather of his straps. “If I were your boyfriend, I’d make sure to kill the man that kidnapped you.”

She almost sputtered at his words. What was she supposed to say back? That Jongin didn’t look at anybody besides his wife? Or that Jongin didn’t really stand a chance against the ultra strong and fast Kai?

No, she couldn’t reveal her weaknesses.

And Kai must’ve been speaking figuratively, because she also couldn’t reveal that her weak heart had skipped a beat when he said that.

She’d never envied anybody’s relationship, but sometimes when she was up late working away on a new gadget, she wished she was in a relationship of any sort. Somebody who would celebrate her inventions with her. Somebody who could warm her empty bed at five in the morning when she climbed in after working all night. Somebody who jammed out to heavy metal with her.

Somebody who could protect her from the outside world as she lost herself in hours of work.

“We leave in twelve hours,” Kai said, interrupting her thoughts. “You should get some sleep. It’s a long hike to the escarpment.”

Her muscles protested. They were already sore just from a bit of running yesterday.

But Joori nodded, because what else was she supposed to do for twelve hours other than sleep? Stare at a wall?

She climbed off the bed and went to her corner.

“Where are you going?”

She took a seat on the cold hard floor, her butt protesting already. “To sleep?”

“On the ground?”

Before she could respond, Kai’s arms came around her back and under her knees, and she was suddenly lifted up into the air.

“It’s freezing on the ground,” he grunted as he set her back on his bed.

“It’s fine,” she replied, ready to get off as soon as he turned his back.

But he reached behind him and shut off the light, bringing them to darkness.

The room suddenly did feel colder.

Joori reached out her hands as she felt the bed shift. “Where are you going?” She felt his fingers and held on with both hands.

Kai stopped. “I’ll be right here, on the floor.”

“But it’s freezing.”

Joori’s eyes adjusted to the dark and she could feel Kai’s ironic gaze. “I only have one bed, Joori.”

She shivered, whether from the cold or from the way his words held a different meaning, she didn’t know.

But she couldn’t let him sleep on the ground, not when they had a long day ahead of them.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me, right?” She gulped even as she said the words and tugged on his warm fingers. “As long as we don’t cross each others’ sides, I’m okay with...”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it. She’d never slept with someone, let alone a man.

Strangely, relief washed over her as the bed sank. She climbed under the covers in silence, turning toward the wall and staying as far away from Kai’s side as possible.

The silence continued as she listened to his breaths while the minutes ticked on. She was tired but didn’t want to fall asleep, lest something happened. But an hour seemed to pass and Kai stayed in the same spot, his breaths getting slower and deeper.

Reluctantly, Joori let her body relax. She buried her nose under the blanket, avoiding the cold that seemed to drift from the wall. She could smell Kai’s scent under here, and it seemed to calm her senses a little.

Tomorrow, she would be running for her life and Kai would be running for his. She prayed for both of them as she drifted to sleep.

---

Two people, one bed? My favourite 8))))) Sorry this update came a bit late but I hope you are all enjoying this story <3 I have a lot more ideas floating around in my head these days so I hope to get more stories out in the near future (I say that but I also know that these plot bunnies are very fleeting....) thank you all for reading and have a great week!

#exo #exo scenarios #exo fanfiction #kai #kai fanfiction #kai scenarios #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios #kpop #tag team #jongin

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